by Jane Linfoot
As I notice Snow White on the other side of the netting she’s scowling at me as if I’m the Wicked Queen. ‘We’re looking for the snowman, don’t forget.’ I shout it mainly for her benefit. Which is just as well as Rafe and Rory have started pelting each other with balls and are completely ignoring me. Luckily the playing children have mostly moved away.
Seeing as I’m hardly getting anywhere with my digging, I stand up and start kicking through the balls, moving towards Immie. ‘You’d think a white snowman would be easy to find.’
Immie dips. ‘Trumping toad bottoms, dwarves on the warpath!’
I look to where she’s nodding and, sure enough, Snow White is marching, with a posse of guys wearing stripey hats, leggings and curly grey beards.
As the piped music choir gets cut off in mid-sentence halfway through ‘Silent Night’, one of the guys clears his throat and shouts. ‘Okay, adults out of the ball cage! That area is for under-tens only.’ It’s hard to take him seriously when his nose is painted red.
If anyone was going to argue, it would have to be Rory. ‘Lighten up, Sneezy, we’re only messing around while we look for a lost toy.’
The dwarf puts his hands on his hips and pulls himself up to what has to be a full six foot four. ‘Don’t push me to bar you, mate. Because I will.’
Rory’s voice resonates with disbelief. ‘You can’t eject me, I’m your biggest real-ale supplier.’
The dwarf pulls on his beard and his voice rises to a nasty shout. ‘I don’t care if you’re Santa’s main dealer, just get the hell out of my ball pit. NOW!’
‘Okay, no need to get your knickerbockers in a twist, we’re on our way.’ If Rory’s conceding defeat, it can only be because he’s worried about his beer orders.
You know that reaction as a kid, when getting yelled at automatically makes you run? This is me now. Before I know it, I’m lolloping towards the hole in the netting, sending balls flying in all directions. As I glance over my shoulder, Rory and Rafe are coolly ambling behind me. As I scrabble and scramble, I’m getting more and more frantic, and more and more unbalanced. I’m within a whisker of the gap in the fence when my foot catches, and next thing I know, I’m falling. It’s more of a saggy sideways collapse than a heavy fall. But as I twist onto my back, my shoulders sink, and my knees and feet go upwards.
Immie’s doubled up. ‘Full-blown flight response you had there, Hols. Seeing you plunging under the balls there is so funny it’s making me wee.’
I’m wailing at her. ‘Stop laughing, Immie, and pull me out.’ But that sets her off again.
‘Damsel in distress?’ Rory reaches me first, and surprise, surprise, he’s smirking down at me.
As I hiss at him, I’m aware of a crowd of small faces pressed up against the netting. ‘Thanks, but I’m absolutely fine. Immie’s got this.’
That seems to amuse him even more. ‘Sorry, Holly B, Immie’s too busy peeing herself. Looks like it’s a handsome prince, or nothing.’ He half closes one eye. ‘Unless you’d prefer an angry dwarf to haul you out, of course?’
I take a few seconds to abandon every last vestige of pride and then I wave my arm in his direction. ‘Go on, then.’ It comes out very grudgingly. But a moment later it turns to a scream. All I needed was a simple yank to get me onto my feet, but Rory’s scooping me up from underneath.
As he strides through the balls, he’s clamping me so close to his chest, I get not only the full benefit of the delicious scent of his body spray going right up my nose in a way that’s much too swoony for comfort, but also his low laugh resonating through his sternum. ‘Who’d have thought I’d have this much fun at the Fun Palace?’
I’m talking through gritted teeth, wondering how anyone in such a ragged t-shirt can smell so good. ‘Eff off, Rory. And PUT ME DOWN!’
‘No need to panic.’ He lurches all the way to the edge, then slides me straight through the entrance hole.
There’s a thud as I land. ‘Lovely, great.’ The felt tiles are so rough under my palms, I’m lucky not to have carpet burns. It’s hard to scramble to your feet with any dignity at all when there are twenty-odd three and four-year-olds staring down at you.
As Rafe, Rory and Immie arrive beside me and we shuffle like a line of naughty school kids the dwarf is already coming over, pointing at our feet with a horrified look on his face. ‘You went in wearing outdoor shoes?’
As if the humiliation of me falling over and getting dragged out by Rory isn’t enough, now we’ve got to be told off in front of a crowd of kids. If their wide eyes are anything to go by, they’re obviously finding four adults getting ordered out of the play area a lot more riveting than the bouncy castle or the singing Santa show.
Rory’s nodding at the dwarf’s feet. ‘Not everyone’s lucky enough to have plimsolls with cardboard buckles covered in tin foil, mate. You might like to take this opportunity to change the CD. We could work with Wizard?’
Snow White looks at the Head Dwarf. ‘What do you say, Darren? Now That’s What I Call Christmas would make a change. Those singing seven-year-olds are getting right on my nips.’ She barely waits for his nod before she rushes off, and then the music starts up again.
Rory listens to the first couple of bars, then lets out a groan. ‘Just my luck to get Mariah frigging Carey.’
I perk up. ‘Ooooh, I love this one. All I want for Christmas is yoooooooooooou.’ Freya and I used to go wild singing along to this in the mirror with our hairbrushes. Although obviously I won’t be doing that this year, due to my festive ban.
Rory gives a snort of disgust at me, then turns back to the dwarf. As he gestures towards Gracie he seems to have slipped into courtroom speak. ‘We were actually locating a lost toy, like the one the little girl is holding. You might like to keep an eye out for it when you next do a ball wash.’
The dwarf winces. Then he bobs down behind the pushchair. ‘There’s a snowman here. Is this the one you’re looking for?’
There’s a ripple along our line. ‘Crap … shit … jeez … what the frig?’ How the hell did we end up in the ball pit when the snowman was under the pushchair the whole time?
As the dwarf holds out the snowman to Gracie her lips twist. I have to comment, because it’s the first time I’ve seen it. ‘That’s a lovely smile, Gracie.’ It might only be tiny, but it’s definitely there, if only fleetingly. ‘Are you going to say “thank you” to the dwarf, then?’
Her serious frown’s already back as she hugs both snowmen close to her chest. ‘Actually he’s not a dwarf. ’Cos his beard’s falling off.’ She wrinkles her nose in distaste. ‘And he’s not little enough. Or happy, even.’
Rory looks delighted by her candour. ‘Okay, how about you say thanks to the big guy in the fake beard, then? And maybe hold onto the snowmen tighter next time.’
She’s mumbling, ‘Thank you’ when I hear a phone ping.
Poppy picks up my bag from the pile and passes it across to me. ‘Might as well make the most of the pub’s wifi hotspot. It doesn’t happen very often round here.’
I’m pleased to have an excuse to retreat from the front line so I can take cover next to Poppy behind the buggy. ‘Just an email from Nate and Becky. They’re probably sending me their list of groups for the photos.’ Hard to believe that at one time I was dreading this list arriving, but now there’s a million things to worry about before we even get to it. ‘Weird, it looks like she’s forgotten the attachment.’
Even as I read the first line of text in the inbox window my throat feels like someone’s put a tourniquet around it.
Hi Holly, just to let you know the fab news, Luc’s flying in for the wedding.
Poppy’s leaning towards me. ‘Everything alright there, Hols?’
I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a rasp. ‘E-rrr …’ For a few seconds it feels like my heart’s dropped through the floor. When it bounces back into place, it’s clattering against my ribs so hard I feel like I could run out of the pub, onto the beach and only stop when I re
ached Australia.
Rory crashes down on the bench next to me and leans in for a look. ‘Ewww, is that Luc with a “c” not a “k”? I knew that guy was a no-good poseur.’
Immie’s over like a shot. ‘The same Luc who thought you were pregnant, but didn’t get back to you?’
Poppy scowls at Immie. ‘Or even better, the Luc who Hols once went out with but has now moved on from. Are you sure you’re okay, Hols? You’ve gone very pale.’
Rory chimes in. ‘What kind of a shit would behave like that? Nothing red about those cheeks of yours now, HB. You’re whiter than you were on toothpaste day.’
Which is a shame as I’m not going to make the most of it. But just this once, there’s something I’m more bothered about than the colour of my face.
‘So Luc’s coming to the beach wedding after all?’ Poppy’s probing, very gently.
Immie’s not giving up, either. ‘Did you two ever have closure? At least you might get a chance for that now. It’s very beneficial to have a proper full stop at the end.’
I open the email and skim down it. ‘He’s flying in … in just over a week’s time.’ My voice is like sandpaper scraping on wood, but my mind’s racing. Not that there’s any chance of getting him back at all. But at least I want to give it my best shot. ‘How am I ever going to be ready? I need to lose two stone and have a complete make-over.’ Luc always preferred me to skip carbs and puddings. How many of those have I eaten in the last year that I wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed with him? My mouth’s watering at the thought.
Immie’s got her ‘disgusted of St Aidan’ face on. ‘You’re not seriously wanting him back, are you?’
I ignore the voice in my head yelling ‘yes, yes, yes!’ and try to steady my voice. ‘Totally not.’
Immie shakes her head. ‘If you need to show the tosser you’ve moved on, you could always borrow Rory as your fabulous new “boyfriend”.’ Her face splits into a grin as she adds the inverted commas with her fingers.
If my stomach was squishing before, this finishes the job. Horrifying doesn’t begin to cover it. ‘Thanks, but Rory’s already got his hands full enough.’ Even if Immie’s only joking, the old cliché of frying pans and fires springs to mind. I don’t want to make a difficult situation horrendous.
Poppy sends me an ‘Oh My God’ eye roll that moves into a bright smile. ‘What we actually need to show the world is that you’ve bounced back as a strong, independent woman, who’s got her shit together. Any decent guy will find that very attractive.’ Her voice is firm and calming. ‘There’s a lot we can do in a week. We’ll make sure you’re as prepared as you can be in the time. We’ll all help, won’t we?’
Rory’s rubbing the ragged denim on his thigh. ‘Good thinking on that, Pops. You and Immie can concentrate on the pretty stuff and I’ll take charge of your motivational development and self-esteem. In ten days, I promise, you’ll be so kick-ass the guy won’t recognise you. You might want to order that Pocahontas onesie now.’
‘What’s this about a onesie?’ Poppy asks.
I shake my head. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’ Every time I think things can’t get any worse, another bombshell drops. Pocahontas onesies being the icing on my own personal drip cake of doom.
Immie chuckles. ‘Whatever happens with Luc, it can’t be any more embarrassing than getting thrown out of a ball pit by a six-foot-four dwarf.’
And then the first bars of Wham! singing Last Christmas play out across the bar and I plunge again. Sometime soon I have to reach my proverbial rock bottom.
Chapter 21
Wednesday 13th December
At Brides by the Sea: Harsh words and bulging boxes
There are certain people I meet who I can’t help but pre-judge, and Marilyn is one of them. I have to be honest here. Last time we met, Marilyn had barely stormed as far as the White Room and I already wanted to hide. By the time she left the shop after that visit, she’d made it into my ‘best avoided forever’ box. Which obviously got rapidly revised when I found out I’m taking pictures for an entire day at her son’s wedding. But when I saw in the appointments book that she was coming in with her future daughter-in-law, Katie, for a final dress fitting early this morning, I decided the best plan was to stay safely tucked up in bed. But when Poppy rang at seven to tell me Katie wanted me to be there too, to say ‘hello’ and take a couple of pictures, the only way to combat the bad news was with a stonking breakfast.
Sadly, despite our food science degrees, we can’t all whip up the kind of early morning feasts Poppy makes. Which is why it’s really lucky there’s a bakery a few doors down that sells warm flaky almond croissants and pain au chocolates, from six a.m. onwards. It’s amazing how much less intimidated you feel when you’ve worked your way through a carrier full, eaten the French way. And if my nose stays scarlet until the New Year, after half an hour of serious dipping and slurping over bowlfuls of steaming coffee, I’m just going to have to live with that. The good bit is, that by the time Marilyn gallops into the shop at eight thirty, dragging Katie behind her, I’m feeling well up for the job. Luckily Poppy’s there too, with her usual lovely welcome.
‘Hello Marilyn … and Katie …’ As Marilyn powers straight across to the mother of the bride chair, the hug Poppy gives Katie is so big there has to be some mutual bolstering going on.
After yesterday’s promises for motivational training from Rory, I can’t help wondering how I’ll be handling stuff like this in ten days’ time. For now, I’m scuttling behind the desk, thankful I have my camera to hide behind.
Poppy turns her beam in my direction. ‘And this is Holly, who you’ve met already, Marilyn. And who will be stepping in to take the wedding pictures.’
‘Hi,’ I say. I can’t help slapping my hand to my hair as I have a sudden flashback to the way Marilyn wrenched out a handful along with the tiara last time she was here. Somehow I manage to move my head rub on into a little wave at Katie and still hold onto the camera. And if Marilyn’s looking disbelieving, I completely know the feeling.
She recovers enough to give a little cough. ‘Jules already has a list of my stipulations, which no doubt he’ll forward to you.’ Her words are stiff with disapproval.
Katie’s clasping her hands into fists. ‘And he also has our list too, which is pretty much the definitive version, if you get my meaning.’ Katie’s version top trumps Marilyn’s in other words.
More fool me for expecting pre-amble. We’re obviously going straight into the fighting. ‘Lovely, I’ll look at them both, and do my best.’
Poppy does one of the most spectacular eyebrow wiggles I’ve yet seen, so I know there’s something mega coming as she turns to Katie. ‘Holly’s the one who’s responsible for all the Best Moments pictures from Nancy and Scott’s wedding, which Jules sent to you.’
‘Great, so you’ve seen the mini album.’ I’m so surprised I let out a gasp.
Marion shoots upright in her chair. ‘You haven’t got asthma have you? Or chicken pox? You aren’t going to pull out too, are you?’ Her eyes narrow as her glare intensifies. ‘It’s just your nose is very red …’
Katie and I both clamp our hands over our faces simultaneously, but Katie is first to recover.
‘I’m so pleased to meet someone else whose nose suffers in the cold.’ When she takes her hand away, her upturned nose is definitely rosy, but on her it looks incredibly cute. ‘It’s a total nightmare when we ski. It’s the one reason I wish we were getting married in summer. And I loved your album, by the way.’
When I finally let go of my nose, I’m laughing and picking up my jaw off the floor at the same time. ‘Thanks for saying that. Don’t worry, any pictures you aren’t happy with, we can have a gentle play to reduce the Rudolf effect.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes are wide with gratitude. ‘That’s such a weight off my mind. It seemed too girlie to mention to Jules.’
It seems a good time to offer. ‘Shall I take a few of you now? I can send them over late
r to show you how well the re-tint works on noses.’
‘Brilliant.’ She pulls off her bobble hat and ruffles up her curls.
I zoom in for two close ups. ‘Yes, those are fab.’ If I didn’t know already, I can tell she’s going to look amazing in the pictures. Despite the red nose and bitchy mum-in-law. ‘Would you like a picture of the two of you while you’re here?’
There’s a yelp from Marilyn. ‘Absolutely not. Have you seen my roots? I’m on my way to have my colours done now.’ Someone else clamping their hands over their head here.
‘That’s fine, we’ll concentrate on Katie, then.’ I breathe a sigh of relief, then move on to take a few more pictures of Katie’s delighted expression when Poppy comes through carrying her dress. And then they head into the fitting room and Poppy whips the grey and white striped curtain closed behind her.
It’s not long before the curtain whisks back and I pick up my camera again. ‘That was quick … and the dress is amazing.’ Even though I’ve been hanging around the shop for the best part of ten days, I still haven’t got used to the transformations. Or how beautiful and individual each bride looks in her dress.
Katie smiles down at the soft gathers of the tulle skirt. ‘It’s a Sera easy-to-wear and easy-to-get-in-and-out-of special. Very important for a bride like me, who wants to have fun rather than be formal. Anything more complicated and Seth would never manage to take it off.’ She laughs as she holds the fabric up to the light. ‘There are so many layers, but the top one is studded with tiny gems and miniature snowflakes. And I adore it more every time I see it.’
It’s impossible not to be carried along by her practical, down-to-earth approach. As Katie stands and gazes at herself in the mirror, Poppy joins in enthusiastically. ‘The top is very simple, with an overlay of the same tiny snowflakes. Then Katie is adding a fluffy jumper and a brightly coloured ski jacket for her outdoor shots.’
Katie’s clasping her hands. ‘And the six bridesmaids’ skirts are in bright purple and blue and yellow tulle short skirts, with contrast jumpers, pink jackets and stripy ski head bands. With bright pearlised stilettos for inside and boots for outside.’
