The One

by Maria Realf

  Lizzie looked around the room, which was strewn with clothes and underwear and lotions and hair gear and all kinds of shoes she didn’t recognise but assumed must be Megan’s. The make-up artist would be here any minute too, and the last thing she needed was more people trying to squeeze into the confined space.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Keep still!’ hissed Lloyd, narrowly missing her ear with the tongs.

  ‘Actually, Mrs S, I think we’re alright at the moment. There’s quite a lot going on, what with hair and make-up and stuff, so you might be more comfortable getting changed in your own room and then coming over to ours after.’ There was a pause. ‘Yes, she’s fine. Just having her hair done right now. We’ll see you in a little bit.’ There was another pause, then she laughed. ‘Yes, I did sneak in some champers – you know me so well. Let’s have a glass in an hour or so. Bye then.’

  She put down the phone. ‘Bloody hell, your mum sounds more jittery than you. What’s with the Sparkes women this morning?’

  ‘Well, you should know by now that we’re a high-maintenance bunch.’

  ‘Too right. I might need that bottle of bubbly to myself at this rate.’

  ‘Hey, don’t forget me,’ said Lloyd.

  ‘I won’t,’ promised Megan. ‘As long as you help me keep an eye on Lizzie’s mum. Last thing we want is a tipsy mother-of-the-bride before we even get to the ceremony. The woman can’t handle her booze.’

  ‘Megan!’ scolded Lizzie, but she knew that it was true. Two glasses of fizz and her mum would be singing Chapel of Love all the way to the church.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be Cemile,’ said Megan, grabbing her dressing gown and throwing it on. She had personally recommended the make-up artist, who was someone she knew through work. Flinging the door wide open, she kissed the petite brunette waiting outside on both cheeks.

  ‘Cemile, hi! Come in. You’ve met Lizzie – aka The Bride – and this is Lloyd, hairdresser extraordinaire.’

  ‘I’m nearly finished here,’ he said, popping the final grip in place. ‘But then I’ve got to start work on Megan.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Cemile. ‘I can set up over by the bed, then I can do Lizzie’s make-up while you carry on there.’

  Lloyd began spritzing so much hairspray over Lizzie’s head that she nearly began to choke. ‘Hang in there,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It’ll be gone in a second, but we need that do to stay in place.’ He wafted away some of the mist with his hand. ‘All done!’ he declared, holding up an oval mirror behind her head. ‘What do you think?’

  Lizzie peered into the glass, her eyes stinging slightly from the spray. But the result was worth it. Her hair was swept into loose, elegant curls, like something out of a romantic drama, and at the back he had dotted in some crystal pins for added sparkle. It was a red-carpet-worthy hairstyle for her moment in the spotlight.

  ‘I love it!’ she said.

  ‘Well, thank goodness for that,’ replied Lloyd. ‘I think I’d have lopped it all off if you hadn’t!’

  She smiled, smoothing down the bottom of her robe as she stood up. ‘Megan, you’re next.’

  ‘OK,’ said Megan, who had finally managed to pull on a pair of tights without destroying them. ‘But be gentle with me, Lloyd.’

  ‘I will, hon. I will.’

  Fifty minutes later, Lizzie and Megan were alone, with their hair and make-up almost perfected. Cemile had gone downstairs to grab herself a coffee, while Lloyd had popped outside for a quick cigarette break.

  ‘Don’t worry, ladies, I won’t be long,’ he’d said.

  ‘Be as long as you like,’ said Lizzie. ‘Everything looks great. There’s not a lot more you can do here.’

  ‘Listen, I’m not going to relax until you’re all dressed up and ready to walk out that door,’ he replied. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many brides can fuck up putting on a frock. I’ll hang around just in case.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Megan. ‘But you’re fine to go out for a while. We need to get our gowns on, anyway.’ Closing the door behind him, she turned to Lizzie. ‘Right, it’s probably time we started getting you into that incredible dress, don’t you think?’

  ‘I guess so.’ Lizzie really didn’t know where the morning had gone. One second she was scoffing croissants in bed, the next she was about to put on her wedding gown.

  ‘We stop?’ asked Megan, disrupting her train of thought.

  ‘Stop what?’ said Lizzie.

  ‘No, I meant have you been for a wee? You’d be better off going now, you know – not once you’ve got all this gear on.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Fair enough.’ Suddenly Lizzie’s mobile phone rang. She picked it up from the bedside table and noticed the caller was phoning from a withheld number. Who would be calling me now, of all days? Nearly everyone I know is getting ready. Unless … Her hand began to shake. Unless it’s news about Alex.

  She toyed with not answering it, but the need to know was overwhelming. There was a silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Hello. Anyone there?’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Ah, hello, is that Miss Sparkes?’

  ‘Yes. Who is this?’

  ‘My name’s Doug, and I’m calling to see what I can do to help you. How much are you currently paying for your mobile phone package?’

  ‘Aaaargh! Never. Call. Me. Again,’ yelled Lizzie, hanging up and throwing the phone down on the bed.

  Megan looked startled. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Just some random cold-caller.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness. I thought for a …’ She cut herself off and pulled her bridesmaid’s dress out of the cupboard. ‘Anyway, no harm done, right? Let’s get ready.’

  ‘You thought what?’ said Lizzie.

  ‘Huh?’ Megan played dumb. She slipped the long, coral maxi dress over her head and adjusted it around her boobs.

  ‘You said, ‘‘I thought for a second …’’ and then you changed the subject. What did you think?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. We’ve got more important things to do now, in case you’d forgotten.’

  ‘It matters to me,’ said Lizzie quietly. ‘Who did you think it was?’

  ‘Oh, alright. I was worried that maybe it was something to do with Alex,’ Megan confessed. ‘But it wasn’t, so let’s just forget I said anything.’

  ‘I thought it might be something to do with Alex, too,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘Does that make me a terrible bride? I shouldn’t be thinking about him today, right?’

  ‘No, Lizzie, it doesn’t make you a bad bride,’ said Megan sympathetically. ‘You’re bound to think about him under the circumstances. I’ve been thinking about him a lot myself lately.’

  ‘So do you think one of us should call him? Just to see how he’s doing?’

  ‘Whoa, hang on a minute! No, I don’t think we should call him. That would be, like, the worst idea ever. Why would you even suggest it?’

  Lizzie’s heart sank. ‘I get what you’re saying. But I’m just about to go off on honeymoon for two weeks. What if something were to happen to him while we were away, and I hadn’t at least tried to call? I know we agreed not to see each other again, but I don’t want him to think that I don’t care.’

  ‘Lizzie, he’ll know that you care,’ said Megan. ‘But he’s not going to expect you to phone him on your wedding day. And anyway, what would you say? “Well, I can’t chat for long, I’m just about to go off and marry someone else …” That’s hardly going to cheer him up, is it? Promise me you won’t call.’

  ‘But …’ said Lizzie.

  ‘No buts,’ said Megan firmly. ‘Unless it’s “But I need to go for a quick wee before I put on my dress.’’’

  ‘Fine.’ Lizzie knew when she was defeated. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

  As she sat down on the toilet, she twiddled her thumbs nervously. The tiny mark on the inside of her wrist caught her eye. Even after all the laser treatment, she could still make out the faint outline of t
hat tattoo. She wished she’d left it alone now, but at the time she had desperately wanted to erase every painful reminder of Alex and his family from her life.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘It’s the fashion police!’ yelled a male voice outside.

  ‘Hey Lloyd, could you just give us a few more minutes?’ said Megan. ‘We’re still getting dressed. Maybe you could go and grab a coffee with Cemile?’

  ‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘I might go on a little recce of the hotel. I just overheard one of the porters saying they’d seen Ant and Dec in the restaurant.’

  ‘Alright then. Enjoy! See you in a bit.’

  Lizzie flushed the loo, washed her hands and stepped out of the en-suite bathroom. ‘Well, I suppose we’d better get this show on the road,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Yes, we had. Are you ready for your dress now?’

  ‘Ready and waiting!’

  Megan went over to the chaise longue, unzipped the protective dust cover and carefully lifted out the dress. ‘I love this so much, Lizzie – I really do. I’m tempted to run off with it right now.’

  ‘Hmmm, unfortunately you can’t, otherwise I’d have to turn up at the church in my knickers.’ Lizzie untied the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing her bridal lingerie: a beautiful ivory satin basque and French briefs, plus a delicate suspender belt and nude stockings.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure the priest would be entirely cool with that. Nice gear, though.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lizzie moved in front of the mirrored wardrobe, and Megan fanned out the dress in front of her feet. ‘Right, so the lady in the shop said you’re supposed to step into it – that way you won’t spoil your hairdo.’

  ‘OK, here goes.’ Lizzie stepped into the gown, closing her eyes while Megan pulled it up and adjusted it around her. ‘I’m not going to look until it’s on.’

  ‘I’m nearly there,’ said Megan. ‘Here, just lift your left arm up a little. Alright, breathe in for a minute while I do the zip …’

  ‘What are you saying? It looks tight?’

  ‘No, don’t be stupid! I just don’t want to get any skin caught in the zipper … blood would be a nightmare to get out of a white gown, you know.’

  ‘Grim! You’re supposed to be keeping me calm, in case you’d forgotten.’

  ‘Quit your moaning. I’ll be done in about … hang on … three more seconds.’ Lizzie heard the sound of a zip being done up.

  ‘Fine. Can I look yet?’

  ‘Any second … now!’

  Lizzie opened her eyes and looked at the bride staring back at her. The dress was every bit as beautiful as she remembered, if not more so, cinching in perfectly at the waist before flowing all the way down to the floor. The delicate beading shimmered under the artificial hotel lights, like a dusting of snowflakes on a freshly frosted morning. If it was possible to fall in love with a frock, Lizzie was head over heels.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ said Megan. ‘It’s amazing, right?’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ said Lizzie. ‘I love it so much I’m almost scared to wear it outside.’

  ‘Here, let me get your other bits so we can see how it all looks together.’ Megan moved over to Lizzie’s case, and returned with June’s vintage brooch, a pair of silver peep-toe heels and a sparkling diamanté clutch. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lizzie slipped her feet into the dainty shoes and took another long look in the mirror. It all seemed so surreal, she could barely recognise herself. ‘This doesn’t feel like it’s really happening to me, if that makes any sense?’ she said, pinning the brooch in place. ‘I feel like I’m watching a film or something.’

  ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s a lot to get your head around. Like, we’re standing here and you’re still Lizzie Sparkes, but by this afternoon you’ll be Mrs Cooper.’ A grin spread across her pretty face. ‘Who knows, maybe this time next year, there might even be a mini Cooper?’

  Lizzie began to giggle. ‘It’s a shame you can’t be our best man, you know. You’re way funnier than Freddie.’

  ‘I’m just so happy for you, that’s all. You’ve got a gorgeous dress and a gorgeous man waiting for you at the church. This is going to be the best day of your life.’

  Exactly. What’s not to love?

  ‘Shall we hug it out?’ said Megan. The two girls embraced, and Lizzie clung on to her friend for a split second longer than usual. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  Just then, there was a loud knock at the door and a chorus of multiple greetings from outside. ‘Sounds like the rest of the wedding party’s arrived,’ said Megan.

  ‘Or Lloyd’s found Ant and Dec,’ grinned Lizzie.

  ‘Are you ready for everyone to come in yet? I think the photographer should be here by now as well.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lizzie, taking one last glance at her reflection. ‘I’m ready.’

  29

  30 minutes to go …

  Lizzie glanced around the hotel room, wondering how on earth they’d managed to squeeze everybody inside. Her mum was in full-on Liz Taylor mode, resplendent in a bold emerald two-piece complete with a massive hat, holding court and sipping away at a glass of champagne. ‘I’m keeping an eye on her,’ Megan had promised, but she didn’t seem to be doing a particularly good job. Her dad kept taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket and peering at it nervously; she suspected that it was his speech for later, which her mum said he’d been fretting about all week. Lloyd was having a good gossip with Cemile in the corner, springing up every now and again if a strand of hair threatened to fall out of place, and the photographer had arrived and was trying to take spontaneous snaps of everyone – which, of course, immediately meant they all started posing awkwardly.

  ‘The wedding cars will be here in five minutes,’ said Megan, co-ordinating everything from her mobile. ‘Should we start moving the first group downstairs?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we should,’ agreed Lizzie.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Nervous as hell.’ The butterflies in her belly were doing a fandango. ‘I’m not sure those croissants were such a good idea.’

  ‘Try taking some deep breaths.’

  Lizzie did as she was told, but it only made her feel more light-headed. ‘I’m not sure that’s helping. I’ll be OK.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can ask the drivers to give us another five minutes if you like. Everyone expects the bride to turn up late anyway. It’s practically obligatory.’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine. Dad will be with me. You should go down soon and start getting people into the car.’

  ‘Alright. But call me if you need anything.’ Megan clapped her hands loudly. ‘OK folks, the first wedding car is here, so we need to start heading downstairs now. Mrs S, we’re going in that one. Mr S, you wait here with Lizzie and the photographer for the second car. Lloyd and Cemile, I’m going to get you to do all my weddings. You’ve been brilliant.’

  ‘Yes, you really have,’ added Lizzie. ‘Thank you both so much.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Lloyd. ‘Let’s have one more look at that hairdo.’ She twirled around slowly while he stood admiring his handiwork. ‘Yes, you look perfect.’ He kissed her on both cheeks, before doing the same to Megan. ‘Right then, Cemile, our work here is done.’ They waved goodbye to the group as they stepped out into the corridor. ‘Break a leg, everyone.’

  ‘Remind me again why that’s lucky?’ Lizzie whispered to Megan.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ she replied. ‘Please don’t break anything. That would be awful.’

  ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘Right then, Mrs S, we’d better bust a move,’ said Megan, as Mrs Sparkes polished off the remnants of her champagne.

  ‘Buster what?’

  ‘Never mind. We need to get going.’

  ‘Oh. Alright, love.’ She adjusted her large hat once more in front of the full-length mirror. ‘Well, Elizabeth, my precious girl … this is it.’ She looked te
ary as she kissed her daughter on the cheek, taking care not to leave a lipstick mark. ‘I’ll see you in there. Best of luck.’

  ‘I love you, Mum,’ said Lizzie sincerely.

  ‘I love you too. Look at you, all elegant.’ Her lip began to quiver. ‘And to think, I still remember the day we brought you home like it was yesterday …’

  Megan moved swiftly, aware that any emotional outburst now might set them back precious minutes. ‘Alright, Mrs S, the driver’s waiting outside for us. Let’s go.’ She ushered the older woman out of the door and took Lizzie’s hand. ‘You look incredible, Lizzie, really you do. I’ll see you outside the church. Love you.’ And with a swish of her silk chiffon gown, she was gone.

  ‘Looks like it’s just you and me then, kid,’ said her dad, still fiddling with his folded paper as though he was taking a course in origami. The photographer carried on snapping away in the background, no doubt used to being totally ignored by members of the bridal party.

  ‘Actually, Dad, could you just give me a moment?’ said Lizzie. ‘There’s something I need to do. You know, on my own.’ She knew she wouldn’t need to tell him twice; he never asked questions where there was even a hint of a chance it might involve any kind of ‘women’s problems’.

  He looked at his watch. ‘Will it take long? We’re meant to be downstairs in five.’

  ‘No, it’ll only take a minute,’ she said.

  ‘OK then, I suppose I could pop back to our room and pick up a spare memory card for the camera.’ He gave her a wink. ‘Just don’t go anywhere. Your mother will kill me if I lose you.’

  ‘I’ll be right here.’

  ‘Alright then, I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Would you like me to wait outside?’ said the photographer, the camera never leaving her face.

  Lizzie gave her a grateful smile. ‘Yes, please. Just for a couple of minutes.’

  With the room finally empty, she sat down on the bed, her hands tingling. Here I am, a nearly married woman … and I still feel like a naughty schoolkid. But if I’m going to do this, I need to do it now. I won’t get another chance until after the honeymoon. She picked up her mobile phone from the bedside table and quickly entered the passcode. I promised Megan I wouldn’t call him, she reassured herself. But I never said I wouldn’t send a quick text.