by Jane Linfoot
Then Barbara chimes in on the radio. ‘The Eden Centre’s where we had our first date …’ and I almost drop the chocolate basket because from those cut-glass vowels, this could be my mum’s twin. It isn’t as if this Barbara’s even getting the name of the place right. Which is another thing that ties in horribly, because Mum does that all the time.
‘Omigod, are you thinking what I am?’ My eyes lock onto Poppy and Jess’s. It suddenly occurs to me that I did once meet a David on the stairs at my mum’s house, changing a light bulb. ‘It can’t be my mother …?’ Can it?
Poppy’s face is scrunched in confusion. ‘I didn’t know your mum had a boyfriend?’
‘Me neither.’ I’m shaking my head and my stomach’s turned to stone. ‘But, shit, if she’s on Pirate Radio getting proposed to, she must have.’
Barbara – or rather my mum – sounds even more up-beat than usual.
‘I can’t possibly imagine why David’s brought me to the beautiful Mediterranean dome … on Valentine’s Day …’ Her voice is loud, yet breathy. Even on the radio, I can tell she’s ready to burst. Although you can excuse her for being excited. It’s completely obvious she knows what’s about to happen.
Poppy’s hand flies over her open mouth. ‘Oh shit, it really is her, Lily.’ As she listens her puzzled expression softens. ‘It’s like something off Married at First Sight. I can’t believe she’s about to get proposed to.’
‘Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.’ I jam my hands over my ears, because this is so many kinds of wrong. I don’t want to hear someone asking my mum to marry them. My mum doesn’t want to get married, she isn’t even over my dad dying yet. Somewhere along the line my thoughts start rushing out of my mouth. ‘And why the hell are they at the Eden Project? My mum’s the least green person on the planet. She hates gardening, she never recycles. As far as she’s concerned ecology’s a virus that gives you the runs. Please tell me this isn’t real …’
Poppy tugs at my sleeve. ‘It’s over now, you can unblock your ears.’
I shut my eyes tightly and tell myself to breathe. ‘How did he sound?’ My voice is a croak.
Poppy’s treading carefully here. ‘Nervous …’
I open my eyes a crack. ‘She said “yes” didn’t she?’ As if she’d have said anything else.
Poppy nods, although given the background clapping is deafening, I hardly need ask. There’s a few more whoops from the radio, then my mum’s coming through again, loud and clear.
‘A huge thank you to Pirate Radio and everyone here at Eden Valley. David and I are completely delighted, we’ll be having a summer wedding, and I promise we’ll be doing all our shopping at Brides by the Sea …’
I’m biting back my pangs at how word perfect she is.
‘A summer wedding?’ This is typical Jess, latching on to the practicalities. ‘They’ll need to get a move on to pull that one off.’
‘Unbelievable. Completely unbelievable.’ It comes out sounding a lot meaner than I intend, but if your mum springs something like this on you, it’s hard not to feel left out.
Poppy raises her eyebrows, and sighs. ‘Give yourself time, Lily, it might not seem so bad when you’re used to it.’
I know Poppy’s only being helpful. But getting used to it is something else.
‘I’m very happy for her.’ I force out the words, even though I’m not sure I am. Actually, I don’t know what to think.
Jess is tugging at her scarf. ‘This is definitely a wake-up call. We need to consider older brides. I can’t think how we’ve overlooked them before.’ Then she leaps up, grabs the prosecco bottle, fills my glass to overflowing, and hands it back to me. ‘Drink that, it’ll help with the shock. I’ll go and get the gin.’
As I inhale a huge slug of fizz, the DJ’s working the moment for all he’s worth. ‘So Barbara and David, what’s next for you?’
And my mum’s off again. Gushing doesn’t begin to cover it. ‘All the beautiful flowers in the dome here remind me that I was offered a free bouquet, but my daughter will be growing the flowers for mine, so any one else wanting lovely wedding flowers should get in touch too, she’ll have plenty for everyone …’
What? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. If she carries on like this they’ll have to fade her out. Which luckily for me, they do. I’ve never been more relieved to reach an ad break. As for which daughter is going to grow her wedding flowers, it isn’t like she’s got another. I’m her only one.
And almost as if the last three minutes never happened, we’re back with the maddeningly up-beat DJ, who obviously has no idea his bloody radio station just turned my whole world upside down.
‘And we’re moving on with T-rex and Hot Love. Because our next Pirate Radio proposal will be coming from … the fire station in St Aidan.’
‘Yay! Go Immie.’ Poppy whoops, and punches the air. But by the time she meets my eye, her worried look’s back. ‘At least Chas let us in on this. One unexpected proposal in a day is quite enough for anyone.’
She’s right about that. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to face a coconut truffle again. But what do they say about every cloud? The engagement excitement might eclipse the fact that my own life is in free fall. And after hearing my mother agree to marry a boyfriend I didn’t know existed, Sam’s Valentine’s wedding party is going to be a piece of cake.
Chapter 2
Tuesday, 14th February
The Goose and Duck: Pond life and matching cushions
‘I can’t believe the party’s going so fast, it’s eleven already,’ I say, as Jess, Poppy and I grab an empty table, and put down our tray of colourful drinks. ‘What’s more, apart from my killing feet, I’m having a fab time.’ Given my heels are at least four inches too ambitious, it’s bliss to sink into a chair and kick off my shoes.
Poppy laughs. ‘Hey Lily, you match the cushions.’
I glance down at the checked upholstery. ‘If I’d remembered the Goose and Duck’s wall-to-wall taupe make-over, I might have worn something else.’ Although, unlike my mum, who revels in day-glow chrysanthemum prints, I’m happiest blending into the background.
Jess is slurping her electric blue drink with gusto. ‘It’s been non-stop fun. Supper, speeches, cake cutting, first dance. And now romantic drinks. You have to love a cocktail called Scarlett O’Hara.’ Although she’s possibly losing track. She’s rattling through the drinks list so fast she’s currently throwing down Sex on the Driveway.
Behind us the room is buzzing, full of Sam and Sam’s friends and family, who we mostly know because they’re from the village.
‘Look at that.’ Jess nods indulgently through a gap in the crowd towards the snug, where Immie is being twirled around on her high heeled Doc Martens by new fiancé, Chas, watched proudly by Immie’s son, Morgan. ‘They’re doing so well not to upstage the bride and groom.’ She’s right. Immie’s I’m going to marry a fireman T-shirt is perfect. Understated, yet says it all. If Chas is choosing engagement gifts like that, she’s found herself a gem there. Although we probably knew that already.
Poppy twirls the umbrella from her drink. ‘And the engagement ring is a great touch. Very Immie.’
Chunky purple plastic. For now. For a down-to-earth girl. That’s Chas playing safe this time around. According to village legend, his ex-fiancée, who dumped him just before their wedding was so super-fussy she swapped the ring he bought her four times.
‘It’s a shame their proposal was mostly beeped out,’ I say. Apparently when Chas dropped down the fireman’s pole, ring box in hand, Immie was so stunned, all she came out with was a stream of expletives. ‘I wasn’t taking much in after the shock of my mum, but I’d still have liked to hear it.’
‘Have you spoken to your mum yet, Lily?’ Five cocktails in, yet Jess is straight on my case.
I search for my happy voice, but don’t find it. ‘Only for a few seconds. They were out celebrating at The Harbourside Hotel.’
Jess is straight back at me. ‘Gooseberry time. You
’d better stay at mine tonight.’
It’s an order not an invitation, although knowing how Jess likes to party, it’ll most likely be morning by the time we get in.
‘When I finish this Kiss On The Lips, I’d better go and talk to Rafe.’ Poppy raises her fruit filled glass, and sends him a wave as she catches his eye. He’s the tallest guy in the group of hunky farmers chatting together at the bar, and he rocks the ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ cliché with every inch. Although it’s Poppy who made him that way. Before he met her, he was grumpy and plain. Which just goes to show what love can do to you.
‘These Chocolate Cherry Cha Chas are giving me a warm fuzzy feeling.’ I say, as I sink my teeth into my umpteenth wedding cupcake of the night. Poppy’s finest, with swirls of pink buttercream, and a smattering of sugar hearts. I’m trying not to think of my mum as I take out the decorative ‘I do’ cards on sticks. It’s not as if it even matters if I grow out of my suit trousers, given I won’t actually have a job for much longer.
I sigh as I brush the cake crumbs off my boob shelf, then remember to smile. ‘It’s a change to come to a wedding party in a pub, rather than somewhere bigger.’ The Sams just bought their first house, so she made her own dress, the ceremony was just for the family, and the evening guest list was for meaningful friends only. But given Brides by the Sea couldn’t work without her, Jess has pulled in favours from all sides too.
Poppy’s eyes widen in alarm at what I meant to be a throwaway comment. ‘Don’t say simple weddings are a new trend. Expanding the business at Daisy Hill Farm is literally scaring the G-string off me.’
Ooops. Talk about sticking my foot in it. Last summer the weddings at Daisy Hill Farm were mostly in marquees and tipis in the fields, but Rafe and Poppy are busy upgrading the buildings, so they can have weddings there all year round.
Jess jumps straight in to smooth things over. ‘Don’t worry, everyone loves a country wedding.’
I nod at Poppy. ‘Most couples want a big day to remember.’ Although what I remember about Thom and me getting married is mainly the arguing.
Poppy gives a shudder. ‘I just hope we can pull in enough bookings to make it pay.’
It’s obvious the next bit’s going to be weighty, because Jess puts down her drink. ‘You have to be brave to move forward, Poppy.’ Her voice is grave as she sits back in her seat, and rests her hands on the carved oak arms. ‘Courage is being scared to death, and saddling up anyway.’
‘Sorry?’ That’s a bit profound for this time of night. Poppy and I squint at each other. We might live in the country, but neither of us rides.
A low voice comes from behind me. ‘John Wayne said it. He was talking about metaphorical horses.’ It’s Rafe.
Poppy and I nod furiously. ‘We got the pony part.’ I can sense the teasing in Rafe’s eyes without even looking over my shoulder. Not that I’m comparing, but Thom never twinkled like that.
Rafe carries on. ‘Being scared is okay, especially if it means you’re pushing yourself. Wouldn’t you say, Poppy?’
Poppy’s face crumples as she deliberates.
‘My point exactly.’ Jess nods.
‘And we’ll all be here to help you make the business a success.’ I rush in, remembering too late that I actually won’t be.
Poppy’s grin is sheepish. ‘Okay, my wobble’s over. I’ll man up.’
‘Good to hear.’ Rafe reaches across to give her a fake punch on the arm. ‘And by the way Lily, Fred by the bar says “Hi”. He’s the Ryan Gosling look-alikey, waving like his arm’s about to drop off. And he thinks it might be love at first sight.’
As we all screw our heads around, we take in a guy with broad shoulders and a beam the width of St Aidan Bay, doing the kind of wave he’d do if he’d been shipwrecked without a distress flare.
‘Cool.’ Poppy sounds delighted. ‘Fred’s lovely, he’s helping with Rafe’s barn conversion. He split up with his long-term girlfriend last year, so I’d say he’s over the heartbreak, and ready to go. Funny, kind, exceptionally solvent, likes country pursuits and nice restaurants.’ She sends me a playful wink. ‘For anyone interested, that is. Not necessarily meaning you, Lily.’
I’m gawping at how much background detail she’s crammed in there. ‘Thanks, but I’m all good here, Poppy.’ I grin vaguely in the direction of the bar without actually making eye contact. ‘But please say “Hi” back.’
‘Will do,’ Rafe nods at me. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but Poppy did promise to teach me to dance tonight.’ He holds out a hand to her.
Poppy sighs, then begins to wiggle out from behind the table. ‘Rafe dancing? Now that is a scary thought.’ A second later his arm slides around her waist.
They’re about to wander off when the best man jumps up on a chair, rattling a spoon against a pint glass. As Poppy and Rafe stop, Jess and I sit up expectantly, to listen.
‘Okay, ladies. It’s bouquet throwing time.’
Jess and I slump back again, and she points at my glass. ‘That’s us off the hook. Time for another cocktail?’
The best man goes on. ‘Sam wants every lady out in the garden, regardless of status. Single, married, divorced, you’ve all got to come.’ There’s an undertow of surprised mumbling as the women head for the door.
‘That’s a new one on me.’ I tug on my jacket, and wince as I stuff my appalled toes back into my shoes. ‘Looking at all the stilettos, it’s probably just the landlord trying a fast fix to get his grass aerated.’
Jess looks at me as she slips on her coat. ‘Remember the first ever bridesmaid’s bouquet you made for me at the shop?’ Jess isn’t big on nostalgia, but she often goes back to this one.
As if I could forget. I was so nervous, I was shaking too hard to cut the stems. And I wanted it to be perfect. I grin at her, the same way I do every time she hauls out this story. ‘A white and yellow posy. With freesias and daisies, and trailing ribbons. Took me four hours to make.’ I was bursting with excitement when I finished it.
She’s shaking her head, laughing. ‘The look on your face, when I told you we needed five more the same.’
I pull a face. ‘Rookie mistake. Lucky for me you went easy on beginners.’
Her smile is indulgent. ‘Not at all, I could see your potential, even that first day.’ Which is nice of her to say, and reminds me what an appreciative boss she was. As she helps Sam’s Granny Kernighan towards the garden, she strikes up a loud running commentary. ‘Whoever catches this bouquet is supposed to have romantic good fortune very soon. It goes back to the days when touching a bride brought good luck, and fragments of wedding dress fabric were like charms. Throwing the bouquet was a way of stopping the crowd tearing the bride’s dress off as she left.’
I shiver as the wind rushes in from outside. ‘That’s barbaric. I’m not sure I’m happy with the voyeurs either.’ I can’t help noticing a lot of the guys are coming out to watch. If they’re hoping for a girl fight, there are two here who won’t be joining in.
As I hold the door open, I catch Mrs K’s eye. ‘What are you going to do with Mr Kernighan if you catch the bouquet and find another man?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ she laughs back, pulling her collar up against the cold. ‘There are lovely white roses and blue anemones in that bunch, so I won’t mind if I do catch it.’ She gives my arm a prod. ‘From the smile that handsome young chap by the bar gave you as we passed, I’d say you’re in there, even without the flowers.’
As we move out across the floodlit herringbone brick paving, I send Jess an eye roll over the top of Mrs K’s head, but she’s too busy agreeing with Mrs K to notice. Eye rolls to that too.
Now we’re outside, I can see there’s been a makeover here too. We used to hang out here as teenagers on summer evenings, with our lemonade shandies and cream sodas, but the rough ground has given way to a neat lawn and timber edged borders.
I’m not wasting any time. ‘Okay, let’s talk avoidance tactics. How about we head for the trees?’ Newly plan
ted, in the shadows at the far end.
‘Good thinking.’ Jess gently passes Mrs K onto one of the women already bouncing on the front line. Talk about pushy. Some of them have even tossed aside their heels. Whatever happened to spiking the grass?
I shudder as I see their toes gripping the mud. ‘What a nightmare. It’s like school PE class all over again.’ My least favourite lesson. Along with maths. And science. As for competitions, I’m the world’s most disinterested competitor. Although if there was a competition for that, obviously, I’d be completely true to myself, and wouldn’t bother to enter.
‘Jules, it’s great to see you, and just in time for the scrum.’ It’s Jess, greeting her tamest, most blue eyed, floppy haired photographer. It might be my imagination, but his trademark pricey aftershave cloud seems even stronger in the dark. Jess narrowly misses getting swiped round the face as he flicks back his multi-coloured scarf. Even though she must have seen him already today, she stretches up to give him a peck. This isn’t just an air kiss either, it’s a maximum effort, lips-to-cheek job. Given how hard she’ll have leaned on him to come up with a best moments wedding album for a tiny fee for the Sams, it’s the least she can do.
‘Happy catching. Watch out for the water.’ Jules gives me my own wave, and bounds off to where Sam is positioning herself, flowers in hand, back towards us, by the pub doorway.
‘Water?’ Jess laughs, and does a funny little purr. ‘That boy is such a tease.’
I’m rubbing my arms because they’re freezing. I mean whose idea was it to come out here in February, when we could easily have gone through the whole charade on the dance floor?
‘Okay, here we go. It’s happening.’ At last. Given we’re well to the right, and so far away we’re almost in the darkness, I reckon we’re entirely out of range. From what I remember from netball at school, Sam’s even weedier than me when it comes to throwing.
‘One two three … THROW!’ That’s Jules. Whatever the wedding situation, he can’t resist taking charge.