Kelis POV

As everybody takes up their positions, the music that signals the start of the ceremony begins to play. Although it is an unorthodox choice of music (an acapella version of the old school chant), it fits in with the rest of this wedding. As rehearsed, Aunty B walks beside Mum on her left whilst I walk on her right. Behind us walks Mum's own sidekicks Andrea and Taylor who have been both threatened by Mum to be on their best behaviour. For once in my lifetime, I hold my head high as I walk alongside two of St Trinian's most famed Head Girls who I also happen to be related to and I do it without scowling or complaining. When we reach the front of the seated crowd (after a prolonged strut down the makeshift aisle), Taylor and Andrea break away to sit on the front row beside Polly whilst I unfortunately stand off to the side next to my mischievous Aunt. "What are you up to?" I whisper upon seeing her subtle grin.

"It's rude to whisper during a religious ceremony," B replies as Annabelle starts to proceed down the aisle with her own Aunt Camilla and best friend Chelsea. Behind them walks Annabelle's version of Mum's Emo and Chav duo, Bianca and Zoe.

"When have you cared for manners?"

"Since this morning," she winks before turning her attention back to the ceremony.

"Why doesn't Mum acknowledge my existence to family members and anybody who isn't a St Trinian?" I whisper in demand.

"Her version of shielding you from kidnappers and opportunists, just trust Kelly and you'll be set for life."

"Thanks for that piece of life changing advice," I mumble sarcastically.

"You, my favourite niece, are very welcome," Aunty B grins.

The ceremony carries on without any more comments between myself and my youngest aunty, whatever threat Mum has laid upon B seems to have worked. Songs are sang and beats are played as this very unique event begins to come to its climax, the vows. However, as this is a St Trinian wedding (the first one that has been between two St Trinian head girls) there are different rituals and blessings that need to take place before the climatic vows. As the current ruling Head Girl, I have the absolute honour of threatening the groom to look after the St Trinian bride, be true to her and treat her as his equal (as I did at Chloe's third wedding to a Scottish aristocrat a few months ago). However, as Polly pointed out during the wedding the wedding plans, they are both St Trinians. This slight problem was just a bump in our road to planning a wedding between two of the most celebrated Head Girls in St Trinian history (second to only Camilla Fritton herself), another problem that arose was the status of Mum and Fritton which then posed questions on the approach we all should take. It was all a big ball ache really and it meant that I actually had to do some form of homework.

My role in this ring binding ball ache is one of great importance and privilege, according to our resident St Trinian preacher (and closeted alcoholic) Miss Dickinson. As a Head Girl I had a duty to 'protect' the bride's sense of anarchy by reciting the first St Trinian to have been written down and bless the marriage on behalf of the school and all who have entered its walls. I also had to retell a story from a dusty book full of St Trinian history and then make a song and a dance about how great it is to be free and wild. However, as the daughter to one half of the couple (and the next of kin), I also had to promise to embrace anarchy and pledge my loyalty to the St Trinian way. It is all very confusing and complicated but according to Camilla it was one of the only traditions that St Trinian girls actually cared for and honoured. So here I stand, waiting to demand that both Mum and Fritton protect each other's sense of anarchy whilst pledging my loyalty to St Trinians on behalf of a family that had produced many generations of Head Girls. Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.

"As St Trinian Head Girl, I am responsible for overlooking and protecting current and previous students and the anarchy that they have willingly embraced." I announce during my little time slot in Polly's wedding schedule. "However, this isn't an ordinary St Trinian wedding to state the obvious. We have the beloved and celebrated Kelly Jones, who has defended St Trinians continuously and fought on its behalf countless times. In addition to this, we have her St Trinian sweetheart Annabelle Millicent Fritton who too is one of our own. I suppose it doesn't help matters that Annabelle is our current headmistress, descendant of the great Millicent Fritton, Arabella Fritton and of course, Camilla Fritton or that Kelly is a living legend, it makes the matter of threatening and blackmailing them to look after each other more difficult." I recite as I read Polly's helpful autocue.

"I am told that I am to read from 'St Trinian's A History' as Head Girls have done so before me," I continue, carelessly throwing out my own nickname for the book. "But my head has been filled with St Trinian tales by my mother ever since I was born so I thought I'd divert from the traditions of our fore sisters and retell my favourite tale, which involves a significant point in my own family history but, more importantly, is finally reaching its conclusion today." I smile as I remember the countless times Mum would recite the story when I couldn't sleep at night. I sneak a quick glance towards Mum to see whether or not my risk was going to work or not, judging by the soft smile on her face I would say it was.

"Our story begins during my mother's time as Head Girl, a time filled with unrest and abnormal disruption. A grey cloud loomed over our holy grounds and threatened them with closure and boutique hotels. A slimy, greying Carnaby Fritton finally gave into the last demands of Arabella Fritton and gave his daughter to anarchy. Skip forward a few months and we find my own mother leading both Annabelle and the school to victory in the form of a TV quiz show," I wink at them all, every St Trinian present should recognise my true meaning. "We also see a relationship blossoming between my parents despite the shameless flirting between both Kelly Jones and Annabelle Fritton which even somehow continued during Kelly's adventurous stage during Annabelle's time as Head Girl. However, at the end of my aunt, Rebecca Jones' reign as Head Girl, it all came crashing down over them."

From the corner of my eye, I see Mum and Fritton avert their gazes from the crowd and become interested in the floor beneath them. I know that this story isn't the easiest of stories for anyone who has been involved. I suppose it'll never be easy for Mum to forgive Dad for luring her Fritton to bed or for Fritton to truly forgive herself for allowing such an event to happen. Every St Trinian present knows about this particular part in the fairytale of Kelly and Annabelle, they know that this event caused the disappearance of the esteemed Head Girl for a good fourteen years. They also know that it was this event that the lead to them missing out (as many of Mum's school friends have told me) on the early years of my life, something that they'll never truly get over.

"The result of the events that happened at six thirty that morning was the disappearance of Kelly from her blood ties and her school ties. It has lead to many changes and lead to many people being cheated of what they truly desire. The events which followed will go down in history as one of the longest St Trinian depressions which only ended a few years ago when Kelly returned to her school a different woman. I will never be able to forget that day, when I look back on it now I remember the disbelief upon all of your faces. Above all I will never be able to forget what Verity Thwaites mumbled under breath as I left Cheltenham Ladies College after terrorising her for at least two years." I smirk, mirroring Mum's.

"Kelly Jones returned to St Trinians with myself, her eldest and thankfully only daughter, in tow. For the few mere days that I spent in the walls of the school I found myself and Mum rediscovered herself. I watched as they admitted their own desires toward each other, like most of you who are sat before me today to witness the marriage between them. I don't know what happened in the few years that followed after them, it is well known that myself and my cousin made our escape on that very day, following my own adventurous nature. However I am told that our headmistress helped to nurse my mother's broken heart and stood by her side, for that I am grateful. Upon my return to these grounds after my own adventure which feature adrenaline, love, lust and loss I had the opportunity to witness their relationship flower into what you are all witnessing today. Annabelle herself has instantly treated me as if I am her daughter and as if I am of her blood. She has stood by and caught me when I have fell off of the thin tightrope that I am constantly balancing on. Most importantly, she has helped me cope with my own loss that I suffered earlier this year and it is for these reasons that I am happy to bless them as Head Girl and happier too renew my families pledge to St Trinians and anarchy. Maidens of St Trinians, gird your armour on!" I quote with a smile on my face.

I step down from the mini podium that had been set up purely for the speeches with the roaring St Trinian crowd and watch Mum and Fritton exchange the traditional vows with a bored and impassive expression on my face in order to keep up my Head Girl exterior. As vows are exchanged, I notice Aunty B stare off into the crowd of people with a glare on her face and her body tense. She then rummages inside her customized jacket and pulls something out, I can't see what exactly it is because it's held in her tight fist. In a gesture to whoever she's glaring at, she allows her fist to loosen slightly, letting the sunlight hit a tiny part of the object before smirking and slipping it away again. Then her head turns back to the ceremony and her smug smirk morphs into a soft smile as she watches Celia produce a St Trinian tie and loop it around Fritton's and Mum's linked hands.

"I now pronounce you two wife and er, wife." As Mum and Fritton kiss, I watch my Aunt's determined face and still tense fists. Something's going on and I doubt it's a lovely wedding surprise. It seems to me that every St Trinian here my need to gird their armour on or get caught up in whatever B's planning.