Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

“An unfortunate turn of phrase,” offered Robin.

“Silence,” said Jean-Pierre. “I agree with Stephen. We’ve got the measure of Metcalfe, just relax.”

“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

Jean-Pierre continued mumbling to himself, but it didn’t sound like a prayer.

The blast of Handel’s Wedding March from the organ brought them all back to the occasion. The ceremony was over and Lord and Lady Brigsley walked down the aisle watched by two thousand smiling eyes. Stephen looked amused, Jean-Pierre envious, and Robin nervous. James smiled beatifically as he passed them.

After a ten-minute session for the photographers on the steps of the church, the Rolls Royce carried the newly married couple back to the Metcalfes’ house in Lincoln. Harvey and the Countess of Louth took the second car, and the Earl and Arlene, Anne’s mother, took the third. Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre followed some twenty minutes later, still arguing the pros and cons of bearding the lion in his own den.

Harvey Metcalfe’s Georgian house was magnificent, with an oriental garden leading down to a lake, great beds of roses and in the conservatory his pride and joy, his collection of rare orchids.

“I never thought I’d see this,” said Jean-Pierre.

“Nor me,” said Robin, “and now that I have, I’m not too happy.”

“Let’s run the gauntlet,” said Stephen. “I suggest that we join the receiving line at well-separated intervals. I’ll go first. Robin, you come second, at least twenty places behind, and Jean-Pierre, you come third, at least twenty places behind Robin, and act naturally. We’re just friends of James’s from England. Now, when you take your places in the queue, listen to the conversation. Try and find someone who’s a close friend of Harvey’s and jump immediately in front of them. When it comes to your turn to shake hands, Harvey’s eyes will already be on the next person because he won’t know you and will want to talk to them. That way we should escape.”

“Brilliant, Professor,” said Jean-Pierre.

The queue seemed interminably long. A thousand people shuffled past the outstretched hands of Mr. and Mrs. Metcalfe, the Earl and Countess of Louth, and Anne and James. Stephen eventually made it and passed with flying colors.

“So glad you could come,” said Anne.

Stephen did not reply.

“Good to see you, Stephen.”

“We all admire your plan, James.”

Stephen slipped into the main ballroom and hid behind a pillar on the other side of the room, as far as he could be from the multi-story wedding cake in the center.

Robin was next and avoided looking Harvey in the eyes.

“How kind of you to come all this way,” said Anne.

Robin mumbled something under his breath.

“Hope you’ve enjoyed yourself today, Robin?”

James was obviously having the time of his life. After being put through it in the same way by Anne, he was relishing the Team’s discomfiture.

“You’re a bastard, James.”

“Not too loud, old fellow. My mother and father might hear you.”

Robin slipped through to the ballroom and, after a search behind all the pillars, found Stephen.

“Did you get through all right?”

“I think so, but I don’t want to see him ever again. What time is the plane back?”

“8 P.M. Now don’t panic. Keep your eye out for Jean-Pierre.”

“Bloody good thing he kept his beard,” said Robin.

Jean-Pierre shook hands with Harvey, who was already intent on the next guest as Jean-Pierre had, by shameless queue-barging, managed to secure a place in front of a Boston banker who was obviously a close friend of Harvey’s.