The Wedding that Changed Everything

by Jennifer Joyce

  ‘Do you fancy doing a duet?’ Alice asks as she runs a finger down the laminated page.

  I nod and take a sip of the white wine Archie has just placed in front of me. ‘We used to do a mean Bananarama.’

  ‘I was thinking more Destiny’s Child.’ Alice takes a sip of her own drink as she continues to scan the catalogue. ‘Bananarama are fantastic fun, but if you want to be a bit more daring, then you can’t go wrong by channelling Beyoncé.’ Alice taps a song selection on the page. ‘How about “Bootylicious”?’

  ‘“Bootylicious”?’ I purse my lips as I consider the suggestion. It’s a good song – fun, sassy, energetic – but I can’t help thinking Alice is up to something. Because I know Alice. She’s plotting.

  ‘Maybe we should ask Carolyn to make up the trio,’ she says before wrinkling her nose. ‘Actually, scrap that. I love my sister to death, but she sounds like a strangled cat when she sings.’

  ‘So what?’ We’ve never taken karaoke seriously; we’ve sung everything from Chumbawamba’s ‘Tubthumping’ to Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe’ (I was Sonny to Alice’s Cher). Karaoke isn’t about being the best singer, it’s about having the most fun.

  ‘I just think this could be your chance to shine.’ Alice picks up her glass, her eyes wandering to Archie and back as she takes a sip.

  Of course. How could I have been so naïve? Now I get the ‘Bootylicious’ song choice; she wants me to get all arse-wiggly for Archie’s benefit. Now Twiggy is out of the way, she’s lining up his replacement. The onslaught isn’t in any danger of slowing down. If it isn’t Archie, it’ll be somebody else. Anybody else. Why couldn’t Twiggy have been real? She stopped with the Cupid nonsense when she believed I was into him.

  Just a minute!

  Light-bulb moment.

  If Alice is under the impression I’ve found a potential suitor, she’ll leave me alone. Now, I can’t make one up – I tried that, and she won’t be satisfied until she’s met and vetted him – but what if I pretended to be interested in someone? Someone pleasant enough that they won’t annoy the hell out of me. Someone Alice deems appropriate. Someone like Archie…

  ‘Yeah.’ My head bobs up and down. ‘Okay. “Bootylicious” sounds fun.’ I fill in the little slip and hand it to the karaoke host before sinking my glass of Dutch courage (aka the not-too-bad house white).

  ‘It’s my round,’ I tell Archie, even though he still has three-quarters of a pint left. I rest my hand on his shoulder as I pass behind him, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s nothing too flirtatious – I don’t want to alert Alice to my plan by coming on too strong too quickly. I head for the bar, where Tom is waiting to be served. He’s changed out of his gardening scruffs and is wearing a pair of nicely fitting jeans and a T-shirt that shows off the physical work he carries out daily.

  ‘You were invited along after all,’ I say as I stand next to him. I’m surprised he turned up, actually. From what I can gather, he isn’t one for joining in. Not any more, at least.

  ‘Nope.’ He thanks the barmaid as she places a pint in front of him. ‘Just came into my local for a quick pint and found it overrun with out-of-towners.’ He hands the money to the barmaid and takes a sip of his pint while I will the ground to open up and gobble me whole.

  ‘I’m sure there was some misunderstanding. I bet Carolyn assumed Alice had asked you to join us and vice versa.’

  Tom holds up a hand. ‘It’s fine, really. It isn’t as though I’m a wedding guest. I’m just the gardener.’

  ‘That isn’t true. Alice and Carolyn were so excited when they realised you were here.’

  Tom grunts and takes another sip of his pint.

  ‘I mean, they were a bit confused by your… lack of enthusiasm.’ I’m trying so hard not to put my foot in it again. ‘They thought you could all pick up where you left off last time. Or at least reminisce over your shared childhood.’

  ‘I’m really not in the mood for reminiscing.’ Tom takes the change from the barmaid and I place my order. When I turn back to continue our conversation, to tell him about the photos we’ve just looked at, I find he’s shuffled off to the other end of the bar.

  The karaoke session begins, with a couple of locals kicking things off with their rather painful renditions of a Whitney classic and Adele. Alice and I are next up, and I throw myself into the performance, the glasses of wine I’ve poured down my throat enabling me to keep eye contact with Archie as I demonstrate my ‘bootyliciousness’. It isn’t easy displaying such bootyliciousness in a pair of jeans rather than something a bit slinkier, but I pull it off, in my slightly drunken opinion.

  Ah, forget modesty. I am sexy as hell up there.

  ‘Blimey, Emily,’ Archie says once I’ve finished and plopped myself into my seat. ‘That was quite something.’

  I bite my lip, hating myself a little bit as I do so. ‘A good something, or a bad something?’

  Archie grins at me. ‘A good something. Definitely a good something.’

  ‘Excellent, because that’s exactly what I was aiming for.’ I wink at Archie and pick up my glass, but it’s empty. I give it a little jiggle and peer inside, but I’m in definite need of a top-up.

  ‘Let me.’ Archie takes the glass from me and I make a pathetic simpering sound at him.

  I detest myself right now, but needs must.

  One of the locals is currently taking her place at the karaoke screen, microphone in one hand, the other tugging at the hem of her skirt, which is so short, she’s in danger of flashing her Mary. She’s chosen to sing Miley Cyrus’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ and she’s pretty good. Obviously she isn’t as bootylicious as Alice and I, but the girl can sing.

  ‘What are you going to sing?’ I ask Archie when he returns with a fresh round of drinks.

  ‘Me?’ Archie shakes his head. ‘I don’t do karaoke.’

  ‘But it’s fun.’ I pout up at him, wondering – too late – if I’m laying it on a bit thick. ‘Why don’t we do a duet? That way, it takes the pressure off a bit.’

  Archie squirms in his seat. ‘It really isn’t me.’

  The above-par rendition of ‘Wrecking Ball’ comes to an end with rapturous applause and Carolyn takes her place by the karaoke screen. The intro to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ begins and Carolyn croons along. She is awful, bless her. Truly horrendous, but what she lacks in actual singing talent, she makes up for in confidence and she belts out those (nowhere-near-in-tune) notes like there’s no tomorrow. Her arm is outstretched, her face is displaying the utter heartache she is going through – if only for three minutes – as she tells us her woeful tale. She receives thunderous applause once she finishes and I’m enthusiastic with my response, hammering my palms on the tabletop in celebration of the wonderful performance. Carolyn gives a theatrical bow before she skips back to her seat.

  ‘You sound like a sack of drowning cats,’ I hear Alice say as she flings her arms around her sister. ‘But you’re bloody fantastic.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ Carolyn tips an imaginary cap, not in the least put out by her sister’s judgement. ‘I think I’m going for a Mariah next.’ She picks up the catalogue and starts to leaf through it.

  Best man Teddy is up next, giving a comical performance of Vic Reeves and The Wonder Stuff’s ‘Dizzy’, followed by a bridesmaid duo of ‘Islands in the Stream’. Another local gets up to have a go at a bit of Elvis – complete with gyrating hips and curled lip.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want a go?’ I ask Archie. ‘We could get up together. Diana Ross and Lionel Richie? Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes? Peter Andre and Katie Price?’ Archie doesn’t look impressed by my suggestions. ‘Or how about a group song? That way you can hide at the back if you really hate it.’

  Archie shakes his head firmly. ‘I don’t sing unless I’m in the shower. Alone.’

  ‘But everybody else is having a go.’ I turn to the karaoke area, where even Tom is about to have a turn. I’m so shocked, I almost fall off my stool.

  ‘Piers i
sn’t,’ Archie points out.

  Piers isn’t even sitting with us any more. He’s at the bar, his back to the karaoke machine, as he fiddles with his phone.

  ‘Although he’d be up there if this was a competition,’ Archie says. ‘Piers is quite the competitor. If this was a contest, he’d be up there right now, giving it his best Sam Smith impression.’

  As it isn’t, he’s being a miserable bugger. I get the not singing part – it isn’t everybody’s cup of tea – but to distance himself like this, even when his soon-to-be wife was giving it her all…

  ‘He wasn’t happy Carolyn banned him from taking part in the treasure hunt, in case people thought he had inside information.’

  I snort. ‘In a family treasure hunt? Wouldn’t that be taking it a bit too far?’

  Archie laughs. ‘You clearly haven’t experienced Piers’ competitiveness.’

  I’m about to confirm as much, but the words die away as Tom starts to sing. And blimey, the boy can sing, even if he has chosen The Smiths’ ‘This Charming Man’, one of the most depressing songs known to man. I’d thought the Miley Cyrus fan was pretty good, but Tom is amazing. He’s wasted on those rosebushes and grass clippings. He should be up on stage, having knickers thrown at him.

  Am I drunk enough to do that?

  Nope, definitely not.

  ‘Go, Tom!’ I yell instead of whipping off my undies. I usually find The Smiths pretty gloomy, but I can get onboard with this charming man. My arms are in the air, swaying in time to the music – and I’m not the only one getting into the performance. Bridesmaid Thea has gone all swoony-eyed as she gazes up at Tom, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Go Tom, indeed. Singing boy has earned himself an admirer.

  ‘Oh, sod it.’ Archie reaches for the catalogue sitting on the next table and starts to flick through. ‘Let’s have a go. I don’t want to be boring like Piers.’

  I turn to smile my encouragement before turning back towards the performance.

  Archie nudges me lightly with his elbow and points down at the catalogue when he has my attention again. ‘What are we singing then?’

  ‘You want to duet?’ I rub my hands together and grab the catalogue. ‘How do you fancy being Elton to my Kiki Dee?’

  Chapter Twenty

  We kill it at karaoke. Archie, despite his earlier reluctance, is actually a good singer, though he says one performance is more than enough. I get up again, this time with Alice and Carolyn, and by my fourth go I’m warmed up (and wined up) enough for a solo. I’m having an absolute blast. It feels like our uni days all over again, when I was discovering who I was without Mum doing her best to screw me up, or Aunt Dorothy breathing down my neck. Before Mum died, when I was full of life and possibility and hope for the first time. I like this feeling. I love this feeling, and I don’t want it to end. I want to stay in the Royal Oak for ever, existing on white wine spritzers, dry roasted peanuts and the joy of singing.

  ‘Do you know what?’ Carolyn slings her arm around my shoulders and pulls me in so tight, I may as well be in a headlock. I haven’t been in this position since I had a scrap with Jillian McIver in Year Ten after she called my mum a ‘junkie whore’. I hope Carolyn doesn’t start yanking my hair out.

  ‘What?’ I ask, propping Carolyn up as she starts to sway.

  ‘We should audition for The X Factor. You, me and Alice.’ She jabs a finger at each named person (as though I don’t know who we all are). ‘We could be the next Little Mix.’ She gasps and tries to clap, but her hands miss each other by a country mile. ‘We could be Pick “n” Mix!’ She throws her head back and roars with laughter, almost toppling us both off balance. I manage to right her and plonk her down on a stool. ‘I want to be Pick. Do you want to be Mix or “n”?’

  Carolyn cracks up again, her shoulders shaking as she slaps her thigh repeatedly.

  ‘I’ll let Alice decide.’ I wave a hand at my friend, who’s at the bar chatting to the barmaid. She sees me, excuses herself and threads her way over.

  ‘Your sister is royally pissed.’

  Carolyn, still roaring with laughter, thumps her hand down on the table, narrowly missing a small collection of glasses.

  ‘No kidding.’ Alice crouches down in front of Carolyn. ‘Do you need a bit of fresh air, honey?’ She prises a still giggling Carolyn off the stool and guides her towards the pub’s exit, Carolyn chattering about Pick ‘n’ Mix as they go. Personally, I’m at that happy stage of drunk; merry but not in the Hangover from Hell in the Morning zone. It’s a shame the same can’t be said for Carolyn, who’s looking a little the worse for wear, if you replace ‘little’ with ‘massively’ and ‘worse for wear’ with ‘trollied’. She can barely stand up, let alone walk in a straight line, and Alice is struggling to keep her upright, staggering under the weight of the sister who wants nothing more than to slump to the ground in a heap.

  ‘Emily.’ Alice grunts as she attempts to haul Carolyn into a fully upright position. ‘I’ll need your help.’

  ‘Shall I get Piers?’ I ask, my eyes searching for him. The last time I saw Piers, Carolyn was trying to persuade him to remove the stick from his butt and join in the fun, but I can’t see him anywhere now.

  ‘No!’ Carolyn shakes her head, the movement causing her body to sway dangerously. Alice has to cling on to her to stop her from hitting the deck. ‘No Piersy. He’ll be cross if he sees me like this. I promised I wouldn’t get too drunk tonight.’ She places a hand to her mouth. ‘Whoops.’

  ‘He’s gone back to the castle already,’ Alice says as I prop up Carolyn’s other side, taking some of the weight off Alice. ‘He wanted an early night.’

  ‘Another one?’ I stagger as Carolyn lists to the left.

  ‘His parents are arriving tomorrow.’ Carolyn almost trips over her own foot, sending the three of us staggering, though she doesn’t seem to notice the chaos she is causing. ‘I’m going to be so hungover.’

  If Carolyn is worried about this, she masks it well as she starts to giggle again.

  ‘Come on, let’s go.’ Groaning with the exertion, Alice guides Carolyn out of the pub while I prevent her from stumbling backwards.

  We only make it as far as the group of outdoor tables.

  ‘We can’t do this on our own,’ Alice says as we deposit Carolyn on one of the benches. She slumps against the table, head-down, while Alice and I try to catch our breath.

  ‘We could call a taxi.’ As I say it, Carolyn slides to the ground, curling herself into the foetal position. ‘But who would take her in that state?’

  Alice presses her lips together as she weighs our options up. ‘We need more help. I’ll wait here with Carolyn while you go and get Archie or Teddy.’ She crouches down by Carolyn’s side, frowning as her sister starts to mumble incoherently. ‘Or both, if you can.’

  The karaoke session is still in full swing as I head back into the pub, but I can’t find Archie or Teddy anywhere. In fact, the only Durban Castle guests I can see are bridesmaids, Thea (who is currently snogging the face off the karaoke host) and Josephine (who is currently singing a Beautiful South duet by herself). My only other option is Tom, who’s scowling into his pint at the bar. I’d assumed he was starting to lighten up when he’d taken part in the karaoke but obviously not. I approach with trepidation.

  ‘Um, excuse me, Tom? I know you’re enjoying your pint and everything, but we could really do with your help.’

  ‘Why?’ He sighs, but he’s already pushing himself away from the bar. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Carolyn.’ I hold up a hand as his eyes widen. ‘Don’t worry, she hasn’t been in an accident or anything. She isn’t hurt.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  I’ve started to head towards the door and Tom is following. ‘She’s drunk.’

  ‘Drunk?’ Tom tuts, but continues to follow me outside, where Alice has somehow coaxed Carolyn up into a sitting position, though she’s bent at the middle like an understuffed rag doll.

  ‘She w
on’t walk.’ Alice pushes herself up onto her feet and shrugs. ‘I struggled to get her this far off the floor.’

  ‘I’d get the car, but I’ve had a couple of pints,’ Tom says. ‘But no worries. Come on, sweetie, grab on.’ Scooping Carolyn up off the pavement, he holds her like a groom carrying his new bride across the threshold, except this bride’s head is flung back and her face is covered in streaked mascara. If Tom was the groom, he’d be wishing he’d said ‘I don’t’ right about now.

  He sets off at a rather masterful pace, considering he’s carrying a fully grown human in his arms. He makes it all the way up the hill to the castle without breaking a sweat.

  ‘We’ll take her up to our room,’ Alice says as we head up the stone steps to the main entrance. ‘She doesn’t want Piers to see her like this. I’ll pop a note under his door, so he knows where she is when he wakes up.’

  ‘Thanks for helping us out,’ I say as Alice jogs ahead up the steps to open the door.

  ‘No worries.’ If Tom wasn’t holding Carolyn, I’m sure he’d be shrugging his shoulders. ‘I’d be heading this way for home anyway.’

  ‘Still, it’s kind of you.’

  Tom looks down at me in surprise, which isn’t unreasonable since we’ve been a bit spiky with each other these past couple of days. We haven’t got off to the best of starts, and I can’t completely blame Tom. I know I’m not the easiest of people to get to know. Edward used to say part of the attraction in the beginning was the challenge I posed. Looking back now, I suspect I was more of a challenge than even he suspected.

  ‘Your arms must be aching by now.’ We’re making our way up the carpeted staircase in the entrance hall and I can hear Tom starting to get breathless. He is human after all. ‘Do you think she’ll be able to manage to walk this last bit?’

  Tom looks down at Carolyn and shakes his head. ‘I doubt it. She’s playing Sleeping Beauty up here.’

  ‘Oh.’ Poor Tom must have arm muscles like Popeye on a double dose of spinach after lugging Carolyn’s inert body all this way. ‘It isn’t too far now.’ I pull an apologetic face; Tom must wish he was still propping up the bar at the pub. ‘We’re just to the left.’