All Dressed Up

by Lucy Hepburn

  Molly gulped. She didn’t want to break down and spoil the photos with a shiny, red face. But a glance across at Caitlin showed that she was having a similar difficulty. Then, as though instinctively knowing how each other felt, they gathered themselves into a close huddle and allowed the tears to flow. Joy mixed with sadness.

  “We’re all together,” their mother smiled. “And this is a wonderful day.”

  The others melted away and gave the three women their privacy.

  It was a long time before they had composed themselves and were ready to return to the party.

  “Sorry about that, girls,” their mother said as, arm-in-arm, they went back indoors.

  “Don’t be daft, mum,” Caitlin scolded. “I feel a lot better for a quick blub.”

  “Me too,” Molly agreed. “Clears the head.”

  They took their seats in the dining room. Because there was such a tiny number of guests there was no top table, just a single family group lined up on either side of the refectory table, which Francesco had so lovingly arranged. Everyone cheered as Caitlin took her seat beside Francesco, and Molly noticed, with a swell of gratitude, that an extra place had been set for Simon. Next to her.

  She sat between her mother and Simon and unfolded her napkin onto her lap as Signor Loren, the hotel owner, smilingly filled everyone’s glasses with champagne.

  Then Francesco rose to his feet as his mother tapped her glass with her fork.

  An expectant silence fell.

  “No speech today,” Francesco said quietly. “My wife…”

  “Hurray!” Pascal cheered as everyone else followed suit with cheers and applause.

  “Thank you! My wife is so beautiful.” He looked down at Caitlin with watery eyes. “I am the luckiest man in the world. Caitlin?”

  Caitlin looked up at her husband, her face alight with pride and love for him.

  “I will say only this. I promise to spend…”

  The emotionally-charged speech was silenced by a commotion that seemed to be taking place outside the dining room. Molly looked anxiously toward the door. A man’s voice, which Molly vaguely recognized, was arguing with the hotel owner, clamoring to get in.

  “I must speak to him! Please, Signor, allow me to enter!”

  The words, thick with Russian-accented overtones, brought Pascal slowly to his feet. Then the double doors flew open, and Sasha, resplendent in his full air steward’s uniform, burst in frantically scanning the room.

  A thrill of delight rushed through Molly as she leaned across to see Pascal’s reaction.

  “Sasha, mon chèr,” Pascal said calmly, somehow managing to maintain an air of Parisian dignity as Sasha caught sight of him. “You are late.”

  Francesco’s family was exchanging confused glances.

  “Who’s that?” Molly’s mum whispered.

  “Shh, just wait,” Molly hissed back, with a wink.

  There was a moment’s pause, and then he rushed forward and threw himself into Sasha’s arms. Molly stood up and gave a whoop of delight followed by Caitlin, but the rest of the room seemed frozen in bafflement.

  Molly sat down again, suddenly concerned. What if Francesco’s family didn’t appreciate the stranger’s intrusion?

  “Pascal? Sasha?” she called out.

  The two men halted their embrace and turned, pink-faced, toward her.

  “Could you please remember where you are?”

  Pascal was suddenly a vision of contrition. “Excusez-moi,” he flustered, “I forgot myself…”

  “Sasha, is that your name?” Francesco’s mother had stood up and though tiny, she cut an impressively forbidding figure.

  “It is,” Sasha replied. “Forgive me.”

  “Sasha, you do not appear to have a glass of champagne. We must remedy this!”

  Only Francesco’s grandmother continued to seek solace in her rosary beads as another place was set for Sasha and introductions exchanged.

  Simon caught Molly’s hand and squeezed it. “To think, I thought you guys were partners,” he said.

  “Actually, you’ll never guess,” Molly replied excitedly, “but we kind of are, now.”

  “You what?” Simon looked baffled.

  “Okay, not partners, exactly, but he’s asked me to move to Paris to work for him!”

  “Wow.” Simon sat back and raked his hands through his hair, taking a few moments to process what she had just said. “Are you going to do it?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “It’s my dream come true.”

  He exhaled, shaking his head. “I was busy mentally adjusting my life compass to fit Yorkshire in…but you’re telling me I’m going to be hitting on Paris from now on?”

  “Is that okay?”

  He smiled. “Oui.”

  “You speak French?” Molly was impressed.

  “Oui.”

  “Know any other words apart from ‘oui’?”

  “Non,” he said. “But je will learn.”

  Laughing, she leaned over and kissed him. “Bon,” she murmured.

  They looked up to see that Caitlin and Francesco had risen from the table and were standing, arm-in-arm, by the door, looking for all the world as though they were about to leave.

  “What’s going on?” Molly said, looking around. Everyone else seemed as startled as she was.

  “My dear family,” Francesco announced, “it has been the happiest day of our lives. And so now we are going to, as the English say, ‘quit while we are ahead.’”

  A murmur of surprise went around the room.

  “What?” Molly cried. “It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

  But still, she got up and went over to embrace them. “Why so soon?” she whispered. “Aren’t you going to do the first dance thing?”

  “Mum’s shattered,” Caitlin whispered. “I don’t want her to feel she has to party on with us. And you know Mum, she would.”

  Molly looked across at her mother, who was sitting, making what looked like very difficult conversation with Francesco’s grandmother.

  “Oh. Good spot. I hadn’t thought. Don’t you worry, I’ll see she’s okay and gets upstairs to rest as soon as she feels ready.”

  Molly thought, but didn’t say, that Caitlin’s thoughtful actions were a world away from the manic Bridezilla of only a few days ago. But she’d come to understand just how stressed-out she must have been, caught up in a huge wedding, which sounded like it was almost completely out of control.

  Caitlin stroked Francesco’s arm. “Anyway, I’ve got the rest of my life to dance with this man.”

  The entire wedding party rose to their feet and made their way to the front of the hotel. Molly’s mother was spoiled for choice as far as assistance went; Pascal, Sasha, and Francesco’s father all escorted her as though she were royalty. Then, after tears, hugs, and hundreds of kisses, they stood and watched as Francesco held open the door of a shiny, chauffeur-driven limousine for blushing Caitlin to climb in.

  Caitlin was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief as her mother leaned into the car and kissed her goodbye. Then, with a roar of the engine, they were gone, off down the drive to an ‘unknown location,’ though Caitlin had confided to Molly in a whisper that they were only going to another hotel in town, and they’d be back first thing in the morning to check up on her mother.

  “A perfect day,” Pascal said as he and Sasha joined them, waving, at the door.

  “A perfect dress,” Molly said.

  Pascal half-bowed. “Too kind.”

  They stepped aside so that Francesco’s father could help Molly’s mum indoors. His wife brought up the rear, holding on to the grandmother who was clinging to her rosary beads as though her life depended on it.

  “Bed,” Molly’s mum smiled.

  “Want me to come up and run a bath for you?” Molly asked.

  Her mother reached her hand up and stroked Molly’s face. “No, thank you, darling. I’m sure you’ve
got other things to do, don’t you?” She was giving Molly a searching look.

  “I’m just off to…admire the view,” Simon said, striding off, undoubtedly to give them some space.

  Molly bit her lip then nodded. “Will you be okay until tomorrow?”

  “Of course she will!” Pascal had been hovering, listening in. “Sasha and I will be here, and if she needs anything, she need only call.”

  Molly pulled both of them into an awkward hug then wiped a tear from her eyes as Pascal offered her mother his arm.

  Molly crossed the lawn to where Simon stood admiring the late afternoon view across the city.

  “You okay?” he asked, putting his arm round her and pulling her close.

  Molly nodded.

  “What now? Want me to give you some time so you can sit with your mum? Or can I go into town and get her anything?”

  “I’d like you to take me to Venice, please,” Molly said, following his gaze out across the city.

  “Sorry?”

  Molly looked up at him and smiled. “I’d like to meet Yvonne and the rest of your team. I’d like to step into your world, just as you have stepped into mine.”

  “Are…are you sure?” Simon was looking at her with delighted disbelief.

  “Course I am. I’ve never been surer about anything. Though I doubt I’ll be as wonderful in your world as you’ve been in mine.”

  “We’ll see about that, shall we?” Simon smiled. “We can be in Venice in two hours, and if we leave early tomorrow, we can be back so you can have breakfast with your mother, how does that sound as a plan?”

  “Perfect!” Molly grinned. “What could possibly go wrong with a plan like that?”

  “Absolutely,” Simon agreed, holding her close and kissing her again. “Quite straightforward. And no detours, okay?”

  “Spoilsport,” Molly murmured.

  As Simon kissed her again, slowly and lingeringly, Molly felt her whole body grow weak with longing and happiness. She realized, as she pulled Simon closer still, that even though life rarely goes according to plan, sometimes, the unexpected can turn out to be even better.

  THE END

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