The bride was beautiful and everyone in the Church agreed that she looked a picture. Although not in the first flush of youth, her eyes sparkled as brilliantly as the magnificent diamonds around her neck. Her oyster-coloured silk dress was both fashionable and flattering for a woman of her age. The skirt was fitted to the hips and then hung straight down. The top was long-sleeved and covered in expensive lace. ‘No! No!’ thought Lucia, as she watched the happy couple gazing into each other’s eyes and exchanging vows. She had not wanted to come to this wedding and if there had been anything she could have done to prevent it happening, she would have. ‘Mama, how could you?’ she wanted to scream, trying not to cry. ‘Papa has only been dead for a year and that man – that man was responsible.’ There were a few in the Church that day who would have not agreed with the first sentiment, if not the last.
