FIVE DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING

"Rings first, then can you drop me at the dressmaker?" Barbara spat her toothpaste into the sink.

"Of course," Tommy called from the bedroom.

"What time do you pick up your suit?"

"Two thirty."

"Then can you phone the caterers and check that they got my order to change the cake?"

"To chocolate mud?"

"Yes, are you sure you don't mind it not being fruitcake? They said as it's only one tier that it doesn't need the strength of fruitcake. Do you think everyone will think it's odd? Apparently half the cakes are non-traditional these days." Barbara heard Tommy laughing. "What's funny?"

"I never thought I'd hear you worry about where a cake is chocolate or fruit."

"I don't want your family and friends to think I'm a complete peasant. I am what I am, but I don't want them pitying you."

Tommy came into their ensuite and wrapped his arms around her. "No one thinks you're a peasant."

"Is there a hierarchy? Is a serf higher or lower than a peasant?"

"Definitely lower. More like an agricultural slave. Peasants had some freedoms and could even run businesses or own small plots of land but they were still bound to the lord and had to pay taxes to him and tithes to the church."

"Yes, thank you, Professor. It was a rhetorical question."

"I know, but it was a manifestation of your nerves. What's worrying you?"

"That it will be a mess on the day and I'll embarrass you."

"You could forget your dress and arrive stark naked and you still wouldn't embarrass me."

"Yeah great. So everyone could see that I've been sinful."

Tommy looked at her in the mirror. His eyes burned into hers. "WE have not been sinful. We created Bubby Panda in an act of love, and love is not sinful."

Barbara felt contrite. "Sorry."

"Besides, at seven weeks, no one can notice, not even me, and I look every day."

"Do you? That's sweet."

"I want to start interacting with my little panda as soon as I can."

"What do we have to call him, or her?"

"Anything we choose."

"Ebenezer?"

"Except that." Tommy gave her a playful slap on her rump. "Now hurry up or I will have to ring Mr Jordan again."

"They're beautiful!" Barbara stared at the matching gold rings. Each had a fine inlay of emeralds running around the centre of the band. She turned to Tommy. "Thank you."

"Lord Asherton's design is very striking. When he first suggested it, we were unsure, but I am very pleased with them."

"Should we try them on?" Tommy asked.

"Yes, of course."

Barbara slipped the ring onto his finger. It was a perfect fit and felt perfect, not weighed down by expectations and regret like his first one.

"Barbara, here. I can't wait to put this on your finger on Saturday." Her ears turned red and he could see she was choking back tears. So was he and he knew on Saturday, he probably would cry. He was glad because she would know how much it meant to him.

"It's too big!" Barbara's voice was half an octave above panic.

"Not really," Tommy said trying to avert a storm.

"Look! It spins!"

They both turned and looked at Mr Jordan. "Oh dear. We measured it perfectly. Show me, Ms Havers."

Tommy winced as Barbara yanked off the ring and slammed it on the glass counter. Jordan took his measuring spindle and allowed the ring to fall. "Yes, see it's a Q. I can't understand why it doesn't fit."

"I'm an O, not a Q. It's two sizes too big."

"Mr Jordan checked the paperwork. "Ah, yes. See it is an O, but it looks like a Q. My craftsman must have misread it."

"Can this be rectified?" Tommy asked as he took Barbara's hand, partly to comfort, but mainly to stop her punching the jeweller.

"Of course, we will remake one. When's your wedding?"

"Two thirty o'clock on Saturday afternoon," Barbara growled.

Jordan smiled but Tommy noticed the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "We will have it ready to collect on Thursday afternoon after say four o'clock."

"And if it's not ready?"

Jordan stretched his neck inside his collar. "It will be. I promise."

"Thank you, Jordan." Tommy smiled tightly and steered his firecracker out the door before she could ignite.

"Right, let's go to the dressmaker shall we?"

Tommy carried his suit bag inside and up to the spare room where he hung his new dark grey woollen suit in the robe. He placed his new black leather shoes on the rack and put the dark socks and his new black trunks on the shelf next to his emerald green pocket handkerchief. He was ready for Saturday.

He wondered why Barbara had not come in to look. He glanced at his watch. It was after four o'clock and she should have been back from the dressmaker. He checked their bedroom then wandered downstairs to pour a drink and listen to some Wagner while he waited.

"Hello Panda-bear," he said when he walked into his study and found Barbara sitting at his desk looking at his computer. "You're very quiet. How did your final fitting go?"

Barbara looked up and he could see she was upset. "The sleeves were too long. They hung over my fingers. What is it with me today? Am I shrinking and no one's told me?"

Tommy gave her a reassuring smile then opened his arms. "Come here."

Barbara stood and almost fell against him. "I thought we had enough time, but have we rushed this?"

"No. Everything will be fixed on time. When will your dress be finished?"

"Friday morning."

"Right then, we have a day and a half to spare." Tommy glanced at the screen. "What were you looking at?"

"Your spreadsheet."

"Are you having doubts?"

"Not exactly, but what if we've rushed into this? We've only been together two months. What if it doesn't last? What if I only think I'll be a good mother and I'm not. What will happen if you come to hate me?"

Tommy held her tighter. "Hey, what's brought this on? We haven't rushed it. We've been together for a decade, one way or another, and survived pressures far beyond rings that are too big or sleeves that are too long. Nothing's changed other than us finally taking the last step. And you are terrific with children. Bubby Panda will have the best possible mother, and a father who loves him or her very much. And I could never hate you, no matter what."

"You say that now, but you can't tell. One third of couples divorce, another third live in misery or indifference. I don't think I could cope if that was us."

"So bailing out now fixes that? Barbara, you have to have faith in me, but more importantly, in yourself." He put his hand over her heart. "If deep in there you really believe this is wrong, then we'll call it off, but don't throw something wonderful away because you are scared of things that might never happen."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not telling me I'm being stupid."

"I'm nervous too, Barbara."

"About what?"

"Whether I'll be a good husband to you. Whether I will be a good father to this little one. Whether I'll forget myself and make love to my wife at the registry office."

Barbara looked up and grinned at him. "Now that would be an eventful ceremony."

"Too public. I prefer you all to myself." Tommy kissed her. "But if you need further convincing that this is right, we could read through the spreadsheet." He kissed her again.

"I stopped at 250."

"No, we need to go all the way to 561."

Barbara turned and cuddled Tommy. "You're a wicked man at times."

Tommy nuzzled into her neck. "Me? 561 was your contribution if I recall. But a very welcome one."

Barbara began to unzip his trousers. "We could try 562."

"Hmm, yes please. Whatever that is, I know I'll like it."

As they lay naked on the floor, Tommy traced the line of her shoulder with his fingertip. "562 definitely gets added to the spreadsheet."

"I used to imagine us doing that."

Tommy arched his eyebrow. "Did you? Dare I ask what other things you imagined Sergeant?"

"All in the fullness of time. Although with Bubby Panda here, we might have to make the most of the next few months."

"Yes, but we can be creative."

"You've already proved that." Barbara pulled him down and kissed him.

Afterwards, Tommy lay in Barbara's arms. "I was thinking, as neither of us are having a bucks or hens night, we should go out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate our last nights of freedom."

"Hold our own party?"

"Exactly. Who better to spend it with than our best friends."

"You know, I would love a drink. Several, in fact."

Tommy frowned at her. "Bubby Panda wouldn't like that."

"I know. I said I would love a beer, not that I am going to have any. I can be the designated driver."

"We'll take a cab."

"Damn. It just occurred to me. I won't be able to drink at the wedding and everyone will know I'm pregnant."

"Then I won't drink either. Let them think we've joined a temperance society or something."

"Us? Yeah, sure. Why not tell them we're in training for the astronaut programme? That's about as credible."

Tommy laughed then kissed her. "Fake it. Hold a glass and put it to your lips. Look like your sipping it then put the glass somewhere and move on. No one will notice."

"You think?"

"Yes, but we'll have to tell people soon."

"Not until after the three month scan. No one. Not even your mother."

Tommy ran his hand softly down her face. "No one. I promise."

"I love you, Thomas Lynley. So where are hen-bucking?"

"Hen-bucking? That sounds…"

"Vulgar?"

"No, exhausting. I was thinking dinner at our old pub, then a cruise down the river."

"The river? Yeah, I guess."

Tommy kissed her head. "You sound doubtful, but it's romantic and something I've always wanted to do."

"You've never done it before?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. It's full of gawping tourists oohing and ahhing at the city. Same as The Eye. I've never been on that either."

"Guilty. It's never occurred to me to go."

"Then we should. That's our plan then. We hen-buck The Eye and the Thames."

Tommy rolled her on top of him. "London may never be the same again."