A Beautiful Day for a Wedding

by Charlotte Butterfield

  Are you still awake? x Eve typed into WhatsApp as she power walked to the tube station.

  Adam replied straight away. It’s half past eight. We’re not seven. x

  Sorry, after the evening I’ve had, one hour has felt like seven. x

  We’re out at a friend’s 40th, at Gypsy Bar, come and join x

  Mine’s a double g&t. With lime. X

  The bar was packed with gay men – unsurprising seeing as it was a gay man’s birthday and it was being held in a gay bar. The bouncers tried to tell her that she was in the wrong place until Adam spotted her through the window, banged on it and gave the bouncers a thumbs up.

  She gratefully accepted the tall glass of restorative gin and started regaling Adam and George with tales of her night.

  ‘So you only said yes to meeting him because his name fitted the prediction?’ Adam asked. ‘That doesn’t sound like you. This clairvoyant must have been pretty convincing.’

  Eve put her head to one side, thinking about her brother’s question. ‘I was entirely unconvinced to be honest, but the things she said to everyone else are coming true, so I wondered if I was being a bit too quick to ignore my own reading. Turns out I wasn’t and should have listened to my head.’

  George, her brother’s fiancé, jumped in quickly. ‘But this army guy isn’t the only B in the world though, is he? We know two Balthazars and a Broderick.’

  ‘Do any of them like women?’ Eve asked smiling.

  ‘Only their mothers and sisters,’ Adam replied laughing. ‘But George is right, just because one B-man isn’t right, ping that bell and move onto the next one.’

  ‘It’s a pity that phone books are listed alphabetically by surnames and not Christian names, it would have made my task a bit easier.’ Eve lamented. It couldn’t hurt to keep her ear to the ground for a single man whose name began with B, at least it narrowed down the pool of potential love interests, and Violet had been proved right for most of the others. Just then, surrounded by mirth, merriment and over a hundred homosexual men, Eve decided her mother was right, and that the hunt for the perfect B was on. What could she lose? Apart from her self-respect, but that was hanging by a thread at this point anyway.

  Chapter 15

  Tanya’s tone of voice should have been an indication of quite how ludicrous Eve was being. Completely out of character for Tanya, she had tried to be tactful in replying to Eve’s question about whether pogo-stick marathon jumping vegan Bernie was single, saying that she wasn’t sure quite how compatible Eve and he might be, yet Eve was insistent on getting his number.

  ‘We really hit it off at the wedding,’ Eve heard herself say to Tanya. It wasn’t a complete lie, she felt they had bonded over her excessive caffeine consumption, and now that she’d managed to jog round the 1km track at the park with Juan without stopping, completing a marathon on a pogo stick wasn’t too preposterous a leap to make.

  ‘I’m sure he’d love to hear from you,’ Tanya lied smoothly. ‘I can’t see it myself, but you know, opposites do attract.’

  Eve could see what Tanya was getting at. On the face of it, she and Bernie didn’t have a lot in common: he ate lentils, she had just inhaled a hangover-remedy burger; he carried Tupperware boxes around with him with prepared organic snacks, she had the numbers of five different takeaway restaurants programmed into speed-dial; he travelled on a pogo-stick, she couldn’t balance on a bike. But these were trivial differences, easily overcome by animal attraction and love. Did she fancy him? Truth be told, she couldn’t really remember what he looked like. Dark-haired she thought, clean-shaven, possibly, but it was good that she wasn’t instantly in lust with him. It would mean that their relationship would be based on something much more meaningful and long-lasting.

  I don’t think so was his curt reply, to Eve’s upbeat message saying: hello, remember me? Fancy meeting up sometime? Undeterred – after all, no one ever said that love was an easy ride – Eve pressed on. You don’t think you remember me, or you don’t think you’d like to meet up? E

  Sorry, you seem a nice girl, just don’t think we’d have much to talk about. B

  I’m training for a marathon. E

  What? What are you writing, you ridiculous woman. Step away from the keypad, put the phone down and slap yourself a few times. She had no idea why she was being so forward, or persistent, or dishonest. She didn’t even like the bloke, he just happened to have the right name. Was she going to be like this with every B? What’s that? You only wear black, sleep upside down hanging from trees and don’t like the smell of garlic? That sounds right up my street, when can we have dinner? Adam was right, there were plenty more Bs in the sea, and one of them might actually have a shared hobby and a sense of humour. She just had to find him first.

  ***

  It had been a week since Eve’s columns on being single and hen parties for Venus had gone live on its website, and it seemed that she’d tapped into a common feeling that had women up and down the country nodding along with her. Becca had asked her as they’d walked to the restaurant together the night before if Eve had read the latest one as it was so funny that so many of the things they had talked about were in the article. Eve pretended that it was the first she’d heard about it, but would definitely look it up when she got the chance. ‘I hope Ayesha doesn’t read it,’ Becca had said. ‘It slags off séances on hen dos, and she might get the hump.’

  Eve had stayed quiet. The last thing she’d want to do would be to upset her best friends, but on the other hand they were unwittingly providing rich comic material for her columns. There was no way they could link her as the author of them though, so they couldn’t possibly take the content personally.

  Thinking about Becca’s reference to Ayesha made Eve realise that she hadn’t spoken to her in a few days, and with her wedding just six days away, her nerves were probably standing on end. She thought she’d give her a quick call and see if there was anything she could help with. Typing in her number, Eve completely ignored the underlying guilt that had prompted her to pick up the phone and offer her services.

  Ayesha answered on the first ring, breathless and speaking at double the speed she usually did. ‘Eve! Thank goodness you called! The supplier I got the emeralds from have sent me rubies!’

  Eve’s brow furrowed. ‘You’re not making any sense Ayesha, what emeralds?’

  ‘I ordered two hundred plastic emeralds to tie to the card for each place name, as in the emerald city, as in where Oz lives, but they’ve sent me red plastic gems instead!’

  ‘But didn’t Dorothy wear ruby slippers?’

  ‘Oh my God, you’re right. Oh Eve, this is brilliant. Oh thank God. I’ve been so stressed about it.’

  ‘Well, you can relax now,’ Eve said. ‘I was just calling to see if there’s anything else you need help with?’

  ‘We can’t get the flamingoes to stand up properly, the grass is really uneven, and they keep falling over.’

  ‘Oh, so you went with flamingoes in the end?’

  ‘Yes, I love them.’ Ayesha’s tone suddenly changed. ‘Why, do you think they’re stupid?’

  Tread carefully, Eve thought to herself. Ayesha had clearly been injected with the same week-before-wedding brain-altering, anxiety-inducing hormone imbalance mandatory for all brides. ‘No, I love flamingoes,’ Eve replied hurriedly. ‘I just didn’t know that you’d definitely gone for them, that’s awesome. Well, you could either weigh each down with a big stone, or maybe move them to the pathway so they’re lining the pavement, so as each guest walks along it from the garden where they’re having drinks to the reception, they can pass by the flamingos. Would be good for photo ops too, can’t imagine too many people would turn down the chance to get snapped next to a flamingo with their name on it.’

  ‘Yes! That’s a great idea. Ok, good, now I just need to sort out the DJ, we’re having a bit of a nightmare with him.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong? Anything I can help with?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit delicate
. He and his girlfriend were the DJ team, working together, but she’s just left him, so he’s doing it by himself. He’s really depressed, and when he sent us the playlist he was intending on playing, there’s a lot of songs like Since U Been Gone and not very many You Make Me Feel Like Dancing. If you get what I mean.’

  ‘So you’re worried he’s going to break into a blues style “My baby just left me, duh duh duh duh duh, don’t know what to do, duh duh duh duh duh, drunk a bottle of whiskey, duh duh duh duh duh.”’

  ‘A little bit.’

  ‘Ok, here’s what you do. Don’t leave anything to chance, send him a playlist. I can put one together if you like, full of upbeat, dance floor fillers. Tell him to stick rigidly to it. Tell him there will be no need to MC anything, if there needs to be any announcements then I can do it, or Becca, or—’ Eve’s voice faltered slightly ‘—Ben, can do it. And on the night, I’ll set up camp near his booth so that I can jump in if needed, wrestle the mic from him, and put on Come on Eileen. Ok?’

  ‘That would be amazing.’ There was a pause in which Eve could sense that Ayesha was practising her next sentence in her head before saying it out loud. ‘Um,’ Ayesha started. ‘Um, and would it be ok, please say if it’s not, but it would be amazing if you could, um, go with Ben the morning of the wedding to pick up the cake? The thing is that he can’t go by himself as someone will need to hold it as he drives. I said to Amit that it might be weird for you, but apparently Ben’s told him that there’s nothing between you guys, and I know you’ve said the same, so I wondered whether it would be ok?’

  Eve could hardly say no after that, however much the thought of being sat inches away from him in the car made her feel physically sick.

  ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing.’

  A little wearily, Eve replied, ‘Hit me with it.’ She should be used to never-ending to-do lists from her friends by now.

  ‘Do you know where Becca is getting her hay bales from?’

  That was unexpected. ‘Um, no, why?’

  ‘I need to stuff the scarecrow that’s going to stand at the gate to the hotel.’

  Eve pressed her lips together as hard as they could go without drawing blood. ‘Maybe a pet shop might be your best bet,’ she managed to squeak before putting the phone down and resting her forehead down on the cool wood of her desk.

  ***

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey.’

  Ben stopped leaning against the bonnet of his car and went to the passenger side to open the door for Eve. She ignored him and went straight to the boot to put the white bag containing her bridesmaid dress on top of the suit carrier holding his wedding outfit.

  ‘Do you know where this place is?’ Ben asked.

  ‘No, do you?’

  ‘Somewhere in Wandsworth, Ayesha said, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.’

  ‘It’d be better if we had an address.’

  ‘How many shops in Wandsworth are called Cute Cakes?’

  ‘Fine, let’s just go.’ Eve slammed her door and buckled up, turning her body slightly away from him towards the window. She hated being this close to him. The sooner they picked up the cake and made it to the wedding venue, the better. Wandsworth was only a ten-minute car journey, and then the hotel was half an hour away, surely they could get by with minimal interaction for the next forty minutes, they’d managed alright for the last four years.

  It didn’t seem that Ben shared the same idea though, and as he pulled away from the kerb outside Eve’s flat he cheerfully asked, ‘So, how’s your week been?’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘Any stand out moments?’

  ‘Not really. It was just a week.’

  ‘There must have been something to make you laugh in it.’

  ‘Plenty. But none that I can recall now.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like you, you used to have loads of chat about your day.’

  ‘That was then, wasn’t it? A lot’s changed since then.’

  Ben looked in his rear-view mirror. ‘Ok, so we’re playing it like that, are we?’

  ‘I’m not playing it like anything Ben. Can we just concentrate on finding this cake shop?’

  ‘Well, that’s me told.’ Ben idly flicked the radio into action and turned it up.

  As it turned out, Wandsworth wasn’t as small as Google maps suggested it was, and forty-five minutes later they still hadn’t found the shop.

  ‘Can you just call Ayesha and ask where it is?’ Ben asked, signaling right down a one-way street to a barrage of horns.

  ‘I’m not calling her on her wedding day to tell her that you can’t find her cake.’

  ‘Me? We’re in this together, Red.’

  ‘We are not in this together, Ben, I’m here as the cake holder, you’re the driver, therefore the navigator.’

  ‘Who made that rule?’

  ‘It’s the law of driving, the one with the steering wheel in their hands is in charge of the route.’

  ‘The division of labour in that scenario seems very weighted in one direction. Hardly seems fair. Have we been down this road before?’

  ‘Literally or metaphorically?’

  ‘I’m going to ignore your passive aggressiveness, and put it down to wedding nerves.’

  ‘I’m not nervous.’

  ‘Not even about my speech?’

  ‘Ben, stop talking, and just find the place. Turn left here, we haven’t been down that way yet.’

  Tucked in between an auto repair garage and a bicycle shop was a tiny two up, two down with a little purple sign saying Cute Cakes. Ben’s car skidded to a rapid halt. ‘For Christ’s sake don’t pull a move like that when I’ve got the cake on my lap.’ Eve rounded on him angrily.

  ‘Er, Red, I think that’s the least of our worries.’ Ben pointed to the doorstep of the shop, where four white boxes had evidently once been stacked up, but the top three smaller boxes were on their sides, being pawed at by street cats.

  ‘Shit!’ Eve ran round the front of the car, shooing the cats away. A note was tacked to the top of one of the mangled boxes. I waited nearly an hour for you to arrive, but had to leave to drop off another cake, here are Ayesha’s cakes, the larger one goes on the bottom, and the Emerald City is on the top. Best, Linda.

  Eve squatted down on the pathway, and gingerly opened the boxes one by one, terrified at what sight she was going to be greeted with. Ben knelt down beside her.

  ‘Ok, so this big one is fine, thank God.’ Eve then reached for one of the boxes lying on its side, hearing its contents give a dissatisfying thud as she carefully turned it back the right way up. The medium-sized cake had crumbled on one side, and the icing was smudged all over the inside of the box. The top tier, the smallest cake had fared even worse, displaying some feline-sized teeth marks and muddy paw prints.

  ‘Shit. Shit.’

  ‘This is not good,’ Ben added unnecessarily.

  ‘If that’s the top cake, what’s in that one?’ Eve said, reaching for the smallest box that had rolled to one side of the path.

  Unbelievably, the cake topper, the illustrious Emerald City was intact, save for one broken turret.

  ‘Please tell me you have a plan, Red.’

  Eve was still sitting on her heels, Ben crouching next to her. ‘Ssh, I’m trying to form one.’

  ‘Can you think quicker?’

  ‘Can you just be quiet for two minutes? Or is that impossible for you?’

  ‘I’m just saying, we’re on a tight schedule here.’

  ‘And I’m just saying, shut the hell up, and let me come up with an idea that saves the cake and both our asses.’

  ‘O-kay. I’ll take this big box back to the car, and that ugly green castle thing.’

  ‘It’s the Emerald City.’

  ‘Course it is. What every self-respecting wedding cake needs on top of it.’

  A minute or so later Eve stood up, picked up the two battered boxes and hurried back to the car. ‘Ok,’ she said, through Ben’s open driver’s win
dow. ‘I think I have a plan. Asda’s just down the road, and they do pre-iced cakes. Let’s go there, get a couple of them, then use some of the decorations we can salvage to tart them up a bit. We’ll stick them on top of this big one, and hopefully no one will know.’

  ‘I love your optimism.’

  The fact Ben had just said a sentence containing the words ‘I love your’ hadn’t escaped Eve. Not one little bit.

  ‘Just drive to the supermarket, quickly, but not over any bumps.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ***

  ‘It could be worse. We could be coming as tin men,’ Eve said pragmatically, as Becca winced at her reflection in the hotel’s three-quarter length mirror. The bridesmaid dresses Ayesha had picked out for them were white with vibrant oversized red poppies printed on them in honour of the opium field Dorothy and her friends ran through to get to the Emerald City. A flower was placed conveniently, and a little crudely, Eve thought, over each breast, making her self-conscious enough to want to keep her arms folded at all times, which made holding a bouquet fairly tricky.

  ‘These are nasty outfits.’

  Eve secretly agreed, but as she’d been the sounding board for Ayesha’s frankly off-the-wall ideas for months, these dresses were positively subdued compared to her other suggestions. ‘At one point we were wearing stripy tights and pointy shoes, so we shouldn’t complain.’

  Becca pulled a face. ‘Why was she so set on having a theme anyway? It’s a wedding, not a New Year’s Eve party.’

  ‘You’re having a theme for yours.’

  ‘Hardly Eve, it’s in a field, so it’s not a giant leap to make that we’d have a country festival type feel to it. I wouldn’t call it a theme as such.’

  ‘You’re having hay bales.’

  ‘It’s what my grandfather wanted.’

  You couldn’t argue with that logic. ‘I’m just saying, a theme ties everything in neatly, but I have to admit, this one is on the wacky scale.’

  Eve finished tonging the last strand of her long red hair, teasing it into a wavy tendril. ‘We better go down, it’s going to start soon.’