Nice Day For a White Wedding

by A. L. Michael

  He gave her shoulder a little squeeze, and she tried to remember the last time an adult had hugged her or told her they appreciated her. She could only remember Jez, over these last six months, being kind and grateful and not letting her get pushed out.

  ‘And don’t you forget, young lady,’ Jez said seriously, his eyes twinkling, ‘you don’t bring the storm, you are the storm. And god help anyone who gets in your way.’

  ***

  Surprisingly, Chelsea hadn’t lied. She was exhausted. The skin on her forehead burned and her skin felt overly warm, but the sheets were cool and crisp and when she awoke, it was dark. Kit was standing in the open door to the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and scraped back, the colour of sand.

  ‘How’d you sleep?’ His voice was tentative, checking the tone. He was being careful with her.

  ‘Well,’ she managed an honest smile, ‘I don’t think I realised how tired I was. And the skin around my eyes feels on fire.’

  ‘I put your cream on the nightstand,’ he said hopefully, like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head. I did a good thing, remember I can do good things. Please be happy, please.

  ‘Thanks.’ She sat up, reaching for it and Kit shrugged, going back into the bathroom, turning on the hairdryer.

  Chelsea once read that true love was being able to resist those moments where you knew you could win the argument, the easy wins, the smart one-liners, because you loved that other person more than being right. All she’d felt like these last few days was that she had to win the argument, she had to show him she wasn’t a pushover, but it was starting to feel endless. He was holding out an olive branch, and she should take it. They could discuss their future back home, away from his parents and when she wasn’t being nagged by a constantly stabbing pain in her forehead.

  Chelsea stared at Kit as he dried his hair, the dimple in his back and the scar across his shoulder that he’d got rock climbing in Spain when he was a teenager still evident, the familiarity hitting her suddenly. He looked like home. Surely she could hold out for just two days longer, for this person she loved?

  As if he heard her come to this conclusion, Kit turned off the hairdryer, and walked over to the drawer by the bed.

  ‘I realise I’ve let you down,’ he said solemnly. ‘I said one thing and I backed out on it. Something I’ve never done with you. And maybe I do let my family get too involved, but you can’t use the fact that I’ve never been able to meet your family as a bargaining chip. I’d like to meet them.’

  ‘To prove that you’re better than me?’

  ‘No! To know you! To know all of you, or at least more of you,’ Kit sighed, sitting on the bed next to her. ‘Look, I know things haven’t been good, maybe you don’t like this version of me, but that’s okay, because I just want to be the version of me that’s with you.’

  Chelsea frowned. ‘I don’t know what –’

  Kit held out two boarding passes. ‘Look, booked on a flight to Rome, two days from now. We stay for the wedding, then the next morning we’re gone. We’ll still have just under two weeks, right? We can see Rome and you can pick the next place, and the place after that. I just wanted you to see that I’ve booked it, that I heard you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Chelsea said softly, ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

  Kit placed his hand on hers. ‘We can make it right again, I think we just need to get out of here.’

  Chelsea looked at him, those bright blue eyes that were full of kindness and certainty, that hopeful smile that made him look so much like a kid, and she sighed a little. She loved him.

  ‘We’re going to have to talk though, whilst we’re in Rome, or wherever. About what our future looks like, about where we want to live, and if we want kids, and where we’ll be married. Things we should have talked about a long time ago, maybe.’

  Kit smiled softly, nodding, then looked at the ground. ‘I always got the sense that you never wanted to talk about those things, you never wanted to make those plans with me. I thought maybe you never saw me as permanent.’

  ‘Then why did you propose?’ Chelsea frowned, shaking his hand so he’d look at her.

  ‘Because I really, really wanted to be.’ Kit laughed a little to himself. ‘I thought I could want it enough for the both of us.’

  She couldn’t help but hold him close, breathe in the spicy, clean scent of him and place a kiss on his neck. His strong arms were tight around her, and she felt him shake a little.

  ‘I do want those things with you,’ she whispered into his neck, ‘it was just a scary thing to think about before.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now, it can be less scary, as long as it’s me and you,’ she sighed, closing her eyes, ‘not them, not what they want. Just me and you.’

  They had curled around each other, holding each other close, and slept. Chelsea didn’t think it was possible to be so tired all the time, but she awoke alone, leaving Kit sleeping and walked down the stairs to get some water. She was faced with three pairs of eyes staring at her.

  ‘You can’t wear that, Chelsea, go and get changed into something appropriate,’ Jemima said in a desperate tone, looking at her watch, and Chelsea almost laughed at how parental it was. She’d never heard that phrase, ever.

  ‘I didn’t realise we were –’

  ‘The hen do is tonight, babe!’ Claudia popped her gum and gestured at her own skintight black mini dress and high heels.

  ‘Tatty’s?’ Chelsea frowned. ‘Have you even met her?’

  ‘The darling girl has invited all of us to join them for some cocktails,’ Jemima said in a bored tone.

  ‘The night before her wedding?’ Chelsea said. ‘A bit dangerous.’

  ‘She’s very refined, darling, not everyone needs to drink.’ Jemima separated her eyelashes in the mirror. ‘We’re meeting at the Hotel Grand, so if you could go and get changed into something decent, I would appreciate it. No hoodies or tracksuits.’

  Chelsea turned around to look at Jemima in shock, tilting her head in question. Claudia stifled a giggle and Celia looked at the floor, embarrassed. Had she given something away? Or was it just an offhand comment?

  Chelsea frowned. ‘I really don’t feel like it, actually.’

  Celia stepped forward, her long hair swept back into a complicated French plait, her own black dress hanging from her in that way waif-ish seventeen-year-olds had. ‘Tatty asked for you in particular, she wanted you to feel welcome.’

  ‘Well, that’s one person,’ Chelsea muttered to herself, clomping up the stairs. ‘I could just stay with Kit.’

  ‘The boys are going out to the casino,’ Claudia yelled after her. ‘Come on, babe, it’ll be fun! A few decent cocktails, a few laughs and we’re back in bed before too late!’

  It was not fun, but then, she wasn’t surprised. She’d changed into a short turquoise dress with a longer veil over the top. It swished as she walked, and that was possibly the highlight of the evening. Of course, Tatty was gorgeous and charming, not drinking very much, sitting demurely and smiling widely. She seemed so calm, so ready to be married. Her husband-to-be was a banker. He was older. They were going to honeymoon in Turks and Caicos.

  They sat in the air-conditioned bar of the hotel, possibly the grandest one Chelsea had seen on this holiday, and listened as Delilah, Arabella and Alexandra all talked about their jobs in fashion, their boyfriends who worked in banking and their fabulous, fabulous flats in London and New York. Chelsea heard so much about fashion week, she thought her brain was going to pour out from her ears.

  But it was better than listening as Jemima subtly put her down whilst sadly commenting on how good Tatty and Kit had been, to anyone who would listen.

  ‘I mean, Oxford’s all very well, but you can’t fake class,’ Chelsea heard Jemima across the room, talking to a very bored-looking Arabella. Chelsea stilled, but didn’t look over. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she was brought up on an estate!’

  Chelsea frowned, won
dering what had given her away suddenly. She briefly thought perhaps Alfie or Tegan might have said something, but it just seemed so unlikely. They were the only normal people she’d met.

  Arabella sniffled appropriately, examining her nails. ‘How vile.’

  ‘I know! What’s the wedding going to be, in a Wetherspoons?’

  That at least drew a half-smile from Arabella.

  ‘Hey,’ Tatty smiled at Chelsea, pulling her attention back to her, ‘don’t let her get to you.’

  She was just so beautiful, so gentle. How on earth could Kit have left someone like that? When she had imagined Tatty to be one of those super-driven high society types, who could push him away by pushing him forward, it had seemed plausible. But this woman, this career woman who created fundraisers for charities, she seemed so far from the mini-Jemima that Chelsea had visualised.

  ‘I guess it was easy for her when she thought you were joining the family,’ Chelsea snorted, and paused. ‘Sorry, that was rude. I just mean that she loves you.’

  ‘Yeah, now,’ Tatty laughed, sipping at her Martini. ‘It was easier for me, my dad owns a bunch of hotels and Jemima saw a whole bunch of investments for Bartie’s company and a chance for me to push her darling son up the ladder with my connections.’

  ‘Which you did,’ Chelsea nodded.

  ‘Which I did. It’s a powerful thing, the need to be liked.’ Tatty shook her head at herself. ‘My mum died just before I met Kit. The idea of being part of this family, with this big mum character like Jemima…it was alluring. And when she adores you, well…you’ve seen it.’

  ‘Oh yeah, and it sticks, it seems.’

  ‘It’s…is there an opposite of buyer’s remorse?’ Tatty laughed. ‘But when she was disappointed, oh boy.’

  ‘Jem could dare to be disappointed in the wonderful Tatiana Grand?’ Chelsea grinned, suddenly enjoying herself.

  ‘Oh god, are you kidding? Why wasn’t I prioritising Kit’s career over my own? Why was I wasting my time on those silly fundraisers, when was I going to have children? Which school lists was I on, because I had to be on the list five years before we even had kids. Why did I choose that dress for the engagement party, why hadn’t I picked the black and white picture for the Tatler piece?’ Tatty took a deep breath. ‘You’re not going to live near them once you’re married?’

  ‘Over my dead body. I think Jem will be relieved if we go back to the way life was before, us and them.’

  ‘You will be too, I imagine.’ She laughed, shaking her head before sobering. ‘You’re good for him, you know. He’s a much less selfish person than he used to be.’

  ‘He was selfish?’

  Tatty paused. ‘He was…well, let’s just say, every one of those questions Jemima asked, he was wanting matching answers.’

  ‘She controlled him?’

  ‘He just…he hadn’t ever thought about living a life different to his parents. He was too busy competing with Eric and trying to impress. He seems…happier in himself now. Seems like he’s not trying to impress anyone any more.’

  ‘Certainly not, with a chav from the estate.’ Chelsea downed the last of her Manhattan.

  ‘So they’re true then?’ Tatty raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘The things Jemima’s been saying?’

  ‘Probably,’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘depends what she’s saying.’

  ‘That you grew up on an estate and your father is an arms dealer?’

  Chelsea blinked, shaking her head. ‘What do you think?’

  Tatty looked at her, narrowing her eyes as she considered it. ‘I think you’re a chameleon.’

  Chelsea laughed, looking at the people around them in the bar, sleek and slim in their dark designer dresses, whilst she sat with her blonde hair and bright dress, like a tropical bird in with the ravens.

  ‘You are anything you want to be. You could tell me you’re an heiress from the Netherlands or you were a homeless teen in Scotland and I’d honestly have no idea either way.’ Tatty shrugged. ‘You’re used to being what people want you to be.’

  ‘I’m used to being the person I created,’ Chelsea corrected, ‘in order to get what I want.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Respect? A career? A better life?’

  Tatty smiled at her. ‘We’re not so different, you and I. I may have been born into a family that already had the name, but most days I just want to stand in the middle of a field and shout “fuck” as loudly as possible. Instead, I have to make sure I’m wearing the latest brand of yoga pants and sipping on a green juice that we’re now stocking in the hotels.’

  ‘They created you,’ Chelsea said simply and Tatty nodded.

  ‘But when I’m with him, I get to be me. And I feel like I can breathe again.’

  Tatty smiled at her, the open, honest smile of a woman happy and secure in her love.

  ‘I’m really glad I met you, you know,’ Chelsea laughed, ‘I think the idea of you might have haunted me forever, otherwise.’

  ‘Back at you.’ Tatty raised her glass. ‘And the added benefit is I don’t have to have that as a mother-in-law.’

  Tatty nodded to Jemima, drunkenly gesturing with her nearly empty glass of wine, yelling loudly at Arabella, who frowned in distaste.

  Jemima screeched dramatically, ‘What if my grandchildren are named after the places they’re conceived? Poor Bartie’s political career will be over before it’s begun!’

  Chelsea stood up, turning to face her future mother-in-law, drink in hand. ‘Do you think maybe having no subtlety and spreading rumours might be more of a problem? Especially about someone who’s going to be part of your family, whilst they’re sitting right in front of you? Doesn’t make you look classy, Jem.’

  ‘You won’t make it down the aisle, darling, Kit will come to his senses before then,’ Jemima snorted. ‘You’re just one of his little projects in his effort to seem like a good guy. Working to help those poor people, dating a girl below his standing, it’s a phase.’

  Chelsea snorted,.‘Jem, you ever think maybe Bartie won’t get far in politics because you’re not very good at being demure? Maybe because people think you’re a bitch?’

  Jemima’s eyes were round and bulging, a vein in her temple throbbing angrily.

  ‘Well, just what I’d expect from a chav!’ she said triumphantly.

  Chelsea laughed, shaking her head. ‘I’ll show you a chav if you want, Jems. I mean, you think the rich are above getting shanked?’

  Jemima gasped. ‘You would dare to threaten me? In public! You heard it!’ she yelled at the women around them. ‘You all heard her threaten to…to… .shank me!’

  Tatty looked at Jemima disparagingly, and the people in the bar all followed suit.

  Suddenly, her phone rang, and Chelsea strode off to take the call outside, standing by the lit pool as she saw Ty’s name flash up on the screen. Please don’t let it be Kieran…

  ‘Hello?’

  Her brother’s voice sounded desperate, ‘Chels, is that you? I can’t hear you –’

  ‘Ty? You there?’

  The line was crackling and she moved around like a moron, as if hopping around the pool at odd angles would give her a better signal.

  ‘Ty, can you hear me now?’

  ‘Chels, fuck, it’s all gone shit. Proper shit –’

  Her brother sounded panicked and she suddenly imagined all the things that could have gone wrong.

  ‘Is it the apprenticeship? You can get something else, don’t worry, they’re hard to get and –’

  ‘It’s not the bloody apprenticeship, for fuck’s sake!’ Tyler sounded incredulous, and she could hear the panic taking over. ‘I’ve done something stupid and now Dad says –’

  ‘Dad? He’s there? Why? I told you he was bad news, but you wanted him to be around! What’s he done now?’

  ‘It’s not his fault –’

  ‘Of course, it’s never his fault, is it? It’s just a case of bad luck and he’s always the good guy who miraculously gets
struck by lightning,’ Chelsea snorted. ‘You’re so desperate to have a dad around you don’t care that he’s crap, and if you carry on letting him hang around, you’ll end up back in prison with him.’

  Tyler was quiet, and Chelsea wasn’t sure if the line had suddenly gone dead.

  ‘Ty, Ty? You there?’

  ‘Fuck you, Chels,’ Tyler said viciously, tears hovering at the edge of his voice, sounding so much like he had as a kid when she’d hurt his feelings or wouldn’t let him play with her toys, ‘you don’t give a shit about us anyway. Go back to your perfect life.’

  ‘Wait, Ty, I’m –’

  He hung up, and Chelsea stared at the phone in desperation. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone off on him, but he had to learn that Kieran was trouble, that he only ever caused destruction. That the old man was stuck in a cycle that he wasn’t smart enough to end.

  She felt a tap on the shoulder, and Celia stood there with a grin on her face. ‘Mother just said you tried to shank her.’

  ‘Does she know what “shank” even means?’ Chelsea took the drink and laughed.

  ‘I’ve just explained it to her. She now thinks you’re out to murder her and is drinking herself into an embarrassing stupor. I’m taking her home before she makes an even bigger scene.’

  Chelsea paused, looking at the young girl, so adept at dealing with the ridiculousness of the adults around her, when she was still only really a child herself. She’d survived Bartie and Jem, even with Kit and Eric off in the world. And yet when she’d left home, her brother hadn’t fared nearly as well. A pang of guilt hit her stomach, and she hoped it was just the vodka.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Chelsea said suddenly, reaching for the young girl’s hand, ‘I seem to have messed everything up the minute I arrived.’

  Celia shook her head, squeezing Chelsea’s hand. ‘Things were messed up before, and they’ll be messed up once you guys go back to your nice, normal life. And soon enough I get to leave and let them get on with their craziness.’

  She started to walk away and then turned and laughed. ‘You know, you’ve lasted longer than any other girlfriends either of my brothers has had. Usually they’re telling Jemima to jump off a bridge within three days. Tatty would very sweetly make work excuses or say she had to check on the hotel for her dad. Or they left and never came back.’