‘Smile,’ says the photographer. ‘I am smiling,’ I say with a laugh. ‘More please. It’s a christening, not a funeral.’ ‘I don’t think I can smile more than this. Can I, Rick?’ Rick, standing next to the photographer, looks at me then shakes his head. ‘She’s at maximum happiness, I’m afraid.’ ‘Me too,’ says Honor beside me. ‘My cheeks are aching.’ ‘Okay then, ladies, hold still …’ The photographer takes a couple more shots then turns and takes a bigger lens off a nearby tombstone and slots it onto the camera. ‘Just a few more … lovely.’ ‘Now it’s my turn to hold her,’ Honor says. ‘Come on, Jen. Hand her over.’ I smooth the baby’s lace gown and pass her to Honor, then we compose ourselves for the next photo. When this has been taken, Nina steps forward. ‘That’s the godmothers done. Can we have the godfathers in the next shot?’ Al goes and stands with Honor, and Jon’s brother James stands beside me. There’s a volley of clicks, then Nina and Jon go into the centre.
