The Decoy Bride Page #3

launched a thousand campaigns.

And your latest thing is

quoting Gertrude Stein.

At length and from memory.

OK, Steve, we're in. He's not

inside we don't think.

But safer to assume the place

is bugged. Over and out.

Can you do an American accent?

Lara? You OK?

Hi. Will you love her, comfort her,

honour and protect her,

and forsaking all others

be faithful to her

for as long as you both shall live?

S.

I will.

I will!

I, James Neil Arber, take you,

Lara Elizabeth Tyler,

to be my wife, for richer, for poorer,

in sickness and in health...

...to love and cherish

until death us do part. In the presence

of God, I take this vow.

I, Lara Elizabeth Tyler, take you,

James Neil Arber, to be my husband,

to have and to hold from this day

forward, for better, for worse,

for richer, for poorer,

sickness, health, love, death, cherish.

In the presence of God,

I make this vow.

Who has the rings?

- Steve, what the hell's going on?

- I'll explain it to you later.

The ring text is optional, right?

I now pronounce you man and wife.

- You may kiss the bride.

- Who is this?

John Johnson.

Toilet girl?

We had to buy time to look for Lara.

Who's we? Who's looking for her?

- The gang.

- The gang of beauticians?

Are you mad? She could have

fallen off a cliff!

You think Ballani is gonna believe

this toilet attendant is my wife?

I am not a toilet attendant.

She has been hunted by the

press since she was 15.

So, guess what, that makes her a bit

jumpy. And what have you done?

You have lost her on a Hegg with the

one paparazzo she hates the most.

How... When did they do all this?

- This is my job, to protect her

career. - She's retiring.

- FYI, there's only you and her that

think that. - Steve. Steve!

- What?

- Is that the press?

Oh, God. How the hell did this happen?

Can I please have my clothes

and my cheque?

- My mother's expecting me.

- I'm gonna find her.

We need is you charging around

attracting unwanted attention.

Lara is missing. There might

be wolves out there.

You're absolutely right. I

wasn't thinking straight.

Of course, If anybody can

find her, it's you.

- This way, both of you.

- Thank you.

This way. This is the back way out.

- An hour, you said!

- Yeah, well, I'm full of sh*t.

There must be a way out.

I am not a toilet attendant.

And I did tell you my name.

If only I could remember your name,

we could find a way out of here.

Sorry. It's cruel to give the

servants names, isn't it?

Don't want to get too attached to them.

Give you a white dress and suddenly

everything's about you.

- This is not your big day, Katie.

- Nor yours, apparently.

You're having an 'Ornithologist's

Wife' themed wedding.

- And if we are?

- I suppose it could be worse.

I could be trapped inside

Stephen King's honeymoon.

Though apparently he's a nice guy.

- How much are you getting paid for

this, in hillbilly money? - No.

So why are we doing that?

As long as they think Lara's in the

castle, they'll camp out there.

As long as they're out there,

they're not looking for Lara.

Come on.

Strupak!

- Strupak! A pound.

- It's like tea.

It is tea.

Get a move on, you carnaptious bampot!

There's money to be made.

A pack of journalists just

stepped off the ferry

wi' more coming over the Minch.

It's like the whale all over again.

The happy couple. Nice arse.

What's this?

IPhone.

Diamond earrings.

It's a party bag, isn't it?

You're getting party bags

from your own wedding.

You're too far gone to understand,

but it's so funny.

I'm counting all my money on my very

expensive money-counting machine.

Bling! Bling!

Hello? Eight times six million

I'll just check for you.

Look, try to get your head round

this. I'm marrying Lara Tyler.

I'm not marrying you. This is

Lara's idea... and my idea,

of a great wedding.

If I were marrying you, we would be

in the place of your choosing.

The bar of some brightly lit 2 star

hotel, no doubt, draped in tinsel,

drinking German wine and watching

your cousins have sex in the car.

- You're a horrible snob.

- So are you.

What an eclectic library.

Signed. That's tragic.

- Did you sign the register?

- You saw me. Why?

Is that the legal bit?

- I think, in all the fuss, I may

have signed my own name. - So?

I can confirm that Lara

Tyler and James Arber

were finally married today in a small,

tasteful private ceremony.

They will be leaving for a secret

honeymoon destination

in the morning, but, as you can see,

they will be spending their wedding

night in that turret there.

That window there

is where the action is.

- Thank you.

- Is there a picture of the dress?

Don't get the bottom of the dress wet.

Would you like me to take it off?

- You're not married already? I imagine

that might be helpful. - No.

I remember now. Not married.

But still a world authority

on romance in literature.

- When not cruising toilets for men.

- Parasite.

I hope she's made you sign a prenup.

- How did they fit you into

that dress? - She has.

How does that work exactly? When you

get divorced, does she get half

- of your unfinished books?

- I am no parasite.

I didn't even live with

Lara until recently.

She built me this gazebo in

the grounds where I write.

She keeps you in a shed at

the bottom of the garden

- like a tortoise.

- Look, you're what? Late 30s?

- 30, just.

- Still living with your mum?

I am living with my mother temporarily

because she is sick.

And what is it you do again? Are you

president of this Hegg Book Club?

- Or do you just administer their

medication? - I too am a writer.

- A writer? Of what exactly? - Of something

that people actually read.

- Do you write cereal packets?

- Look...

Do you write your name over and over

in the dirt on the back of trucks?

If you must know, I write for

an online menswear catalogue.

A trouser catalogue. I

don't do it anymore.

What, 'five pairs of brown trousers

with elasticated waistbands,

30 while stocks last?

' That kind of thing?

I have also written the official

guidebook to Hegg,

which is accurate than certain other

accounts of life on the island.

That sounds fascinating.

Any news? Have you found her?

Hello! This island is much bigger

than you said, OK? Over.

Perhaps you'd like to do time in the

San Quentin nail bar instead.

Keep looking. Over. And out.

Later.

Where is she?

- So what are we going for,

then? Fat or thin? - Both.

'Podgy Hollywood star looks gaunt

on happy day'?

A**holes.

- Hello. - Move along now, ma'am.

No one gets in the castle.

She'll be lucky.

Would you have a portable telephone

that I could per chance borrow?

There's no reception, love.

Payphone in there.

Can I have a ticket for

the telephone, please?

Keep the triples coming. I'm buying.

Look at her. Flashing her cash

about like the Sheikh of Oman.

As if the story was hers to sell.

Hello. I am 'Stars Today'

and I am here to buy copy

for our Lara Tyler wedding special.

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