The Wrong Wedding

The invitation said the Old Mill, 2pm, and the satnav said the Old Mill, and I arrived at 2:15 at an old mill with bunting on it and a man in a waistcoat directing cars, so you'll understand why I didn't question it. I should say I didn't know the couple well. My girlfriend's colleague. She was coming separately from work, she'd said, meet you there, and her phone was going to voicemail, which I put down to signal. There's never signal at these places. It's part of the charm. I went in. Big barn, fairy lights, long tables. A woman with a clipboard said "Bride or groom?" and I said "Bride," because it was Sophie's colleague, and she said "Lovely, table nine," and I went to table nine and there was a place card that said DAVID, which is not my name, but I assumed a mix-up, and I sat down. I'd like to point out that nobody at table nine found this strange either. That's my defence. Six people looked at me, I said "Hello, I'm with Sophie, she's running late," and they all went "ohh" in the way people do, and a man called Graham poured me a prosecco. The groom's aunt, Maureen, was on my left. Maureen was a delight. Maureen told me about her hip, and her son in Dubai, and her opinion of the venue ("the last one was nicer, but don't say I said"), and I told her about my job, and she said "and how do you know Emma," and I said "who's Emma," and she said "the bride," and I laughed, because I thought she was joking, because the bride was called Hannah. It was at that point, prosecco number two, that I looked properly at the top table. I did not recognise the bride. I did not recognise the groom. I did not recognise the enormous banner above them that said EMMA AND TOM in gold letters that I had somehow been sitting beneath for forty minutes. "Maureen," I said. "Is this the Old Mill?" "This is Mill House, love. The Old Mill's up the road. People do mix them up."

There was a pause in which I considered my options. They were: leave quietly, or explain. I looked at Graham, who had just refilled my glass. I looked at Maureen. I looked at the place card that said DAVID. "Maureen, I'm at the wrong wedding." She looked at me for a long moment, and then she put her hand on my arm and laughed so hard she had to put her fork down. Then she told Graham. Then Graham told the table, and the table told the next table, and by the time the best man got up for his speech there was a ripple going through the room and he actually said, "Before I start, I'm told we have an uninvited guest at table nine, could David stand up," and I stood up, and two hundred people I had never met gave me a round of applause. I found the Old Mill eventually. Sophie was outside it looking at her phone with an expression I'd describe as "storm warning." I explained. She didn't believe me until Maureen's son in Dubai, who had been sent a video, started following me on Instagram. Emma and Tom sent me a thank you card. Genuinely. It said "Thanks for coming, David." I've got it on the fridge.