The Winter Wedding

by Abby Clements

  I hadn’t got the job right away, despite being twenty-seven. I’d started out two years ago as an intern, and after a couple of months my savings had been down to the final penny. Catching a glimpse of a B-list celebrity, or sharing a joke with some of the staff might have brightened my day but it certainly wasn’t paying the bills. I knew I couldn’t stay without getting paid. Thankfully the stars aligned and that was when the opening arose for an Art Department Assistant. A junior role – but a job all the same.

  OK, so Emma wasn’t always the easiest boss to work for – but she had my back. That’s what she always said. And day to day, I loved the work, sourcing props, furniture and accessories that would bring each set perfectly to life. I had sort of hoped I’d be promoted by now, but Emma had assured me that a newly created Set Designer role had been earmarked for me. They’d be announcing my promotion any day now, she’d promised. I was kind of relying on it – financially, it was the only way I’d be able to stay on at the flat without replacing Lila.

  Josh, the assistant director of some of the company’s key shows, braked, coming to a stop next to me.

  ‘Morning,’ he said brightly. He took off his helmet and ran a hand roughly over his dark hair, which had gone a little flat. He was wearing a green and blue checked lumberjack shirt over a white t-shirt, light against his olive skin. ‘You’re in early.’

  ‘Yes. Felt like getting a head start on the day today.’

  He locked his bike up next to mine. Josh and I rarely worked together directly, but he often found a reason to stop by my desk for a chat or to drop off a cup of tea, and he was one of the colleagues I got on best with.

  ‘Good weekend?’ he asked.

  ‘Not bad,’ I said, trying not to think about how lonely the flat had begun to feel. ‘How about yours?’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘It was our anniversary – Sarah and I met four years ago yesterday.’

  ‘Congratulations. What did you do to celebrate?’

  ‘Dinner, a film.’

  When Josh spoke about his girlfriend, his whole face lit up. It didn’t matter whether he was talking about her views on the new exhibition at the Tate Gallery, or the meatballs they’d had at IKEA. She sounded dynamic, fun and carefree, and seemed to charm everyone she met. It was kind of weird, really, that I’d never met her, given that Josh and I had become quite close. But a lot of people choose to keep work and life separate, I reasoned.

  ‘Did she get that new job?’

  ‘At the private gallery?’ Josh said. ‘Yes. She’s got a short contract there. She says she doesn’t know where she’ll be in the summer.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. We went inside the building, and took the steps up to the office at a leisurely pace, both savouring these final few moments before the onslaught of emails and demands started. ‘Where are you planning on being this summer? You’re not going to jet off somewhere sunny when filming for Christmas at the Manor is due to start, are you?’

  Our latest project was a popular drama series that ran all year – with one of our most generous budgets for costumes and sets. I’d been longing to work on it, and my boss Emma, while seeming reluctant at first, had finally relented. It would be my first solo project, designing and sourcing props, making the Christmas special really sparkle. She knew she owed me one. I’d covered for a lot of her very long lunches, and these days each morning seemed to begin with a hangover for her, and a coffee shop errand for me. Josh handled the actors, while I would be managing the backdrops, the scenes where he and the cast brought arguments, kisses, and shared intimacies to life.

  I liked working with Josh. He was easy to talk things through with, laidback, and had a genuine creative vision that was rare, even in our industry. Plus he made me laugh. Which goes a long way, when it’s midnight, and you’re both still in the office getting something together for an early start filming.

  Josh smiled warmly. ‘Don’t worry. We’re not going anywhere soon. Sarah’s desperate to get away, but with our schedule here it’ll be a long weekend rather than the long-haul trip she’s been dreaming of.’

  ‘Phew. So Sarah wants to do another big trip?’

  ‘Sarah always wants to do a big trip,’ he said wearily, but kindly. That was love, I guess – you didn’t always have to agree, but you always tried to make each other happy. ‘But I’m not going to throw in this job to lie on a beach, however tempting the idea might sometimes be.’

  ‘Well, that’s good. For us at least.’

  We walked into the office – a large warehouse-style space with more break-out areas and coffee machines than actual desks, and I sat down in my usual spot.

  Emma came over to my desk, and leaned over the divider. Her long dark brown curls were loose, and she had bright red lipstick on, which distracted a little from the dark circles under her eyes.

  ‘Hazel, I’ve got to run to a meeting in a minute, but I just wanted to check you have everything sorted for the shoot on Friday. Did you manage to source the Arts and Crafts chairs we talked about?’

  ‘Yes, that’s all sorted,’ I said. ‘The furniture’s due to arrive at the house on Friday, so there’ll be time for me to set everything up before we shoot.’

  ‘Great. And the hair stuff?’

  ‘The vintage hair decorations? Yes, I have those here in the office.’

  ‘OK,’ Emma said. ‘I knew it would be in safe hands with you.’

  ‘Anything else you need?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, pointing to her in-tray. ‘That lot. I’m going to square with you, Hazel.’ She said it in that conspiratorial way that made it seem as if she was letting me into the fold, that I was privileged really, to be allowed to help her out. I was one of only two people in the office who knew that she was going through a messy divorce.

  ‘I feel like death this morning, and we’ve got the Americans coming over this afternoon. I’m pretty much obliged to start drinking at lunchtime again today, and that means I’ll have to have a massage this morning or I won’t be able to face it. It’s as simple as that.’

  I hesitated. Her divorce was nearly final now, so presumably the end was in sight for this kind of demand.

  ‘This is the last time I ask you to cover for me,’ Emma begged, rubbing the skin on her brow. ‘I swear, Hazel.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, reluctantly. ‘I’ll do it this last time.’

  Everything would be OK once I was promoted – I’d have a salary I could just about live on, and, as importantly, the creative freedom to fulfil my vision for the sets. All I had to do was wait.

  Josh and I sat at his desk and worked through the designs for Christmas at the Manor. ‘I know just the place to get the costumes done,’ I said. ‘There’s a fantastic dressmaker just off Columbia Road.’

  ‘Great.’ Josh said, looking over my designs. ‘I really like what you’ve done here with the living room. The chandelier and chaise longue are perfect.’

  ‘Thank you. How are things going with the casting?’

  ‘Good. Mostly. We’ve got some new talent in for the Christmas episode. Amy Strachan to play one of Edward’s sisters.’

  ‘Oh yes – I’ve heard of her. She was the assistant in the last Doctor Who, right? Petite, big eyes?’

  ‘That’s her. She’s great – I think we’ve caught her at a really interesting time in her career, and she and Matt have good on-screen chemistry.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting her soon.’

  ‘Come along and watch us film next time. I’ll clear it with Emma.’

  ‘That would be great.’

  ‘Hopefully soon I won’t have to. It’s about time you had a bit more freedom around here.’

  ‘It won’t be long, I’m sure.’

  Later that day, Lila and I met for lunch in a café on the Regent’s Canal. It was a sunny morning in March, and joggers and dog-walkers passed us by on the towpath. I’d got her text first thing in the morning:

  Big news, Sis. Lunch? Lx

  Lila was holding out her hand to
ward me, a red and yellow Haribo ring on the fourth finger. Her hooded green eyes – mine, genes courtesy of our mum – danced with excitement, a trace of bronze shadow on the lids. ‘This is just a stand-in, obviously,’ she said, a smile playing on her lips. ‘He’s going to pick out a real one.’

  Woah. This was really happening. My sister was engaged.

  ‘Congratulations!’ I hugged her.

  It made sense. She and Ollie had been living together for four months now, and everything seemed to have worked out well. They were as compatible as hot chocolate and marsh-mallows, raisins and scones, red velvet cupcakes and vanilla icing . . . you get the picture. Ollie was starry-eyed over my sister, and it had been clear for a while that things were heading in a particular direction. With church bells.

  But it still hit me hard. Lila was getting married. Lila, my little sister, if only by a few minutes, was going to walk down the aisle with Ollie. I was happy for her. And yet – God, this is kind of embarrassing to admit – I was a bit jealous.

  It wasn’t that I wanted to be in her position – getting married had always appealed more to her than me. And like I said, I don’t mind Ollie. I actually kind of like him. But I guess I realised that perhaps the reason I hadn’t quite been able to face filling the spare room with someone new, even though it was breaking me financially, was because I’d wondered if there was the chance she might, one day, come back.

  And now? There was no way that would be happening.

  Where would I be without Lila? I mean really without Lila? This was permanent.

  The other side of her coin was Ollie, now. Who am I kidding, it had been for a while now. But the other side of mine . . . Can a coin even exist if it doesn’t have another side?

  Oblivious, Lila started to tell me the story.

  ‘We went to Cabana, you know the rooftop bar overlooking Covent Garden, and he’d got us a table in the corner, really quiet and candlelit. We had dinner there, and we were talking about this and that, nothing important – an audition I did yesterday – and then he asked me.’

  ‘Was it a surprise?’

  ‘Mostly. I mean we’d talked about marriage – but I didn’t see the proposal coming, not when it did.’

  ‘He did well, then. And you seem happy.’

  ‘I am,’ she said. And it showed, it had done ever since she met Ollie – in the brightness of her green eyes, the sway in her step, everything that a string of rejections from dance companies and shows had almost knocked out of her. ‘I think when you know, you know, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s great.’ I hugged her again. ‘And I know what you mean. There’s something about you and Ollie – you just fit. Have you talked about when?’

  ‘I don’t know . . . we didn’t talk about dates, but neither of us wants to wait long.’ She paused and looked at me. ‘I’ve heard about a great wedding planner – Suzanne. A couple of friends have used her. Reasonable rates and apparently she makes the whole thing completely stress-free.’

  ‘Sounds ideal,’ I said. ‘You sure you can afford it, though?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been putting a little aside for a while. Ollie has too. I guess we were both considering this as a possibility, and we want to do it properly.’

  ‘Have you told Mum and Dad yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said, with an excited smile. ‘I want to do it in person. Care to join us this weekend?’

  ‘Back to Bidcombe?’

  Lila nodded.

  ‘Sure. That would be fun. Will Ben be there?’

  ‘I hope so. I’ve called him, left a couple of messages. So hopefully he’ll be able to make it.’

  Leaving our brother messages hadn’t got me very far over the past couple of months, but I didn’t want to dampen Lila’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Hazel. Changing the subject I know, but do you think we should talk about . . .’

  ‘The flat?’ I said. I knew this was coming. But I just wasn’t quite ready to face the idea of living in our flat with anyone but my twin sister. ‘It’ll work itself out . . .’

  I tried not to think of the pile of unpaid bills by the door.

  Lila’s expression softened. ‘It’s been four months, Haze. It’s not going to work itself out.’

  I couldn’t go on living in a two-bedroom flat much longer, I knew that. It was crazy. One more month was all I had before I had to go to my parents to borrow money – and I really didn’t want to do that. But the idea of living with someone other than Lila was still weird for me.

  ‘I’ll look around. And who knows, hopefully when I get this promotion, I won’t need anyone else for the second room. I might even be able to pay for the flat myself.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Lila said, apologetically. ‘It’s your business. Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

  I sipped my drink. If I really had to, I’d start looking. But I was confident it wouldn’t come to that.

  Chapter 2

  The next day at work, the CEO of Twenty-One, Aaron, waved us all into the boardroom first thing in the morning. ‘Quick meeting, guys – come on in. And don’t look so worried, it’s good news.’

  I walked with the others, joining the rest of the company in the steel and glass meeting room.

  ‘Morning everyone, grab yourselves some coffee,’ Aaron said more brightly, once everyone – about thirty of us – was in there. Was this it? Would this be the morning he announced my promotion?

  ‘As you all know, Twenty-One is entering an exciting period of growth, and I’ve brought you all here this morning to talk about the creation of two new positions.’

  A flush of excitement came to my cheeks. So, today was the day. I looked around for Emma, and could just make her out at the back of the crowd. I turned back.

  Aaron caught my eye, and I smiled. He then looked to his right. ‘I’m delighted to introduce you to Tim Graham.’

  Tim was in his mid-thirties, with a hipster beard and short-sleeved shirt rolled up to his shoulders and an anchor tattoo just visible underneath.

  Who was this guy? My chest grew tight.

  ‘Tim’s going to be our newest Set Designer.’

  The punch of his words hit me in the stomach. Then, a wave of disbelief. Emma had promised me – she’d been certain, she’d said all along that they’d recruit internally.

  Perhaps I was jumping the gun. Aaron had said two jobs, hadn’t he?

  ‘Tim joins us from Hetrodox TV with his assistant, Amber McGuire.’

  My gaze went to the woman at Tim’s side. Amber was about my age, maybe a year or two older, with glossy dyed black hair and tortoiseshell glasses. She was wearing a vintage jade blouse with cocktail glasses on it and flared skirt.

  So we’d both be assistants. Working in parallel. So, in the unlikely event that a new position opened up again, I guess she’d now also be in the running. I felt the future I’d envisioned slip away. The salary I’d thought I’d be on, that would enable me to keep living on my own, now seemed out of reach.

  ‘Should take some of the heat off you, Hazel,’ Aaron said cheerfully. ‘We all know how busy you are.’

  I nodded, feeling numb. I didn’t want to speak in case the tears that were prickling at my eyes spilled over.

  ‘And what’s more,’ Aaron said, jubilantly, ‘Amber’s brought us cakes! She must have heard a rumour about what we run on round here.’

  Shyly, Amber brought forth a plate of iced cupcakes, decorated with silver balls. The cakes were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  ‘Pssst. Haze, come in for a chat?’ Emma said, beckoning me into her office as I passed.

  I ducked inside and closed the door behind me.

  ‘Bloody hell. Well, this is awkward,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘So sorry about that. I had no idea they’d look outside the company.’

  I felt shell-shocked from the news, and tears welled in my eyes.

  ‘For some weird reason they left me out of the decision,’ Emma said, frowning, ‘which obviously I’m not at all happy about.’
/>
  ‘Right,’ I said, willing the tears not to fall. ‘Well, you weren’t to know then. I’m sure something else will come up.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Emma said, hurriedly. ‘Anyway, I’m sure that hipster dude, whatever his name is . . .’

  ‘Tim,’ I said.

  ‘I bet Tim won’t last five minutes,’ Emma said. ‘You’ll get your promotion, Haze. I’m sure of it.’

  Back at the flat, I poured myself a glass of red wine. I still felt dazed by Aaron’s announcement. The new reality was starting to sink in and I wanted to talk to someone. I glanced over at Lila’s empty room. She and Ollie would probably be out celebrating tonight.

  I thought through my other options – Sam. We’d barely spoken since Christmas. I longed to hear his voice now, but I couldn’t call him. I didn’t want him to hear me like this.

  I don’t like to have regrets, but I guess I did regret this one thing. We’d been at a Christmas party, hosted by Edie and Joe, schoolfriends of mine and Sam’s. A few glasses of mulled wine down, I’d got the idea into my head that now was the time. I’d had feelings for Sam for years. I’d needed to know if he felt the same way. I’d moved a little closer to him on the sofa, as we talked.

  He’d looked into my eyes and in that split-second I’d seen our lives coming together in a new way. It had made my heart leap, and the moment felt full of potential.

  Then I’d leaned in towards him and Sam’s face had paled.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said, mumbling and pushing his hair away from his face. ‘Haze. I didn’t . . . This is weird.’ He had practically rushed out of the room, turning his back on the party. Through the living room window I’d watched him walking away down the snow-covered street, snowflakes settling in his hair, and I’d felt sick to my stomach at what I’d done.

  Since then we hadn’t talked, save the occasional text. He told me he was back in Bidcombe, living with his parents again. He’d got a job as a P.E. teacher at our old school. We still hadn’t discussed what had happened.