by Jane Linfoot
‘Right, I’ll go first for make-up.’ Proving to the London ladies they aren’t about to get their faces scraped off by some country bumpkins is the least I can do. As I get up and make my way to the waiting chair, I’m already the teensiest bit dizzy, although I’m not sure if it’s down to the fizz or sheer terror about the day to come.
I’m not quite sure what Jess’s make-up girls do. It involves getting sprayed like a car, which I admit might look pretty alarming if you come from Hampstead, even if that is the world centre of colonic irrigation. Enough to say that afterwards all those awful dark circles have disappeared from under my eyes and my skin looks radiant. But in a good way. What’s more, I’m transformed. Instead of being a bridesmaid about to have a breakdown, I’m me again. Only me on the best day ever. Woohoo to that.
‘You’re looking completely rejuvenated and beautiful, babes.’ Hetty says, as she stifles a yawn. ‘Bagsy I’m next. And please tell me that spray obliterates jet lag too.’ She’s generous, and everybody loves her. How else would she get an entire team to follow her to Cornwall and agree to work flat out over Christmas? If I wasn’t already pinned down by a harpy with a hairbrush, I’d hug her for that.
Mandy, the hairdresser, stands behind me, pulls on a lock of my hair and eyes me in the pop-up mirror. ‘So, straight and glossy, or wavy?’
I knew this was coming. Alice is hell-bent on making me into her rather than me. ‘Straight hair will look neat, but you might as well get married with a stranger as your bridesmaid.’ My wail is heartfelt and the imploring look I send her is directed at my slippers too. Given she’s swiped them again, I reckon she owes me this one.
‘Beachy waves, but tamed?’ Mandy gives another tug on my scalp.
Alice takes another large gulp of fizz. ‘Go on, then. Be beachy.’
I’m guessing I have the bubbly to thank for that. Half an hour later the results are awesome. If I could hide one of these women in my bedroom to do this to me before I left home every day, I damn well would. Although, thinking about it, I might not get anything done afterwards, because I’d be too busy swishing my hair around. And knowing how much trouble I have even keeping track of my shorts in the morning, hoping to fit in a hair-tonging session too is pretty unrealistic. My current low-maintenance hair routine is to run my fingers through it. End of. But I suspect even the new, chilled, Ugg-boot-wearing version of Alice would still have a fit at the idea of me leaving the house without brushing my hair.
‘Okay.’ As I give my head another experimental shake, the waves bounce, then flick back into perfect place. I could so get used to this. ‘I’m ready except for the dress, so I’ll nip down and see how things are going.’ Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I whoosh down the stairs, I can’t help but think if my instant transformation was a boob job I’d have gone from an A cup to a whopping FF.
As I slip past the Christmas tree in the hall I catch sight of Poppy through the door to the dining room, next to a stack of cake boxes, so I glide on through.
‘Anything I can do to help?’
She gently sets down the top tier of the cake on her stack, stepping back to check it’s centralised. Then she turns around. ‘Wow, are you gorgeous or what?’
The little twirl I give her ends with a peck on her cheek. ‘Mwah! And still in my cardi and pjs too.’
Poppy gives a frown. ‘Have you sorted out the dresses for the wedding yet?’
‘As soon as it started snowing Alice got all enthusiastic about dresses. We were still trying them on at two this morning, but in the end we’re going with grey tulle for the bridesmaids.’ I give a cheering sign because there’s no expressing how pretty they are, even if they are from my own range.
‘Fab, so wishes do come true.’ She smiles and hands me a spatula of buttercream, then moves back to work on the cake. As I lick, I watch in awe as she shakes a sieve, scattering icing sugar over the impressive four-tier cake, then begins to arrange frosted fruit and white rose buds around the ledges.
‘Your nude cakes are usually colourful, but this one is stunning all in white.’
She pops a tiny white posy on the top and we both stand back.
‘Completely amazing. Alice is going to love it.’ I squeeze Poppy into a huge hug. ‘I can’t begin to thank you for making it.’
‘You’re welcome.’ As she squeezes me back I get another waft of delicious new wax jacket from her sweater.
‘One last thing.’ I might as well try my luck before I dash off, because after the spatula taster of vanilla, the towers of glistening cupcakes further along the table are making my mouth water. ‘Any chance of a cupcake? Canapes are completely delish, but they’re built for London-sized stomachs, not Cornish ones.’
She laughs. ‘I brought you an emergency supply, in case you needed a sugar rescue. In the blue box over there. With your name on.’
Now you can see why I’ve missed her so much. ‘I’m sooooo pleased you’re back.’ She gets another even bigger hug for that, then I grab my box and make a run for the stairs before I get all emotional.
When I get back upstairs the room’s the same as when I left, but there’s not a hangover or a tired eye in sight. What’s more, Alice, Hetty, Jo and Sophie have gone, and there are four supermodels in their places, wearing their dressing gowns, their hair almost done. I’m standing marvelling at the transformations, when there’s a knock on the door behind me.
For a second I swear my heart stops. Then my stomach plummets. I told Johnny he could find me up here. And if this is Johnny, what the hell has gone wrong at the farm? Even before I put my hand on the knob, I’m ready to cry. I’m hesitating, but it’s only to prolong the time before everything crashes around our ears. To give us a few more happy moments.
‘Hello…’ There’s another knock.
Alice turns impatiently. ‘Open the door, Sera, don’t keep Jules waiting on the landing.’
‘Jules?’ My knees feel like they’re about to give way.
‘Obviously. He’s here for our getting-ready shots.’
‘Right.’ I do as I’m told.
A second later Jules swings straight past me, making a bee line for Alice. Next minute she’s engulfed in one of those spectacular air kiss embraces he does. He showers her with photographer love, while leaving every molecule of her foundation and bob perfectly intact. All whilst holding his camera bags and tripods, and unwinding his stripy scarf at the same time.
‘What a day.’ He slides his holdalls on to the floor. ‘I’ve been wishing so hard for snow. This is my first full-on white-out wedding. At Christmas too. The pictures are going to be phenomenal. Sensational. Awesome. Fabulous. All of the above, even.’
I take it he’s excited. And at least we know whose fault the avalanche is now. I lean my back against the wall, hook my left foot around my right ankle. Watching Jules whisking around snapping photos will give my blood pressure a chance to drop.
I’m just starting to breathe again, a long time later, when there’s another knock on the door. This time round it’s less of a shock. Talk about déjà vu. By the time my hand is on the handle, my heart is racing, but I’ve convinced myself it’s probably our mum. So when I open the door and my eyes lock on Johnny’s face, my stomach goes into spasm so fast, I’m practically sick on his feet. If I squeeze out onto the landing, maybe I can keep this away from Alice.
‘What’s happened?’ My mouth’s so dry, all that comes out is a whisper.
He stares at me. ‘Nothing, why?’ He gives my shorts a little tug. ‘More flamingos then?’
How can he talk about fabric prints when the wedding’s going down the pan? As I double over and hug my clenching gut, I notice the creases in Johnny’s trousers. ‘But you’re wearing your suit?’ As I let my gaze run up his body a little bit of me manages a silent ‘phwoar’. What is it about guys in nice suits? Focus, Sera. ‘Where the hell’s Dan?’
Johnny’s talking slowly, using his patient voice. ‘Dan’s safe at the farm with Quinn. As planned.�
�� From his passing frown he’s suddenly doubting putting ‘Quinn’ and ‘safe’ in the same sentence. ‘And I’m in a suit because there’s a wedding.’ He gives me a teasing nudge with his elbow. ‘Alice and Dan? Getting married? Why there’s a houseful of people downstairs? Please tell me you haven’t forgotten?’
When your body goes into flight mode, it’s hard to back-pedal. ‘But you were coming to find me… if there was a problem.’
Johnny scratches his head, as if he hasn’t got a clue about that. ‘Sorry, I’m actually here with something from Dan. For Alice.’
‘Right.’
‘To make up for yesterday. It’s all in the letter.’ He pulls an envelope out of his pocket and passes it to me. It says Alice on the front, in Dan’s strong, honest hand-writing. Then Johnny puts a small box wrapped in silver paper into my hand too. ‘This was meant for Christmas, but it’s probably more important she gets it now.’ The wrinkles in Johnny’s brow tell me how anxious he is.
‘Lovely.’ My head’s still trying to catch up with the U-turn. ‘I’ll give them to her straight away.’
‘Great. I’ll see you soon, then. With the carriage.’ Johnny’s backing down the landing. Just before he disappears down the stairs he stops. ‘By the way, Fi, you look beautiful.’ The smile he flashes is one I haven’t seen lately. Possibly for years. ‘Just saying.’ And then he’s gone.
45
Saturday, December 24th, Christmas Eve
In the bridesmaid’s bedroom at Rose Hill Manor: This is to say…
Amore, Alice,
This is to say that however wonderful the wedding manual is – and ours is brilliant – weddings are about so much more than disco floors, and post boxes, and white dresses.
Weddings are about two people, moving on to a future together, simply because they can’t bear to think of living their life any other way. And I truly hope that’s us, Alice. I love you and I want to marry you, simply because I want to be with you forever. And I hope I haven’t wrecked my chances by stuffing up so spectacularly. If/when we move on with our life, please let’s make that a life where we work less, where we make time for talking, and holidays, and doing what we do best – being us.
Please make my day and marry me.
I love you, Dan xxx
Okay, it’s meant for Alice. But we’re bridesmaids. We’re invested. Bloody invested. Even before she’s opened the envelope, we’re looking over her shoulder. And we’re sighing with her, and smiling with her, and sniffling with her, as she murmurs her way through it. And we’re all dipping into our pockets for hankies by the end.
‘Holy shit, you have to marry him after that, whatever he’s done,’ Hetty says, as she blows her nose on a man-size tissue with all the decorum of an elephant.
‘Don’t forget the pressie.’ I push the box at her. If we’re going by the rule of presents, ‘the smaller the box, the bigger the value’, this is going to be a stonker. And my money’s on some gorgeous earrings.
We wait, as she takes forever to pull off the paper.
Hetty’s right behind her. ‘Another note… on the outside of the box. Come on, hurry up and unfold it…’
Alice rubs her nose. ‘It’s folded very tight… and it’s a PS…’
P.S.
I know eternity rings are supposed to be some way down the line, but given how long we waited to get married, I couldn’t wait any longer to get you yours. This ring was meant as a gift for tomorrow, our first Christmas together, to tell you how much I want our love to last forever. But just in case you were thinking of changing your mind today, I’m hoping it might remind you what a catch I am – wink ;) As it’s meant for infinity, hopefully getting it a day early won’t make much difference in the long run.
Love you always, D x
P.P.S. I wished for snow x
‘Oh my, it’s another ring.’ As I lean in to read, I’m smiling at Dan’s jokes and welling up at the love. Two majorly significant rings in one day. And snow too. How lucky is Alice?
‘Open the box, open the box, open the box…’ For someone whose work demands they’re cool in a crisis, Hetty’s very hyped.
As Alice does as she’s told, we let out a collective bridesmaids’ gasp. ‘Oh wow… beautiful… amazing…’
The ring is simple platinum, a single beautiful half-band of diamonds. And maybe just for once, we’re all thinking it would have been worth every minute of going to hell and back for three years making this wedding happen, if this is what we got at the end of it. And as early Christmas presents go, this one’s definitely a bride-clincher.
Alice scrapes her finger under her lashes. ‘Good thing we’re waterproof here. I’ll put it on my right hand for now.’ She gives me a watery smile. ‘Remind me to swap my engagement ring too, nearer the time.’
Jules, who’s been hanging back at a respectful distance, snapping away silently with a zoom lens, looks at his watch. ‘The registrars usually arrive well in advance to talk you through the ceremony. So “nearer the time” isn’t so very far away. Sophie, how about you bring Alice’s mum along for a few quick pictures with Alice. And then you might like to hurry along with those last hair and make-up details, and get into your dresses, ladies.’
When Jess talks about the photographers running the weddings, she’s not joking is she?
As if I ever imagined I’d be okay with my sister, the bride, in one of my dress designs, and all the bridesmaids wearing them too, including me. Let’s face it, when I first said I’d do anything not to wear the glitter explosion of a dress, I’d have drawn the line at swapping to a Seraphina East.
But right now it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
46
Saturday, December 24th, Christmas Eve
In the Winter Garden at Rose Hill Manor: Bells and pointy toes
‘Who’d have thought Alice’s dream of arriving at her wedding like a Snow Queen would actually come true?’ I say to Rafe as we stamp our feet. ‘Although not thinking it through as far as the white wellies was an oversight. Good thing Poppy’s red-spotty wellies fitted.’ Even though the guys have cleared a path through the snow, Alice can’t risk ruining her dainty shoes, so I’m waiting here with her white satin pumps so she can swap before she goes inside.
‘If you didn’t know there were a hundred and fifty wedding guests on the other side of those doors, you could believe we were in an Arctic wasteland.’ Rafe laughs.
When Johnny drew up around the front of the house earlier, we bundled Alice and her wonderful white fur cape into the carriage, along with my dad in his scarf and overcoat, to be driven the short distance around to the garden. We took the short cut through the house, and we’re now outside the double doors that lead from the garden into the ceremony room. Rafe’s waiting with me because he’s going to take over with Snowball and the carriage, so Johnny can come inside.
As another icy gust of wind whistles across the garden, I pull my little fur jacket closer around my neck. ‘They’re taking ages to get here, given it’s approximately a hundred yards.’
Rafe shrugs deeper into his Barbour. ‘You don’t actually get much more photogenic than a bride in a horse-drawn carriage, in snow, at Christmas. It’s like the top trumps of wedding conditions. And given this is Jules, he’ll be stopping the carriage for a shot of every vista.’
‘Let’s hope he hasn’t been run over on the way round,’ I say, although I’m only half joking here. If anything happens to Jules, I’m not sure Jess has any more photographers up her sleeve.
I’m stamping my feet, because my toes in my white leather kitten-heeled ankle boots – pause for you to vom at the thought of those – are already freezing. On the upside, if my feet are numb with cold, at least I can’t feel the pain where the pointy toes nip. And yes, it might surprise you, but I am wearing them. I didn’t rebel and put on my biker boots, because seeing as I got my way, and I’m wafting around on my own cloud of happiness in my lovely grey tulle and taffeta skirt, the least I could do for Ali
ce was to wear her choice of boots. Even if they’re the last thing in the world I’d ever put on my feet myself, but whatever. Just this once I’m happy to suffer.
The other bridesmaids are waiting on their own clouds of happiness, just inside the doors. Somehow I thought once Hetty arrived, she’d automatically pick up the head bridesmaid reins from me, but she hasn’t. So I’m first in line to support Alice here, clutching her pumps, a hankie, a spare copy of her vows, not that she’s going to lose her own bag between getting into the carriage and getting out of it, I hope. And a bag for the wellies. As well as my posy.
Rafe thrusts his hands deeper into his pockets. ‘Don’t worry, Jules knows how to look after himself.’ As we hear the jingle of bells we both stiffen. Then as the carriage comes into view through the trees, Rafe smiles at me. ‘See, I told you whatever happened, it would all work out. Doesn’t she look beautiful?’ There’s a catch in his voice as he speaks.
Despite Alice being snuggled inside her huge white hood, her face is terrified and pale rather than regal. I swallow hard. ‘You must get used to this, seeing it so often,’ I say, because if I keep talking I’m less likely to start blubbing.
Rafe gives my arm a squeeze. ‘It’s always great when the bride arrives. After that everyone can relax. Ten minutes from now you’ll be knocking back the bubbly.’
I laugh. ‘We’ve already downed a startling amount of prosecco considering it’s not even lunchtime yet.’ And I’m determined to pace myself. Between us, I’m definitely not going to be the proverbial pissed bridesmaid here. Although it’s funny, with all the adrenalin rushing through my body, I’m barely feeling the effects of the alcohol at all.
We watch as the carriage slows to a halt. ‘Snowball’s stamping his feet too, look, and his breath’s all steamy.’
Rafe sighs as Jules directs Alice down the carriage steps. ‘More pictures. This part always takes an age.’ He pats me on the shoulder as he sees Johnny jumping down from the carriage. ‘I’d better go, have a wonderful day.’