I also kept the seating plan, which was printed and framed and which somebody had left on a side table at the end of the night, and which had two hundred and eleven names on it against table numbers.
And I kept the six-page pack with the sponsor logos on page two.
That is the entirety of what I took out of my ex-husband’s wedding. A seating plan, a PDF and a link to a photo gallery.
The other thing that happened.
I let them see her. Not as a stunt — because she needed feeding at half past two and I was not going to sit in a car park.
I fed my daughter in an armchair in the hallway at Thornhallow, and Verity Prentiss came out of the ladies and stopped about eight feet away.
She looked at that baby for a long time.
And she said: “Whose is that?”
And I said: “Yours.”
And she turned round and went back into the ladies.
She has not contacted me since. Not once, in a year. She has a granddaughter she has seen precisely once, from eight feet, in a corridor, and what she did was go back through a door.
