by Jane Linfoot
He’s rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘On the beach the other night you claimed you were happy as you are, but I’m not so sure. If you were, you’d be more comfortable in your own skin.’
Excuse me? I agreed to one track, not psychoanalysis. ‘Like you are, you mean?’
He misses the irony. ‘Exactly.’
‘You don’t get any less arrogant, do you?’ There’s no point me stinting on the truth.
He ignores that, and carries on. ‘But you can’t deny you’re hardly optimistic.’
I pull the corners of my mouth down. ‘I’ve had stuff in my life.’
The wrinkles across his nose say he’s not buying that. ‘You aren’t alone there. But it’s easy to get stuck in a miserable mindset. Maybe you need to dance more. Be like the song. Let your heart find wings. Put some effort into finding your happy side again – and I don’t just mean listening to Adele.’
Quoting song lyrics now? How corny can you get? ‘Okay Mr Perfect, in future I promise I’ll try to be more like you.’
From his frown that’s not the reply he’s looking for. ‘But all this talk about moving – you’re great at your job, even though I might have implied you wouldn’t be. If you’d only settle and give it a chance, your career might be the missing piece that makes you happy.’ Now he’s making me sound like a jigsaw.
‘That’s the thing. The job might be working out, but it’s in a place where everyone knows I failed.’ It all goes back to Thom. Or to me. When I got engaged, I was so damned excited. You can’t blame some people for being pleased I fell flat on my face. ‘I’ll have a better chance of reconnecting with this mythical happy person you keep going on about once I move away again.’
As he considers that, the light catches the indentations in his cheeks. ‘Moving on won’t cure your sense of failure. That needs to come from inside. You need to learn to believe in what you can do, not what you can’t.’
I’ve heard that before. ‘And you need to put on weight. You’re getting gaunter by the day.’ Get rid of those unnerving hollows in his cheeks.
He’s right back at me. ‘Ditto. Didn’t you used to have curves?’
There’s a shout from the shadows. ‘Okay, hold it there. Great shot, guys.’
‘Jules?’ Crap. I thought he’d gone home. Damn lucky he didn’t catch us dancing.
He skips up out of the shadows. ‘Just re-working, now it’s completely dark.’
So all Kip’s concerned conversation about my happiness suddenly makes sense. It was simply diversion tactics, until Jules got all the shots he needed, complete with convincing ‘figures’ on the terrace.
I turn to Kip. ‘Well thanks for manipulating me into yet another photo opportunity I didn’t agree to.’
He opens his mouth to protest, but there’s really no point.
There’s another thing I need to tackle him on before I go. ‘And for the record, I saw you’d untied Jess and Bart’s boat earlier.’
Kip’s eyes narrow. ‘Jules is being spontaneous. Probably not a concept you’re familiar with.’ However vulnerable he sounded before, he’s back to being mocking now. ‘As for letting the boat go, that’s ridiculous. Why would I do that?’
It’s as inexplicable to me as it is to him. ‘How the hell do I know? Because you’re genetically programmed to do it? Because Bart asked you to?’ To be honest, I expected an admission, not a flat denial. I’m distantly aware that the track is over. ‘Am I done here?’
He flinches as the questions fly at him. ‘Absolutely. You’re free to go.’
I march off the terrace, and I’m still stamping when I get back to Gucci. But the strange thing is, when I let myself into Brides by the Sea half an hour later, and check the diary for the morning, I find that Jess has re-arranged every single appointment for herself. And there’s a note saying she’s not expected in until after lunch.
Chapter 35
Thursday, 13th July
In the Style File at Brides by the Sea: Tea from the dark ages
‘If I can’t have the hot tub, the least Kip can do is throw in the horse and carriage.’
Three days later, Nicole’s stabbing the air with a long silver finger nail. As I take another leap backwards to avoid getting my cheek lacerated, I catapult into the Crazy in love board, send it flying, then hit the wall.
I drag in a deep breath, and rub my elbow as I pick up the sign. How did collecting key fobs get this complicated? ‘The carriage was never on offer, Nicole.’ More fool Kip for putting up a picture of Sera’s sister arriving at her Christmas wedding in one. He should know Nicole watches that blog like a hungry sea hawk.
Nicole’s Christian Louboutin platform crashes down on the stone floor of the basement. ‘There’s no point telling me the horse has gone AWOL, because I’ve seen him on Immie’s Instagram posts.’
Which should be another problem entirely. But might turn out to be the crux of the matter. It’s no coincidence that as Immie’s Instagram follower numbers have pulled away from Nicole’s due to her pet posts, Nicole’s becoming more and more insufferable.
‘Snowball’s living up at the farm, and he’s part of the Daisy Hill petting section for now, so he’s definitely not available for carriage work on your wedding day.’ This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve explained this to her in the last week. I don’t bother mentioning that Immie’s getting married at the farm the same day, because I think Nicole’s only too aware of that. ‘And only weeks away from your summer wedding is very short notice to find another available horse and carriage.’ Although, heaven knows, I’ve put in the hours ringing around for what, in reality, would only be a ride from the back of the house to the front.
Nicole’s mouth is a tight line of Chanel Mighty pink. ‘In that case, we’d better talk about the island at Rose Hill Manor instead.’ Once she gets her teeth into something she’s like a Staffie who won’t let go. Except this time – excuse the mixed metaphors – she’s relocated her jaws to a bigger fish altogether.
‘As far as I know, that’s not available for weddings either.’ If my insides feel like someone just sat on them, we all know why.
Nicole’s first smile of the morning is triumphant. As she folds her arms, her bray of a laugh is a mix of scorn and triumph. ‘Well I know differently. That’s damn well advertised as “available for weddings” on the Manor’s new blog too.’
I scurry across to my laptop and as I bring it up on the screen my gulp is large enough to swallow a lantern. ‘Exclusive Island Wedding Night Retreat. You’re completely right, Nicole.’ There’s no escaping the words splashed across the screen. ‘But I don’t think it’s up and running yet.’
In this mood Nicole will argue about anything. ‘It has to be, someone’s already had their picture taken there. Moonlight on the jetty and everything.’ She gives a sniff of triumph. ‘It’s all over Pinterest.’
Worse and worse. I scroll down the screen, and sure enough Kip and I pop into view, all loved up, apparently canoodling on the water’s edge. As I ram my fist in my mouth to stifle my scream, there’s an iron hand closing round my gut. ‘It’ll be a publicity shoot, Nicole, not a real wedding. Rule number one, don’t believe everything you see on the internet. I mean who gets married in a dress like that?’
Nicole leans to peer over my shoulder. ‘What are you talking about, that bride looks amazing.’
Not so much from where I’m standing. ‘No, I definitely reckon they’ve worked wonders with three miles of muslin, and the power of photoshop.’ I’m about to suggest she zooms in, but remember just in time that getting recognised by her would be the last straw. What’s more, I need to look at whatever pictures Kip’s hurled into the world without the distraction of Nicole’s Black Opium cloud all around me.
‘Did someone mention pictures of the island?’ It’s Jess, and her clattering footfalls are echoing as she leaps her way down the stairs. If we needed proof that she has an extra bounce in her step lately, it’s this. Better still, if anyone has the knowledge t
o put Nicole right on this, it’s Jess.
‘What can we tell Nicole about the cabin? I’m not sure she’d like the accommodation for her wedding night, even if it were available.’ Hopefully Jess will pick up on my desperate expression.
As Jess pushes back her uncharacteristically dishevelled bob, she’s definitely breathy. ‘Island life is definitely more for “famous five” types than super-glamourous women like you, Nicole.’
I jump in to back up Jess. ‘It’s very rough and ready, way less upmarket than glamping in a tipi.’ According to Poppy, the issue of the wedding night in a tipi was where Nicole’s differences with Chas first erupted. Which is why it’s ridiculous she should be seizing on this now.
Jess is back in there. ‘Truly Nicole, you’d hate the cabin. The sofa’s threadbare, the bed’s lumpy and the kitchen’s from the dark ages. I promise, you’d expire on the spot if you had to drink morning tea coming from that blackened kettle. You’ll be way happier in your Bridal Suite four poster. Isn’t Kip throwing in a complimentary minibar too?’
Good on Jess for going the extra mile to sound so convincing. Detail like that, you’d almost believe she was talking from experience.
We’re saved from Nicole’s reply when Poppy appears in the doorway.
‘Brilliant, just the woman I’m looking for.’ She’s peeping from behind a stack of cake boxes. ‘I’ve got your hen party cupcake order here, Nicole.’
Nicole dives into her bright orange Gucci bag, and comes out waving her phone. ‘Hold it there, Poppy, I need pictures.’ She takes photos of Poppy and the cake boxes from every possible angle then slips her phone away, and holds up a finger until she’s sure she’s got everyone’s attention. ‘And guess where we’re going for my hen party? We’re only heading off for a weekend at Hadley Hall – Bath’s most totally mega-luxurious spa hotel. I’ll be posting to Instagram minute by minute, if you want to drool.’ Note she didn’t wait to be asked, or pause for our guesses. As for the pictures, stand by your vomit emoticons.
Jess’s eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘So you know where you’re going?’
Nicole wrinkles her nose. ‘Unless there are diamonds involved, surprises are a no-no for me – I’ve organised every delicious minute personally.’ She narrows one eye as she takes the boxes from Poppy. ‘Is Immie having her hen party soon too?’
Nicole never asks about other people, because it’s always all about her. Which is why she has to be fishing here.
I smile. ‘Immie’s is tomorrow. It’s a top-secret destination.’ No way am I giving Nicole the satisfaction of the comparison. To everyone’s shock, the only hen party Immie would consent to was a day trip to the zoo with Poppy, Cate and I, which Cate’s missing because she’s away. I blame bird flu for the unenthusiastic hens. My mum insisted on low key too. Lunch at the Harbourside Hotel, with Jenny and two other friends. They were home by four – in the afternoon, not the morning. Whatever happened to wild fowls?
Nicole’s scowling. ‘Well if that’s the best you can tell me, I’ll leave you to your dreary little lives and head off for my fun.’
Jess ignores that side swipe, and beams instead. ‘Fabulous. We’ll make sure we follow every treatment on Instabook.’ Considering Nicole’s style spend Jess can hardly do anything else. She waves Nicole off up the stairs, then she’s back. ‘Which reminds me, I need you two girls to teach me how to skip.’
Poppy frowns. ‘Have you bought a Fitbit or something?’
I pull a face. ‘Sorry, you’ll have to count me out, I get the rope tangled every time.’
Jess wrinkles her forehead. ‘Not that kind of skipping. I mean the kind you do on your laptop, when you talk to someone far away.’
Suddenly I’m with her. ‘You mean Skyping? To somewhere like …’ I’m taking a wild guess here. ‘… the Caribbean?’ It couldn’t be more obvious.
‘Got it in one, Lily.’ Jess almost looks relieved. ‘Bart’s off again. He’s going to source us a line of silk shirts which will be perfect for beach weddings while he’s there.’
‘You’re trusting the king of crinkle with your groomswear?’ My voice is high with disbelief. I can hardly see Hawaiian brights fitting in at Brides by the Sea.
Jess beams. ‘That’s why I’ll need to check them on screen. It’s good to try new lines, and Bart’s assured me this bargain buy is too good to miss.’ His name is slipping out with a surprising ease and familiarity. But then Jess will always go the extra mile for a great deal.
I open my mouth to warn her about the unreliability of Penryns and their promises. Then I change my mind, and close it again. Let’s face it, some life lessons have to be learned the hard way. And we’re only talking a few shirts, after all.
Poppy puts a hand on Jess’s arm. ‘Come over here, we’ll give you a quick introduction to Skype on Lily’s laptop, then we’ll set yours up later.’ As she taps the keyboard, my screen flickers back to life, showing the Manor’s blog in all its glory. Poppy lets out a long groan. ‘Wedding nights on the island? So soon?’ Her face is chalk pale as she sinks onto the chair. She scrolls down, squinting at the screen. ‘And you still look beautiful, Lily, even if you are wearing a curtain and making out with the opposition.’
‘It must be the camera angle, there was absolutely no snogging going on, I promise you.’ And dammit if I’m coming out in a hot sweat at that thought.
Poppy sighs. ‘Only teasing.’
I pull down the corners of my mouth. ‘As for the rest, there’s no stopping Kip. The damned guy’s super-charged.’
As Poppy hugs her stomach her cheeks have a green tinge. ‘I’m so anxious, I feel sick all the time. Fred’s almost finished the barn now, but every booking the Manor grabs is one less for us.’ She shakes her head. ‘And we don’t stand a chance of getting Wedding Venue of the Year Award now we’re up against this.’
Jess sniffs. ‘Don’t give up yet, Poppy. I might not be able to skip …’
‘Skype!’ Poppy and I chorus.
‘Whatever.’ Jess rolls her eyes. ‘But believe me, I’m working my socks off behind the scenes. It’s classified information. But take it from me, we won’t be letting those damned pirates win without a damned good fight.’
As I look at Poppy, all hunched and miserable, I only hope she’s right. As I turn back to the doorway, and catch sight of my mum my stomach does the same kind of nose dive it used to do when she came into school unexpectedly. Usually to complain. Very loudly.
‘Barbara, how can we help today?’ Jess, tweaking the peonies in jugs on the pink table, jumps in to cover for my dumbstruck silence.
My mum’s abandoned her gym-wear again, and she’s dressed as her old self, in a turquoise silk tunic, covered in red roses the size of flower buckets. ‘Dahling, I was hoping you’d have scented candles. Jenny said bamboo and bergamot are particularly soothing.’
I’m hissing at her. ‘Shit, Mum, this isn’t the supermarket homeware aisle.’ We’ve got a thousand candles, I’m just not sure any are scented.
Jess swoops across to the table drawer. ‘Scented candles to relax our brides? What a fabulous idea. Let’s put those on our order list, Lily.’ She presses two candles in glasses into my mum’s hands. ‘These are some samples, Barbara. Lavender and vanilla. They have excellent calming properties.’
My mum doesn’t pause for breath. ‘And three bottles of Rescue Remedy, please.’
Excuse me while I die of embarrassment. ‘As available in The Wellbeing Store, right next door to Iron Maidens, the cleaners, Mum.’
Jess’s eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Another brides’ necessity for our order list, Lily.’ She dips into another drawer. ‘In the meantime, I’ll let you have one of my own personal emergency bottles, Barbara.’
My mum rattles on. ‘This is what they recommend for brides in a panic?’
Meanwhile, my brain is doing the maths, and my spirits are suddenly soaring. ‘You haven’t had a fight with David?’ Just as I thought time was running out, she’s going to come to her
senses.
As she turns to me her expression is pained. ‘Not that kind of stress, silly.’
My excitement fades. ‘So what’s the trouble?’
From the endless breath she draws in, she’s building to something big here. ‘Your brother Zac’s not coming to the wedding. How awful is that?’ Her face crumples. ‘Oh dear.’ Note she’s reminding me who Zac is.
Given an over-night visit for Dad’s funeral is the most he’s managed in ten years, it’s hardly a surprise he’s running out on her big day.
‘He does practically run the world, Mum. It must be hard for him to get time off at short notice.’ Not that I’d usually make excuses for her golden boy. But there’s more than one down side to rushing into this wedding.
‘But he’s supposed to be giving me away.’ Her voice is almost a wail.
Poppy’s shaking her head. ‘Don’t worry, Barbara, women often do it these days. Lily will be fine to take his place, won’t you?’ Poppy smiles at me.
I give a shrug. ‘I suppose I could.’ If I’m hanging back it’s because I’m very much my mum’s second favourite child. I can see why she’d be upset at the substitution. What’s more, the irony of actually giving her away isn’t lost on me. Due to the embarrassment factor, I’ve been trying to disown her for most of my life. Although now it comes to it, I’m not that happy that it’s David I’ll be passing her on to.
My mum’s fanning herself with her fingers. ‘Wonderful, dahling. Jenny said you’d be perfect for the job. And so you will, as long as you have your hair curly.’
At times I can’t believe where she’s coming from. ‘My what?’
She’s frowning. ‘Well I hardly want to be given away by someone whose hair’s so poker straight we don’t even look like we’re related.’ She turns to Jess. ‘Her curls were always her best asset, even as a toddler. Please tell her she’ll look a thousand times better with waves on the day.’
Waaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Appealing to my boss is below the belt.
‘Great, well that’s settled then.’ Somehow I’m managing to beam at my mum. ‘So if that’s everything, and there’s no charge, shall I see you out?’ Before she gets any worse.
