Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

“Yes, I’m sorry. I mustn’t forget that Anne has put me in charge.”

“Here we go again,” said Jean-Pierre. “What time shall we report, Professor?”

“One hour from now, fully dressed to inspect James and take him to the church. Jean-Pierre, you will go and buy four carnations—three red ones and one white. Robin, you will arrange for the taxi and I shall take care of James.”

Robin and Jean-Pierre left, singing the Marseillaise lustily in two different keys. James and Stephen watched them depart.

“How are you feeling, James?”

“Great. I’m only sorry that I didn’t complete my plan before today.”

“Doesn’t matter at all. September 13th will be quite early enough. In any case, the break will do us no harm.”

“We’d never have managed it without you. You know that, don’t you, Stephen? We’d all be facing ruin and I wouldn’t even have met Anne. We all owe you so much.”

Stephen stared fixedly out of the window, unable to reply.

“Three red and one white,” said Jean-Pierre, “as instructed, and I presume the white one is for me.”

“Pin it on James. Not behind his ear, Jean-Pierre.”

“You look fantastic, but I still fail to see what the lady sees in you,” said Jean-Pierre, fixing the white carnation in James’s buttonhole. Although the four of them were ready to leave, they still had half an hour to kill before the taxi was due. Jean-Pierre opened a bottle of champagne and they toasted James’s health, the Team’s health, Her Majesty The Queen, the President of the United States, and finally, with simulated reluctance, the President of France. Having finished the bottle, Stephen thought it wise for them to leave immediately and dragged the other three down to the waiting taxi.

“Keep smiling, James. We’re with you.”

And they bundled him into the back.

The taxi took only a few minutes to reach Trinity Church, Copley Square, and the driver was not unhappy to be rid of the four of them.

“3:15 P.M. Anne will be very pleased with me,” said Stephen.

He escorted the bridegroom to the front pew on the right-hand side of the church, while Jean-Pierre made eyes at the prettiest of the girls. Robin helped hand out the wedding sheets while

one thousand overdressed guests waited for the bride.

Stephen had just come to Robin’s aid on the steps of the church and Jean-Pierre had joined them, suggesting they take their seats, when the Rolls Royce arrived. They were riveted to the steps by the beauty of Anne in her Balenciaga wedding gown. Her father stepped out behind her. She took his arm and proceeded to climb the steps.

The three stood motionless, like sheep in the stare of a python.

“The bastard.”

“Who’s been conning who?”

“She must have known all along.”

Harvey beamed vaguely at them as he walked past with Anne on his arm. They proceeded down the aisle.

“Good God,” thought Stephen. “He didn’t recognize any of us.”

They took their places at the back of the church, out of earshot of the vast congregation. The organist stopped playing when Anne reached the altar.

“Harvey can’t know,” said Stephen.

“How do you work that out?” asked Jean-Pierre.

“Because James would never have put us through this unless he’d passed the test himself at some earlier date.”

“Good thinking,” whispered Robin.