Not by speedboat, I can tell you that. ‘It’s not very far between the two,’ I say instead. ‘Only about a mile. I guess everyone could walk.’ Their faces are blank. ‘Or… the bus?’
‘There’ll be black cabs decorated with ribbons,’ my dad says, ‘to take the guests to the square.’
This is news to Daniel and me.
Philippa thinks this will be an amahzing touch of local colour and she wants to know about all our plans. She’s been asking through Daniel all along, but I’ve fended her off with little details here and there. I can’t very well pretend I don’t hear her now when our knees are practically touching under the table.
The half-truths and lies trip off my tongue. By the time we’re full of fish and chips and the bill arrives, we’ve got antique Belgian lace and bespoke hand-stitched napkins for the tables. Hugh is very impressed by the craft beer that’s being brewed especially for the wedding. Well, technically that’s true, since it is being brewed for sale to customers, and we are customers… and we are having a wedding. Mum just manages to pretend her laugh is a cough when our vicar, Del, morphs into a concert pianist.
‘What do you think about the butterfly release?’ Philippa asks.
‘Oh, the venue won’t allow them,’ I say. ‘It’s an environmental hazard.’
‘But they’re completely natural,’ she says.
‘I know. Health and Safety has gone mad, eh?’ Daniel glances my way. Hopefully he assumes I’m just saving face because we argued over those damn butterflies. If he starts wondering about my other excuses, he might work out that the chocolate fountain people didn’t really shut down because the world is running out of cocoa beans and the marquee hire company didn’t actually double-book us with a country-and-western music festival. This wedding illusion is as much for him as it is for his family.
For the record, I will come clean with Daniel as soon as the wedding is over. Then we’ll have a heart-to-heart talk about money, because we were clearly raised with different views about it. It’s not a huge issue, especially when Daniel’s family is so generous, but Daniel could definitely benefit from some down-to-earth common sense, just in case our future isn’t always full of butterflies and chocolate fountains.
On our way to the Cock and Crown I manage to get Dad out of earshot of the others.
‘Did you really arrange for taxis from the town hall, Dad?’ It’s a brilliant idea. I wish I’d thought of it.
‘No,’ he says, reaching back to pat my hand on the push handles of his wheelchair. ‘But I will. My mates won’t mind doing me the favour. I could see the idea of walking wasn’t going down too well. We can get Daniel’s side there in taxis anyway. Walking’s good enough for the rest of us.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
People turn curiously when we enter the pub, but it’s probably only to get a look at Hugh and Daniel, who aren’t at all embarrassed to be wearing matching green trousers. Philippa shouts a greeting to Uncle Barbara when she spots him behind the bar. She rushes over to kiss his cheeks like they’re old friends. ‘Lovely dress, Barbara! Oh, hellair,’ she says to Uncle Colin. ‘You must be Barbara’s brother. You’re the spitting image! I’m Philippa Billings.’ She extends her hand. ‘How d’you do?’
‘Is that them, then?’ Auntie Rose wonders, rather more loudly than she probably realises. ‘Poshies, eh?’
I’m out of my chair so fast that it makes me slightly dizzy. ‘Auntie Rose! Come and meet Daniel’s parents!’ It might be a squeeze getting everyone round the table, what with June and Doreen there too, but it’s safer having them where I can keep an eye on them. And kick them under the table if I need to. But everyone is on their best behaviour and I’m starting to think that maybe our families aren’t such oil and water after all. They may not holiday together in the South of France, but they can manage the occasional drink.
Then Daniel goes and nearly ruins it for us.
I’m telling Philippa about my exams and upcoming graduation, and about the kind of job I want now that I’m qualified. I’ve been looking into a great charity that sets up youth activity centres around the country. Not only does it give bored teens something to do, it’s got loads of support and educational services too. It would be the perfect job for me. ‘I’d probably have to start at the very bottom,’ I tell her, ‘but it’s exactly the kind of work I want to do.’ I’m in the middle of excitedly telling her about how it’s more appealing than social work since it gives the kids opportunities through the centres before they get into trouble, when Daniel decides to add that I don’t have to find a job now.
The table falls silent.
‘What do you mean, darling?’ Philippa asks her son.
‘Well, since she’s getting married,’ Hugh supposes, ‘he means there’s no need to rush into a job. Daniel can support them, right son?’
‘That’s a bunch of BS!’ Doreen says. ‘Our Emma hasn’t gone to school for five bleedin’ years not to use her degree.’
‘Yah, that is BS, Hugh,’ Philippa repeats. ‘Daniel, darling, that can’t be what you meant.’ Her words are kind, but her tone is a warning.
Of course it’s not what he meant. He meant that a pregnant woman doesn’t usually rush off to look for a new job, but we can’t say that, can we? I stare at Daniel. He’d better come up with something quickly.
The look of panic on his face slowly recedes as he shakes his head. ‘Right, yah, no, of course not. All I meant was that with the wedding planning and the dealership, Emma has effectively been working two jobs. Three, if you count all the coursework and revising. She should take some time off afterward to relax. She doesn’t have to find another job right now. That’s all I meant.’
Everyone seems to accept his explanation, but we’re never going to keep this pregnancy quiet till after the wedding if Daniel isn’t more careful.
Chapter 17
Despite Mum’s manic cheeriness, the mood was sombre at home the day after Philippa and Hugh’s visit, as we helped Dad get ready for his hospital stay. He’s been in for three days now and is as ornery as ever, so it seems that he’s feeling more like himself. The steroids knock him for six, making him nauseated and giving him mood swings like a pre-menstrual woman (his words). I just hope they’re also doing their job.
If I’d known Dad was going to be at the same hospital where we’ve come for my scan, I’d have rebooked it instead of having to creep through the corridors. If he catches us, I can always say we were coming for a visit, but then I’ll miss the scan.
‘Here, have some more water,’ Daniel says, pushing the bottle into my hands.
‘Please, no more. I’m bursting already. If they’re running late, I might have an accident.’ We check in at reception and trade smiles with the other couples sitting around the room.
This is getting very real. In six months, give or take (that’s what the dating scan is for), we’ll be parents. I have to give Daniel credit. He hasn’t wavered once since finding out he’s about to have a family. He’s going to be an amazing father.
‘So when can we tell people?’ he asks as another couple is called in. ‘I rahly can’t keep it to myself for much longer.’
‘No kidding. You’re the worst secret-keeper I’ve ever met. But please wait until after the wedding. I just don’t want your family to… misunderstand. Please. This is important to me. Not till after the wedding.’
He kisses me. ‘Then it’s important to me too.’
In the examination room the sonographer starts sliding the wand around my gelled-up tummy. ‘Hmm,’ she says.
‘Is something wrong?!’ I can’t quite see the screen from my position on the bed. ‘Daniel, look at it, what’s wrong?’ What if our baby has a tail or two heads or something? It must be noticeable for the sonographer to react like that. I just know it’s because I had a drink before I knew I was pregnant. I also had takeaways and not from the good Indian restaurant either. It was the dodgy one. Now I’ve got a dodgy curry-deformed baby.
‘Are t
here any twins in your families?’ the sonographer asks, digging the wand around some more. ‘Because I’m seeing two embryos. It looks like you’re having twins. Congratulations.’
It’s a good thing I’m lying down because I feel faint. Daniel sits on the bed next to me. I guess he’s not feeling so well, either.
Twins. Not a baby with a tail or an onion bhaji for a head. Two babies. That’s twice as many to look after, to feed and change and house. Twice as many to carry and give birth to and worry about. And I thought we were just going to find out my due date.
Daniel is completely over the moon. He’s got a list of names by the time we leave hospital. ‘A ready-made family!’ he keeps saying. But I’ve barely got my head around being pregnant, and now twins? I really wish my Gran was alive to talk to. She went through this with Uncle Colin and Uncle Barbara.
Then again, maybe I’d rather not know what I’m in for.
The next week is manic with everything we’ve got to do for the wedding, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my life. Mum says she should have suspected twins with how dead on my feet I’ve been. I’m not even allowed to perk myself up with caffeine, only pure adrenalin and fear that this whole charade is going to come crashing down when Daniel’s side finds out that our wedding is more Primark than Prada.
The one bright spot in the week is Dad’s return home. The disease still has him in its grip, but the treatment has seemed to help, and hopefully his symptoms will lessen quicker because of it. He’s adamant that the wheelchair will not come up the aisle with us, even though he’s not able to walk very well yet. That sounds like he’s back to his normal stubborn self, though he’s also admitted that we were right to make him go for the treatment, which is most unlike him.
If Kelly didn’t have her heart so set on my hen do, I’d beg off and go home to sleep for about a week. I really don’t feel like squeezing into spandex to go to the pub.
‘Maybe with a cardigan?’ I say to my image in the mirror. But Kelly is frowning at me. ‘I told you the catsuits were a bad idea.’
‘Well, if you weren’t having twins it wouldn’t be so noticeable.’
‘I’m so sorry my egg split. How thoughtless of me. And twins aren’t any bigger than one baby at this stage.’
‘Then you’re just a porker,’ she says. ‘You’re right, though. You can’t wear it like that. Try this over it.’ She throws me a sparkly purple tutu from her bag. ‘Pull it up a little higher. That’s it. Problem solved.’
She puts her arm round me as we stare at ourselves in the full-length mirror. ‘And just when I didn’t think I’d ever find the perfect accessory for pink spandex.’
‘Do you want the cape?’ she asks.
‘Think it’s overkill? The outfit is so classy now, I’d hate for it to become tacky.’
‘Give it here, then.’ She ties the black cape round her neck and unzips her gold catsuit another inch. She looks like a slaggy superhero.
When Kell got so upset at the spa about Cressida’s hen do suggestions, I thought she was just being petty. But now I think I get it. She’s always made a huge deal out of our milestones. We’ve celebrated them all together and some of the best nights of my life have been with her. For her this is about us, about the fact that we’re best friends. So I’ll make an arse of myself in a stupid pink catsuit and a purple tutu that hides what looks like one of Mum’s throw cushions stuffed down the front. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t let my friend humiliate me in front of everyone I know?
‘C’mere,’ Kell says, pulling me back in front of the mirror. ‘Ready? For posterity.’ She snaps a dozen photos with her phone. ‘It’s only going to get messier from here.’
‘Speak for yourself. I’m on the apple juice all night.’
‘I am speaking for myself.’ She grins at me.
Shahrzad and Stacy Boyle are already at the Cock when we arrive to jeers from the regulars. ‘Gawd, this is mortifying!’ Shahrzad says, shrinking further into her chair. ‘At least you two turned up looking like prats too.’ She’s got on a shiny bright blue spandex mini-dress that she keeps yanking down to cover a few inches of thigh.
‘Take the stick out of your backside and enjoy it,’ says Stacy, lounging with her arm thrown along the back of the booth where she’s sitting. She’s got none of Shahrzad’s qualms about form-fitting dresses. Hers is identical to her friend’s, hugging every bump and curve. And Stacy has a lot more bumps and curves than Shahrzad.
As much as I want to curl up under the table and go to sleep, I’m starting to feel excited for the night ahead. I don’t know what’s in store, except that there’s a pub crawl and we end up back here so that Mum, Auntie Rose and her ladies can meet us.
Catcalls start up from around the bar as everyone catches sight of Uncle Barbara, but they die down quickly as the men realise that whistling at their mate could be misconstrued as ‘being a gay’, as Auntie Rose puts it.
Uncle Barbara looks just as uncomfortable as they do. ‘Too much?’ He glances down at his outfit. ‘I can change.’
‘Well, that settles it. Barbara wins,’ Kell says. ‘You look fantastic.’
‘You really do,’ I say as he practically runs to our table. His black and white striped spandex dress isn’t too tight or too short. It shows off his legs and disguises his tummy. Frankly, I wish I was wearing it.
Kell grabs her purse. ‘So, now that we’re all here, should we have a swift half? I’d like to propose a toast.’
‘We’re not all here,’ I remind her. ‘Abby and Cressida are coming. They are coming, aren’t they? Kell?’
She sighs. ‘Yes, they’re coming. They’re supposed to meet us. In fact, they’re late.’ She crosses her arms.
When they turn up at the Cock a few minutes later they’re as surprised by our outfits as we are by theirs. Cressida’s got on a really nice sparkly top and a pair of skinny jeans with her platform heels and Abby’s in jeans too, with a flowy peasant blouse. In other words, they look perfectly normal.
‘You didn’t tell them?’ I say to Kell. It’s not so much a question as an accusation.
‘Didn’t I? I thought I did. Anyway, we’d better be going.’
‘I’m so sorry we’re not dressed up!’ Abby murmurs as we follow Kelly along the road to the next pub she’s chosen. ‘Kelly must have told me and I just forgot, what with exams and everything going on.’
But I know the fault isn’t Abby’s, and she’s only collateral damage. Kell will do anything to make Cressida feel unwelcome, even when it means she looks so much nicer than the rest of us.
Cressida pulls the neck of her top open and looks down it. ‘Damn.’ She notices me staring at her. ‘I thought I had on a different bra. I could have just worn that. At least I’d blend in a little bit more. I rahly am so sorry!’
I’m about to assure her that she’s not the one I blame when Abby grabs Cressida’s arm and whispers something. ‘We’ll catch you up,’ Abby says to the rest of us. ‘Where’s the pub, Kelly? I’ve just got to run in here first.’ Tampons, she mouths to me.
Our arrival at the new pub causes the expected commotion. Unlike in the Cock, we’re strangers here and Kelly couldn’t be more pleased with all the attention. It’s exactly what she wants. Which just makes Abby and Cressida’s arrival a few minutes later all the more irritating for her.
The punters cheer them into the pub too.
‘What the bleedin’ hell is she wearing?’ Kelly says.
‘It’s a… catsuit?’ I say.
It is literally a catsuit, and not one of those sexy ones, either. Made of some kind of furry brown and white blotchy fabric, the baggy costume engulfs Cressida’s slender figure and the hood covers her shiny dark hair. It looks itchy and horrible. Not to mention extremely flammable.
Cressida grimaces. ‘Well, we’re not going to let you look like a prat if we don’t.’ She links her arm in mine while Kelly scowls.
Abby is dressed as a panda. ‘It smells. I don’t think it
’s the first time someone has worn this costume,’ she says. ‘I need a drink.’
Everyone loves the costumes, which briefly makes Kell the odd one out till she gets over herself. Which only takes about half a pint. And then I couldn’t really ask for a better night, even if I am the butt of most of the jokes.
Then Kell’s banter starts to take on an edge. I don’t think I’ve said anything to offend her, but it’s hard to know with her being so sensitive lately. At first I’m the only one who notices it, until I make a perfectly innocent compliment about Daniel’s local pub.
‘Why don’t you just go, then?’ she says. Her expression is fierce. ‘Go to West London and have a nice life with your…’ I gasp when she points at my middle. ‘With your new husband and your new life and your new best friend.’ Her finger aims at Cressida now. ‘I can’t compete with that.’
There’s a second of stunned silence. Then Cressida nearly shouts. ‘Oh, seriously, Kelly, even you cannot be that stupid.’ I think Kell might hit her for that. ‘You’re not competing with anything. Or anyone. Can’t you see how much Emma loves you? You’re blind if you can’t. Do you realise how lucky you are to have the kind of friendship that you and she have? It’s unbreakable. I’m not a threat to you. I could never be. You’ve had a lifetime together. I’m thrilled that Emma wants to be my friend because she’s an amahzing person and I’m rahly growing to love her. But I can’t touch what you’ve got with her. I never will.’ She shrugs. ‘Lifelong friends are lifelong friends. You’re not giving Emma much credit if you’re threatened by the idea that you’re not her one and only friend. And if you think a change in postcode is going to end that, then you really are a stupid girl.’
The Big Little Wedding in Carlton Square Page 20
