Contents
Chapter One - The Bridesmaids’ Club
Chapter Two - Wedding Show
Chapter Three - Career Week
Chapter Four - Surprise!
Chapter Five - Arghhhh!
Chapter Six - Option One
Chapter Seven - Velcro
Chapter Eight - Options Schmoptions
Chapter Nine - The Madness Continues
Chapter Ten - Underwater Bride
Chapter Eleven - Doghouse
Chapter Twelve - Meeting the Planets
Chapter Thirteen - Goals, Schmoals
Chapter Fourteen - For Sam
Epilogue
Chapter One
The Bridesmaids’ Club
‘Hey, Chloe, when do you think you’ll hear from Marcie?’ asked Demi as she cut out some pages from the February issue of Weddings.
‘Any day now,’ I replied as I looked at the magazine over her shoulder. ‘I can’t wait.’
It was our monthly get-together of the Bridesmaids’ Club and it was just the three of us there. Me and my mates Demi and Maryam. We always made it to the meeting, first Saturday morning of every month, held at one of our houses. We saw each other for loads of other things outside the club because we’re best friends but our Bridesmaids’ Club was a non-negotiable event – like Christmas Day or Easter, it was part of our calendar. We had started it back when we were nine when we went to a wedding show in a nearby village called Osbury for a laugh. We had such a top time trying all the samples and living the bridesmaids’ dream that we decided we wouldn’t leave it there. We’d start a club and talk dresses, accessories, honeymoon locations and all the rest every month. In the meantime, we’d put together files to be used by friends who needed wedding advice. We’d made ourselves experts. Other girls came and went as their various relatives got married but us three, we were regulars, rain or shine, wedding or no wedding.
My mum teased me that the club was my religion but then my whole family teased me about everything, me being the youngest and more romantic and into girlie stuff than any of my three career-driven older sisters. Maybe I’m into it all because of my star sign – not that I particularly believe in astrology and all that stuff but I did read somewhere that Libras are known for their love of beauty. That’s me. I do like nice things, always have, and everything to do with weddings is fairy-tale lovely.
‘I wonder how he’ll do it,’ said Maryam. ‘Is he the down-on-one-knee type?’
She was talking about my sister Marcie’s boyfriend, Geoff. Marcie had been dating him for about six months. He’d swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance after she’d split up with a guy who had broken her heart. When Geoff booked a long weekend in Paris, we all suspected that this was it. Proposal time.
I shrugged in answer to Maryam’s question. ‘I hope so. Marcie likes a bit of romance when the mood takes her.’
Demi and Maryam nodded. Marcie was an honorary member of the Bridesmaids’ club and secretly loved all that romantic stuff. She was my favourite sister, the best in the world – even though she didn’t live at home any more, she was round a lot and always had time for me. The only blip had been when she was dating Sam. I was so relieved that she broke things off with him and met Geoff. Sam used to tease me about the Bridesmaids’ Club, which he thought was a joke.
My other two sisters, Jane and Clare, think I’m too immature to waste their days off on so I was thankful that I had at least one sister who was occasionally up for shopping trips and could be persuaded into sessions of DIY pampering, painting nails and trying out face packs. Marcie was great. She’d always been there to drive me and my mates to the cinema, to play practical jokes on us, to see the latest chick flick, then laugh, gossip and eat chips from the paper on the way home. And I’d seen her watch romantic movies and blub even though she’d try to hide it. Until, that is, what I call her lost period, when she was with the thunder from down under, Mr Sam Lycra Shorts Hendy (he was from Australia). She totally changed when she was with him and it was bye-bye Marcie, hello Lara Croft, action girl. With Sam, she’d been white-water rafting, camping under the stars, climbing mountains. My Marcie who didn’t even own a pair of trainers pre Sam – who only did five-star luxury hotels on holidays and thought sleeping in tents was for losers! I was so with her on that – not that I’d stayed in many five-star hotels, but I knew that when I was older I would rather sleep in the softest linen and have a bathroom with fluffy white towels than doss out in a damp sleeping bag in a tent and have to go to the loo in some stinky bucket. All part of being Libran apparently. We don’t like to rough it. Anyway, Marcie’s back to normal, thanks to Geoff.
She never owned up to Sam about being a member of the Bridesmaids’ Club because of his views about weddings. He thought that marriage and all that went with it was a waste of time. Marcie didn’t tell Clare and Jane either, because she didn’t want to be seen as an airhead who was easily carried away by a bit of sparkle. As if. She’s got a degree in quantum physics. Our whole family are brainboxes, me included. I am always top of our year in most subjects. Dad is a scientist (he doesn’t live with us any more – he and Mum are divorced and he lives with his new wife in Wales), Mum and Clare are lawyers and Jane lectures at the local university – her subject is statistics. Like, how dull is that?
Clare and Jane had both done me out of my chance to be a bridesmaid. ‘No time to waste on men,’ said Clare soon after she left home. ‘I don’t need anyone to share my life with. I am perfectly happy on my own. My career is what matters.’ She does date men occasionally, usually through the Internet, but they never last. I think she eats them for breakfast or buries them under her patio – she sees men as disposable and not completely necessary. Jane does have a steady boyfriend and after they had been together a few years, I thought maybe I’d get my chance to be bridesmaid. But no, she announced that they don’t need a piece of paper to show that they are serious, so they live together as ‘partners’. I did everything I could to talk her into getting married, but she cut me off, saying that the West was steeped in materialism and that marriage was just another consumerist event to rob decent people of their money by feeding them an unrealistic fantasy. Like, whoa, OK, so that might be true but I can see the other side. The fun side. Needless to say, Sam got on well with Jane and Clare, because they all shared the same views about marriage.
At one time, I had hoped that Mum might remarry but she swears that she never will. She says that men let you down. I think my dad leaving hurt her and my sisters more than they let on. He left when I was still a baby so I don’t miss him because I don’t remember him. All I know is that, because of him, my mum and sisters are suspicious of men.
It’s so not fair. Demi and Maryam have both had goes at being bridesmaids. Demi twice, once with her sister, Rose and once with her auntie Mags. But soon, very soon, it might be my turn and it’ll be utterly FABulous. Demi’s aunt had been a winter bride and her sister a spring, and Maryam had been an autumn bridesmaid so I wouldn’t want to replicate. Not that I wasn’t prepared, if Marcie and Geoff chose winter for the big day – the wedding could be held in a castle in the Scottish Highlands or maybe Ireland. I could just see it. It would be snowing. Marcie would sweep up in a horse-drawn sleigh. She would be wearing ankle-length white velvet with a long cloak, a crown of ivy on top of her flowing hair. Very medieval princess. If it was to be summer, we could jet off to some fabulous island: the Caribbean, the Seychelles or the Maldives. Yeah. We’d be jet-set cool. I had all the maps and stacks of brochures showing couples kissing in the surf at sunset. Marcie could wear a shimmer of ivory silk, cut on the bias, possibly backless to show off her perfect even tan, her hair caught up at the back in a sophisticated style dotted through with tiny
pearls and flowers. Or if they didn’t want to travel far, we could book some gorgeous hotel in the country, very English, Marcie in an off-the-shoulder sheath dress. She’d look fab. I’d look fab. Whatever the season or location, I would follow her wearing something stunningly original. Not lilac. Or candy pink. Or anything with mutton sleeves. Or bows. The guests would gasp. A wall of cameras would click. We’d feature in all the glossies where page after page would gush on about how we made the most gorgeous wedding party ever seen. And they’d be right too. Marcie scrubs up well when she can be bothered to make the effort and I am five foot four, have long legs, 32A chest, shoulder-length blonde hair. Perfect bridesmaid material.
Geoff never once laughed or teased me when he found out about the Bridesmaids’ Club. He was genuinely interested when he heard about it and asked how it got started and what we did and so on. I really do intend to make Marcie’s wedding the best ever. Ever. Not that Demi and Maryam aren’t pretty. They are. Maryam is dark-skinned with gorgeous black curls to her shoulders and the most amazing huge brown eyes. She looked like a Caribbean princess in an ivory dress when her sister got married. Demi is pale and tall with long dark hair. Her sister did the pink thing for her bridesmaids and Demi made it work by having an allover spray tan the day before so that she didn’t look washed out (pale pink can be a hard colour to wear unless you’re a blonde like me).
Loads of our mates at school, who were drop-in members of the Bridesmaids’ Club, had already had their big days too. Susie Jenson had been bridesmaid last spring – a wedding held in a posh country hotel. She was passing round the photos for weeks afterwards. I ooh-ed and aah-ed as you do, but I was thinking, Just wait until it’s my turn. Then you’ll see something really special. And then it was Tara Peters’ go. A rhapsody in shocking pink. Talk about Tack City! There are shades of pink and some of them just don’t work for a wedding. Jess Lewis was next: cream with too many ribbons and bows, for a shepherdess kind of look. Bows? Double yuck.
I can’t wait to hear what Marcie and Geoff want. Not that it will be a problem whatever they choose. There isn’t an aspect or an area of weddings that I don’t know about. I’ve been collecting ideas for years, ready for my turn – and now it may be about to happen. I couldn’t wait. My bridesmaid album was bursting at the seams. I added to it all the time – I cut dresses out of Brides magazine or anything else that took my fancy in the glossies. I had fabrics, dresses, jewellery, shoes, hairstyles, veils, locations for the ceremony and locations for honeymoons – every aspect of weddings there was. Best of all, Marcie had always been open to all my suggestions, whether it be for table arrangements, flowers for the church, register office or a posh country mansion. I had vintage cars, limos, American cars, open carriages, snow sledges . . . you name it, lined up. Marcie was happy to leave it all to me. All that had been missing was the groom and that I couldn’t help her with.
For a short time when she was single after Sam, she was so heartbroken that she said she would never date again, and I was just beginning to wonder if she was doomed to be on her own forever when along came Geoff. Tall, dark and handsome, a friend of hers introduced them at a dinner party and there was no going back. I was so relieved. Sam had been wrong for Marcie and not only because of his love of sport and adventure holidays but also because he was commitment shy (which was the real reason they broke up) and according to Marcie, rubbish at communicating his feelings. Even though Marcie went along with the rugby, hiking, surfing, tennis and climbing, I reckoned she wouldn’t have been able to keep it up for a lifetime.
But Geoff fits the role of handsome prince perfectly and Marcie said he’s very happy to talk about feelings. Plus he always lets her have her own way and make all the decisions about how they are going to spend their time. When the Paris trip was announced a few weeks ago, I felt that my life’s ambition was about to be achieved and the fairy-tale wedding was set to rock and roll.
Demi clicked her fingers in front of me. ‘Hey, dreamer! Earth to planet Chloe,’ she said. ‘We were supposed to be thinking about what we want to do when we leave school. Our weekend’s homework, remember? Have you decided?’
They both looked at me for my answer. I put my hands up as if to say I didn’t know. Indecision is one of my biggest problems. Always has been (another Libran trait according to my Girl in the City magazine’s astrology page). I never know what I want outside of being in the Bridesmaids’ Club. ‘Still not sure. I can’t decide. It’s OK for you guys – Maryam, you’ve wanted to be a fashion designer since the moment you were born, and, Demi, you’ve got your photography.’
Maryam nodded. ‘Never changed for me. But what about you? You must have some idea.’
‘Nope. Don’t know. Mum thinks that I’d be a good lawyer because I’m good at seeing both sides of an argument but I think, lawyer? Boring. And course Dad wrote to me and advised me to follow in his footsteps and do science but no way do I want to be stuck in a laboratory all my life and why should I listen to him? He never comes to visit and he’s not really part of my life so why should he get a say? I wish everyone would get off my case. Like, I’m fourteen – it’s ages until we have to choose our subjects.’
‘No it isn’t,’ said Demi. ‘Mr Mooney said we have to decide in the next few weeks.’
‘Then I’ll say I want to be a road sweeper and study collecting rubbish,’ I said. Neither of them laughed. ‘Oh, come on guys, chill out. I have enough with Mum, Dad and three sisters going on at me about what I should do and how hard I have to study to get there without you two doing it as well.’
At that moment, from the back pocket of my jeans, my phone bleeped that I had a text. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Demi and Maryam looked at me expectantly.
I nodded. ‘Marcie.’
Chapter Two
Wedding Show
‘OK,’ said Demi as we took in the hundreds of stands in the vast tent that had been decorated from corner to corner with pink sparkly banners and hundreds of heart shaped-balloons. ‘Let’s start at the left and go up one aisle, down the next and so on so that we don’t miss anything.’
Maryam and I gave her a salute. ‘Right,’ I said. It was a week after Marcie had announced her engagement and we were at the annual wedding show on the green in Osbury. Marcie had sounded very happy when I spoke to her. I wanted all the details but she said that her phone card was running low, so although she could confirm that she was definitely engaged to be married and that they wanted to do it in June, she’d fill me in on the rest later. I was dying to know how he’d proposed. She promised she’d tell me everything when she came home next and I could hardly wait.
In the meantime, there was the wedding show. It was held every year around Valentine’s Day and already I could see some familiar faces. A pretty brunette at a jewellery stall waved so we trooped over.
‘Hi, Chantelle,’ we chorused.
‘Hey, girls,’ she said. ‘You here again?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ said Demi.
‘And this year, I have a wedding to plan,’ I said. ‘A very special wedding.’
‘Who?’ asked Chantelle.
‘My sister Marcie,’ I replied. ‘Her boyfriend took her to Paris to propose.’
Chantelle sighed. ‘How romantic. I’d love to be taken to Paris.’
‘I know. Me too. I’m going to make her relive every detail when she gets back.’
Chantelle laughed. ‘So what kind of wedding does she want?’
‘Not sure yet. She’s still away but she’s coming over next weekend for Sunday lunch and we’ll discuss it then.’
‘We’re here to get ideas,’ said Demi.
‘Get the ball rolling,’ said Maryam.
‘The show’s such perfect timing,’ I said.
‘She’s a lucky girl, is your sister,’ said Chantelle, ‘having you lot to do her research. You be sure and tell her about my range, won’t you? Though I suppose if he’s already asked her to marry him then she’s got the ring?’
I nodded. ‘I guess, though I haven’t seen it yet.’
‘I’d better get on, girls,’ said Chantelle when a customer began looking at her stall. ‘Enjoy the show and check out Aisle H. There are some new people down there. Call themselves Celestial Weddings. I haven’t seen any of them before and they look like a fun bunch.’
‘Aisle H. Will do,’ I said.
We set off to roam the stalls and soon we were caught up in the usual show frenzy as traders thrust brochures and leaflets at us and various salespeople beckoned us to come and sample what was on their stall.
‘You’re so lucky to have a wedding this year,’ said Demi as she looked through an album on one stall showing floral arrangements for the ceremony.
‘I know,’ I said and I gave myself a hug. ‘I’ve been waiting all my life for this.’ I loved the annual wedding show. I loved it even more than Christmas and birthdays, more than Easter with all the chocolate. I loved the glamour, how pretty everything was. I loved the dream. It was true, everything my sisters said about the wedding industry selling a fantasy, but that was exactly what I liked – that for one day, someone could be transported into another world – an enchanted world where the bride was a princess and the groom was her prince. A world where everyone looked their most beautiful and happy, where people danced merrily, butterflies flitted, doves cooed, where there was music and flowers and delicious food, a yummy scrummy cake and a celebration of love. So my family dissed it. In my opinion, they were seriously missing out on one of life’s true joys.
We cruised the stalls for an hour or so, tried every freebie, greeted old friends: Jason on honeymoon destinations, Elena on Belgian chocolates, Moira on Tux and Tails, Arthur on wedding invites, Georgina on dresses for the mothers-in law, Anna Lee on shoes. We chomped on samples of wedding cake, ooh-ed and aah-ed over the dresses modelled in a fashion show, sat in a white wedding limo and sipped on sparkling apple juice. We entered every competition that was going. It was part of the fun. There were prizes from the cheap to the spectacular, for make-up, makeovers, jewellery, cakes, cars, a weekend in the Caribbean for a lucky bride and groom – you name it. The fair organizers always announced the winners up on the stage at the end of the show and made a big fuss over them. So far, none of us had won anything but that didn’t stop us from entering every year. We tried on a variety of tiaras and turned our noses up at anything we thought looked cheap or tacky.
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