Chapter One - Glad I Crashed The Wedding

"All right, then," said Reverend Rottenwell, sighing, "there's obviously no hope for either of you. That's it. You're married, God help us all. Who's got the rings?"

"That would be me," said Stingy, taking a small white leather box out of his waistcoat pocket. The Reverend held out his hand. Stingy looked at him for a moment, then winked at Trixie before smiling broadly and announcing, "I'm sorry, Reverend Rottenwell, but I can't let you have these, because they're…"

"MINE!" chorused the entire wedding party, laughing and applauding.

Trixie and Stingy rolled their eyes at each other as Sportacus drew Stephanie into his arms and kissed her, slowly, deeply and completely un-self-consciously, as if they were totally alone, rather than standing in front of their closest friends on their wedding day.

Christ, Stingy mouthed to her.

Hot, Trixie mouthed back with a wink.

--

"I just think it's a bit much," said Stingy gloomily. He was seated on one of the white wicker chairs that had materialised out of nowhere as the party got under way, and Trixie sat at his feet with her legs curled under her, pensively eating fruit. She had taken off the strict-looking, four-inch-high black patent shoes that he found so disturbingly sexy, and he could see her dainty white feet, the toenails painted red, wriggling with the pleasure of freedom. They were watching Stephanie and Sportacus dancing together.

"I mean," Stingy continued, "I'm glad they're together and everything, but are they going to be like this all the time from now on? I think I preferred it when they just took it in turns to stare longingly at each other."

"You're a prude, Stingy," said Trixie. "They're completely and hopelessly in love. It's their wedding day. This is something they've both wanted and dreamed about for years. Neither of them ever thought it was going to happen. Now it has and they're completely thrilled about it. Isn't that how it's supposed to be?" She reached into his waistcoat pocket. "God, you must be the last man on earth who actually owns a handkerchief." She wiped the juice from her peach off her fingers and offered it back to him. He grimaced.

"Keep it, Trix, it's yours….honestly, they haven't stopped smiling from the moment they set eyes on each other this morning. He can hardly keep his hands off her."

Trixie laughed and shrugged.

"So how you do think it ought to be, then, Stingy? What would they have had to do to meet with your approval?"

"They didn't need to kiss for quite that long at the altar," he said firmly. "A few seconds would have been fine. And a little bit less of full-on snog, that would have been good. And the way they're dancing together now, it's - God, it's verging on foreplay."

"Oh, it so is not," said Trixie firmly. "I don't know what sort of foreplay you like to indulge in -"

("Actually, you kind of do," Stingy interjected, sotto voce)

"- but holding each other on the dance floor and kissing occasionally doesn't qualify in anyone else's book."

"Oh, all right, I admit it. I am a prude. I'm an uptight, boring, old-fashioned prude. It's just…it's just a bit much in public, that's all."

"Stingy, you are so middle-aged it's just not true!" squealed Trixie.

"I seem to remember you begging them to stop, too," said Stingy defensively.

"Well, okay," said Trixie, laughing. "But that was just to tease them. You actually meant it…But then you never were into public displays of affection, were you?" Trixie picked up a strawberry and nibbled the end of it between her sharp white teeth, looking at him over the top of it.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She uncoiled herself from the grass and popped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth.

"Don't try and act like you don't remember, Stingy," she said. He felt his heart skip a beat and reached out to touch her, but she was gone, her shoes dangling from her fingertips as she weaved her way in between the couples on the dance floor.

--

"Freshen that up for you, Mrs Meanswell?" a voice murmured in her ear. She turned around and found the Reverend Rottenwell standing just behind her. He raised his eyebrows and showed her the bottle of gin he had tucked away under his robe.

Her whole mouth went dry with longing and remembrance. She could still remember every detail; the beautiful glass bottles it came in (they were mostly green, but her very favourite, the one she had drunk all the time in Metropolis, came in a bottle of the most seductive mid-blue - the colour of her eyes, a bar-tender had told her once); the faint crackle as you poured it over and the ice began to melt; the sharpness of the lime when you sliced it open and cut a thick, voluptuous wedge. The pssst of the tonic water when you opened a perfectly fresh bottle, frosted with condensation, that you had taken from the very back of the fridge. The way tiny fragments of lime pulp got caught on the rim of the glass as you carefully wiped the wedge around it before dropping it into the bubbles. The smooth cold silkiness of the first mouthful. The shiver of bliss on the back of your neck when you swallowed…

She shook her head, afraid to speak in case the words that came out of her mouth were yes, please.

"You sure? I imagine you could do with it, on a day like this," he drawled, unscrewing the cap and taking an ostentatious mouthful. She turned away so that she wouldn't catch the smell, that bitter, dry, sloes-and-aromatics smell that spoke straight to the darkest places of her soul.

"If the Mayor sees you with that, he'll have you run out of town," she said with difficulty.

"Oh, surely not, not on his niece's wedding day," he said. "You sure I can't tempt you? Oh, well maybe another time…well, I guess Sportacusfinally got what he wanted, hmmm? Despite your very best efforts to prevent it…"

"Stephanie's happy," said Bessie firmly. "That's what matters. She's going back to the Conservatoire, she still has another year to go. After that…well, they'll be used to living apart during the week. I'm sure he'll understand if she wants to work in Metropolis. There are a number of excellent dance companies, plenty of shows…"

"You know she's pregnant, of course?" he said casually, taking another mouthful from the bottle.

She looked at him in shock.

"Oh, you mean you didn't know? I would have thought you'd be the first one they told, with you being so much like a mother to her…" He smiled in satisfaction at the look of pain in her eyes: of course she hadn't known. He would never have known himself if he hadn't heard that retired teacher (where had Barbie met her? he wondered idly to himself) talking to Pixel. After that, it was easy to keep one eye on the two of them, and catch that unmistakable gesture of pride and possessiveness, as he laid his hand lovingly against her belly and they smiled at each other.

"You did know what they were doing all those nights up there in that air-ship, of course?" he continued, enjoying the look on her face. "I hope you didn't imagine he's quite enough of a hero to wait for the wedding-night? After all, it would be a little bit more than flesh and blood could be expected to stand, don't you think - that pretty young girl all willing and eager in his arms? And having succumbed to each other once, it would be a bit strange if they didn't take every opportunity to repeat it. Then, once you've started on the primrose path, it's just a question of probabilities, don't you think? You play with matches, eventually you get burned…unless it was planned, of course, but at only just eighteen it seems unlikely…" He held out the bottle again. "Are you absolutely sure I can't tempt you?"

She gave a sob of mortification and fled.

"So shines a good deed in a naughty world," Reverend Rottenwell said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should take up telling unpleasant truths as my new hobby." He returned to his hammock to finish his snooze.

--

"Have you seen Trixie?" Stingy asked Pixel urgently. He looked in disgust at the cluster of wires and plastic in Pixel's hands. "Honestly, Pixel, can't you ever switch off?"

"I just like to keep busy," said Pixel. "I've nearly finished that new earpiece we were talking about, the one for the Voicemaster. You know you said you wanted to get rid of the headsets before we went to the mobile companies with the idea."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean you had to work on it at our friends' wedding." Pixel shrugged and jiggled a wire around in a hole. "Honestly, if they hadn't invented the silicon chip, I swear you'd just spend your days sitting in a rocking-chair whittling sticks. You're obsessed…so, have you seen Trixie?"

"She was heading off over to the airship with a bunch of tin cans and a whole lot of stuff in paper bags," said Pixel. "What did you want her for?"

"Just to…we were talking about something," said Stingy vaguely.

"You mean you were arguing," replied Pixel. "Honestly, you're a fine one to tell me about how to behave at a wedding."

"Oh, get back to your whittling," said Stingy irritably, stalking off.

--

"Bessie?" Milford put his hand gently on her shoulder, bewildered and concerned. "What's the matter?"

She raised her face to him, and he saw that her mascara had run and there were tracks through her foundation where the tears had run.

"Oh, Milford," she whispered. "Do you think we've made a terrible mistake by letting them get married?"

"What do you mean?" He sat down beside her and put his arm around her. "I thought you were happy about it? And you know, there really wasn't anything we could do to stop them. Look at her, she's so happy. He'll take care of her for ever, you know he will." He kissed her cheek softly. "He might not be who you would have chosen for her, dearest, but he's who she chose. We have to be happy for them."

"But - but - " she wiped her cheeks. Perhaps he was wrong. He might just be trying to make trouble, he's always liked to do that…"You're right, Milford. I'm sorry, I'm just a silly old woman crying at a wedding. Can you pass me my handbag?"

--

He bumped into her on the dance-floor. She had a look on her face like the cat that got the cream.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" he asked her suspiciously.

"Come and dance with me, Stingy," she said, smiling disarmingly up at him.

"Only if you tell me why you're smiling like that," he said, putting his arm around her and sweeping her away as the music changed to a waltz.

He could see the laughter bubbling up in her like champagne out of a bottle.

"I've just been up to the airship," she said. "I thought it could do with a bit of… redecoration. In honour of the day…"

"Oh for God's sake, Trix…what did you do?"

She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. He looked down at her in disbelief, trying hard not to laugh in case she thought he was approving.

"Why on earth would you do that? That's just evil, Trixie. It's their wedding night, for God's sake. They're going to be really unimpressed when they realise it was you - "

"Oh, come on," she said, laughing up at him. "It'll give them something to think about. Anyway, it serves them right for scuttling off from their own wedding at half-past six in the afternoon without even stopping to say goodbye."

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw him carrying her up into the airship about ten minutes ago."

"You take an unhealthy interest in them," Stingy warned her. "If I didn't know better…"

"And what makes you think you do know better?" Trixie teased him.

"I remember what you like," he said. "And it's certainly nothing as apple-pie-with-vanilla-ice-cream as those two are." He meant it to sound light-hearted, but his voice was suddenly thick. She glanced up at him through her thick dark eyelashes and for a moment neither of them spoke.

"Hey, Stingy," said Pixel down his ear, "Can I borrow you for a minute?"

Stingy stopped dancing and turned to his friend in exasperation.

"What is it?" he asked shortly.

"Can you just try this earpiece for me?"

"Does it really have to be right now?"

"It's okay, Stingy," said Trixie mockingly. "The path to millionairehood isn't an easy one. I'll catch up with you when I know I've got your undivided attention."

"But you had my undivided - never mind," he muttered, as she disappeared. Within seconds she was dancing with LJ, one of his friends (or one of Pixel's friends, he corrected himself grimly) from MIT, who liked to hide his basic geekiness beneath the rather unconvincing disguise of a Californian surfer.

"Just put it in for a minute," coaxed Pixel. Stingy shrugged and put it in his ear.

"Can you hear me?" Pixel asked.

"Yes! Amazing!" said Stingy sarcastically. "And from only three feet away!"

Pixel fiddled with a button on his jacket lapel.

"How about now?"

"Hey, is that the new transmitter?" Stingy examined it closely. "That's actually pretty good. Very discreet…are you sure the transmission is totally silent if you're not wearing an earpiece?"

"Pretty sure…do you think we've got a winner, then?"

Stingy patted Pixel on the back.

"Pixel, this will put Six Thousand Ideas Limited into the big league. I absolutely guarantee it." He smiled at his friend. "You're a genius, you know, the real deal. I really mean that."

"Not really," said Pixel thoughtfully. "If I was a genius, I'd be able to sell this stuff myself. And I wouldn't need you to balance my cheque book for me at the end of the month. And I'd be able to tell the difference between the good ideas and the weird ones. And I'd be better at talking to girls. Or people in general, come to think of it."

"Now, come on, don't sell yourself short - "

"I think I'm more of an idiot-savant, really. Now you, you're a genius. You've made enough on the stock market to cover your entire tuition before the end of the second semester, you get girls to go on dates with you whenever you want, you know what to wear to a restaurant, you can even argue with Trixie and score the occasional point... next time round, I'm coming back as you."

Stingy smiled.

"You're great as you are, Pixel," he said affectionately.

--

"So, did it work?"

Trixie silently passed him the blue paper aeroplane. The note was in Stephanie's handwriting.

Nice try, Trixie, it read. But you're forgetting one thing…he is an above average hero.

"Well, that showed you," said Stingy, with some satisfaction.

"I know…still, I bet it made them think a bit. Oh, well. Tant pis pour moi." She shrugged. "This time tomorrow I'll be off to Japan again, and it'll all seem like a dream…" She looked at him sideways. "Do you find that, Stingy? That when you leave Lazytown, it's hard to believe it's actually real?"

He thought for a while.

"I suppose I do," he said at last. "After all, so much of it just sounds insane when you try and explain it to anyone who hasn't been there. Sportacus, for example…"

"Yeah. A superhero who lives in an airship and keeps the town straight and honest. And Robbie…now there's someone who isn't really amenable to rational debate. Hard enough to explain in your own language, never mind in Japanese. I ended up drawing pictures. I think they thought I was an aspiring comic-book artist."

Stingy laughed. "Okay, well - I'll see you and raise. How would you explain to the Surfer Dudes that one of your best friends has just married the man who taught her how to throw basketball hoops when she was a kid, without it sounding like something out of Peyton Place?"

"I didn't know you'd even read Peyton Place," said Trixie, laughing. "You just keep unfolding like a flower, Stingy."

"Well, you were reading it that summer - " he swallowed.

"You mean that summer we - "

"Yeah."

"Do you ever think about it?" she asked.

(Only every time I see you)

"Oh, it crosses my mind from time to time," he said lightly. "Usually when I'm bored at parties. I think, I could be arguing with Trixie about whether or not the word "history" is gender neutral, or about the difference between irony and sarcasm. Then someone gives me a beer and I forget again."

"And that's what you remember? The arguments?"

"Not just the arguments, no." He reached out and took her hand. "Trix, I - I sometimes wish - if we'd been just a little bit older when we - "

"You know," she interrupted him, "there's one very important wedding tradition we've overlooked."

"And what's that?" he asked, sighing.

"It's absolutely mandatory for the bridesmaid to sleep with the best man." She looked at him sternly from under her eyelashes. "In fact, I believe it's terribly bad luck if we don't."

"Are you serious?" he asked her, his mouth dry.

"Deadly. What do you think, bestest male friend who isn't a boyfriend? Are you up for it?"

Oh, dear God, yes and absolutely, he thought, knowing he would regret it the next day when she left him again, but knowing he would regret it even more if he turned her down.

"Well," he said instead, pretending to consider for a minute, "if it's bad luck not to, then I suppose we really should. Just to keep the tradition, of course."

Trixie nodded approvingly.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," she said, taking hold of his hand. "Come with me."

--

"Hey, Pixel," said Ziggy brightly. "The whole gang's disappeared. Where is everyone?"

"I'm not the best person to ask." said Pixel distractedly. "I haven't really been taking much notice, to be honest. I've nearly cracked this new transmitter, I just can't get rid of the feedback when you have more than two people on the network…"

"Hey, is that what you're working on at the moment? Can I have a go? Is it that thing we used the night we broke into the Mayor's office?"

"Jesus, Ziggy, keep your voice down….yes, it's that one. I've been trying to get it into something a bit sleeker than those headsets we used. Look." He held up the earpiece. Ziggy instantly stuck it in his ear, then winced as a giant burst of feedback blasted straight into his eardrum.

"Wow, that was really loud. Is my ear bleeding, Pixel?"

Pixel inspected it gravely.

"No blood, Ziggy. Sorry."

"Oh. It certainly felt like it might be bleeding. Hey, I saw Stingy and Trixie going off together holding hands a few minutes ago. Do you think they're going to get together? Only I asked Stingy about it earlier and he got really mad and called me an idiot. And he poured my drink out on the ground. Do you think they like each other, or not?" Ziggy asked, jiggling happily from foot to foot.

Pixel sighed.

"I have absolutely no idea. Erm…why don't you go and ask Marie to dance with you?"

"Hey, do you think she might?" Ziggy hopped off again.

Pixel smiled to himself, and continued his delicate probing of the transmitter circuitry.

--

They rode the newly completed monorail to Smallville, hardly speaking. People smiled indulgently at them as they stood side by side in their formal clothes, but they didn't notice. Every now and then they caught each other's eyes and smiled at each other.

"Mr and Mrs Smith," Trixie said cheerfully to the proprietor of the hotel, taking the key from the concierge. He nodded and waved them towards the lift.

"Mr and Mrs Smith?" asked Stingy incredulously as the lift doors closed. "That's really clichéd, Trix."

"It's not a cliché if you do it ironically."

"Right. I see." He looked at her in amusement. "And how does one ironically register under a false name in a hotel?"

"It's all about style," she said airily. "Now do you want to argue about names, or do you want to…" she opened the door to the room.

Oh, yes, I want to…so much I can hardly breathe with it…

"Rules," she said softly, as he tried to take her in his arms.

"Oh, Trixie, do we have to - "

"Yes. Always. It's more fun that way. Okay, rule number one. You only get to take off one piece of my clothing…so choose wisely. Rule number two. No licking, anywhere, but especially not my ears. It's wet and tickly and over-rated, and I'm not having it. Rule number three…" she pulled him towards her by the buckle of his belt. "No regrets. I'm leaving in the morning. All clear?"

"Crystal clear," he said, smiling, and kissed her. His hands went to the back of her dress to find the fastening.

"The buttons are on the right hand side, Stingy," she chided him, guiding his hand. "I take it you've made your choice?"

"Oh, yes."

"You want to keep the gloves? And the shoes?" She nodded approvingly. "That's my boy. I always knew you were a man of discriminating taste…"

There were what seemed like thousands of tiny, cloth-covered buttons, each one of which had to be carefully pushed through a little loop of silk cord, and his fingers were trembling with need. He swore under his breath as he struggled with them, and she laughed and ruffled his hair encouragingly. Eventually he unfastened the last one, and Trixie stepped away from him. Smiling at him, she slowly peeled the dress off over her head.

For a minute, Stingy felt as if his heart was going to stop beating. She stood before him in her long gloves and her shiny high-heeled shoes; a tightly-laced black bustier; no knickers. She was as delicate and dainty as he remembered, but more carefully groomed, her lipstick immaculately red against her pale face, her thick hair pinned up in a neat little bun and skewered with two bamboo sticks ornamented with pale pink flowers. He reached blindly out for her.

"Wait," she said softly. "You're still dressed…"

"And are you only allowed to take one piece of clothing off me?" he asked.

"Oh, no," she said firmly. "You are going to be completely naked. I insist." She unfastened his tie and threw it carelessly across the room, looking mockingly at him to see if he would protest. He said nothing, so she took off his jacket, crumpled it in her hand, and tossed it onto the bed. The immaculately starched monogrammed shirt followed, then the trousers, the socks, the black silk boxer shorts. Even in her heels she was still shorter than him, but tall enough for him to be able to kiss her without stooping. He put his hands around her face and cupped it between the palms and kissed her, relishing the raspberry taste of her lipstick and the faint lingering spray of sake on her breath.

"Remember," she whispered as his lips began to move down her neck and shoulders. "No licking, I can't stand men who lick…"

"I haven't forgotten," he whispered. He nipped her with his teeth instead, and smiled when he heard her gasp with mingled pain and pleasure. He reached the lace-trimmed cups of her bustier and murmured with frustration. He wanted so much to be loving and generous with her, but she had always insisted on making it like this, a half-tender, half-frustrating game that left them both aching for more even when they were satisfied…maybe that was why she had stuck in his heart so persistently, when the few other girls he had been with had palled within a few weeks…

"You made your choice, Stingy," she whispered to him teasingly. "Now you have to live with it."

"And so do you," he reminded her, smiling. "Oh, well, we'll just have to work around it."

--

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms on the bed. She had taken down her hair and it flowed over the pillow like a river of black water. He ran his fingers through it and kissed it softly.

"Soppy, Stingy, very soppy," she told him warningly, watching him. "Don't you go getting all serious on me, will you?""Wouldn't dream of it, Trix," he said, laughing. "I know what you're like. How many hearts have you broken while you've been over in Japan?"

"Oh, it's different when you're in a foreign country," she said idly, propping one leg over the other and admiring her foot. "They know you're only there for a short while anyway, so they don't really get involved. And being a Western girl makes me kind of forbidden fruit anyway; not someone to bring home to meet the parents." She chuckled. "It suits me. I don't want to be tied down."

"And how about when you come back to Harvard in September?" he asked her. "You'll be tied down then, surely?"

She shrugged.

"Well, if it gets boring, I'll just throw it all up and be a hairdresser instead." She laughed at the appalled look on his face. "What's so terrible about that? Everyone needs their hair cut…"

"It's just a bit of a waste, don't you think?" he said. "I couldn't quite believe it when you got that place and then deferred it so you could spend six months fooling around in a beauty salon and then - "

"Spend six months fooling around in Japan," Trixie finished for him. "I'm not like you, Stingy. I don't have a life plan. I can't think of anything more boring than knowing what I'll be doing every day for the next thirty years. God, I don't even want to plan further ahead than the next thirty days." She turned to him and smiled. "We get one chance at this life, Stingy. Just one. I don't want to wake up and find I'm old and ugly and I've wasted all the wonderful things there are to do in this world…"

"And how about a career? Making money? Getting married? Having a family?"

"Oh, for God's sake," said Trixie, exasperated. "I'm eighteen years old. Ask me in ten years. We're all way too young to be worrying about that yet." She laughed to herself. "Although, saying that…can you keep a secret?""I'm known for it." He turned to look at her curiously.

"I think Stephanie and Sportacus are having a baby."

"They - what? Really? How do you know?"

"Well, she was as sick as anything this morning when I was getting her into her frock. I thought it was just nerves, but then later on she was sucking the slices of lemon out of her drink, like she couldn't help herself…and she just…I don't know. It's this look she has. Sort of serene and blooming."

"Wow." Stingy considered this for a while. "So, that's the end of her dancing career, I guess."

"Well, that might be the end of her plans to travel the world as a dancer, but I think she'd gone off that idea anyway. You know he can't leave Lazytown, and when they're apart from each other she just sort of…wilts. I don't think she's got the heart for it any more. She wants to open a dance school in Lazytown instead, sort of an extension of what she used to teach anyway…you remember that class they taught together? I think it could work, actually. There's nothing like it in Smallville, so there could be plenty of demand, and with a year at Conservatoire her credentials will look pretty good."

"I bet Bessie will have an absolute fit," said Stingy dispassionately.

"Yeah, so do I…but there's not a lot she can actually do about it, is there?"

"I suppose not." He began to stroke her neck with the tips of his fingers. "Do the rules allow for a repeat performance?"

"If you ask me nicely," she said.

"Please."

"Don't look so serious," she teased him. "Of course we can. I'm yours until morning." She sat astride him. "As long as you remember that's all there is to it, okay? Nothing heavy. Just two friends having some fun together."

"Absolutely," he said solemnly. "If we were a proper couple, we'd drive each other nuts inside of a week."

"Don't we both know it," she said wryly, kissing him. "Great sex and great arguments are not the basis for a lasting relationship. But…for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs… ohhhh…now that is worth coming back from Kobe for…keep doing that, Mr Accountancy, and I might just make a habit of this…"

She closed her eyes in ecstasy.

--

Bessie stood on the driveway, looking at her car. The keys were in her handbag. The tank was full. She could get behind the wheel and drive to Smallville right now, find a bar and order a drink…

…instead, with a mighty effort of will, she took her mobile phone.

"Hello?"

"Gina? It's Bessie. I'm standing next to my car. I'm thinking about getting into it and driving to the nearest bar and getting completely drunk. My niece got married today."

"You want me to come and get you?""No, no…just talk to me. Tell me I can do this."

"Of course you can do this. Just take it one day at a time, Bessie girl….we're all living this clean, sober life just one day at a time."