by Sue Watson
“What a bitch!” Al hissed, leaning closer and sipping hard on his chilled white wine while Tom poured more from the second bottle he’d just brought back to the table.
“Then the crocodile incident happened. It was the icing on the cake and I knew there was no way MJ would take the rap for it. I knew you were having a tough time Stel and didn’t want to add to the stress so I called Tom. I thought he could help me.”
“Yeah, Lizzie told me everything and we came up with a plan for me to film MJ on the next shoot. Funny because we weren’t going to be out there for long and we were worried we wouldn’t have enough footage. We ended up with plenty!” said Tom with a smile. “I wanted to get MJ back for all the stuff she put you through when you worked for her, Stel, and I was worried about the business. You’ve worked so hard and it means so much to you.” Tom added.
Lizzie continued: “When I heard about the vicious email I just knew it was MJ and I felt so guilty, like The Cake Fairy would fail and die and it would all be my fault. I knew you were hoping to sign a contract with the big events company and MJ was flavour of the moment in the fickle world of TV. A word in the wrong ear and it could have been curtains. I called Tom and said: ‘let’s do it’. So we booked an edit-suite in Birmingham, away from prying eyes and made our own film.”
“Wow. I can’t believe all this was going on and we had no idea,” I said, putting my arm round Lizzie. So Grace had been right when she spotted them together – but they were doing something for me.
“Then everything happened with Seb,” said Lizzie, somberly. “We only had a short time to finish the film and as soon as I heard what had happened, I knew that I had to be with you, Al. It meant Tom was left to do it on his own, and he wasn’t sure he could juggle work, Grace and editing in secret.”
I looked across at Tom, fiddling awkwardly with his wine glass. Lizzie took a gulp of wine and carried on.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been so down. It’s just that every time I went into work, MJ would try her best to make things difficult, just like she did with you, Stella. I’m just glad it’s over,” she said.
“Thank you both for everything,” said Al, hugging Lizzie and smiling at Tom. “But why on earth didn’t you tell us?”
“For a start Al, you’d have been so angry you’d never have kept quiet, which would have blown the whole plan,” said Lizzie. “I know what you and François are like. If MJ had got wind of any of it she would have just sacked us and we desperately needed to be at the launch tonight so we could play the film publicly, and for Frank especially. As it happens we’ll no doubt be sacked now anyway for embarrassing Frank and Media World but I think we’ve all just about had enough of that company.”
“Hear, hear,” said Tom. “More drinks I think,” and he stood up to go to the bar, which gave Lizzie the opportunity to talk to me.
“Stella, I felt so guilty working with Tom. I felt bad even speaking to the man who had broken my best friend’s heart. Apart from not wanting to worry you with more MJ stuff I thought you’d feel betrayed if I told you I was making this film with him. I was dying to tell you everything. Then everything happened with Seb and MJ was making my life so hard, I didn’t want to burden anyone. And it seemed so unimportant compared to what you were going through, Al.”
“I’m sorry I put pressure on you,” I said. “It must have been awful, dealing with all that on your own,” I said, welling up.
“It was all worth it in the end. MJ’s got enough to worry about in her own career now without trying to ruin yours – and anyway, her credibility after this is zero. She’s been proved a liar and that’s enough.”
“Well, I’ll drink to that,” said Al, holding up his glass. “Here’s to the end of the Queen of Mean – and the rise of The Cake Fairy. Cheers!” We all chinked glasses. I could see Tom watching us, from the bar. Al saw me looking at him, and took my hand.
“Stel,” he said softly, “you will always be my best friend along with Lizzie, and if you don’t want to its fine. But I was wondering if I should invite Tom to the wedding? Just for the evening? He’s really helped out here and I know Grace would love it.”
If Al had asked me only a few weeks ago, I would have been outraged. But as it was – it felt right. I had moved on and after all, Tom was the father of my child.
“Yes. I think that would be nice, Al. Thank you,” I said.
“I propose another toast,” said Lizzie. “To Al and Seb. May their marriage be long and happy.”
“To Al and Seb!” I echoed. “To having your life back and the different things that means to all of us.”
EPILOGUE - Wedding Cake and Wishes
A month later, the wedding day had finally arrived.
Lizzie, Grace and I helped Al and Sebastian get ready in the afternoon. I don’t know who was more nervous. When we arrived, their house was, as always, immaculate, all chrome kitchen and clean lines. However, within about ten minutes of ‘preparations’ it was an exploding disaster. Unusually, I was the first one ready in my sequinned, ‘best woman’ swimsuit of deep scarlet, with a matching silk sarong.
“Cake, Stel. Is the cake OK?” Al demanded from their en-suite bathroom. “It hasn’t gone droopy or anything?”
“Noooo Al, it’s looking fabulous in place of honour poolside, where you should be NOW. Hurry up!”
To top Al’s nerves, Grace was having hair issues and demanding something ‘more cool,’ each time I styled her hair. Torn between seahorse and sea-fairy for her bridesmaid outfit, Grace had plumped for the latter and was in diaphanous glittery wings, mermaid’s tail and, apparently, ‘uncool’ hair.
“Grace, I’m sorry but this is about the fourth time I’ve tried and I can’t do a Lady GaGa, so you will just have to live with it.”
“But Mum, when Charlotte’s mum puts her hair up she looks way cool.”
“Well then perhaps I’ll talk to her mum about adopting you – AFTER this wedding. We are now all very late and you’re still half-dressed. Not to mention the groom, who’s still in the bath,” I muttered to myself.
“I heard there was a celebrity hair-emergency,” Lizzie said from the doorway, gin and tonic in one hand and hairbrush in the other. “Come on Grace my love – it’s clear your mother doesn’t care. Allow Auntie Lizzie turn you into something fabulous!”
Grace smiled and pulled a ‘yeah Mum’ face at me while I ran to the bathroom to knock once more on the door. “Al, my sweet, you are now in serious danger of missing your own wedding,” I announced, just as the doorbell rang. “And the cars are here now to whisk us to ‘water wonderland’,” I tried, hoping this would move him. There was no sound, so I slowly opened the door.
“Have the flowers arrived?” he asked, standing in front of a bank of metrosexual, male beauty products, his face covered in a white lather.
“Yes Al, they’re at the pool all ready and waiting for you. Like everyone else.”
“And the lifeboat favours?”
“Yes Al.”
Knowing it would be some time before Al emerged from the bathroom, shaved, toned and well-moisturised, I peeped over the banister to see Seb, who was trying to fix his tie in the hall mirror – not easy with one arm in plaster.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, “seeing as I have clearly failed as a hairdresser.”
Seb smiled, his face filled with light. “I’m feeling so wonderful Stella. This really is the best day of my life.”
I arranged his tie, blew him a kiss and went back into the bedroom were Lizzie was playing Charlie Le Mindu to Grace’s Lady Gaga. “Mum, this is sick,” Grace said, smiling.
“Don’t be rude, Auntie Lizzie’s doing a lovely job,” I said, slightly affronted on Lizzie’s behalf.
“Mum, sick is good,” Grace said, rolling her eyes at Lizzie who winked at me.
“Oh. Well, I actually feel sick and that’s not good,” I said, plonking myself down onto the bed. “I’m nauseous – all excited and nervous at the same time.”
; “And on top of what you’ve eaten this morning that could make one big mess on the carpet,” squealed Al, rushing into the room half-dressed, pulling on socks and combing his hair at the same time. He eventually straightened, held out his arms and gave us a twirl in his bright blue, fishtailed suit.
Grace giggled. “Uncle Al, you look awesome.”
“And I feel awesome,” he smiled, slipping his feet into blue patent-leather. “Come on girls – what you waiting for? It’s showtime!” he leapt out of the room and down the stairs, swiftly followed by two best women and an excited sea-fairy. Climbing into the waiting taxi we passed Seb, who was holding open the doors and chatting to the cab driver.
“At last!” he said locking the front door, admiring Al and piling into the back with Lizzie, Grace and I. His Majesty, Al sat proudly in the front and instructed the driver to “Please drive slowly, I am gorgeous but nervous. It’s my wedding day.” We all giggled and Seb shook his head in mock despair as the taxi driver smiled uncertainly and set off for the ten-minute journey to aqua-married bliss.
Once at the Splash Centre we all piled out of the taxi and a handful of people – including Al’s parents – waved animatedly, greeting us like film stars and snapping away with their cameras. After the photos were done, I hugged Al’s mum, Jean, who wiped a tear while his dad Brian shook Seb’s hand. “Ooh you both look sooo handsome,” Jean said, squeezing Al’s arm. Al linked his mum and started to walk her into the building, she was in her seventies and a little wobbly on her feet but feisty like her son. “Now where’s Seb?” I heard her say, “I need to give him instructions about the way you like your cauliflower cheese.”
“Don’t worry Mum, he wrote it all down last time we saw you, remember?” Al answered, kissing the top of her head.
The heat and chlorine hit me in the face as we arrived poolside and walked into the adjoining aerobics gym which had been transformed into ‘Seaworld’ for the occasion. Human seaweed jostled with Neptunes of various sizes, sexualities and genders, like the cartoon cast from The Little Mermaid. Lizzie and I stood together, dressed in our matching beachwear and dark sunglasses
“That red suits your blonde hair,” Lizzie said, looking me up and down.
“Thanks sweetie,” I said, appreciatively. But as I looked around and eyed the younger girls in tiny bikinis and mini sarongs, I couldn’t help but feel I was less ‘Pammy from Baywatch’ and more ‘Shelley Winters: the fat years.’
Suddenly, the music started. Lizzie and I ushered everybody into the pool area to stand along both sides of the pool, facing the deep end. Then we took our places near the celebrant. The happy couple appeared from the changing rooms at the shallow end in matching, sea-blue suits with satin fishtails. They were smiling, looking at each other and holding hands. My heart lurched and my eyes filled with water. I kept my head down and tried to concentrate on the pale blue, mosaic-tiled floor, determined not to burst into uncontrollable sobs at this early stage in the proceedings.
“They look fabulous, don’t they?” Lizzie hissed. I nodded, unable to speak.
“Yes, they do. They do look fabulous,” a voice whispered behind us. It was Sebastian’s mum Rosemary, dressed in a classy, deep-pink costume with matching beaded sarong.
“It’s so nice to see you under happier circumstances. You must be very proud of him,” I said, discreetly wiping my eyes and making room for her to stand between Lizzie and I.
“Yes. As I’m sure you know, Sebastian’s an only child,” she said. “This is the day I always dreamed of.”
At that point the music started and Al and Seb walked to the side of the pool, followed by my sea-fairy and a vivid collection of sea urchins whose day job was being Al’s nephews and nieces. They were escorted by Al’s sister Linda, who was busy tucking in scales and arranging seaweed hair. The boys, followed by the unruly gaggle walked slowly round the pool in front of the guests, who moved back to let them pass. Their celebrant, friend and men’s 200-metre champion Tristram was waiting at the deep end with a cheeky smile, a just-worked-out six pack and Speedos.
“Nice,” whispered Lizzie, under her breath.
“Forget it – he’s in the cocktail lane,” I sighed.
“Today we are here to witness these two people making a public declaration of love and a lifelong commitment to each other,” Tristram started. “The couple have written their own vows to truly reflect how they feel about each other.” Then the boys started to recite their vows. I noticed that Al was shaking slightly and I got my tissues ready.
“I vow to love Al all my life. I will dance with him, swim with him and protect him from the sharks in open water,” Sebastian concluded.
Al looked up at him, his eyes shining. “And I vow to love Sebastian all my life, to hold his hand when he’s scared, never put his swimming trunks on a hot wash, and never push him in the deep end.”
Then I stepped forward, passing Al the white-gold wedding ring he had chosen and Lizzie did the same for Seb, both trying our best not to cry. Everyone laughed and clapped and cheered as Ella Fitzgerald sang Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye over the PA system. Al and Seb then stripped off and dove into the water, coming up holding each other’s hands in the air and hugging.
“So much for not getting the plaster cast wet,” Lizzie chuckled, wiping a tissue across her eyes.
The guests showered the happy couple with confetti whilst they were still in the water. Grace and the urchins especially enjoyed throwing the coloured paper into the water and Lizzie and I watched in silence for a few seconds as it floated then swirled into multicolour madness. I think we were both contemplating the lack of love and confetti in our own lives.
“Come on babes, let’s get started on the buffet,” Lizzie said, grabbing my arm, linking me and heading for the groaning table in the gym, stacked with seafood, shell-shaped cookies with white-chocolate pearls, seahorse fairy cakes, mermaid-shaped meringues and the swimming pool wedding cake.
“This looks dee–lish!” Lizzie announced, forgetting about men in trunks and filling her plate. “You’ve done an amazing job Stella,” she said, looking at the cake and gaping in awe at the detailed little sugar people diving into sea-blue icing. “Ooh that’s you, and there’s François from Fashion. Oh, and Denise up to her neck in blue icing and boys…oh and there’s me, I’ve lost a few pounds,” She giggled.
Plates piled high we made our way to one of the circular tables which had been set out in the gym. Covered in swathes of sea-blue material, each table was sprinkled with sparkly fish confetti and had a glass bowl with floating blue flowers and lit candles in the centre. Al’s lifeboat favours were laid carefully at each place and we sat on blue gossamer-covered chairs. In between mouthfuls, Lizzie was running up and down to video the lesbian synchronised swimming team doing their Esther Williams bit and then filmed Pete from Graphics dressed as Carmen Miranda as he started off the karaoke at the other end of the gym.
When ‘Carmen’ had finished his rendition of Three Little Fishes Sebastian, with Al at his side, took the mic. “Hi everyone, can I have your attention?” Gradually, guests stopped chattering and made their way into the gym. “Firstly, thank you sooo much for coming. We didn’t really want any speeches today – we just wanted everyone to enjoy the pool and the food and…” at this, Al couldn’t contain himself any longer and grabbed the mic.
“Thanks to Mum, Dad and Rosemary for being such wonderful parents and producing two gorgeous boys.” He said with a wink. “Thanks also for the lovely buffet,” Al continued. “The cauliflower-cheese flan is lovely, Mum.” He then went on to thank Tristram for being the cutest ever celebrant, along with sea urchins and the sea-fairy bridesmaid, who was dripping wet and eating ice cream in a very un-fairylike way.
“And now we come to the cake,” Al said, looking at me with a smile. “Well, what can I say? It’s just amazing. Thank you, Stella – and not just for the incredible pièce de résistance. Thanks to both you and Lizzie – for truly being my ‘best women’, for always bein
g there for me and for being such dear friends to both of us. The events of the last few months have taught me a lot about true friendship,” he said with a smile, and then turned to Sebastian “and about true love. Now let the celebrations begin!”
Lizzie wiped her eyes then put fresh batteries in her video camera. “Sebastian,” she shouted, “come and speak to the camera.”
Sebastian swept Al across the dancefloor and rushed over. “What can I say? I’m the happiest man alive!” he shouted, dragging Al behind. “We’ve chosen blue as our wedding theme today,” he said directly to the camera. We want to celebrate our maleness. Yes, we’re reclaiming blue, not borrowing pink from the girls anymore, they can have it back.”
“It’s not any old blue either,” added Al, “it’s the blue of the ocean because we met in very blue waters,” his arm now firmly round Seb.
I felt moved by their mutual joy and when Al staggered towards me later in the evening holding a glass of blue champagne, I put out my arms and he sat on my knee. “I’m so happy Stella,” he said. “I’ve never been this happy. He’s so good for me you know.” I hugged him.
“You’re so lucky, some people wait all their lives for what you two have,” I said kissing him on the cheek.
Later, I sat alone watching Al and Seb dancing the last waltz in their matching suits. Two blue penguins dancing in a sea of happiness, I thought, overcome with pink prose and blue Champagne. I vowed then, with chlorine in my nostrils and hope in my heart, that I would only spend my life with another man if we could be as happy as they were tonight.
