A Girl Called Summer

by Lucy Lord

  ‘I told you, it’s fine,’ smiled Summer. ‘In fact, it’s great.’

  ‘And it’s a bit late to start worrying about that now,’ laughed Poppy.

  ‘It doesn’t seem too poncy? I mean, surely people should be allowed to wear what they want to, at weddings? I never thought I’d tell people what to wear at my wedding . . .’

  ‘What about Black Tie, or Morning Dress?’ said Poppy. ‘Far more prescriptive, and anyway – it’s your wedding, and you can ask them to wear what you bloody well like.’

  The dress code, written in colourful calligraphy by Bella on her hand-painted parchment invitations, was ‘Anything But Black’.

  ‘And stop being so bloody silly,’ added Poppy. ‘Who’d want to wear black here, anyway? It’s hardly as if you’ve invited them all to a funeral.’

  They were getting ready in the circular Terry-Thomas suite, at the top of the tower. Andy and Bella would be staying there that night, having spent the previous night apart, in time-honoured fashion. Bella had stayed at the finca with Daisy and her mother, Andy at Ben and Natalia’s with his best man, Bella’s brother Max.

  ‘So who do you think will be the first guests?’ asked Poppy, trying to quell Bella’s nerves, as she and Summer did up the pearl buttons that ran down the back of her long lace dress.

  ‘Jorge and Paloma,’ said Summer. ‘He never wants to miss out on any part of a party – or the free drinks, of course.’ She picked up the enamel-inlaid binoculars lying next to one of the windows, the one that looked down the hill to a white rubbly track that now held a snaking line of vehicles, and smiled. ‘Guess what, guys? Looks like I’m right!’

  *

  ‘Do I look OK?’ Jorge asked Paloma, checking his reflection yet again in the rear-view mirror of the violet-sprayed Maserati he’d hired to match his Dior bespoke silk shirt, unbuttoned and untucked over very tight white jeans.

  ‘Relax, sexy, you always look OK,’ said Paloma languidly, running her hands down over her silky long black hair. ‘And me?’ She generally wore black for sophisticated occasions such as this, but with deference to the dress code had settled, somewhat sulkily, on a slinky amethyst ankle-length gown that perfectly complemented Jorge’s violet silk.

  Jorge smiled. ‘You always look beautiful.’

  *

  Back down the hill, under the vines at Bar Anita, some of the wedding guests were starting to cause quite a stir amongst the other customers.

  ‘That’s Ben Jones!’ whispered a twenty-something trust-fund babe to her equally over-privileged friend, trying not to gawp. ‘And Jack Meadows,’ the friend whispered back.

  Ben, in keeping with his screen persona as the ultimate British gent, was wearing a lightweight navy-blue linen jacket over a sky-blue cotton shirt with stone-coloured, immaculately tailored trousers. Natalia, ever by his side, was in a Swarovski crystal-embossed powder-blue chiffon minidress that showed off her endless legs. Even in the comparative shade of the vines, their blondness gleamed.

  ‘I do love this colour thing,’ said Damian, whose pale pink shirt was great against his dark complexion.

  ‘Poncy git,’ said Ben.

  ‘He has a point, though,’ said Natalia, waving a languid hand at the rainbow-clad guests all around them. A lot of the men had taken the opportunity to unleash their inner peacock, with white suits and brightly coloured shirts being the most popular sartorial choice. ‘So far, it is beautiful.’

  ‘And we haven’t even got up the hill yet,’ added Jack, who was missing Summer already. She’d driven up to Can Talaias several hours earlier to do her bridesmaid’s stuff. ‘Should we think about making a move?’

  ‘Missing her already?’ teased Ben. ‘Yeah, sure, let’s get going. I’m dying to see what Terry-Thomas’s old place is like.’ He drained his beer and went into the bar to pay their bill.

  *

  Shane Connelly and Gabriella were driving up the hill in Gabriella’s battered old Bentley.

  ‘Can Talaias,’ she said. ‘How well I remember the parties . . .’

  ‘You didn’t really go to Terry Thomas’s parties, did you?’ Shane chuckled. ‘You’re a legend, Gabs!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ smiled Gabriella, outrageously glamorous in scarlet silk and real diamonds. ‘Denholm Elliott and Ann Margret disgracing themselves in the pool, Orson Welles and his naked cabaret . . . it was a different time, Shane.’ She looked wistful for a second. ‘But it is still the most beautiful location.’

  ‘I guess Justin probably remembers a thing or two from those days too, eh?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Gabriella with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And he is more than happy that his daughter should be getting married there.’

  *

  Bella was looking out of the window in the tower at her guests milling about on the huge open terrace below. Summer and Poppy had gone down to mingle, and she was having a few quiet moments on her own. Chairs with rainbow-coloured ribbons streaming behind them had been positioned to form a makeshift aisle facing the edge of the terrace that looked down over the sea, several kilometres below. A jungle of lush plants in striking pinks, reds and oranges clashed vividly with both sky and sea, and large spherical white balloons tied to trees with ribbons added an air of ethereal other-worldliness to the happy scene.

  Summer and Poppy were both dressed in short, strappy dresses comprising two layers of cornflower-blue and pale-green chiffon. Poppy’s outer layer was green, Summer’s blue (to match their eyes), and the effect was just gorgeous. They looked like a couple of beautiful blonde mermaids or nymphs or something, Bella thought fondly, watching them smile and twinkle as they charmed her guests.

  She couldn’t quite believe that this day had actually come.

  She turned to look at herself again in the full-length mirror and smiled. Her intricate white lace, halter-neck, low-backed dress was slim fitting with a very slight fishtail effect from the knee down – which meant she could actually walk. She never wanted to take it off! Suddenly overcome with excitement, she started to dance around the room, singing to herself, her long dark hair swinging around her shoulders.

  ‘I’m getting married in the morning!’

  ‘Afternoon, actually, darling,’ said her mother, Olivia, walking into the room hand-in-hand with Daisy. ‘Oh my God, you look beautiful.’ Tears started welling in her eyes and Bella rushed over to give her a hug.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, but you shouldn’t have come in. I’m not completely ready! I wanted to make my grand entrance!’

  ‘I know you did, darling, and sorry, but Daisy was insistent.’

  Bella rolled her eyes. Her mother could deny Daisy nothing.

  ‘So what do you think?’ she asked, striking a pose. But Daisy was standing stock-still, gazing at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘Mummy’s a princess,’ she said, eventually.

  ‘That’s the right reaction!’ Bella cried, rushing over to pick Daisy up and kiss her. ‘And don’t you look like the most beautiful little fairy?’

  Daisy’s white chiffon dress was simplicity itself, falling from her shoulders to below her knees in soft gathered folds. Barefoot, with a couple of Marguerite daisies nestling in her silky blonde hair, she could have stepped right out of the pages of one of the Flower Fairy books Bella had loved as a child.

  ‘Yes,’ said Daisy.

  *

  Nearly all the guests were seated when Tamara and Lars eventually rolled up, flushed and slightly out of breath. The drive from the airport had been a lot quicker than they’d anticipated, so Tamara, unable to resist Lars in his sand-coloured safari suit, had instigated a quickie in the surrounding countryside. ‘So, Mr Indiana Jones, are you going to show me how it’s done?’ had been her husky opening gambit.

  Unwelcome worries about being late had faded as soon as Tamara had wriggled out of her tight little dress. Eight months on, he still found her as irresistible as she found him, and neither of them could quite believe their luck in finding one another.

  Trying to regain some co
mposure, Tamara walked to their seats arm-in-arm with Lars, smiling at everybody she knew – and everybody she didn’t know, too. Well, they had to know her, right? Every inch the glamorous movie star, in an emerald-green Hervé Léger bandage dress and huge Oliver Peoples shades, she slipped into a free chair close to the front of the aisle.

  ‘Hey, Tammy.’

  Tamara looked over her shoulder at the man sitting behind her.

  ‘Hey, Jack.’

  ‘Are we cool?’

  ‘My God, you do pick the most inappropriate moments! This is Bella and Andy’s wedding. Of course we’re cool. Talk later, sweetie.’

  She winked, and Jack, Lars and everybody around them relaxed.

  *

  ‘I’ve never seen you look more beautiful, darlin',’ said Justin, resplendent in a bright orange tunic over white linen trousers and fuchsia-pink espadrilles.

  ‘For once, I have to agree with you, Justin,’ said Olivia, whose fuchsia-pink maxidress was an uncanny match to her ex-husband’s footware. ‘Utterly gorgeous, darling.’

  ‘Thanks, Mummy, thanks, Daddy,’ said Bella, her eyes shining. ‘I love you both so much!’ She took a couple of deep breaths. ‘I guess this is it then.’

  In one corner of the terrace, behind a carob tree, a lone guitarist started to play the opening bars of ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ by the Mamas and the Papas. Nobody realized, yet, that the hidden musician was Filthy Meadows himself.

  Bella looked out at it all from the white arched doorway of the main building. It was almost too beautiful to be real. She hesitated.

  ‘Get a move on, Mummy,’ Daisy said loudly, and as both Bella’s parents started laughing, she pulled herself together and walked out onto the terrace, clutching her father’s arm with one hand, her vivid pink, scarlet and orange bouquet of peonies, roses and lilies in the other.

  Andy was waiting for her out there.

  *

  The song came to an end as Bella reached Andy, so tall and upright in his white linen suit, perfectly silhouetted against the sea and sky, both such a deep blue that it was difficult to tell where the horizon began. Seeing the tears, easily visible behind his glasses, in his clever dark eyes, she reached out to hold his hand.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he mouthed.

  ‘I love you,’ she mouthed back.

  ‘Ahhhhh’ sighed the crowd, and they both looked over their shoulders, giggling slightly guiltily. They’d been so engrossed in the moment that they’d forgotten that their guests who, not sitting that far away from them, would be able to lip-read pretty well.

  The vows went with no mishap, apart from Daisy saying ‘yay!’ and clapping after each of them, and all too soon it was time for them to walk back past all their friends and family, to the strains of ‘Here Comes The Sun’, played, again, by Filthy, still hidden beneath his tree.

  *

  ‘You could have timed it a bit better, Belles,’ said Poppy, mock-reproachfully as she took a sip of elderflower cordial. ‘I can’t believe I’m not getting pissed at your wedding.’

  Bella smiled and gave Poppy’s barely discernible bump a little pat.

  ‘It’ll make it stand out from all the others you’ve been to.’

  ‘It already does. It’s yours!’ Poppy threw her arms around Bella’s neck and hugged her again. ‘And it’s wonderful. Living up to your expectations so far?’

  ‘More than. It hardly seems real. I keep getting that out-of-body thing – “Is this happening to me?” – that you mentioned.’

  ‘Told you so.’

  ‘Must you always be right?’

  Poppy tilted her golden head to one side to consider. ‘Yeah, probably.’

  ‘So, Pops – any idea yet what your little one’s going to be?’

  ‘You tell me. You’re going to be its godmother.’

  ‘One of thousands,’ Bella laughed, and Poppy did too. Half of Hollywood had already been asked to god-parent her unborn child.

  ‘A boy,’ Bella added. ‘I’m sure you’re going to have a beautiful little boy. But you let him anywhere near Daisy and I’ll kill you.’

  *

  ‘Congratulations, both of you,’ said India Cavendish, approaching Bella and Andy with a smile. She had a glass of champagne in one hand and Milo’s hand in the other. ‘What an absolutely gorgeous day, and you look beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks, India,’ said Bella, kissing her on both cheeks ‘So do you.’

  It was true. India had put on a bit of weight and, no longer gaunt, looked tanned, healthy and happy in a primrose-yellow lace minidress.

  ‘So how is everything?’ asked Andy, smiling at her and marvelling at the transformation from the desperate battered woman who had turned up at the finca that afternoon last year.

  ‘Absolutely wonderful, thanks.’ India gave another radiant smile. ‘And I’ve got some fantastic news – but you know, pas devant.’

  Daisy, who Bella was beginning to suspect was almost scarily perceptive for her age, suddenly piped up, ‘Why don’t you come and play with me, Milo?’ All three adults smiled indulently as they watched their children walk off hand-in-hand, Milo in his little white suit and Daisy in her little white dress, chattering all the way.

  ‘So what is it?’ Bella turned back to India, eager for gossip.

  ‘Actually, I’ve just realized it’s probably completely inappropriate to tell you on your wedding day, but—’

  ‘Sod appropriate!’ said Bella impatiently. ‘Tell us!’

  ‘Oh, OK! The decree nisi finally came through today! I’m officially free!’

  ‘Fantastic news! Yay, India!’

  There were high fives and hugs all around, drawing curious glances from some of the other guests.

  ‘And I’ve got half the bastard’s money!’

  ‘Including the house?’ asked Bella, high-fiving her again.

  ‘Yup, but I’m selling it. Ghastly monstrosity – Jamie never did have any taste, and it’s much too big for me and Milo. Although . . .’

  ‘Although what? Oooh, look at you – there’s a new man on the horizon, isn’t there? Yes, you do look—’

  ‘Bella, stop it, you’re embarrassing the poor woman,’ laughed Andy.

  ‘It’s OK, there is somebody, but it’s early days yet. He’s, um – Milo’s sports teacher . . .’ Bella and Andy both smiled. ‘. . . and he’s ten years younger than me.’

  *

  Bella and Andy continued their rounds of the gardens, stopping to chat to guests as they drank champagne and hibiscus cocktails and nibbled on tapas – the main meal wouldn’t be served for another hour or so.

  ‘Blimey, we did it,’ said Bella.

  ‘We did it,’ said Andy, smiling at her.

  ‘And isn’t it all just fabulous?’ she added triumphantly, struck yet again by the incredible beauty of their surroundings. Pretty little wrought-iron tables and chairs were dotted, apparently at random, in clearings in the lush foliage, and hammocks, also apparently at random but actually calculated to give the best view down to the sea or over the pool, were strung up between trees.

  It was in one of these hammocks that they came across Tamara, posing for all she was worth in her tight green dress, as Lars snapped away at her.

  ‘Oh!’ she sat up straight when she saw them. ‘Shit, how embarrassing! I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would we mind?’ asked Andy, smiling at her. ‘We’d mind if people didn’t want to take photos – it’s so beautiful here.’

  ‘Sure is,’ Tamara concurred excitedly, dark curls bouncing as she tried to balance in the hammock.

  ‘It is phenomenal,’ said Lars, reaching out to shake Andy’s hand, and kiss Bella. ‘I don’t think I’ve congratulated you both properly yet.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ said Bella. ‘And you’ve given us the best present anybody possibly could have!’

  ‘Ah – I hope you enjoy it,’ smiled Lars. The wedding present was two weeks at his Mexican resort for their honeymoon.

  �
��We can’t wait,’ said Andy, grinning boyishly. ‘I’ve never been to Mexico.’

  ‘So how are you?’ Bella asked Tamara. ‘I can’t wait to see Dust Bowl. It hasn’t reached Ibiza yet, but you’ve had some fantastic reviews.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tamara. ‘At long last my brilliance has been recognized.’

  ‘I’m so proud of my girl,’ beamed Lars.

  ‘You know I couldn’t have done it without you.’ Tamara jumped nimbly out of the hammock and stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Anyway, enough of posing here on our own, and keeping the beautiful bride and groom from the rest of their guests! This is a party – let’s go mingle!'

  *

  Summer and Jack were sitting on the ledge of the terrace, legs dangling, looking out to sea.

  ‘Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?’ said Jack, stroking Summer’s smooth brown cheek.

  ‘Loads of times,’ she said, smiling into his eyes. ‘But I never tire of hearing it. Isn’t this a wonderful day? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bella so happy.’

  ‘It’s fabulous,’ Jack agreed. ‘I’m going to miss you like crazy the next couple of weeks though.’

  ‘You’ll manage.’ Summer leaned over to kiss him. ‘And you’ll be so busy the time will fly by.’

  Much as she loved her life in Ibiza, Summer had discovered that she couldn’t bear to be apart from Jack for too long, so she found herself flying out to LA, or Saigon, or wherever he happened to be filming; the rest of the time he flew back to be with her, in Ibiza. It was an extremely happy arrangement, and the travelling gave her loads of material for her blog, which now had a global following. She managed to keep her Island Life column going, too – she could file her copy from anywhere in the world – and either Bella or India Cavendish would take over at the crèche during her absences.

  For the next two weeks, though, Summer and Britta had promised to look after Daisy while Bella and Andy were on their honeymoon. Although Britta was perfectly capable of doing it on her own, Bella had confided that she would be even happier if Summer was there for Daisy – ‘I’ve never even been apart from her for one night before, and she absolutely adores you.’