A Beautiful Day for a Wedding

by Charlotte Butterfield

  A little chuckle escaped from Eve as she selected all the copy she’d just written and deleted it before writing the real reply.

  Hi Jackie,

  As a hater of heels myself, I sympathise with your sister-in-law, but it’s a tricky one, and I see it from both sides. I would have a chat to your photographer beforehand so they are aware of it, and they can choreograph shots where you’re all standing on steps, or an incline, or even sat down. I promise you it’s not going to be a problem.

  Eve xx

  Hi Eve,

  You’re my last hope! My parents got divorced a few years ago, and my dad says that if my mum brings her new boyfriend to the wedding, he’s going to smash his face in. Should I risk it?’

  Polly, Leeds

  Hi Polly,

  Families eh? Most weddings have some sort of family drama lurking in the background, and in your case, it’s totally understandable that you’re so anxious about it. Pick a quiet moment in the run up to the wedding to explain your concerns to your mum, and see if her new toyboy lover that she’s purely bringing to make your dad jealous has to come. Likewise, speak to your dad and remind him that it’s your day, and he’s being a selfish arse if he insists on being the Hulk about it all.

  Eve deleted the last two sentences. She didn’t even know she was doing it now, it just slipped out. Note to self, stay in character. Your role is to relieve agony, not add to it.

  … It’s your day and it would mean a lot if your dad could put his grievances to one side for the day. If both do come, jiggle the seating plan around so the two men are not in each other’s direct eyeline, and appoint a few people in your inside circle to make sure the two men’s paths don’t meet. But relax, very few weddings end in bloodshed and criminal records.

  Delete. But relax, and enjoy your day.

  Eve checked her watch, it was nearly lunchtime, and as Becca was working at the school all day, Eve had to nip back to Tanya’s flat to let Coco out. If she was quick she could take her round the block, grab a sandwich and be back for the two o’clock meeting. Tanya owed her big time for this.

  ***

  The door to Tanya’s apartment wasn’t double locked, and as she and Becca had left at the same time that morning, Eve knew it had been. Gingerly pushing the door open, the noise of the TV was the first thing Eve heard. She’d read about burglars taking their time over a heist, even stopping for a while to try on clothes and enjoy a beer from the fridge, but to halt a robbery to catch up on the news? That seemed unlikely. Maybe Tanya and Luke had a big bust up and had called time on their Zanzibar honeymoon early?

  ‘Hello?’

  A pair of men’s shoes lay discarded by the door. They looked too big to be Luke’s as he had comically small feet – she knew that after checking every shoe for more of Coco’s ‘presents’ – but equally, why would an intruder worry about making marks on the floor?

  ‘Hey Red.’

  Eve froze. Why on earth was Ben here?

  As if he’d read her mind, or more likely interpreted her horrified expression correctly, he added, ‘The presents from their gift list are being delivered this morning, Luke called me and asked me to come as I have a spare key. He did try to call you and Becca but both your phones are switched off.’

  ‘She’s at school and I haven’t turned my phone back on after a meeting I just had.’ Not that she needed to explain anything to him.

  Ben shrugged. ‘It’s no skin off my nose, I wasn’t doing anything anyway, and their TV is bigger than mine.’

  ‘Knock yourself out. I just came back to walk Coco.’

  ‘Already done. The delivery isn’t scheduled until between one and four and I got here early, so I took her out.’

  This was the point in the conversation where she should thank him. Instead she said, ‘So I had a wasted trip.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  God, that man was annoying. What had she ever seen in him?

  The doorbell chimed, and they both moved to the intercom at the same time. Eve stepped in front of Ben and picked up the phone, buzzing the delivery man in. An endless stream of boxes of various sizes were carried in and unceremoniously dumped in the living room. Eve signed the paperwork and then they were left in peace, both staring at what could quite easily be the contents of a whole house.

  ‘Bloody hell. That’s a lot of presents.’ Ben whistled.

  ‘Didn’t you see their gift list? It went on for sixteen pages.’

  ‘No, I always chuck those away. Better to give a gift from the heart.’

  ‘So what did you get them then?’

  ‘A traditional Maori mask.’

  ‘Which will really go with their current design scheme,’ Eve said sarcastically, opening her arms wide to highlight the flat’s gleaming white and steel décor.

  ‘Ok then, what did you get them?’

  ‘A wine oxygenator, it was on their registry.’

  Ben sniggered. ‘An oxygenator? What the hell’s an oxygenator?’

  Eve didn’t want to admit that she had to Google it before she’d bought it, so quickly replied, ‘It adds flavour to wines by mixing air into it.’ She stopped herself from childishly adding ‘Duh’ to the end of the sentence, but it hung there unsaid in the air nevertheless.

  ‘Silly me, of course. So what else was on this list apart from the incredibly useful oxygenator?’

  ‘You know, the usual, a caviar serving set, crystal chess set, matching monogrammed velvet slippers, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh, good, all the essentials then.’

  Eve bit her bottom lip so that she didn’t smile. ‘To be honest, I stopped reading after the first half a page.’

  ‘Once you’d spotted the oxygenator.’

  ‘Once I’d spotted the oxygenator. I hit perfection early on, and didn’t think it was worth looking for anything else.’

  ‘I can see why you’d do that. God, after this chat, I want my own oxygenator.’

  Ben’s eyes then started to take on a familiar mischievous twinkle that Eve knew so well. ‘We could always open a few of the boxes, see what else is in them and then seal them up again?’

  ‘Ben Hepworth! Have you met Tanya? She would literally eat your balls for breakfast.’

  ‘She’d never know, come on, let’s just take a peek.’

  ‘I want nothing to do with this.’ Eve folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘Yes you do. You’re as curious as I am to see what’s lurking inside these boxes. Come on, Red.’

  ‘You’re on your own.’

  Ben took his car keys out of his pocket and deftly drew a line with them down the sticky tape holding the side of the box together. ‘I’ll open it on the side, not the top, so she’ll never know.’

  Eve covered her face with her hands. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’

  ‘And hey presto. Will you look at that, we have an electric towel warmer ladies and gentlemen.’

  Eve peeked through her fingers. It was indeed an electric towel warmer.

  ‘Next up, we have a monogrammed steak branding iron for putting Luke’s initials on his meat. Now that’s ingenious.’

  Eve shook her head. She really should put a stop to this, it could only end badly.

  ‘Wow, a cherry pitter. That is a very useful piece of kit right there. Who likes pitting their own cherries? Not me.’

  ‘Ben, stop it, seal it back up.’

  ‘Come on Red, get into the spirit of this.’ He threw her his keys. ‘Open that one next to you.’

  ‘One more,’ Eve said holding up her index finger in the air. ‘And not because you told me to, but because I genuinely want to find something to beat the cherry pitter.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  Eve froze. It was a turn of phrase, she knew it was. But Ben had suddenly realised what he’d said too and they were trapped in an awkward impasse where the laughter of a few seconds before had been completely shattered.

  Ben coughed, breaking the silence. ‘Um, I brought som
e lunch with me, there’s enough for two if you want a quick bite before heading back to work?’

  There was nothing she would like less than to have lunch with his smug face, smugly chewing his smug panini. But then he said, ‘You work for a wedding magazine, don’t you? I’d like to pick your brains about Amit’s stag do if you’ve got a minute?’

  Gift horse. Mouth.

  ‘Sure. But I can only stay for a few more minutes.’ Eve hoisted herself up on one of the kitchen stools and tore the sandwich in half.

  ‘Well, we’re staying in London, and going paintballing in the afternoon – we’re going to do the usual thing of making Amit the target for us all. Then we’re out in Covent Garden at night, I’ve booked Rocatillos, but we want to do something else fun. Ayesha has already said that all his body hair has to remain intact on pain of death, and Amit’s refusing to come if he has to wear a dress or cape, or something called a mankini, which I had to Google. I really hope my internet history never falls into the wrong hands.’ Eve forgot herself for a moment and smiled, then promptly hated herself for it.

  ‘All the pranks online seem a bit too hardcore, I don’t want to hoist him up a lamppost and gaffer tape him, and in the current political climate kidnapping him with balaclavas might get us all tasered, so I’ve drawn a bit of a blank.’

  This was perfect. Beyond perfect. This was blinkin’ awesome. ‘How about you force him to busk to pay for his share of the meal?’ Eve suggested. ‘You could steal his phone, wallet, cards, travel card, so he has no way to get home or pay for the night, and you’re in Covent Garden anyway, so you could come already prepared with a tambourine or something equally hilarious. Give it to him with a cap to collect donations in, and stand there and watch him make a fool of himself.’

  Ben laughed. He had the same laugh as he used to. But then he would, wouldn’t he? Laughs don’t suddenly change with age.

  ‘That is genius. I love it. Thanks Red.’

  He had to stop calling her that because every time he did a little frisson of something, she didn’t quite know what it was, ran through her. ‘You’re welcome. Now, I really must go. Have fun at the weekend.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Eve thought as she closed the door to the flat behind her and took her phone out of her bag.

  ‘Amit? It’s Eve. Look, this didn’t come from me, but I’ve had a tip off about your stag do that I think you ought to know about so you can form a counter attack…’

  Apart from the odd scratchcard, possibly a lottery ticket on a rollover week, and maybe a horse at the Grand National if it has a name the same as me, I’m not a betting woman. But right here, right now, I’m willing to put one of the new scrunchy ten-pound notes on the fact that you own a kettle. And another ten quid on the presence of a toaster on your worktop. And another fine orange specimen of the Queen’s legal tender on the fact that you don’t actually need another kettle or toaster, the ones you have do the job just fine thank you very much. So I get the fact that when you’re getting married, you want to minimise the risk of being handed a new kettle or toaster in white wrapping paper with embossed silver bells on it. I also understand that there is a limit to how many champagne flutes one couple needs, and the same goes for vases, silver photo frames and cheeseboards. So what’s the solution? Well, brides and grooms up and down the land have thought that the answer lies in having a gift list. A registry. A wishlist. A We-don’t-trust-our-friends-and-family-to-come-up-with-a-nice-present-so-we’re-telling-you-what-we-want List. And quite often, these are comedy gold. Tibetan Singing Bowls? I’d like three please. Hot Sauce Making Kit? Nothing bonds newlyweds together more than taking turns in the same toilet. An electronic egg-minder. Yes, this is a real thing, and if you don’t already own one, then quite frankly I despair. This little gem keeps tabs on how many eggs are left in your fridge and sends an alert to your smart phone when they’re nearing their expiry date or you’re running low. Because using your eyes to stock take just isn’t enough, and we all know how annoying it is to check the date on things. Think of all the time you’ve wasted over the years reading expiry dates; entire seconds of your life that you’ll never get back. Monogrammed items are also enjoying their time in the spotlight. After all, a couple can’t profess to be properly in love unless their initials are entwined on matching dressing gowns. So next time you’re invited to a wedding, don’t go off-piste and assume the happy couple need a new vase, they don’t. What they really need is a Tibetan Singing Bowl. Three if you’re feeling generous.

  Chapter 11

  All that was left of the bhajis, samosas and pakoras were crumbs, an indication that the ten hens were all much better at mastering Indian starters than they had first thought. Admittedly, most of Ayesha’s attempts had ended up in the bin, but her mum, Asha, had stepped in and tripled her own output, ensuring the platter in the middle of their dining table was towering with spicy pastries. It was such a fun afternoon, and even Tanya, fresh from her honeymoon, seemed so much more relaxed than usual. Eve had managed to put the flavour of the entertainment to come out of her mind, until the doorbell to the loft apartment rang and a vision of turquoise stood in the doorway.

  ‘I’ll say one thing for her, she’s not afraid of a bit of colour,’ Eve whispered to Becca.

  ‘Shhhh.’

  Ayesha was ushering Violet in, introducing her to everyone, and showering her with compliments that Violet smilingly batted away with a wave. The other hens were jumping up and eagerly taking turns to shake her hand, but Eve hung back until Violet’s eyes rested on her. ‘Hello again,’ Eve said. She might be cynical about Violet’s fortune-telling credentials but Violet was a sweet old lady.

  They’d pushed the four pure white sofas into a square, with Violet sitting in an upright armchair between two of them. She turned down the offer of tea, and joined the hens in drinking Pimms, which she was eagerly slurping through a penis-shaped straw.

  Ayesha was the first to speak. ’So how does this work?’

  ‘I just need a moment of quiet to invite the spirits to talk to me, and then I’ll start passing on their messages.’ Violet closed her eyes, her palms upturned in her lap. The room fell silent. It wouldn’t have surprised anyone if the candles had started to flicker, or the curtains had billowed in the double height windows. Eve suppressed the nervous giggles that were itching her throat, and turned them into a small cough instead. Nine other pairs of eyes gave her death stares.

  Violet’s eyes sprang open and turned her head to her right, looking directly at Asha. ‘I can see you surrounded by family and friends soon, giving you lots of love and best wishes.’ Eve tried so hard not to roll her eyes, as Asha was a good three decades older than everyone else there, and the only other Indian lady, it was pretty obvious she was related to Ayesha, and at weddings people rarely threw rotten fruit at the bride’s mother.

  ‘Wear the pink sari, not the other one you’re thinking of,’ Violet advised. In view of her sartorial choice at Tanya’s wedding it wasn’t a massive coincidence that she was saying this.

  ‘And the spirits are saying biscuits, what’s this?’

  ‘I do like biscuits,’ Asha admitted.

  Eve raised her eyes to the sky.

  Violet’s gaze travelled around the room before stopping at Ayesha’s pregnant colleague Trudy. ‘You will need to repaint the room you’ve just painted in a different colour.’

  Trudy gasped, and put one hadn’t on her swollen belly. ‘You mean it’s not a boy?’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  Hang on a second, Eve thought, it was all very well telling someone that they like biscuits but you couldn’t just make proclamations about the gender of a baby.

  ‘Who is married to Mike, or Mick?’

  A small blonde woman who had been nervously sat on her hands slowly raised one of them.

  ‘He’s never going to stop leaving his bike in the hallway, so you’re wasting your breath nagging him about it.’

&nb
sp; A twitter of laughter ran around the room. ‘That’s so true!’ The woman gaped at Violet. ‘How did you know?’

  Violet just smiled and closed her eyes again. ‘Come on spirits, keep coming through. Ok, Samantha? I have your father here, he’s telling you to read through the contracts you’re about to sign very carefully.’

  This was ridiculous, Eve thought, anyone should heed that advice. Until Violet came up with something impressively concrete, she was right to be sceptical.

  ‘There is a clause in there that needs to be removed.’

  ‘My dad was a solicitor,’ Samantha explained to the group, almost apologetically. ‘And I’m starting a new job.’ Lucky guess Violet, Eve thought.

  ‘I think the next message is for you dear,’ Violet said to Becca. ‘Your grandfather is suggesting you have hay bales instead of chairs, does that make sense? You’re in a field, he’s saying, no point lugging furniture through the stiles, use hay bales. He also says that he approves of your man, “thoroughly good egg” he’s saying.’

  Becca let go of Eve’s hand that she’d been cutting the blood supply from to wipe away her tears that were running down her face. Tanya’s turn was next. She was told that she needed to slow down, breathe, and enjoy her blessings. As Violet was Luke’s great-aunt and had no doubt witnessed some of Tanya’s pre-wedding histrionics firsthand, it wasn’t as prophetic as it sounded to an uninvolved onlooker.

  ‘I have a spirit here saying “lampposts, lampposts” – does that mean anything to anyone? No? No one?’

  Eve glanced around the room at all the raptured faces hanging onto every one of Violet’s words as if they were dripping with gold.

  ‘Eve?’

  Eve looked up from where she’d been stabbing her own phallic straw into bits of cucumber floating in her drink and met Violet’s gaze. ‘Who’s Clive?’

  ‘Clive?’

  Everyone was waiting patiently for her to reply, but Eve had no idea who she was talking about. ‘I don’t know a Clive.’ Saying the name out twice made her rethink. ‘The doorman to my office is called Clive, but I don’t really know him.’