by Jane Linfoot
‘What have you done with Dan?’ If I blurted that out, it’s only because I’m panicking Johnny’s lost him again. And technically I don’t need to say ‘good morning’ anyway, because it was morning when I last saw him and I’m not sure there’s anything good about it.
‘Don’t worry, Dan’s upstairs having a shower, negotiating to re-join the human race.’ Johnny gives a grimace.
I might as well ask. ‘Did you get any clue as to how he’s feeling… about Alice?’
Johnny blows out his cheeks. ‘A little. He knows how much Alice has put in and that he shouldn’t have let the wedding get so big. But I think he got a shock how hardline Alice has been. And right now he feels very disconnected.’ Johnny’s being suitably tactful here.
The sigh I let out is only because I get where he’s coming from. ‘Disconnected isn’t the best way to feel when you’re about to make a lifetime commitment.’ But in a way I think that’s exactly how Alice feels too. ‘I’ll have a word with Alice. Maybe we can get them together later.’ Let’s face it, if we don’t, we’re all in for a very un-merry Christmas.
‘Thanks for catching us last night.’ Johnny reaches out and gives my arm a squeeze. ‘Maybe I can come to stay again sometime – when I haven’t got a comatose best mate in tow?’
If we’re all talking bollocks this morning, it’s probably because we’re knackered. One of those mornings after, when you say whatever sounds great and instantly forget about it. I’m cool with that.
‘Sure.’ I’m not going to hold him to it. Or ever think about it again.
As he rubs his hair he sends it in even more wrong directions. ‘I’m checking on Snowball before I freshen up, how about you?’
Where do I start? On balance I decide not to bother explaining that things are so bad Alice has gone back to the cottage for a Winter Warmer and a colouring session. ‘Probably best not to ask.’ Pulling down the corners of my mouth should give him a clue of how it’s going this far. ‘If I can find Quinn’s jars and a bulk supply of kindling sticks we should be back on track.’
‘I’ll give you a hand. Just a minute…’ Johnny’s squinting at me.
He’s moved in so close I can see how bloodshot his eyes are. The individual pricks of stubble on his upper lip. Even after a night on the tiles his scent is still achingly familiar. ‘What?’
He traces an arc across my cheekbone with his finger tip. ‘Been playing with glitter again?’
The shiver that skips down my neck is like the taste of sour apple sweets. Disgusting, yet weirdly thrilling, both at the same time. And compellingly more-ish.
He pulls his hand back and blinks. ‘Okay, where were we?’
For a second I’ve almost forgotten. ‘Quinn’s jars… we’re on our way for those.’
‘Great.’ He marches into the coach house and goes straight to the stack.
He’s another one like Jess. No fuss, he gets on and does the job. Ten minutes later, Johnny’s heading off to see Snowball and I’m back with Jess, unwrapping jars.
‘You kept that quiet.’ Jess eyes me over the top of her twig pile. ‘Talk about smokin’ hot.’
‘Let’s not start…’ More fool me for letting Johnny shuttle a few boxes around.
As she puts down her scissors, there’s a strange glint in her gaze. ‘He looked at you like he wanted to eat you. Whole.’ She tweaks the petals of a rose. ‘Actually I got that wrong. Quinn’s the one who looks at you like you’re prey. That was a far more tender look.’
Now I’ve heard it all. ‘No, he really didn’t…’ Even though my protest is so high it’s a squeak, I do know I’m right here.
She’s looking pointedly at me. ‘He literally couldn’t take his eyes off you. And you were looking at him exactly the same way.’ She’s talking slowly, as if she’s working it out as she goes along. Then suddenly she gets it. ‘Omigod, he’s the best man you slept with.’
How the hell does she know that? I’m opening and closing my mouth in shock.
She’s down on me like a ton of bricks. ‘Don’t say anything – I already know from your face you have.’
My mouth is so dry I can’t swallow. ‘You’re right.’ My voice is a hoarse whisper. ‘But it wasn’t this week. It was a very long time ago. And a big mistake for both of us.’
‘For goodness sake, Sera.’ Her lips are curling into a smile. ‘I take back everything I said about Elf Ears. It’s about opposites attracting. This one’s yours.’
‘Soul mates come once in a lifetime. You’ve paired me off with two in half an hour.’ I’m crashing jars onto the work table in increasing frustration.
‘I can’t believe I got this so wrong first time round.’ Jess’s tweaking her head scarf. ‘This second one is definitely “the one”. No doubt about it.’
No doubt in her mind, maybe. Some of us know better.
There’s only one thing for it. If I don’t run, she’ll never let it go. ‘More twigs, I’ll get some now… back in a bit…’
38
Friday, 23rd December
In Alice’s holiday cottage: Fluffy cardigans and reality checks
This morning all the concealer in the world wouldn’t have hidden the dark circles under my eyes, so I decided not to bother. When I get back to the cottage, even though Alice’s make-up is so perfect it could have been applied by a professional, her eyelids are like cream puffs and her eyes are even redder than Johnny’s were. At a guess she’s been crying buckets. On balance I decide it’s not the moment to tell her Jess sorted the flower arrangements and is going to remake the buttonholes and bouquets for the morning, and that while she was busy I got all the chair covers and tablecloths on. Or that two catering lorries have arrived and that each one’s bigger than the entire Brides by the Sea building. But whereas some things can be left for later, others need to be dealt with.
‘I see you’re wearing my slippers.’ Sorry, but I can’t let this go. What is it with Alice and my stuff? She has three different pairs of perfectly nice brocade slippers of her own. So why did she have to help herself to my scruffy old Ugg boots?
She takes a sip of what I assume is Winter Pimms, pushes a pack of crystallised ginger in my direction and tucks her feet further under her on the sofa. ‘Sorry, but they’re just so unbelievably warm and comfy. And comforting.’
‘I know they are.’ My voice is soaring. ‘That’s why I wear them.’ There’s nothing like sheepskin boots for a long day in the studio in winter. Or for when your sister is running out on her wedding.
At least she has the decency to look slightly ashamed. ‘I’d never tried them before. They seemed to suit people who were more relaxed than me.’ Only Alice could make Uggs look smart, and somehow with her grey tailored slacks meticulously tucked in to the tops, she does.
‘Poor Alice. You need to be more chilled. Maybe let go a bit more.’ Not that she’s ever needed my advice, or that I’ve ever given it before, but it’s slipped out before I realise.
‘You could be right.’ If she needs to think about that for a minute, it’s probably because me telling her what to do is such a departure. For both of us. She draws in a breath, then goes on. ‘Do you know, Dan actually called me bossy?’ It’s more of a statement than a question.
Somehow I’m relieved she’s the one who’s raised the ‘B’ word, not me. And of everything Dan said, that this is what she’s seized on rather than the Bridezilla thing. What’s more, it’s taken twenty-four hours for her to react.
‘You’re planning a wedding – maybe you need to be bossy.’ I say, because it’s a fair point. ‘Ever since we were kids, you’ve been one who got things done. Telling people what to do is part of who you are. And mostly we love you for it.’ I send her a grin to soften what’s coming next. ‘Not often, but very occasionally – it can get too much.’
She’s rubbing her nails, and as she speaks she sounds wistful. ‘When we were kids I was always trying to be perfect. To make things perfect. Mum was always so busy and I just wanted to bring o
rder to all that chaos in the house. To make things okay for both of us.’
I smile. ‘Whereas I sat in the middle of the chaos and it didn’t bother me.’ Very much as I do now, although even I concede my laundry is currently a little out of control. ‘As the older one, you definitely had it hard, where I had it easy.’ I can see that now, even if I was blind to it while it was happening. But maybe that’s when she started being so exacting.
She sighs. ‘You were the one everyone liked, the one who had fun. I always envied you for being so free. And so lovable.’
How weird is that? ‘I had no idea.’
‘And when you came down to live with Gran, I felt shut out. You were there for each other and didn’t need me any more.’
Maybe that’s why she was always too busy to come down. ‘You always looked after me so well when we were young. But you were so perfect, I was always in your shadow. Back then all I wanted was to be clever and driven like you, so Mum and Dad would praise me. I’d have given anything to pass my maths,’ I say. Not that I’ve thought of it before, but right now I’m actually happy to be me rather than her. Exactly as I am.
‘How strange it’s taken us until now to find out.’ Alice is pondering. ‘Jess is bossy isn’t she?’ She’s obviously been thinking about this one. ‘But people still like her.’
I laugh, because this has to be the proverbial pot-and-kettle scenario. ‘Good for me that she is bossy, or I wouldn’t get anything done. Maybe she’s the substitute organised older sister I can’t live without.’
Alice smiles, then she narrows her eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t buy one of your dresses to start with.’
I shrug. Somehow I can’t imagine Alice as she was when she ordered her dress, coming to Brides by the Sea. ‘How could you, when you didn’t even know I made them.’ It seems strange now that I hid it from her for so long. ‘Anyway, those slips have only been around this week. Given you hate lace, I doubt my other designs would have worked for you.’ All the same, I’m happy she’s said it.
She slides her phone out of the pocket of her cardigan. ‘Jules sent some pictures through.’
Good old Jules. He takes the most fabulous photos. I lean in to see and as she flicks through the pictures, there’s a lump in my throat. ‘Babe…’ There’s something about seeing my own sister looking so beautiful in the half light of the studio that makes my eyes prick. The slender lines of her neck. The amazing way the silk flows around the angles of her body. But it’s not the old hard-boiled Alice I’m looking at here. Somehow Jules has sliced through her brittle shell and completely captured her inner vulnerability. The Alice in the photos is the Alice who cries. The Alice who wishes she was someone else. The Alice who has to borrow my slippers because she needs to be comforted. And it’s nothing to do with my dresses at all, but suddenly I’m sniffing and scraping away the tears from under my eyelashes.
‘You okay?’ As she gives me a nudge, there are tears in her eyes too.
‘Fine.’ I pass her a tissue and we both blow our noses very loudly. ‘You just look… so… lovely. That’s all.’
Alice sighs. ‘You know, if things hadn’t gone off the rails…’ From her extra-loud sniff, she must mean between Dan and her. ‘I’d have been really happy and very proud to wear one of these dresses of yours. They’re truly wonderful.’
‘Thanks.’ I rub my nose again and give her a squeeze on the Ugg.
She pulls her cardi around her. ‘Those big bridesmaids dresses wouldn’t have worked with your dress, though, would they?’
‘They wouldn’t?’ I’m not sure I can give an unbiased opinion on the glitter explosions in question.
‘Definitely not. We’d have needed something much lower-key.’
I take it we’re still talking hypothetically. ‘Maybe something simpler. Cloud grey tulle over satin might have looked pretty.’ I know this is my dream not hers, but whatever. We’re only pretending here, after all. ‘With white cropped cardigans. Maybe in angora.’
She’s propping her chin on her fist and staring into the distance. ‘I’d never thought of cardigans.’
Which is when I take my reality check. We’re sitting here talking about notional bridesmaids’ dresses for an imaginary wedding, when what we should be doing is getting the bride and groom together to settle their differences.
‘Hey, maybe we should be thinking about packing up and getting over to the manor?’
Alice taps her palms on her knees. ‘Yes, Immie’s coming in to do the changeover any time now, ready for when the guests arrive.’
That thought sends me scooting into the bathroom. Leaving the pregnancy tests out in full view on the shelf was my silent thought-transfer way of reminding Alice she might like to try one. Given the packs are unopened, obviously she hasn’t. But if Immie comes and finds them it’ll launch us into a whole new set of difficult questions with impossible answers. I whisk them back into the living room and slide them into my satchel next to the wedding manual. Which is still being carted around. If anyone needs proof I’m an incorrigible optimist this is it.
Alice still hasn’t got up. ‘Funny, not many of our friends have started their families yet.’ She’s still sounding as dreamy as when she talked about angora cardigans.
Visible tests are having some impact, then, even if not the desired one. But at least she’s thinking about kids. ‘Most people have careers first and families in their thirties.’ I smile, hoping that’s a suitable family-neutral comment that puts Alice in the right demographic.
As she gets to her feet she yawns. ‘Apart from Johnny, obviously.’
My stomach lurches so hard I almost follow it across the room. I take a moment to yank my voice down from the high-pitched squeak that’s escaping from my throat. ‘Sorry? Who?’ Somehow I can’t believe what she’s just said.
‘Dan’s best man. Who else do you think I mean?’
Crap. If I’m about to bring my breakfast up on the rug, it’s a complete over-reaction. Why shouldn’t he have kids? If it never crossed my mind, I’m the idiot here.
It’s the perfect chance to drip in some information here. ‘We actually knew each other vaguely at uni. And?’ I want to shake her because she’s answering so slowly.
‘Nothing really. I think he’s got a son, that’s all. So what I’m saying is, not everyone’s waited to have kids.’
‘Right.’ I manage to keep my voice level, but I’m bracing myself. The guests will be here in a few hours. And most likely I’ll be facing Johnny’s partner and his family. How did I not think of this before? And why the hell does it bother me so much? ‘Cool. Great. Shall we pack then?’
Just for now I’m wishing Jess would come and revive me. A tumblerful of her Christmas Crash would be nowhere near enough.
39
Friday, 23rd December
At Rose Hill Manor: Merde alors
This last week we’ve kind of got used to having the Manor House to ourselves. So it’s a shock to arrive at the open front door to find a cluster of taxis and a whole load of strangers rushing around with holdalls and rucksacks.
‘Amazing tree… it’s so huge… so Christmassy.’ In the flurry of shouting and air kissing in the entrance hall, I spot Hetty, the bridesmaid who’s been on her way from New York for what seems like forever, and give a mental cheer. If this is the catering team, that’s another tick on the to-do list.
The sax solo on ‘I wish it could be Christmas every day’ is wafting through from the door to the reception rooms, which probably means that Quinn’s still playing with his disco. So at the very least there’s a guarantee of yummy food and non-stop dancing for the next three days.
I catch Alice’s eye between the colourful padded jackets in the hall. ‘I’ll leave you to it and take our bags up.’ Then I make a dash for the stairs.
The plan was that Alice and I would share a room on the second floor for tonight, then Alice would move down to the first-floor Master Suite for the wedding night. Even though it�
�s tucked up under the eaves, our room is spacious and the large window has views down to the lake. The two double beds are deliciously deep and chunky with more cushions and pillows than I can count. In the rush of the day I’ve somehow overlooked lunch, so when I see the stack of Turkish Delight waiting on the coffee table, I dip straight in. As the icing sugar sweetness of rosewater melts on my tongue, I screw up my courage to try out the white sofa. I’m used to white dresses. White sofas, not so much. But it’s feather-bed soft and as I sink into it, part of me wants to stay curled up in this attic haven forever.
It takes quite a few trips up and down the wide staircases to get everything up to our room. Before I leave again I get the test kits out of my satchel and put them in the bathroom. Let’s face it, the last thing I want is to go scattering those amongst the guests. Although, who’d have thought an unopened pack of Clearblue would turn around and bite me on the bum quite so hard. As for why I feel like a sofa that’s had the stuffing removed, it’s about so much more than just missing lunch.
Johnny has a son?
Given I’ve pretty much exhausted my first to-do list, my next task is to sprinkle cupid dust on Dan and Alice, which is inevitably going to involve Johnny too. But given Alice is busy in the kitchens, I’m going to take a moment. I reckon I’ve got half an hour to get my head around this kid thing. I’m itching to get to the beach, but given there’s no time for that, I’ll have to make do with a walk down to the jetty. As I slip out of the front door and out onto the drive, and wind my scarf around my face, the icy wind has dropped. I’m just about to branch off towards the water’s edge, when I hear the sound of blowing and a thunder of hooves on the gravel. Even though my heart is already beating somewhere approximately around stomach level, what I see over my shoulder makes it sink a little bit further.
Just who I wanted to see. Not.
Johnny’s legs are dangling by Snowball’s flanks and his cheeks are flushed as he pulls to a halt beside me. ‘Hello you. We’ve been out letting off steam before tomorrow. Just in case the carriage is getting an outing.’ As he leans forward and pats Snowball’s neck, the horse snorts and flicks his tail.