A Time and A Season
Episode 9: Secrets and Lies
by Janice

Part One: Trixie

Thursday, October 7, 2004
Porter’s Bookstore

Sighing under her breath, Trixie hefted the box of Reader’s Digest Condensed Novels which had just arrived and started to carry them up the stairs. He’ll never learn, she thought grumpily, referring to the owner’s nephew. Whatever it is that we have far too much of, he never fails to buy more. She began the task of stacking the thick, brown volumes on top of an overflowing bookcase of hundreds more.

“No!” a female voice shrieked from below, causing her to drop a book on her toes. “Stop!”

A moment later, there was an almighty crash. Not again, thought Trixie, as she rushed towards the sound. I just hope no one was underneath this time. She reached the site of the disaster and her heart sank. Just like the previous time, the figure of a man lay under the overturned bookcase.

“Mr. Porter?” she asked, tossing a book aside. “Can you hear me?” There was no audible response.

“Let me help,” said a woman, stepping forward. “I saw the whole thing and I must say it was the most remarkable thing I’ve seen in my life and, you know, it reminded me of something that I saw another time I was here. I’m Darla Tyne-Richmond, by the way. Edmond’s sister, you know.” Even as she talked, the woman was removing books at a rapid pace. “You must be Trixie. Edmond has spoken of you often. You’d best call me Darla. Mrs. Tyne-Richmond is rather a mouthful at the best of times and we’ve no time for it now.”

Dimly, Trixie decided that Edmond must be the first name of her boss, Mr. Porter. Before now, she had not consciously registered the fact that he must have one, even if she did not know what it was. A small part of her brain rebelled against the idea of his having spoken of her ‘often’ - especially since she had been working there for less than a month.

“Can you hear me, Mr. Porter?”

“Edmond! Wake up!” His sister heaved the last few books away and stood to lift the bookcase. “Help me here, dear, please. On three: one, two, three!”

The heavy bookcase hovered as the two women struggled for a few moments before slowly rising back into its original position and settling with a thump. The man on the ground lay still, though his chest rose and fell with reassuring rhythm.

“Call an ambulance, will you, dear?” asked Darla. “I’ll stay here with Edmond. And come back when you’ve finished. I think we have a thing or two to discuss.”

The ambulance was headed towards the hospital before Darla and Trixie had a moment for conversation. Mr. Porter had regained consciousness only moments after Trixie had left to make the call and had seemed not to be badly injured.

“Close the store, dear,” said Darla, guiding Trixie along in front of her. “We’ll take my car and I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

Obediently, Trixie did as she was told, accepting the front passenger seat in a battered, green Jaguar. She took two attempts at closing the door, which did not seem to properly fit the opening. Eyeing her host nervously, she fastened her seatbelt.

“Now, I’m not saying that there was anything wrong with what I saw, dear,” Darla began, “but you must admit it was suspicious. Here’s a handsome young man, nicely dressed, quite striking appearance, and what do I see him doing?” She paused for effect. “Fiddling with those bolts that Edmond put in which hold the bookcases upright.”

“That certainly does sound suspicious,” Trixie agreed. “When did you see that?

“Must have been three - four - weeks ago, I would guess. Not long after you started there, dear.” Was she imagining it, or was there an edge in the other woman’s voice? “And now, today, I see a girl, like enough you to be your sister, lying in wait for poor Edmond behind that same bookcase.”

“I don’t have a sister,” said Trixie faintly, as they pulled in to the hospital parking lot. “The only relative who looks anything like me is my mother.”

“It wasn’t your mother, dear,” said Mrs. Tyne-Richmond, in kindly tones. “In fact, I’m sure the girl wasn’t related to you at all. She means you harm, though, make no mistake. You were meant to take the blame for that accident.”

“I just wish I knew what it was all about,” said Trixie, frowning deeply. “It doesn’t seem to make sense.”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out, dear. It will just take a little time.”

By the time that Mr. Porter had been moved to a room, Darla and Trixie had established a firm friendship. They were quietly discussing antique furniture, while the patient rested, when Jim arrived.

“Is he all right?” Jim asked, looking anxious. “Honey said that it wasn’t too serious.”

“Nothing too serious at all,” said Darla, standing. “You must be Jim. Trixie has told me all about you and I must say that I agree with her assessment.” His eyebrows rose slightly, but he did not have time to reply. “And I can definitely say now that it wasn’t you.”

“Wasn’t me?”

“You weren’t the man whom I saw interfering with the bookcase a few weeks ago.”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You know, Trixie, dear, I think I know where I’ve seen that man, now. He did show a passing resemblance to Jim, here, but I think the place I’ve seen him is in the newspaper. That unfortunate young man who died after being hit on the head. The one that they had so much trouble identifying.”

The impostor! Trixie could have hit herself on the head, she felt so stupid. How could I have missed that? she asked, restraining the urge. There must have been something in the paper - probably the whole town is talking and I missed it. Looking back, she realised that Mrs. Riker’s death had driven every thought of Jim’s impostor from her mind for a week or two.

“I’d be careful, dear,” Darla continued. “I think you might have a dangerous enemy.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Trixie replied. “I just can’t seem to figure out why.”

Monday, October 25, 2004

After a long and tedious day, Trixie was relieved to arrive home and looking forward to spending a little time with Jim. If her calculations were correct, she had just over an hour to spend with him before the time she had agreed to meet Honey to work on her new web site. The rest of the day seemed almost too good to be true.

Her hand was poised, ready to tap her signal on the secret door, when she realised that it was already unfastened on Jim’s side. Maybe ‘too good to be true’ was right, she thought, a nervous feeling stealing over her. She pushed gently, almost unwilling to find out what would cause Jim to break their rule. The door swung open and she saw him, his face red with anger and his body language radiating tension.

“Just look at this,” he said, barely looking up. He tossed an official-looking letter onto the bed and turned away to lean against the window frame.

Trixie read quickly, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she did so. “Plagiarism?” she asked, before even reaching the bottom. “They’re accusing you of plagiarising? They’ve got to be kidding.”

“Does it look like they’re kidding? They’re saying that I copied that paper I did on the psychology of exceptional children. I worked my butt off on that. I can’t believe that this is happening to me.”

“Maybe it’s a forgery,” said his girlfriend, carefully examining the letterhead. “No one who knows you would entertain such an idea. It’s got to be some kind of mistake. Maybe mistaken identity. Is there someone in your class with a similar name? Maybe they got you mixed up.”

“Mistaken identity is right,” said Jim. “That guy with my ID is involved in this, somehow. You can bet on it.”

Trixie stared at him for a long moment, unable to think of what to say next. Ideas were spinning through her head at a dazzling pace, alternating between theories on how the situation arose and what would be needed to get out of it. The letter slipped out of her hand and dropped to the floor. With a sinking feeling, she noticed that the anger had disappeared from Jim’s face, to be replaced by a look of deep worry.

“Not a word to anyone about this,” he said, picking up the letter and carefully filing it away. “I’d rather that the others didn’t know.”

Trixie nodded unhappily, knowing that this would be a difficult confidence to keep. “I won’t say anything,” she said. “We’ve got a little time now, and then I’m going to spend some time with Honey, but I’ll be back later tonight - maybe around eleven-thirty. I don’t want you to be alone at a time like this.”

“I’ll be asleep by then,” he replied, smiling for the first time since she arrived.

“I know,” said Trixie, “but we can wake up together.”

Jim pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

An hour later, Trixie reluctantly left for her agreed meeting with Honey. As much as she had been looking forward to this time, it somehow didn’t seem the same now. Her boyfriend may not have said so in as many words, but he needed her. It seemed wrong to leave him now.

“Anyone home?” called Honey’s voice, from outside the door. “It’s only me.”

“Come in,” she replied, with a smile. She would know Honey’s voice anywhere. “We’d better get started. I think I need an early night.”

Honey’s face showed polite acceptance of the statement - a little too polite, in Trixie’s opinion. It’s not any of her business, Trixie thought, trying to put it out of her mind. And it won’t help if I’m thinking about that and not what I’m supposed to be doing. She pulled up an extra chair and they seated themselves in front of the computer.

“This is what I’ve got so far, for the next update,” said Trixie, waving at the screen in front of them. “So, what did you think of it? What do you think we should improve first?”

“Well, for one, it’s a little bright,” her friend replied, with her usual tact. “It might be a bit hard on the eyes after a while. Maybe we could find a darker blue for the text and change the red background to-”

“Don’t say pink,” Trixie warned. “This isn’t a pink sort of web site.”

Honey put a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh. “Oh, but Lucy looked so beautiful in the pink negligée in Jacqui’s story,” she giggled. “John could hardly keep his eyes off her.”

“That wasn’t pink and it wasn’t a negligée,” Trixie objected. “It was a blue camisole. And, anyway, I wanted it to match my latest acquisition.” She produced a book, with a flourish.

“Oh, you haven’t!” cried Honey. “Please, tell me it’s not… Oh, but it is! Your very own Adventure in Paris with the typos. What page? What page?”

“Thirty-nine.”

“Let’s see… Oh, here it is. ‘The message landed at my feet. I picked it up and quickly red it. ‘7:30. Cordon Blue. Eirenicon.’” Looking up, she laughed. “It took me ages to figure out that what it meant was ‘cordon bleu’. I kept thinking of those little posts they have in museums, with blue ropes on them.” She stopped and thought for a minute. “Maybe, instead of the blue writing on a red background, we could make some graphics that have red and blue in them - and use part of this cover illustration.”

“Honey, you’re a genius!” Trixie declared. “Why didn’t I ask you earlier? What do we do first?”

“Let me sit there, for a start,” she said, smiling gently. “And, while I’m doing this, we can go over the latest developments in our investigation. Has anything happened lately?”

Trixie’s shoulders sagged. “Not a thing,” she said. “I sure missed the boat on that one. I mean, I’m really sorry about your aunt, but with everything that happened, I forgot all about the case.”

“What was his name again?” Honey’s voice was soft, as she manipulated the image on the screen. “Anthony? Arnold? Abner?”

“Andrew.” They both giggled. “Andrew Damien King, formerly of a little town in Connecticut. Hit over the head for no apparent reason. Died where he fell, within sight of this house. Nothing at the scene, except maybe a pair of binoculars.” She sighed. “I wish I knew what all this was about.”

“Where did the bit about the binoculars come from? I don’t remember hearing that before - I mean, I’d heard all the other stuff, not that I remembered his name, but you get the idea, and what do you think of this?”

“It’s not very red, or very blue,” said Trixie, frowning. “I want it to match, remember?”

“I’m getting to that. And you didn’t answer the question - the first question, I mean: about the binoculars.”

“Well, I kind of guessed that,” she admitted. “The police asked Jim if he owned a pair, which he doesn’t. And it would make sense, if he was watching the house, that he’d have something to help him see better. But it doesn’t get us anywhere, whether he had binoculars or not. There’s no clues, no nothing.”

“Unless it’s connected to something else - like that real estate agent who was here.”

“That’s not much of a clue, though. He can’t have been the one who listed the house - he’d been dead for more than a month when that happened.” She paused to look at the screen. “It’s getting better, but it still needs more red.”

“I haven’t even started on red,” said Honey, in mock exasperation. “Anyway, I thought you were saying that there’s something big going on - bigger than just the guy with Jim’s ID. Couldn’t the two things still be connected?”

“Y-e-s,” said Trixie. Along with the letter that Jim got today, she added to herself. “The accidents at my work, too. I think they’re all connected, but they don’t make any sense. It’s not like there’s one person being targeted, or any other pattern here.”

“Maybe we’re not looking big enough,” said Honey. “There! What do you think of that? Is that red enough for you?”

“It’s beautiful,” Trixie replied, giving her friend a sudden hug. “I’m sure that will look much better.”

“Well, let’s swap back and I’ll let you do the whole HTML thing. I just can’t get my head around it.”

As they executed the manoeuvre, Trixie took a look at her friend. Something’s bothering her, she decided, but how can I get her to tell me what it is? A sudden thought occurred to her. Maybe it’s something to do with Brian.

“So, how are things with my darling brother,” she said, trying to be casual. “I haven’t seen you two at each other’s throats lately.”

“Fine,” said Honey, with a sigh. “Everything’s just fine.”

“I take it my advice wasn’t any good,” she replied, while concentrating on the screen. Brian’s bothering her a little, she decided, but that’s not the main thing. “Maybe you should’ve asked Di.”

Once again, Honey sighed. “I have asked her, but she didn’t have any better ideas and, anyway, since they told us they’re getting married I don’t think I could get her attention to talk about it anymore.”

Bingo! thought Trixie. Di and Mart had announced their engagement the previous day. She hadn’t noticed much at the time - she was far too excited by the news - but Honey had not seemed terribly happy about the announcement.

“I hope she won’t want to talk about the wedding all the time,” said Trixie, pretending to groan. “The last thing we need is bridal magazines all over the house and Di talking about dress designs and flowers and all that. If I ever get married, I think I’ll just wear my jeans.”

“When you get married,” her friend corrected, with a giggle, “you’ll wear a dress, and it might even be white. And your parents will be happy that you’re getting married, too. I feel so sorry for Di. From what she said, her mother was just about hysterical.”

“She hasn’t told me anything,” said Trixie, “but Mart was just about shaking in his boots when I talked to him last night. All he told me was that Moms and Dad took the news really well - with the implication that Mr. and Mrs. Lynch didn’t. What do you think of this? It looks kind of busy to me.”

“Can’t you put a plain bit on top of it?” Honey asked, peering at the screen. “I saw that on someone else’s site - they had the pictures in the background and a plain bit with the text on it in front.”

“Oh, okay,” said Trixie, starting to edit again.

“And while we’re talking about Mart and Di,” said Honey, with an accusation in her voice, “you’d better tell me right now how you knew what they were going to tell us. I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years, but I know that you knew, even if no one had actually told you beforehand.”

“He is my almost-twin,” said Trixie, in her calmest tones. “I just… got an idea. It wasn’t anything special. So, are you and Brian going to be next?”

Her friend gasped aloud. “Of course not! I wouldn’t dream of getting married now! I mean, I’m far too young, and I’ve only just started college and I’m living away from home for the first time and you know that things are still a little shaky between Brian and me and how could you think that I might be when I’ve just told you how shocked I was and that her mother was so upset and don’t you think that mine would be even worse?”

“Can’t you tell by now when I’m joking?” said Trixie, giggling so much she could barely talk. “Besides, I couldn’t imagine your mother having hysterics. She’s not the hysterical kind.”

“I know,” said Honey, taking a deep breath. “It’s just that I can’t imagine getting married at the age we are. It just seems too young.”

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie said, gently. “Mart told me they’ll still live here afterwards. She won’t be any different from how she is now, they’ll just share a room.”

“Like you and Jim,” said Honey, with a sudden grin.

“Jim and I have our own rooms,” she replied, with dignity. “We’re not sharing.”

“Sure,” said Honey.

“So, what do you think?” asked Trixie, hitting reload. “Is that better?”

“It’s perfectly perfect,” said Honey. “And you’re right, Trixie. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Why don’t I believe that she means that? Trixie thought, even as she nodded her agreement.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

“Hi, Moms,” said Trixie, into the telephone. “How is everything going?”

Over the line came the sound of a faint sigh. “As well as can be expected, thank you,” her mother said. “I’m a little worried about Christmas. I haven’t the faintest idea of where everyone will sleep, or what we’ll eat, but other than that, the plans are coming along well. How are you?”

“My last exam was this morning,” she replied, “so, I’m great. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to help. I’ve only got about six hours of work this week, so I could run back to Sleepyside if you need me to.”

“That would be wonderful,” Helen said, sounding weary. “Thank you for offering. Let’s see: beds and bedding; towels and bath mats; tablecloths and napkins; silverware, plates and glasses… Obviously, you can’t take care of all of that. Maybe we should make a list of what we need first.”

“You haven’t even got a list yet?” Trixie was horrified. Every other year, for as long as she could remember, her mother had made the Christmas list in September. “How about if I write one for you now and email it to you. Then, you can email me back any corrections and I’ll make a start on it.”

“Thank you, Trixie. That would be wonderful.”

“One thing, first: who’s going to be staying and when do they arrive?” She took up a pencil and paper to jot down the names, dates and times. “Oh, Moms!” she cried, when the list was complete. “How are we going to fit all of these people in?”

“I have no idea,” Helen replied. “I’m sure we’ll manage, somehow, but the walls will have to be more elastic than ever.”

Ten minutes later, Trixie sat down in front of her computer and opened her word processor. Let’s see, she thought, tapping her index finger lightly on a key, where should I start? Divide and conquer, I guess. She typed in some bold headings, before filling in the blanks with more specific items. The resultant list was quite formidable.

There’s no way Moms and I can do all this, she decided, but who can I get to help? She ran her eyes down the guest list. Gloria is the obvious answer, but could I really ask her? She looked back to the to-do list with a groan. I’ll go and see her, as soon as Moms lets me know that this list is okay.

Minutes later, the email was sent. After sorting through her inbox and discarding a number of offers for penis enlargements or Viagra, Trixie settled back to read the latest posts on her message board. She was giggling helplessly at her friends’ antics when the new mail announcement sounded. Abandoning Lucy, she switched to her mail program to find the following message:

Hi Trixie,

Your list looks just fine. The only thing that I’d add is to make sure there are plenty of Grandpa Johnson’s favorite cookies in his room. You know how he loves a midnight snack. I’ll let you know tomorrow what I need you to do.

Love,
Moms

Once again, Trixie’s index finger gently tapped a key. What should she do now? Her earlier intention was to see Gloria as soon as possible, to save her mother from worrying too much. She wasn’t working at all tomorrow. Would her mother call early in the day? Wracked with indecision, Trixie turned back to her Lucy board. I’ll decide later, she thought.

As she got ready for work later that afternoon, Trixie turned the matter over in her mind. By the time she was ready to go, it was next to decided. Picking up the phone, she dialled a familiar number.

“Belden residence,” said a half-familiar voice. “Gloria speaking.”

“Hey, Gloria. It’s Trixie.” For the next few moments, they exchanged pleasantries. “Listen, I was talking to Moms earlier today about the arrangements for Christmas and I think she’s at a bit of a disadvantage. Do you think we could get together tomorrow to talk about it?”

“What time?” asked the other woman. “I’ve got an appointment in Sleepyside in the afternoon.”

“Morning’s fine with me. I’ll see you at the farm at - say, nine-thirty?”

“Great. See you then.”

At nine-thirty the next morning, Trixie pulled into the driveway of Crabapple Farm. It seemed strange to be there, when none of her immediate family were in residence. The house was somehow different, in a way that she could not define. Gathering her belongings, she pushed such thoughts aside and walked up to the kitchen door.

“Hello?” she called, opening the screen door. “Oh, hi, Gloria. How are you?”

“Not too bad, at the moment,” she replied, smiling. “Yourself?”

Trixie grimaced. “When you see the list of what needs to be done, you’ll understand.”

“That bad?” She waved Trixie to a seat. “Well, let’s get it over with. You want coffee or something?”

“Maybe later. Thanks for asking.” She set down a hard copy of the list. “I think the biggest problem is that we’re going to be trying to fit sixteen adults, plus Bobby, in the house for the night before the wedding; fifteen, plus Bobby, for the next couple of nights. Unless there have been some extra beds arriving while I was gone, I think we’re in trouble.”

“Sixteen?” asked Gloria, utterly incredulous. “You’re kidding, right? We can’t fit sixteen people in this house. There’s only beds for-” (she silently counted) “-ten, I think. And where will they all sit for Christmas lunch?”

“There’s a sofa bed, too, which makes twelve,” Trixie added. “And, that was only who was sleeping here. We’re having more than that for lunch. That’ll be okay, though. There’s an extra table in the garage and, if we shift everything just right, it’ll just fit in. We’ve done that before, so I think we can get Brian to organise it.”

The other woman groaned deeply. “We’re never going to get the place ready. Can’t we just tell them all that they’ll have to stay in a motel?”

“You don’t know this family,” Trixie laughed. “They’ll all say that ‘of course there’ll be room for just me.’ None of them will even think about the fact that there’s a lot more people than themselves. Besides, Moms would kill us if we did that.”

“Well, where are we going to put them all?”

Trixie pushed another sheet across the table. “That’s how far I’ve got,” she said. “You’ll see that you, Knut, Hallie and I don’t have anywhere to sleep yet. Any ideas?”

“Well, for one thing, you can take Knut and me out of the equation,” Gloria replied. “We hadn’t told your parents yet, but we’ve decided to stay in Sleepyside after they move back in. We’ve got an apartment in town and we’re getting the keys on Thursday. If it’s going to be that crowded here, we’ll make sure that it’s at least livable.”

“So, if I spend the night at the Manor House, I’ll just have to find somewhere to put Hallie. Maybe I could take her with me. I’ll have to ask Honey.” She scrawled a note on the first sheet. “Next, I guess, is gathering all of the things we’ll need: extra chairs, bed linen, silverware and what have you. It would be easier if I was here to do that.”

“Definitely,” Gloria agreed. “I still don’t know where your mother keeps most of those sorts of things. I have enough trouble finding everyday things. So, how about if you find everything and I’ll make sure it’s clean?”

“Are you sure?” Trixie asked. “It’ll be a lot of work. Washing and ironing and dusting and polishing.” She screwed up her nose at the very thought.

Gloria laughed. “Well, do you want to do it? I didn’t think so. Besides, I’d much rather deal with those things than arrange the food. And, Knut will help.”

“If you say so,” she replied. “Okay. I’ll find everything we need. You’ll clean it. Brian will get the extra table and chairs ready - I’d better tell him that.” She quickly wrote a note next to the first one. “That just leaves the food. Well, I’ll talk it over with Moms. Maybe she’ll have some ideas.” She sighed, running a hand through her curls. “So, all we need now is a time when I can hunt up all this stuff.”

“Did you want to do that today?” Gloria asked. “I’ll have to leave right after lunch, but you could stay here to finish if we haven’t already by then.”

“I hope we’d be finished by then,” Trixie said, groaning. “But, just in case, we’d better have that coffee first.”

By the time that Gloria needed to leave for her appointment, the study was piled high with supplies for Christmas. Trixie was tired and dusty, from searching the attic, and wanted nothing more than to go home. At least that’s one mammoth task out of the way, she thought, as she made her way back to Winter Rock.

That evening, Trixie received a phone call from her mother, which took a great load off her mind. She had been pleased with the progress that she and Gloria had made, but it had not been nearly enough.

“Good news,” her mother said, in tones which reflected the words. “I was just speaking to your Aunt Alicia and she has offered to handle all of the food for Christmas.”

A broad smile broke out across Trixie’s face. Her earliest Christmas memories were of feasts prepared and served by Aunt Alicia. If there was anyone who could outdo Moms when it came to Christmas catering, it was her sister.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said, reaching for her list to cross that horrible item off. “We can leave it all to her and I’m sure she’ll recruit whoever she needs to help.” And, hopefully, that won’t be me! she added, silently. With the weight of responsibility off her mind, she turned the conversation to other, more cheerful, matters.

Part Two: Diana

Friday, December 24, 2004

Diana opened her eyes. Royal blue and gold. Her old bedroom in her parents’ house. This will be the last time I wake up here, she thought, with satisfaction. The last time I’ll wake up single. She threw back the covers and rose, a definite spring in her step.

Almost an hour later, she sat down to breakfast with the family in the dining room. She smiled at her brothers and sisters, as they happily argued over the condiments. She smiled at her parents, solemn and reserved at their end of the table. Today was beautiful. Today was perfect. She intended to enjoy every moment.

“I’ll have an extra pancake, please,” she said to Harrison, smiling up at him.

“The dress-” her mother warned.

“-will be fine,” she replied, still smiling. “It was loose yesterday. An extra pancake today won’t hurt. Besides, I’ll need the energy.” She could almost hear her mother’s repressed groan. The pancake tasted extra-good because of it.

Just as the meal was ending, Harrison entered again, this time to announce that her bridesmaids had arrived and that they were waiting upstairs. Diana got up with a bounce, excused herself and practically ran up to her room.

“You’re here,” she cried just after throwing open the door. “Isn’t this the most perfect day? I could just sing, I’m so happy.”

“Perfectly perfect,” Honey agreed. “But it’s going to be a bit rushed. We’d better start getting you ready.” She pushed her friend onto the seat next to the dresser. “Did you decide how you were going to have your hair?”

“Like this,” said Di, pulling it gently back from her face. “I’ve got these sparkly clips, to hold it in place and then the comb for the veil will sit behind them. I tried it out last night.”

“Do you need any help with it?” Di shook her head, setting to work. “Then I might start on Trixie’s.”

“Oh, woe,” Trixie groaned. “We’ll be late, for sure, if you’re going to try to make my hair look nice.”

“Sit,” ordered Honey. “And quit running yourself down. Just you wait. When we’ve finished with you, you’ll look gorgeous.”

Trixie squeezed her eyes shut theatrically and submitted to her best friend’s ministrations. The three women worked steadily, laughing and talking all the while. Di finished her own hair first, then began on Honey’s. Trixie’s curls were - as she had predicted - the most difficult to tame, but eventually they looked perfect.

“You’d better not eclipse the bride,” Di warned her friends, playfully. “All eyes are supposed to be on me, you know.”

“As if we could,” Honey replied. “You look wonderful already and we haven’t even done your makeup yet. Speaking of which, we’d better start. Time’s running out.”

I’m so glad I decided that we’d do this ourselves, Di thought, as Honey set out the makeup. This is just perfect: the three of us, working together. She picked up her foundation and started to apply it. Beside her, the others began to follow suit.

“If I must,” Trixie muttered, looking at hers as if it might bite her. “But you two have to make sure I don’t have any strange lines or anything. You never know how it’ll turn out with me.”

“I could help you, if you want me to,” Honey offered, carefully blending hers down her neck. “I’ll be finished with mine soon.”

“That’s a good idea,” Di said. “When I’ve finished mine, I’ll help too.”

“Wonderful,” giggled Trixie. “Di looks drop dead gorgeous all by herself, but I need two people to make me look kind of normal.”

“Trixie!” Honey chastised. “Stop it. And, go like this.”

For the next few minutes, the conversation slowed until, finally, all three were fully made up. Di considered their reflection in the mirror. Perfect, she decided. Time to get dressed. Her eyes strayed to the clock. Not long, now. Photos in about ten minutes.

“We’d better dress,” she said, aloud. “Who wants to help me?”

“I will,” Honey volunteered. “Then Trix and I can get into our dresses, too.”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Di said, stepping into the walk-in wardrobe. “Chat amongst yourselves while I’m gone.”

Behind the closed door, she made sure that everything was on hand before stripping. Okay, she thought. Let’s just make sure everything under the dress is perfect, too. Good. Sitting down, she carefully put her feet into white stockings and pulled them up. Purple garters followed. She checked her appearance in the full-length mirror and was happy.

“Okay, Honey,” she called. “Come and help me now.”

The door opened. Her friend was clearly startled. “Is that what gets worn under wedding dresses?” she squeaked.

“Shut the door,” cried Trixie. “I don’t want to know!”

“I don’t know about other people’s wedding dresses,” Di said, as Honey did as she was told, “but this is what’s getting worn under mine. Mart’s going to be getting me out of it in about three and a half hours. I want to impress him.”

“Knock him over, more likely,” Honey replied, giggling. “I’ll be surprised if Mart survives your honeymoon.”

“We have to have the wedding, first. Help me into the dress, please.” There was a pause as Honey did up the row of tiny buttons which ran down the back. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Put your shoes on, and let’s show Trixie.”

The door smoothly slid open and her friend turned to look. Di knew at once that Trixie was impressed. “Oh, that looks stunning,” she said, coming closer to examine the long-sleeved white satin dress. “It’s so… elegant, I guess. I kind of thought you’d have a really fancy dress, but this is…” Words failed her, and she waved her hands helplessly.

“Thank you,” said Di, quietly. “My mother wanted lace and beading and practically every embellishment you could think of, but I thought it would be better to keep it simple.” She glanced at the time. “You’d better get into your dresses. The photographer will be here any moment.”

When a knock sounded, at few minutes later, all three were ready. Di took only a moment to check that her small bag contained everything she needed - lipstick, spare stockings, make-up mirror and handkerchief - before handing it to her mother.

“The photographer is waiting,” said Mrs. Lynch, looking as if she was about to cry. “Are you ready?”

“We’re coming right now,” said Di, stepping out into the hall.

Taking care to stay looking perfect, they made their way to one of the guest rooms, which had been set aside for photographs. Everything was ready for them and soon they were all being directed into various poses.

By the time that Mrs. Lynch said, “It’s almost time to go down,” Di was beginning to wonder exactly how many photographs she could possibly need. With relief, she headed for the stairs.

“This is it,” she whispered to Honey and Trixie, as they gathered outside the door to the formal living area. Inside, her groom awaited. “Married life here I come!”

She settled her dress into place and took her father’s arm.