Shopaholic Ties the Knot (by Sophie Kinsella) 6 page

‘It’s a great wedding,’ says Danny, looking around the glittering room. ‘Really spectacular. Although it’s less you than I would have thought.’

‘Really? What makes you say that?’

‘I’m not saying it’s not fantastic. It’s very slick, very lavish. It’s just... not like I imagined you’d have your wedding. But I was wrong,’ he adds hastily as he sees my expression. ‘Obviously.’

I look at his wiry, comical, unsuspecting face. Oh God. I have to tell him. I can’t not tell Danny.

‘Danny, there’s something you should know,’ I say in an undertone.

‘What?’

‘About this wedding–’

‘Hi kids!’

I break off guiltily and turn around – but it’s only Laurel, all flushed and happy from dancing.

‘Great party, Becky,’ she says. ‘Great band. Christ, I’d forgotten how much I love to dance.’

I survey her appearance in slight dismay.

‘Laurel,’ I say. ‘You don’t roll up the sleeves of a $1,000 Yves St Laurent dress.’

‘I was hot,’ she says with a cheerful shrug. ‘Now Becky, I hate to tell you.’ She lowers her voice. ‘But you’re going to have to get going pretty soon.’

‘Already?’ I look instinctively at my wrist, but I’m not wearing a watch.

‘The car’s waiting outside,’ says Laurel. ‘The driver has all the details, and he’ll show you where to go at JFK. It’s a different procedure for private planes, but it should be straightforward. Any problems, you call me.’ She lowers her voice to a whisper, and I glance at Danny, who’s pretending not to be listening. ‘You should be in England in plenty of time. I really hope it all works out.’

I reach out and hug her tightly.

‘Laurel... you’re a star,’ I mutter. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Becky, believe me. This is nothing. After what you did for me, you could have had ten planes.’ She hugs me back, then looks at her watch. ‘You’d better find Luke. I’ll see you in a bit.’

After she’s gone there’s a short, interested silence.

‘Becky, did I just catch the words “private plane”?’ says Danny.

‘Er... yes. Yes, you did.’

‘You’re flying on a private plane?’

‘Yes.’ I try to sound nonchalant. ‘We are. It’s Laurel’s wedding present to us.’

‘She snapped up the private jet?’ Danny shakes his head. ‘Damn. You know, I was planning to get you that myself. It was between that and the egg beater...’

‘Idiot! She’s president of a plane company.’

‘Jesus. A private plane. So... where are you heading? Or is it still a big secret?’ I watch as he takes a drag from his cigarette, and feel a sudden huge wave of affection for him.

I don’t just want to tell Danny what’s going on.

I want him to be a part of this.

‘Danny,’ I say. ‘Do you have your passport on you?’

It takes me a while to find Luke. He’s been trapped in a corner by two corporate financiers, and leaps up grate­fully as soon as I appear. We go around the huge crowded room, saying goodbye and thank you for coming to all the guests that we know. To be honest, it doesn’t take that long.

Last of all, we approach the top table and interrupt Elinor as discreetly as we can.

‘Mother, we’re going now,’ says Luke.

‘Now?’ Elinor frowns. ‘It’s too early.’

‘Well... we’re going.’

‘Thank you for a wonderful wedding,’ I say sincerely. ‘It was really amazing. Everyone’s been saying how wonderful it is.’ I bend to kiss her. ‘Goodbye.’

Why do I have the strongest feeling I’m never going to see Elinor again?

‘Goodbye Becky,’ she says, in that formal way of hers. ‘Goodbye Luke.’

‘Goodbye Mother.’

They gaze at each other – and for a moment I think Elinor’s going to say something else. But instead she leans forward rather stiffly and kisses Luke on the cheek.

‘Becky!’ I feel someone poking me on the shoulder. ‘Becky, you’re not going yet!’ I turn round to see Robyn looking perturbed.

‘Er... yes. We’re off. Thank you so much for everything you’ve–’

‘You can’t go yet!’

‘No-one will notice,’ I say, glancing around the party.

‘They have to notice! We have an exit planned, remember? The rose petals? The music?’

‘Well... maybe we could forget the exit–’

‘Forget the exit?’ Robyn stares at me. ‘Are you joking? Orchestra!’ she says urgently into her headpiece. ‘Segue to “Some Day” Do you copy? Segue to “Some Day”.’

She lifts the walkie-talkie. ‘Lighting crew, stand by with rose petals.’

‘Robyn,’ I say helplessly. ‘Honestly, we just wanted to slip away quietly...’

‘My brides do not slip away quietly! Cue fanfare,’ she mutters into her headpiece. ‘Lighting crew, prepare exit spotlight.’

There’s a sudden loud fanfare of trumpets, and the guests on the dance floor all jump. The lighting changes from disco beat to a radiant pink glow, and the band starts to play ‘Some Day my Prince Will Come’.

‘Go Beauty and Prince,’ says Robyn, giving me a little shove. ‘Go! One two three, one two three...’

Exchanging looks, Luke and I make it onto the dance floor, where the guests part to let us through. The music is all around us, a spotlight is following our path, and, all of a sudden, rose petals start falling gently from the ceiling.

This is rather lovely, actually. Everyone’s beaming benevolently, and I can hear some ‘Aahs’ as we go by. The glow of pink light is like being inside a rainbow, and the rose petals smell wonderful as they land on our heads and arms and drift to the floor. Luke and I are smiling at each other, and there’s a petal in his hair–

‘Stop!’

As I hear the voice, I feel a sudden horrible lurch.

The double doors have opened, and there she is, standing in the doorway. Wearing a black suit and the highest, pointiest black boots I’ve ever seen.

The evil fairy herself.

Everyone turns to look, and the orchestra peters out uncertainly.

‘Alicia?’ says Luke in astonishment. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Having a good wedding, Luke?’ she says, with a malicious little smirk.

She takes a few steps into the room, and I see the guests shrinking away as she passes.

‘Come in,’ I say quickly. ‘Come on in and join the party. We would have invited you...’

‘I know what you’re doing, Becky.’

‘We’re getting married!’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted. ‘No prizes for guessing that!’

‘I know exactly what you’re doing. I’ve got friends in Surrey. They’ve been checking things out.’ She meets my eyes triumphantly and I feel a coldness around my spine.

No.

Please, no.

Not after we’ve got so far.

‘I think you have a teeny little secret you’re not sharing with the rest of your guests.’ Alicia pulls a mock-concerned face. ‘That’s not very polite, is it?’

I can't move. I can't breathe. I need my fairy god­mothers, quick.

Laurel shoots me a horrified look.

Christina puts down her champagne glass.

‘Code red. Code red,’ I hear Robyn’s voice crackling from the bouquet. ‘Urgent. Code red.’

Now Alicia’s walking around the dance floor, taking her time, relishing the attention.

‘The truth is,’ she says pleasantly, ‘this is all a bit of a sham. Isn’t it, Becky?’

My eye flickers behind her. Two burly minders in DJs are approaching the dance floor. But they’re not going to get there in time. It’s all going to be ruined.

‘It all looks so lovely. It all looks so romantic.’ Her voice suddenly hardens. ‘But what people might like to know is that this so-called perfect Plaza wedding is actually a complete and utter... arrrgh!’ Her voice rises to a scream. ‘Put me down!’

I don’t believe it. It’s Luke.

He’s calmly walked up to her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder. And now he’s carrying her out, like a naughty toddler.

‘Put me down!’ she cries. ‘Someone bloody well help me!’

But the guests are starting to laugh. She kicks Luke with her pointy boots, and he raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t stop striding.

‘It’s a fake!’ she shrieks as they reach the door. ‘It’s a fake! They’re not really–’

The door slams, cutting her off, and there's a silent, shocked moment. No-one moves, not even Robyn. Then, slowly, the door opens again, and Luke re­appears, brushing his hands.

‘I don’t like gatecrashers,’ he says dryly.

‘Bravo,’ shouts a woman I don’t recognize. Luke gives a little bow, and there’s a huge, relieved laugh, and soon the whole room is applauding.

My heart is thumping so hard I’m not sure I can keep standing. As Luke rejoins me, I reach for his hand and he squeezes mine tightly. I just want to go now. I want to get away.

There’s an interested babble around the room, and, thank God, I can hear people murmuring things like ‘deranged’ and ‘must be jealous’. A woman in head-to-toe Prada is even saying brightly, ‘You know, exactly the same thing happened at our wedding–’

Oh God, and now here come Elinor and Robyn, side by side like the two queens in Alice in Wonderland.

‘I’m so sorry!’ says Robyn as soon as she gets near. ‘Don’t let it upset you, sweetheart. She’s just a sad girl with a grudge.’

‘Who was that?’ says Elinor, with a frown. ‘Did you know her?’

‘A disgruntled ex-client,’ says Robyn. ‘Some of these girls become very bitter. I’ve no idea what happens to them! One minute they’re sweet young things, the next minute they’re throwing lawsuits around! Don’t worry, Becky. We’ll do the exit again. Attention, orchestra,’ she says urgently. ‘Reprise “Some Day”, at the signal. Lighting crew, stand by with emergency rose petals.’

‘You have emergency rose petals?’ I say in disbelief. Sweetheart, I have every eventuality covered.’ She twinkles at me. ‘This is why you hire a wedding planner!’

‘Robyn,’ I say honestly. ‘I think you’re worth every penny.’ I put an arm round her and give her a kiss. ‘Bye. And bye again, Elinor.’

The music swells through the air again, we start processing again, and more rose petals start cascading from the ceiling. I really have to hand it to Robyn. People are crowding around and applauding – and is it my imagination, or do they look a bit friendlier, following the Alicia incident? At the end of the line I spot Erin leaning eagerly forward, and I toss my bouquet into her outstretched hands.

And then we’re out.

The heavy double doors close behind us and we’re in the silent, plushy corridor, empty but for the two bouncers, who stare studiously ahead.

‘We did it,’ I say, half-laughing in relief; in exhilar­ation. ‘Luke, we did it!’

‘So I gather,’ says Luke, nodding. ‘Well done us. Now, do you mind telling me what is going on?’

Extract 12

Laurel has arranged it all perfectly. The plane is ready for us at JFK, and we arrive at Gatwick at about eight in the morning, where another car is waiting for us. And now we’re speeding through Surrey towards Oxshott. We’ll be there soon! I can’t quite believe how seamless it’s all been.

‘Of course, you know your big mistake,’ says Danny, stretching luxuriously back in the leather Mercedes seat.

‘What’s that?’ I say, looking up from the phone.

‘Sticking to two weddings. I mean, as long as you’re going to do it more than once, why not three times? Why not six times? Six parties...’

‘Six dresses...’ puts in Luke.

‘Six cakes...’

‘Look, shut up!’ I say indignantly. ‘I didn’t do all this intentionally, you know! It just... happened.’

‘Just happened,’ echoes Danny scoffingly. ‘Becky, you needn’t pretend to us. You wanted to wear two dresses. There’s no shame in it.’

‘Danny, I’m on the phone–’ I look out of the window. ‘OK, Suze, I think we’re about ten minutes away.’

‘I just can’t believe you’ve made it,’ says Suze down the line. ‘I can’t believe it all worked out! I feel like rushing around, telling everyone!’

‘Well don’t!’

‘But it’s so incredible! To think last night you were at the Plaza, and now–’ She stops in sudden alarm ‘Hey, you’re not still wearing your wedding dress are you?’

‘Of course not!’ I giggle. ‘I’m not a complete moron. We changed on the plane.’

‘And what was that like?’

‘It was so cool. Honestly, Suze, I’m only ever travel­ling by Lear jet from now on.’

It’s a bright sunny day, and, as I look out of the window at the passing fields, I feel a swell of happi­ness. I can’t quite believe it’s all fallen into place. After all these months of worry and trouble. We’re here in England. The sun is shining. And we’re going to get married.

‘You know, I’m a tad concerned,’ says Danny, peering out of the window. ‘Where are all the castles?’

‘This is Surrey,’ I explain. ‘We don’t have castles.’

‘And where are the soldiers with bearskins on their heads?’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Becky, you’re sure this is England? You’re sure that pilot knew where he was going?’

‘Pretty sure,’ I say, getting out my lipstick.

‘I don’t know,’ he says doubtfully. ‘This looks a lot more like France to me.’

We pull up at a traffic light and he winds down the window.

‘Bonjour,’ he says to a startled woman. ‘Comment allez-vous?’

‘I... I wouldn’t know,’ says the woman, and hurries across the road.

‘I knew it,’ says Danny. ‘Becky, I hate to break it to you... but this is France.’

‘It’s Oxshott, you idiot,’ I retort. ‘And... oh God. Here’s our road.’

I feel a huge spasm of nerves as I see the familiar sign. We’re nearly there.

‘OK,’ says the driver. ‘Elton Road. Which number?’

‘Number 43. The house over there,’ I say. ‘The one with the balloons and the bunting… and the silver stramers in the trees...’

Blimey. The whole place looks like a fairground.

There’s a man up in the horse-chestnut tree at the front, threading light bulbs through the branches, and a white an parked in the drive, and women in green and white stripy uniforms bustling in and out of the house.

‘Looks like they’re expecting you, anyway,’ says Danny. ‘You OK?’

‘Fine,’ I say – and it’s ridiculous, but my voice is shaking.

The car comes to a halt, and so does the other car behind, which is carrying all our luggage.

‘What I don’t understand,’ says Luke, staring out at all the activity, ‘is how you managed to shift an entire wedding by a day. At three weeks’ notice. I mean, you’re talking the caterers, you’re talking the band, you’re talking a million different very busy profes­sionals...’

‘Luke, this isn’t Manhattan,’ I say, opening the car door. ‘You’ll see.’

As we get out, the front door swings open, and there’s Mum, wearing tartan trousers and a sweatshirt reading MOTHER OF THE BRIDE.

‘Becky!’ she cries, and runs over to give me a hug. ‘Mum.’ I hug her back. ‘Is everything OK?’ ‘Everything’s under control, I think!’ she says a little flusteredly. ‘We had a problem with the table posies, but fingers crossed, they should be on their way... Luke! How are you? How was the financial conference?’

‘It went er... very well,’ he says. ‘Very well indeed, thank you. I’m just sorry it’s caused so much trouble with the wedding arrangements–’

‘Oh, that’s all right!’ says Mum. ‘I’ll admit I was a bit taken aback when Becky phoned. But in the event, it didn’t take much doing! Most of the guests were staying over for Sunday brunch, anyway. And Peter at the church was most understanding, and said he didn’t usually conduct weddings on a Sunday, but in this case he’d make an exception–’

‘But what about... the catering, for instance? Wasn’t that all booked for yesterday?’

‘Oh, Lulu didn’t mind! Did you, Lulu?’ she says to one of the women in green and white stripes.

‘No!’ says Lulu brightly. ‘Of course not. Hello, Becky! How are you?’

Oh my God! It’s Lulu who used to take me for Brownies.

‘Hi!’ I say, ‘I didn’t know you did catering!’

‘Oh well.’ She makes a self-deprecating little gesture. ‘It’s just to keep me busy, really. Now the children are older...’

‘You know, Lulu’s son Aaron is in the band!’ says Mum proudly. ‘He plays the keyboards! And you know, they’re very good! They’ve been practising up “Unchained Melody” especially–’

‘Now, just taste this!’ says Lulu, reaching into a foil-covered tray and producing a canape. ‘It’s our new Thai filo parcels. We’re rather pleased with them. You know, filo pastry is very in now.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes.’ Lulu nods knowledgeably. ‘No-one has shortcrust tartlets any more. And as for vol au vents...’ She pulls a little face. ‘Over.’

‘You are so right,’ says Danny, his eyes bright. ‘The vol au vent is dead. The vol au vent is toast, if you will. May I ask where you stand on the asparagus roll?’

‘Mum, this is Danny,’ I put in quickly. ‘My neigh­bour, remember?’

‘Mrs B, it’s an honour to meet you,’ says Danny, kissing Mum’s hand. ‘You don’t mind my tagging along with Becky?’

‘Of course not!’ says Mum. ‘The more the merrier! Now, come and see the marquee!’

As we walk round to the garden, my jaw drops open. A huge silver and white striped marquee is billowing on the lawn. All the flower beds read ‘Becky and Luke’ in pansies. There are fairy lights strung up in every available bush and shrub. A uniformed gardener is polishing a new granite water feature, someone else is sweeping the patio, and inside the marquee I can see lots of middle-aged women sitting in a semicircle, holding notebooks.

‘Janice is just giving the girls the team briefing,’ says Mum in an undertone. ‘She’s really got into this wedding-organizing lark now. She wants to start doing it professionally!’

‘Now,’ I hear Janice saying, as we approach. ‘The emergency rose petals will be in a silver basket by Pillar A. Could you all please mark that on your floorplans–’

‘You know, I think she’ll be a success,’ I say thought­fully.

‘Betty and Margot, if you could be in charge of button­holes. Annabel, if you could please take care of–’

‘Mum?’ says Luke, peering into the marquee in­credulously.

Oh my God. It’s Annabel! It’s Luke’s stepmum, sitting there along with everyone else.

‘Luke!’ Annabel looks round and her entire face lights up. ‘Janice, excuse me for a moment–’

She hurries towards us and envelops Luke in a tight hug.

‘You’re here. I’m so glad to see you.’ She peers anxiously into his face. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘I’m fine,’ says Luke. ‘I think. A lot’s been going on...’

‘So I understand,’ says Annabel, and gives me a sharp look. ‘Becky.’ She reaches out with one arm and hugs me, too. ‘I’m going to have a long chat with you later,’ she says into my ear.

‘So... you’re helping with the wedding?’ says Luke to his mother.

‘Oh, it’s all hands to the deck around here,’ says Mum gaily. ‘Annabel’s one of us now!’

‘And where’s Dad?’ says Luke, looking around.

‘He’s gone to get some extra glasses with Graham,’ says Mum. ‘Those two have really hit it off. Now, who’s for a cup of coffee?’

‘You’re getting on well with Luke’s parents!’ I say, following Mum towards the kitchen.

‘Oh, they’re super!’ she says happily. ‘Really charm­ing. They’ve already invited us down to stay in Devon. Nice, normal, down-to-earth people. Not like... that woman.’

‘No. They’re quite different from Elinor.’

‘She didn’t seem at all interested in the wedding,’ says Mum, her voice prickling slightly. ‘You know, she never even replied to her invitation!’

‘Didn’t she?’

Damn. I thought I’d done a reply from Elinor.

‘Have you seen much of her recently?’ says Mum.

‘Er... no,’ I say. ‘Not much.’

We carry a tray of coffee upstairs to Mum’s bedroom, and open the door to find Suze and Danny sitting on the bed, with Ernie lying between them, kicking his little pink feet. And, hanging on the wardrobe door opposite, Mum’s wedding dress, as white and frilly as ever.

‘Suze!’ I exclaim, giving her a hug. ‘And gorgeous Ernie! He’s got so big–’ I bend down to kiss his cheek, and he gives me an enormous gummy smile.

‘You made it.’ Suze grins at me. ‘Well done, Bex.’

‘Suze has just been showing me your family heirloom wedding dress, Mrs B,’ says Danny, raising his eye­brows at me. ‘It’s... quite unique.’

‘This dress is a real survivor!’ says Mum delightedly. ‘We thought it was ruined, but all the coffee came out!’

‘What a miracle!’ says Danny.

‘And even just this morning, little Ernie tried to throw apple puree over it–’

‘Oh really?’ I say, glancing at Suze, who flushes slightly.

‘But luckily I’d covered it in protective plastic!’ says Mum. She reaches for the dress and shakes out the frills, slightly pink about the eyes. ‘This is a moment I’ve been dreaming about for so long. Becky wearing my wedding dress. I am a silly, aren’t I?’

‘It’s not silly,’ I say and give her a hug. ‘It’s what weddings are all about.’

‘Mrs Bloomwood, Becky described the dress to me,’ says Danny. ‘And I can honestly say she didn’t do it justice. But you won’t mind if I make a couple of teeny tiny alterations?’

‘Not at all!’ says Mum, and glances at her watch. ‘Well, I must get on. I’ve still got to chase these posies!’

As the door closes behind her, Danny and Suze exchange glances.

‘OK,’ says Danny. ‘What are we going to do with this?’

‘You could cut the sleeves off, for a start,’ says Suze. ‘And all those frills on the bodice.’

‘I mean, how much of it do we actually need to keep?’ Danny looks up. ‘Becky, what do you think?’

I don’t reply. I’m staring out of the window. I can see Luke and Annabel walking round the garden, their heads close together, talking. And there’s Mum talking to Janice, and gesturing to the flowering cherry tree.

‘Becky?’ says Danny again.

‘Don’t touch it,’ I say, turning round.

‘What?’

‘Don’t do anything to it,’ I smile at Danny’s appalled face. ‘Just leave it as it is.’

At ten to three I’m ready. I’m wearing the sausage-roll dress. My face has been made up by Janice as Radiant Spring Bride, only slightly toned down with a tissue and water. I’ve got a garland of bright pink carnations and gypsophila in my hair, which Mum ordered along with my bouquet. The only remotely stylish thing about me is my Christian Louboutin shoes, which you can’t even see.

And I don’t care. I look exactly how I want to look.

We’ve had our photos taken by the flowering cherry tree, and Mum has wept all down her ‘Summer Elegance’ make-up and had to be retouched. And now everyone has gone off to the church. It’s me and Dad, waiting to go.

‘Ready?’ he says, as a white Rolls-Royce purrs into the drive.

‘I think so,’ I say, a slight wobble to my voice.

I’m getting married. I’m really getting married.

‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing?’ I say, only half-joking.

‘Oh, I think so.’ Dad looks into the hallstand mirror, and adjusts his silk tie. ‘I remember saying to your mother, the very first day I met Luke, “This one will keep up with Becky.” ’ He meets my eye in the mirror. ‘Was I right, love? Does he keep up with you?’

‘Not quite.’ I grin at him. ‘But... he’s getting there.’

‘Good.’ Dad smiles back. ‘That’s probably all he can hope for.’

The driver is ringing the doorbell, and, as I open the door, I peer at the face under the peaked cap. I don’t believe it. It’s my old driving instructor, Clive.

‘Clive! Hi! How are you?’

‘Becky Bloomwood!’ he exclaims. ‘Well I never! Becky Bloomwood, getting married! Did you ever pass your test, then?’

‘Er... yes. Eventually.’

‘Who would have thought it?’ He shakes his head, marvelling. ‘I used to go home to the wife and say, “If that girl passes her test, I’m a fried egg.” And then of course, when it came to it–’

‘Yes, well, anyway–’

‘That examiner said he’d never known anything like it. Has your husband-to-be seen you drive?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he still wants to marry you?’

‘Yes!’ I say crossly.

Honestly. This is my wedding day. I shouldn’t have to be reminded about stupid driving tests that happened years ago.

‘Shall we get in?’ says Dad tactfully. ‘Hello, Clive. Nice to see you again.’

We walk out into the drive, and as we reach the car I look back at the house. When I see it again I’ll be a married woman. I take a deep breath and step into the car.

‘Stooooop!’ comes a voice. ‘Becky! Stop!’

I freeze in terror, one foot inside the car. What’s happened? Who’s found out? What do they know?

‘I can’t let you go through with this!’

What? This doesn’t make any sense. Tom Webster from next door is pelting towards us in his morning suit. What does he think he’s doing? He’s supposed to be ushing at the church.

‘Becky, I can’t stand by and watch,’ he says breath­lessly, planting a hand on the Rolls-Royce. This could be the biggest mistake of your life. You haven’t thought it through.’

Oh, for God’s sake.

‘Yes, I have,’ I say, and try to elbow him out of the way. But he grabs my shoulder.

‘It hit me last night. We belong together. You and me. Think about it, Becky. We’ve known each other all our lives. We’ve grown up together. Maybe it’s taken us a while to discover our true feelings for each other... but don’t we deserve to give them a chance?’

‘Tom, I haven’t got any feelings for you,’ I say. ‘And I’m getting married in two minutes. So can you get out of my way?’

‘You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for! You have no idea of the reality of marriage! Becky, tell me honestly. Do you really envisage yourself spending the rest of your days with Luke? Day after day, night after night? Hour after endless hour?’

‘Yes!’ I say, losing my temper. ‘I do! I love Luke very much and I do want to spend the rest of my days with him! Tom, it has taken a lot of time and effort and trouble for me to get to this moment. More than you can possibly imagine. And if you don’t get out of my way right now and let me go to my wedding... I’ll kill you.’

‘Tom,’ puts in Dad. ‘I think the answer’s no.’

‘Oh.’ Tom is silent for a moment. ‘Well... OK.’ He gives an abashed shrug. ‘Sorry.’

‘You never did have any sense of timing, Tom Web­ster,’ says Clive scornfully. ‘I remember the first time you ever pulled out into a roundabout. Nearly killed us both, you did!’

‘It’s OK. No harm done. Can we go now?’ I step into the car, arranging my dress around me, and Dad gets in beside me.

‘I’ll see you there, then, shall I?’ says Tom mourn­fully, and I raise my eyes heavenwards.

‘Tom, do you want a lift to the church?’

‘Oh, thanks. That’d be great. Hi Graham,’ he says awkwardly to my father as he clambers in. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘That’s quite all right, Tom,’ says my father, patting him on the back. ‘We all have our little moments.’ He pulls a face at me over Tom’s head and I quell a giggle.

‘So. Are we all set?’ says Clive, turning in his seat. ‘Any sudden changes of heart? Any more last-minute protestations of love? Any three-point turns?’

‘No!’ I say. ‘There’s nothing else. Let’s go already!’

As we arrive at the church, the bells are ringing, the sun is shining and a couple of last-minute guests are hurrying in. Tom opens the car door and dashes down the path without a backward glance, while I fluff out my train to the admiring glances of passers-by.

God, it is fun being a bride. I’m going to miss it.

‘All set?’ says Dad, handing me my bouquet.

‘I think so.’ I grin at him and take his outstretched arm.

‘Good luck,’ says Clive, then nods ahead. ‘You’ve got a couple of late ones here.’

A black taxi is pulling up in front of the church, and both passenger doors are flung open. I stare ahead incredulously, wondering if I’m dreaming, as Michael gets out, still in his evening dress from the Plaza. He extends a hand back into the taxi, and the next moment Laurel appears, still in her Yves St Laurent with the sleeves rolled up.

‘Don’t let us put you off!’ she says. ‘We’ll just sneak in somewhere–’

‘But... but what the hell are you doing here?’

‘Language,’ says Clive reprovingly.

‘What’s the point of being in control of a hundred private jets if you can’t fly wherever you want?’ says Laurel, as she comes over to hug me. ‘We suddenly decided we wanted to see you get married.’

‘For real,’ says Michael into my ear. ‘Hats off to you, Becky.’

When they’ve disappeared into the church, Dad and I make our way down the path to the porch where Suze is excitedly waiting. She’s wearing a silvery blue dress, and carrying Ernie, who’s wearing a matching romper suit. As I peep inside the church, I can see the gathered faces of all my family; all my old friends; all Luke’s friends and relations. Sitting side by side, all lit up, happy and expectant.

The organ stops playing, and I feel a stab of nerves.

It’s finally happening. I’m finally getting married. For real.

Then the Bridal March starts and Dad gives my arm a squeeze, and we start to process up the aisle.

***

We’re married.

We’re really married.

I look down at the shiny wedding band which Luke slid onto my finger in the church. Then I look around at the scene before me. The marquee is glowing in the summer dusk, and the band is playing a ropy version of ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’, and people are dancing. And maybe the music isn’t as smooth as it was at the Plaza. And maybe the guests aren’t all as well dressed. But they’re ours. They’re all ours.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 685