‘Well, you’d better brace yourself,’ Kate said, as much for her own benefit as for his. ‘She’s due here in a week. We need to find a way of dealing with her when she goes over the top – it’s only a blooming wedding, after all. Apparently her new boyfriend is a photographer, and he’s coming to do reportage shots of the preparations.’
‘Roddy, Kate?’ The registrar opened her door, looking down at her piece of paper. ‘Come away in, we’ll get this sorted.’
With the paperwork formalized, and a kiss in parting, Kate was left with an hour to spare in Kilmannan before the ferry was due. Parking the car down by the harbour, she walked back up onto Main Street. There was time to get a coffee in Bruno’s cafe – and no doubt he’d be watching for the ferry eagerly, knowing his sweetheart was on the way. Kate smiled to herself at the thought. She was almost at the cafe when the colourful jars of sweets in the newsagent’s window caught her eye. She slipped inside and ran her eyes along the displays of magazines until they hit her target.
Your Wedding. Our Wedding. Perfect Wedding. Brides. Wedding Hair. Scottish Wedding.
They’re research, Kate told herself firmly, grabbing an armful.
‘You’d be amazed how many of these I sell every month.’ The old man behind the counter looked at Kate, sizing her up.
‘I just need to get some ideas,’ said Kate.
‘Aye. They all say that, and I make a fortune out of them.’ With a wink, he handed her the magazines in a thick carrier bag. ‘I tell you what, mind you, you dinna need any of that nonsense to get married. You need a good sense of humour and a wee dose of common sense, no’ hand-drawn invitations and fancy doilies.’
Opening the door of Bruno’s cafe, she heard the familiar strains of Elvis singing Christmas carols on the jukebox. The air was thick with the scent of freshly ground beans and the hissing of steam.
‘All right, Kate, ma darling? Can I make you a wee bit of breakfast before your mum gets here?’
‘Just coffee, thanks. Have you heard from her this morning?’
‘Aye, she sent me a text from the cafe on the mainland. She’s no’ got much charge left on her phone, but she’s looking forward to getting over here for Christmas.’
Bruno handed Kate a coffee, popping a Christmassy cranberry and almond biscotti on the side of her saucer before she had a chance to refuse.
‘I’ve just got a wee order on for the office round the corner.’ Bruno motioned to the counter behind him, where he was in the midst of preparing ciabatta rolls. ‘You don’t mind if I just get on?’
‘Not at all.’ Kate was dying to have a look at the magazines, which clamoured to be read from inside their shiny packaging.
The thought of her mum being there from now until Christmas was slightly terrifying, given that she was prone to organizing Kate into doing what she thought best. Perhaps if she had a chance to look through these and get some quick last-minute wedding ideas . . . forewarned was forearmed, after all. Absentmindedly, she dipped the biscotti into her coffee and popped it into her mouth as she got lost within the covers of Perfect Wedding.
‘Darling.’
Kate, who was immersed in the comparative virtues of hand-tied table decorations and ‘this season’s more formal, structured displays’, looked up with a jolt of shock.
‘Mum!’ She looked at the clock. Bruno had popped out to deliver the lunch order, leaving his assistant, George, in charge. Shy and still finding his feet, he hadn’t like to disturb Kate, who was her tucked in against the steamed-up window, every inch of the Formica table covered with wedding magazines. He’d handed her another coffee and she’d half-smiled up at him, looking slightly distracted. That was five minutes ago, surely?
‘It’s fine.’ Elizabeth’s tone was crisp. ‘Fortunately you’d left your car down by the harbour and as usual you’d left it unlocked, so my bags are inside. I still don’t trust this island myth that nobody’s going to steal it.’
‘First of all, it’s ancient and I’ve got the keys here, and secondly – ’ Kate shuffled the magazines sideways, making space for her mum to sit down beside her – ‘if someone did pinch my car, what are they going to do with it? Drive it in secret round the island and hope they don’t bump into me?’
‘Well. Anyway.’ Slightly mollified, Elizabeth turned, scanning the cafe. ‘Where’s Bruno?’
Christmas bells hanging above the door jingled as she spoke, and Bruno appeared with a frosty blast of outside air.
‘I’m here, my darling.’ He leaned down, picking up Elizabeth’s hand and giving it a gentle kiss. She beamed up at him, her previous mood dissipating immediately.
‘I’ve just mentioned to Kate that I’ve left my things in her car.’
Kate gave a tiny snort. That wasn’t quite what she’d been doing, but she didn’t suppose Bruno wanted to hear ‘I’ve just been lecturing Kate on her disorganized nature and for not coming to meet me off the ferry.’
‘You’ll stay for lunch, girls?’
‘We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Kate?’ Elizabeth looked at her daughter hopefully. Despite the lecture, which wasn’t a bad exchange for completely forgetting to pick her up, Kate couldn’t be irritated at her for long. It was lovely to see her mum happy after so many years as a widowed single parent. If Bruno could get Kate out of a lecture on her many failings, well, that was even better.
‘That’d be wonderful, Bruno. I’ll just ring Roddy and see if he’s free to join us.’
Half an hour later, Kate sat beside Roddy on the red leather chairs in one of the cafe booths, with Bruno and her mother opposite. They’d tried to steer the conversation towards the future plans for Duntarvie, and the ideas she and Roddy had for expanding the wildlife tours, which had proved a huge success.
‘That’s all very well, Kate, but I think we’ve all got more important things to discuss, don’t you?’
Kate looked at Bruno, who, with his head cocked to one side, raised a questioning brow at her.
‘You didn’t think you were going to get away with that, did ye?’
‘Mum, honestly. It’s a wedding. It’s going to be super-low-key, no stress, completely uncomplicated. The most laid-back wedding in the history of the island of Auchenmor.’
Roddy put a hand on Kate’s knee, squeezing it, reassuring her.
Bruno’s second eyebrow shot up. He pursed his lips, looking at Elizabeth, judging the moment well.
‘Uncomplicated!’ Kate’s mother exploded with laughter. ‘There’s no such thing as an uncomplicated wedding.’
She reached beneath the table to the plastic bag which was tucked away at Kate’s feet, where the telltale magazines poked out, giving the game away.
‘You’ve spent the best part of twenty-five pounds on magazines already, darling. That doesn’t say low-key to me.’
‘It – I—’ Kate began.
‘My daughter’s marrying the Laird of Duntarvie. I’m not having you doing this on the cheap, Kate. Let me have a look.’ She pulled out a magazine and started flipping through the pages.
Roddy, looking a bit uncomfortable with his status as trophy husband-to-be, picked up the plates from lunch and headed back to the counter with them.
‘Thanks, Roddy. Good idea. I think I’ll make us some coffee,’ said Bruno, sliding out of the chair and making his escape.
‘Look at that.’ Elizabeth, smoothing down the pages with manicured fingers, pointed to a beautiful dress in ivory silk. ‘Very Kate Middleton, isn’t it? Not sure you’ve got the bottom for it, mind you.’
Gritting her teeth, Kate slipped her phone into her pocket and escaped to the loo for a moment, locking the door behind her, leaning against the door for good measure as she texted Emma an SOS.
Emergency. Sprung with pile of wedding magazines. Mum has instantly turned into nightmare control freak. Can’t believe you can’t make it. Send cake. Or wine.
Can’t believe you’re getting married with NO notice, you crazy girl. Wish we could be there but tiny baby and Sam’s w
ork and all the rest of it . . . you know. Will be up in the New Year and we can celebrate then. x
Must run. She’ll be inquiring as to why I’m taking so long in the loo next. Miss you loads. xxx
Back at the table, Bruno was playing the diplomat.
‘You two seem to have everything under control, don’t they, Elizabeth?’ Bruno looked at them, impressed. He’d kept an eye on Roddy since childhood, and especially since his father’s death. He took a proprietorial pride in the slow but steady progress the estate was making towards turning a profit, and Kate smiled to herself, watching Roddy’s face. He definitely looked to Bruno for approval, and she was glad he had it.
Kate had tucked the wedding magazines away into their bag for now, and was planning an evening with some Christmas music playing, the fire blazing, and a cinnamon-laced hot chocolate or two. Definitely no mulled wine, mind you. After the other night, she was well and truly off alcohol – and she’d need a clear head, anyway, for making wedding plans. If they were going to do this, she decided, they were going to do it perfectly. There was no reason why they couldn’t have the best last-minute-Christmas-wedding-in-a-castle ever. All she needed to do was organize everything, from the dress to the flowers to the table settings to the Christmas decorations and the music, and it’d be fine . . .
6
Gin and Tonic Therapy
The streets of Glasgow were crammed, shoppers hustling through the crowds shoulder to shoulder, intent on grabbing bargains in the ever-earlier Christmas sales. Kate followed her mother through the busy shopping centre, feeling about nine years old.
‘I’m sure they said it was down here – but there’s no sign of wedding dresses down there at all, darling, is there?’
Kate scanned the hoardings above the shops. They’d been up and down the escalator twice already, and still hadn’t found a map that made sense. Finally, her mother grabbed a security guard. Over the deafening blast of ‘Last Christmas’, she managed to make herself heard.
‘We’re looking for Bonny Brides?’
‘Right behind you, hen.’ The security guard gave a dismissive wave of his hand, rolling his eyes as he turned away. He’d clearly had enough of Now That’s What I Call Christmas and of panic-buying sale shoppers, and two frazzled Englishwomen who couldn’t see beyond their own noses were the last straw.
Island life was in Kate’s blood now, and time spent in the city always felt like time wasted. With a reassuringly expensive clunk, the door of the wedding dress shop closed behind them. The atmosphere was hushed, almost reverential – no Christmas music in here, just the familiar strains of Ode to Joy, that old wedding classic. Rows upon rows of dresses stretched out along the walls. Thank God she’d got dressed up – and thank goodness Susan had reminded her that she needed to have the posh underwear ready to go. They’d made a giggly, girly trip into Kilmannan, where the ancient little catch-all department store turned out to have a surprising line in gorgeously impractical lingerie.
‘We don’t often get people coming in here with a wedding in a week’s time.’ Elizabeth looked at Kate with a hint of I-told-you-so. Kate, gritting her teeth, said nothing. ‘But nothing surprises me any more, after twenty years owning a wedding dress shop. Here. This is a start.’ Shona, owner of the shop, her hair twisted neatly into a chignon which appeared to be immovable, was brandishing a simple empire-line dress in champagne white. She looked quite satisfied with herself.
‘I’ve been doing this job for thirty years. I’ve got a bit of an eye for what suits who.’
Elizabeth, not to be outdone, reached across, feeling the fabric between her fingers in an expert manner. ‘Yes, it’s very nice, Kate.’
Shona, who wasn’t just an expert in choosing dresses, smiled patiently. She’d clearly learned the art of pleasing both mother and daughter during wedding dress shopping expeditions, and she stood for a moment, allowing Kate and Elizabeth to admire the dress she’d chosen.
‘Ooh, that’s gorgeous.’ Kate reached forward to feel the material of the skirt, a gossamer-silk chiffon.
‘Hold your horses,’ said Elizabeth, warningly. ‘You’ve plenty more to come.’
Shona worked quickly. Within moments she’d sized up Kate, who couldn’t help feeling a bit like one of those dress-up dolls she’d played with as a child. Her practised eye had skimmed over Kate’s body, taking in the good bits and the slightly dodgy too-many-mince-pies-and-hot-chocolate bits that were currently covered with a flattering black shirt and a little cardigan.
‘From the look of you I’d say you were our standard sample size – which is just as well with this timescale.’ She flipped through the dresses with lightning speed, occasionally pausing with a small frown, shaking her head and moving on. After just a few minutes she had filled a portable clothes rail with dresses.
‘Now the fun part. If you’d just pop in here, we’ll get you into some of them and we can see what Mum thinks.’
Kate swallowed a giggle. It was a bit like the end of the school holidays, when she’d trek into Cambridge with her mum and buy her new school uniform. The first few dresses were pretty, but nothing special. It felt like she was trying on someone else’s clothes. And then –
‘Oh, now that is beautiful.’ Shona, pleased with her own work, stood back in the changing room. She nodded to herself.
The dress had a fitted bodice, overlaid with delicately beaded lace. The neckline was flattering but not too revealing, and the capped sleeves were the perfect length. The skirt wasn’t full, but fell down in a delicate waterfall of silk. It felt like Cinderella’s slipper, and Kate sighed a happy sigh of things-falling-into-place. Operation World’s Best Last-Minute Wedding was GO.
If she could just sort out the hand-drawn table settings she’d seen in Perfect Bride magazine the other day . . . and she needed to work out how much ivy she was going to need for the table decorations . . . she’d been up until three the other night, sketching out ideas for the table plans. Roddy had come downstairs and found her slumped, half asleep, across a stack of wedding magazines. It seemed that the more involved she got in making sure everything was just right, the more he left her to it. But really, thought Kate, looking in the mirror and wondering exactly how to get rid of the dark shadows beneath her eyes, it just meant more time for her to concentrate on the important stuff, like making sure everything was perfect on the day.
Fortunately, given that she had offered to pay, Elizabeth approved of the dress. Despite Shona’s protestations that Kate should at least try on some of the others, Kate refused.
‘This is the dress. It’s meant to be.’
Through a mouthful of pins, Shona looked up at her. ‘I like a girl who knows her own mind. Now hold still a second, I’m just going to take this in a wee smidge here.’
‘But I want to take it home now!’
‘Kate Jarvis. Listen to yourself.’ Elizabeth shot her daughter a warning look, and Kate was five again.
‘It’s beautiful now, but it’ll be perfect if we just make a tiny few alterations. I’m not busy at all this week – I can get it done in three days.’
‘Three days?’ Kate forced herself to take a deep breath. There were the flowers and the decorations, and the music wasn’t sorted, and there was a candlelit carol service in the grounds of Duntarvie, and Jean said she was looking after the food but Kate wanted to be sure it was right because you only have one wedding day. She reached into her pocket, pulling out one of the notepads that were her constant companions at the moment.
‘That’s fine,’ said Elizabeth firmly. ‘We can take another trip off the island – there’s bound to be something else we need to buy, in any case.’
It’s fine, it’s fine, said Kate to herself as they left her perfect dress in the shop, and headed back to the car park.
You still alive? How was the dress shopping?
Replying to Emma as she followed her mother along the pavement and back to the car, Kate tried to take a deep breath and calm herself down.
Still alive. And all I have to do is EVERYTHING. That’s fine. I can do all of the everything before we get married in a week, right?
As long as you’ve got yourself, and Roddy, you don’t need anything else.
Kate rolled her eyes at Emma’s response. It wasn’t often that her best friend infuriated her, but she just didn’t get it at all. There was SO much to do.
‘Roddy, if you can just stand over there on the chair and hang up that holly wreath, that’ll be great.’
Sian stood back in the ballroom of Duntarvie House, tapping a pen against her teeth thoughtfully, watching as another few artfully stage-managed reportage photographs were shot.
Her hair was wrapped in a 1950s-style headscarf, with a pair of completely redundant sunglasses perched on top. She was immaculate in a holly-printed prom dress, complete with a flash of white petticoat. She’d arrived a few days before, in her car this time. Beside her in the passenger seat, silent and shell-shocked, was her new boyfriend, Adam. He’d been subjected to a nine-hour journey with Sian’s running commentary on her plans to take over the online wedding world. Kate had very tactfully directed him towards the tranquillity of the library, where he was installed with a hefty measure of single malt. She needed him at his best – his photographs were intrinsic to the success of both Sian’s brand new site, and Kate’s grand plan for the best wedding ever in the history of the world (‘No pressure there, darling?’ Roddy had said, with a teasing smile).
Even good-tempered Roddy, who adored his Christmas bride-to-be so much that he’d put up with a fairly nauseating matching-woolly-sweaters-by-the-fire photo-shoot, was getting a bit frazzled.
‘Sian, I think we’ve probably got enough pre-wedding decoration prep photos now.’ Giving the slightly lopsided wreath a sideways prod, he climbed down from the chair he’d been standing on and made for the door. ‘Just nipping out to get some more logs for the fire.’
Sealed with a Christmas Kiss Page 7
