by Kitty Wilson
‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know.’
‘I do. I believe I’ve told you many times. Glad you were listening.’
‘Oh, go away.’
‘Don’t forget Hector too, he’ll also be on that flight,’ Chase added.
‘Will do. Can’t guarantee to keep him in the car until we get here though and I’m still not sure what he’s doing coming to my wedding.’
‘He’ll go anywhere for a free party. I think he quite likes it here, the whole Cornwall thing. It was kind of you to let him come. We’ll understand if you need to push him out. Just make a note of where so we can grab him in the morning. I imagine Jean-Jacques has strong arms, together you’ll be fine.’
‘Is no one going to listen to how clever I’ve been?’ Angelina genuinely looked close to tears. Matt blew her a kiss and walked out, and Chase leant over and filled her glass.
‘Go on,’ encouraged Richard.
‘Well…’ She took a deep breath now she had an audience. ‘You know we were going to have our wedding with Matt and Rosy but they are a little selfish, not that I blame them,’ she said in a tone that very clearly showed that she did, ‘and Chase wanted us to wait until next year because our work diaries are simply insane…’
‘You both have very important work to do.’ Richard wasn’t convinced of this but knew it would make her happy and he did expect that someone, somewhere felt a little better for reading articles about the woman sitting in front of him.
‘We do. People don’t often understand that, but we do. We lighten people’s lives. Anyway, don’t let me get sidetracked. So, I had already asked Marion to arrange our wedding, which I have now moved to next year but we kept a date for our engagement party instead.’
‘Yup, clear on that bit,’ Richard answered encouragingly.
‘Good, so I’ve made her arrange the perfect party; she’s inviting all these guests, people she knows, to help me out. There’s no way all our friends could make it with so little notice. She’s chosen the cake and the food and the music and everything. And every time she tries to query any details I just shout at her and put the phone down. It’s hilarious, so much fun. She gets so cross.’ Richard wasn’t convinced this was fun.
‘Haven’t I been clever?’ Angelina clapped her hands, like a performing seal looking around the room for approval.
‘You haven’t told him what’s actually happening yet, love,’ Chase pointed out and then took up the baton. ‘So, Angelina and I were talking, after the night we all got together last time actually and she thought it was sad that you had that quiet, tasteful wedding your mother demanded instead of the crazed blow-out wedding that Marion had always wanted. I remember at the time she was so happy to be marrying you that she didn’t mind compromising. She understood your dynamic with your mum and I was impressed then with how she sucked up her own disappointment and made the best of a day that was nothing like her, or at least nothing like her then. It’s fair to say she’s changed quite a bit since.’
‘Yeah, she was amazing. I’ve always been so grateful for that. I think it was because her mother was so dysfunctional that she took my parents in her stride and made sure she made my life easier not more difficult. I still regret not standing up for that, for the wedding of her dreams.’
‘Woah, don’t be. Your mother was impossible. As resolute as Margaret Thatcher, about as empathetic and with an additional layer of steel. You’ve fought battles for Marion and the boys since then and won. You were still young when you and Marion married.’ And Richard nodded, his friend of a lifetime seeing things he didn’t realize anyone else but Marion saw.
‘And you said you wanted Marion back; we think that’s a really good idea so we thought we’d help.’ Angelina couldn’t let Chase have the spotlight a moment longer. ‘So we have arranged for that day to be your renewal-of-vows day whilst sort of pretending it’s our engagement party. But actually it’s all for you two. Marion gets the wedding she always wanted, you get your wife back, Marion still gets paid for the work she’s done and I’ll write testimonials and let out pictures to the press saying she helped organize a party for us and everyone is a winner. Admittedly we thought you and she would probably be back together by now and this would just be the icing and the cherry on top. But you have just over a week. You’ll have to get a move on. Why aren’t you jumping up and down? Richard, Richard! Get your head out of your hands. This is a good thing, be grateful. Why is he looking like that, Chase?’
Richard couldn’t respond as Angelina wanted. The idea was nice, sweet even, and he would love nothing more than being able to reaffirm his commitment to Marion in front of witnesses, especially Rafe, Rupert and Rufus, but he wasn’t convinced that Marion was going to see it the same way. They had spent the night together but that didn’t mean he was officially back, and the quickest way to mess that up would be to make assumptions. He was deliberately going slow, letting her make the decisions when she was sure it was right and she was ready. Neither could he keep this a secret from her, couldn’t keep it a surprise as Chase and Angelina wanted. He was going to have to tell her and tell her soon, and she was going to go berserk.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Marion finished checking the church – the day was here at last – and started the short walk up to Rosy’s cottage. This event was special to her; it was the first one she had booked and although the summer had proven that planning events was the perfect job for her – everything she had organized so far had been remarkably stress-free – she could feel her tummy flip-flopping as if she had a bellyful of goldfish.
As she marched up the hill, she quickly ran through everything in her head. She had nothing to be nervous about and what’s more she was fairly sure she had given Rosy and Matt the wedding they wanted, an intimate affair. Not everyone needed a big brash wedding, and whilst she may have yearned for one she knew that the small one she and Richard had had proved rather lovely in the end. Just them in a bubble of their own. She hoped Rosy and Matt would feel the same about theirs. On a practical note, the suppliers had confirmed, all the final balances had been paid and she had Serena on the payroll and running a sub-team down at Penmenna Hall where the reception would be taking place; there was nothing that could go wrong. She was nervous, or her tummy was, because she cared. That was all. She wanted these people to have the most perfect day of their lives.
Letting Richard stay the other day had been playing on her mind as well. She loved him so very much, the bones of him and all in between but she had behaved rashly, impetuously, driven by her wants rather than what was sensible. She would have to think carefully about what she wanted the next step to be. Did she forgive or should she put the walls up again?
Marion pushed open the little wooden gate and walked up the path to the cottage. With the front door on the latch, she pushed it open and wandered up the stairs where she could hear a collection of female voices. She paused for a second – there was a bit of a funny smell coming from downstairs – she’d explore once she’d said her hellos.
If the day was on schedule then Rosy should be having a chilled glass of Prosecco under the watchful eye of her mother and sister, whom Marion had yet to meet, whilst Pippa painted her nails. Despite all Marion’s best advice, Rosy had been adamant that Pippa would be doing her hair and make-up. If she didn’t walk down the aisle with eyeshadow all colours of the rainbow and hair that was a backcombed mess then Marion would be very surprised. But the bride was the bride and today was her day. Marion could only offer options; if she wanted to leave her final touches to a woman who looked like a head-to-toe jumble sale then so be it.
‘Hello, hello, hello.’ She sang her greeting as she entered the room. It was exciting to be here.
‘Hello, Marion, good to see you. Look, my nails are almost done.’ Rosy turned and waggled perfect nude pink nails at her. So far so good. If Pippa could resist a lime green topcoat then all would be well.
‘Beautiful, very tasteful. Well done, Pippa.’ She
made her praise sound heartfelt and was genuinely surprised. Pippa raised an eyebrow and made a low growling noise whilst Lynne, who was chief bridesmaid – another decision Marion thought was a bit dodgy –scowled at her. Marion grinned on the inside. She did get joy from winding some people up, and Pippa and Lynne were definitely upon that list.
‘And you must be Rosy’s mother – peas in a pod.’ That was a lie; Rosy’s good looks clearly came from her father’s side of the family.
‘Hello, lovely to meet you.’ A woman wearing a lavender floral dress and vile lilac hat proffered her hand. Marion shook it and pasted on a big fake grin. And then repeated the motion with the younger but similar-looking woman standing next to her, in an equally grim outfit. Note to self: check outfits from all family members in future and make suggestions for outfits based on colour schemes and good taste. Perhaps she could get a taller member of the wedding party in front of them during the photos? No, no she couldn’t. That was old Marion thinking.
‘So, your wedding is under control and running smoothly. Everything has arrived and is in place now. I had a quick look at the church earlier and it looks beautiful.’ She drew those last three words out, to emphasize how much she meant it. ‘The pinks and blues of the roses, anemones and lisianthus are stunning, and the scent is wonderful.’
‘Thank you, I’m pleased they work well. Matt thought they would,’ Rosy said as she laid out the other hand for her final topcoat.
‘I think today will be gorgeous, stress-free. But I’ll just run through the order— what on earth are you doing here?’ Marion halted her original sentence mid-flow as Harmony entered the room, wearing a hacked-up bedsheet with some kind of smouldering stick in her hand. It looked a little like a short stubby penis woven out of natural materials and set on fire. Marion had never wanted to learn more about Harmony Rivers than she had to, and waving around half a burnt eco-friendly dildo was proof that Marion had been right.
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Rosy was quick to reassure her. ‘Harmony wanted to sage smudge for us as a wedding present.’
‘Dear God, whatever for?’ An awful thought crossed Marion’s mind. ‘You’re not letting her do that in the church, are you?’
‘I’ll have you kno—’ Harmony started to speak but Marion fixed her with a look and Harmony fell silent, affecting a facial expression like Darcy when he was caught halfway through wolfing down supper from the kitchen worktop. Harmony jabbed the smudge stick into the air aggressively a couple of times with narrowed eyes.
‘Right, order of service. I know you know it but if we have a quick run-through… We’ll walk to the church as you insisted, although I still think that’s madness and should you change your mind then I can have the MGB GT you booked for the journey from the church to Penmenna Hall come early; you just have to say the word and I will have it here.’
‘No, it’s alright. I really like the idea of walking through the village to church. It won’t take more than ten minutes; I’ve broken my shoes in like you suggested and it will make it special.’
‘I’ve never heard of a bride who wanted to walk before,’ Rosy’s mum interjected. The woman had some sense, then.
‘I know, Mum, but I want to… oh my goodness, Harmony!’
There was a loud squeal and a crash as Harmony, who had been flailing around the bedroom and had recommenced making ohm-ing noises, twisting, turning and chanting, suddenly tripped over the bridal shoes. She screamed as she fell, throwing her hands out to try and save herself, smouldering sage stick still in her hand. Marion’s eyes whipped towards Rosy’s wedding dress sitting on a seamstress’s mannequin to keep it pristine and currently the only thing that was going to stop Harmony slamming hard onto the floor.
Quick as a flash, Marion moved it.
‘Argggghhhh.’ Harmony landed on the carpet next to the mannequin, clutching her sage stick, arms and legs akimbo.
‘Oh my goodness, are you alright?’ Mrs Winter and Lynne rushed over to help pick her up whilst Marion inspected the dress.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ Marion snapped as she dropped to her knees to examine the damage. ‘She’s burnt a hole here, just by the seam. How in God’s name are we going to get a burn out of silk? Trust you to spoil things with your bloody nonsense.’ She pinched the smoulder with her finger, trying to stop it from spreading at all and then quickly huffed on the silk and dabbed it again with a damp finger to make sure.
‘Marion!’ Rosy interjected.
‘Yes, I’m sure it was an accident.’ Marion read between the lines. ‘She didn’t do it on purpose.’ She supposed she didn’t, but if she hadn’t been here being daft then it wouldn’t have happened at all!
Pippa shot Marion a look of agreement, as if she could read her mind and completely agreed that this was avoidable. They had never been natural allies but Marion sneaked her a smile back. And added an eyeroll of camaraderie for good measure.
‘Look, Mum can probably do something. If anyone can she can.’ Pippa moved away from Rosy and took a look. ‘I reckon at a push I could just bring the seams in a bit and fix it that way but Mum’d be even better.’
‘Right, she’s down at Penmenna Hall setting up for the reception; I’ll call Serena.’
It didn’t take long for Serena to whisk over with Jan in tow, who confirmed that she indeed could fix it and exactly as Pippa had said. Marion had meanwhile kicked Harmony out, saying, ‘I am the wedding planner,’ along with ‘How much smudging does one small cottage need?’ over and over again, louder and louder until she got her own way.
‘Hello.’ Serena sidled up and stood next to her.
‘Everything going well down at the Hall?’ Marion asked, her eyes on Pippa who had moved on to hair and make-up. She was actually doing a remarkably good job and had manged to create an up-do that looked like a down-do with the most beautiful vintage bridal comb on the side. It looked incredibly glamourous. Marion had underestimated Pippa’s talents. She wouldn’t do that again.
‘So, how are things with you and Richard?’ Serena whispered.
‘Pretty good actually, he stayed over on my birthday,’ Marion confided, in a half-whisper out of the side of her mouth. A thrill raced through her as she could pass this nugget on to her friend. It had been quite a night. Certainly one she wouldn’t forget in a hurry; bits of her that she hadn’t known existed ached by the next day. Aches that made her smile mischievously.
‘I’m so glad to hear it. I knew you’d see sense and everything would be alright as soon as he showed you the evidence.’
‘See sense?’ That was a little rude. She paused before she asked the obvious next question. ‘What do you mean by “evidence”?’
‘The evidence I gave him, like he asked. You know, that he didn’t sleep with Claudia.’
Marion turned to face her friend. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Richard stayed over because I had a weak moment. We’re not all reconciled in marital bliss and he certainly did not show me any evidence of anything! I’m not sure how you dare to make presumptions considering your role in the whole sordid affair.’
‘I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Ooh, look, that’s a lovely shade of blush Pippa’s putting on Rosy. More Prosecco, anyone?’ Oh, now she talked at a normal volume.
‘No, no, no. You don’t get off this easily. What is this evidence you’re talking about and exactly how many people has Richard told the intricacies of our marriage breakdown to?’
Serena paled, as well she might. Marion was fully aware that there wasn’t an answer that would appease her right now.
‘Everything okay?’ Rosy asked from across the room. That woman was like a hound on a rabbit; there was nothing she missed.
‘All fine.’ Marion smiled through gritted teeth, the fakery making her voice even more singsong than usual. She would not cry. She would not cry. But how many people knew now that Richard had cheated? The embarrassment! Had he told the whole village he had been unjustly accused? She could kill him. Mind you, Serena said there was ev
idence? So much for all his cries that evidence of something that never happened was impossible to get, but why not show her, why not tell her? Why was that man still keeping secrets?
Chapter Thirty-nine
The morning had raced by, all catastrophes averted. Jan had returned with Rosy’s dress, the whole room’s breath on hold as she slipped it over the bride’s head, hoping that it would still fit and that the burn was fully disguised. It dropped over Rosy’s outstretched arms, fell perfectly into place and everyone in the room let out a sigh of contentment.
She looked beautiful, Marion thought, caught up in the emotion of the moment, really beautiful. Her hair resting over one shoulder, the diamanté of the hair slide catching the sunlight as it poured through the window. The dress itself was high at the front, cut into a cowl and then swept away into the deepest V ever seen at the back, dipping right into the small of her back and framed with lace. Marion couldn’t picture a better dress for the occasion, indeed would have quite liked one herself, in every shade under the sun. She could truly say never before had she envied anything from Rosy’s wardrobe.
With the bride dressed, Prosecco drunk and oohs and ahhs bouncing around the room, Marion started to chivvy everyone out. The bride would need to leave for the church shortly and Marion had scheduled a ten-minute mother and daughter moment before that. When Rosy’s mother descended the stairs to climb into the car, she had had a tear in her eye which she blinked away as she swept the bridesmaids, Rosy’s nieces in sage green dresses with little wicker baskets full to the brim with rose petals, out of the house and into a waiting car.
Marion couldn’t imagine her mother shedding a tear at the joy of her daughter marrying a good man. Although she was fairly sure Richard’s mother shed the odd tear when she heard of their engagement.
Finally, it was just her, Lynne and Rosy and the photographer left in the house. She messaged Richard quickly.