My Sister's Wedding: For better or worse, two families are about to become one . . .

by Vicky Pattison

  ‘Hi, Elena,’ I pipe up.

  ‘Rebecca, is that you?’ She always calls me Rebecca, refusing to acknowledge that I prefer Becky. Which is fine. It’s totally fiiiiiiiine.

  ‘Yes. Hiya!’

  Elena coughs. ‘I’ll go and get your father, Daniel,’ she says, decidedly less enthusiastic about this phonecall than she was about thirty seconds ago. I wonder what’s brought on that change in attitude? Oh, stop it, Bex, these people are going to be your in-laws. Stop being so defensive. Positive vibes only from this point on.

  I pull a face at Daniel. Ah well, poz vibes didn’t last as long as I would have liked. I’ll try harder next time. I promise. Sorry, he mouths.

  We hear a little furious mumbling on the other end of the line before Rupert Balfour’s voice booms over the line.

  ‘Hello, son, Rebecca. You have news? You’re not pregnant are you, Rebecca? I bloody hope you’ve not gotten yourself in the family way out of wedlock.’

  That is Rupert Balfour to a tee. Blunt and to the point and almost completely deviod of tact. That is, of course, if he doesn’t deem the situation or the person he’s dealing with important enough to spare their feelings. He’s a bit of a tyrant, but I suppose that’s what’s helped him run a successful multinational business delivering luxuries to people with more money than sense. The fact that he comes from a long line of old money and has had everything handed to him on a silver platter also helps.

  Daniel laughs. ‘Nope. Not yet, at least.’

  I hear his parents exhale audibly.

  ‘But the news is good,’ Daniel continues. ‘I asked Becky to marry me and . . . ’

  ‘ . . . I said yes!’

  We look at each other and grin.

  Silence on the other end of the phone. It seems Mummy and Daddy Balfour didn’t enjoy the whole ‘we’re so in love and overjoyed about our engagement news that we now finish each other’s sentences’ skit quite as much as we did. The silence lasts just a few seconds, but it’s enough to know that the news has not been received rapturously. I knew it wouldn’t be, but Daniel looks a little crestfallen. I don’t mind how much they obviously don’t approve of me, but they’re meant to love him – I don’t understand why they can’t do a better job of pretending just for his sake. Seeing his little face like that is enough to break my heart.

  ‘Marvellous, very good,’ his dad says over the line, just a beat too late.

  ‘Have you . . . have you set a date?’ his mother asks.

  ‘Not yet; thinking about this summer, though,’ Daniel responds. ‘But we are going to throw an impromptu engagement party next Saturday and we were hoping you’d come. It would be great for you to finally meet Becky’s father Steve and her sister Lizzie.’

  I hear a sniff on the other line. ‘Of course!’ Elena says in a forced voice. ‘Shall I see if I can make reservations at The Ledbury? It’s short notice, of course, but I’m sure your father can arrange something.’

  ‘I’d be happy to, of course,’ Rupert pipes up.

  ‘That’s really kind of you but I think we’re just going to do something in our local pub.’ I say. ‘The Elgin has a gorgeous music room that it hires out for functions. I know the landlord so it’s no problem at all.’

  ‘A pub? You know the landlord?’ Elena says in a voice that suggests I’ve just told her I want to hold the engagement party at Brixton’s roughest social club and I know the resident drug dealer so if she wants anything sorted for her I have the hook-up.

  ‘It’s a lovely pub, Mum. You’ll like it. And I hope you’ll come to the party and show everyone how happy you are for us,’ Daniel prompts pointedly. ‘I’m very happy.’ Come on, for God’s sake just act happy for us even if you aren’t, I silently plead in my head. Seeing Daniel like this is too much for me.

  His mother’s voice softens ever so slightly – a rare occurrence. ‘All I want is for you to be happy, cabbage,’ she says. Whoa, it actually worked. I am now a bona fide master of mind control. I am officially a Jedi. They will call me Obi-Bex-Kenobi. And they will tell tales of my amazing skills and power.

  ‘I suppose I had better inform The Times,’ Rupert says glumly, in a way that suggests he’s informing them of his son’s funeral rather than his impromptu engagement. I revoke my Jedi status. I need more practice. Clearly I’m not strong enough to penetrate the Dark Lord Rupert Balfour’s mind just yet. Pants.

  I shake my head at Daniel. ‘He supposes he better what?’ I stage whisper with a frown. Daniel hushes me. I take a large gulp of my Sancerre.

  ‘That would be great, Father. I’ll send the details of the party over to you by email. And don’t tell Nicole. I’m meeting her for brunch tomorrow so I’ll tell her myself.’

  ‘Hmm. I wonder what she’ll make of the news?’ his dad muses. I can hear Elena in the background and it sounds like she’s full-on sobbing, and I suspect it’s not with joy.

  Sensing my temper – something that rarely makes an appearance – rising, Daniel hastily says his goodbyes to his parents, ends the conversation and pulls me in for a hug.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, stroking my hair gently. ‘That bit’s done. And it wasn’t as bad as we thought? They seem really pleased about the whole thing.’

  I just stare at him. And finish the rest of my glass of wine.

  He gets the message. ‘Fine, it wasn’t ideal but they’ll come round to the idea, you’ll see.’

  ‘I hope so.’ I sigh. ‘I just wish they were a bit more enthusiastic.’

  Daniel looks off into the distance. ‘It’s just their way.’

  I look at him and feel sad for him. His relationship with his family is not an easy one. I kiss him on the cheek to pull him gently out of his reverie. ‘My turn,’ I say. I take hold of the phone and dial my dad’s number.

  It rings for about half a ring before my dad’s gruff voice with its broad northern accent sounds through.

  ‘Bex! How are you, love?’

  I grin widely at hearing his voice. ‘Hiya, Dad!’ I say. ‘Daniel’s here with me.’

  ‘All right, Daniel, son?’ Dad says cheerfully. ‘Good game last night, eh? That goal was a belter!’

  Daniel is already laughing. Every time my dad calls him ‘Daniel Son’ he can’t help it – it reminds him of his favourite childhood film, The Karate Kid. Bless him. ‘Oh yeah, it was amazing!’ Daniel says with a panicked expression to me, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. It’s hilarious. My dad thinks Daniel’s as into the footie as he is because when they first met Daniel was so nervous and polite he told my dad he loves football because he wanted Dad to like him. Daniel doesn’t know the first thing about football. I know more about the offside rule than he does. But he’s kept the pretence up all these years and it’s been too long to get out of it now. He’s sort of stuck with the lie, if you like. The thing with my dad is that people want to please him as soon as they meet him. He’s a big presence – not just literally with his beefy stature and shaved head, but personality-wise too. His voice is big and booming and everyone calls him Big Steve. He is a lovable chunk of man – and I’m so grateful he’s my dad.

  ‘A really great, um, kick,’ Daniel goes on, covering his face and shaking his head. He knows as much about footie as I know about polo – which is to say absolutely nothing.

  ‘So . . . ’ I say. ‘We have some news.’

  ‘Ooh, let me just turn the telly on mute.’ Dad says. I hear him shuffle about a bit and then he’s back.

  ‘What is it?’ He sounds excited.

  ‘Well . . . ’ I say slowly, hamming it up. ‘We’re getting marrieeeeeed!’

  Dad’s joyful laughter booms out over the loudspeaker, making me and Daniel laugh too. It’s an instant, happy response – the correct response, a response that makes you even happier than you were before because you know that someone who matters to you so much is backing your decision. I feel all warm inside. Then I think about Daniel’s parents’ response again and how it was such a stark contrast to my dad’s and I feel
a tiny bit of that warm seep away. Don’t think about it, I tell myself.

  ‘Congratulations! Ah, I’m thrilled, love. Welcome to the family, son!’ My dad’s big, lovely voice booms out of the tinny speaker.

  I can’t keep the smile off my face, and neither can Daniel. He and Dad chat easily for a few minutes as Dad makes him recount every second of the proposal. (‘Nando’s? Bloody brilliant! Did you hide the ring in the chicken wings? Geddit? Ring in a wing?’) This is how a parent is supposed to react when their child tells them they’re getting married. I squeeze Daniel’s hand. He turns and grazes my temple with his lips and pulls me closer to him. It doesn’t matter what his family think about us. We’ve got Dad and Lizzie in our corner, and we’ve got each other. We are going to be absolutely fine.

  Chapter Six

  Nicole Balfour crossed her long legs and leaned back in the cast-iron lounge chair, surveying those around her on the terrace of Chelsea House, the most exclusive members’ club in West London. She ignored the glances she was drawing from fellow mid-week, afternoon champagne drinkers. She was more than used to it. While not naturally pretty, with her size 2 figure, sleek white blonde hair, plump lips and clothes that hung off her in a way the designers intended them to, she was the most groomed woman in almost any room she walked into. Her best friend Persephone – ‘Seffy’ – Rowley-Sinclair sat opposite and took a drag from her French cigarette, flicking a little ash over the top of the terrace balcony, with absolute zero consideration for whoever was unfortunate to be walking on the street below. Seffy was attractive but in a less obvious way than Nicole. She had all of her own features, for one.

  ‘She’s just such a bitch.’ Nicole declared, shaking her head, her ice-blonde hair swaying. ‘I mean. You know me, Seffy, there are few people I actively dislike . . . ’

  Seffy nodded quickly, because while that was a total lie – Nicole actively disliked many people – you didn’t get to disagree with Nicole Balfour without suffering very big social consequences. One time, their friend Alessandra disagreed with Nicole about whether the latest Chanel collection was the best one yet. A small thing for most people, but not for Nicole. Alessandra’s membership at Chelsea House had been mysteriously revoked and she’d last been seen waitressing in a Bella Italia in Croydon. The dodgy end. Seffy didn’t want to end up in the dodgy end of Croydon smelling of Parmesan cheese.

  ‘. . .but Rebecca Ashworth is one of those girls that I just cannot stand.’ Nicole finished.

  Seffy nodded fervently. ‘Such a basic bitch.’

  Nicole sipped her champagne, her perfect nude Gelish manicure glinting in the harsh sunlight. Her phone beeped with a text. She looked at it and sighed.

  ‘It’s Justin.’

  Justin was Nicole’s ex. He was a singer in a band Nicole thought would hit the big time and they spent six steamy months together. He was fit and great in bed but there was only so long Nicole Balfour was prepared to keep slumming it. When Justin’s band didn’t get the record deal she was hoping they would, she dropped him immediately, much to Justin’s surprise. He hadn’t seen it coming – he’d believed there had been genuine feeling there. Romantic Imbecile. He still believed it, probably because Nicole would indulge him from time to time and then tear him down when he thought it might mean they were getting back together. Just for the lolz, obvs.

  ‘What does he want?’ Seffy asked. ‘I thought you two were, like, over.’

  Nicole shrugged. ‘We are . . . sort of. He still wants me. And it’s useful to keep him interested because he’s incredible in bed, but then, the Americans always are.’

  Nicole reread Justin’s message: Babe, can’t stop thinking about you. Drink soon? Jx. She tapped out a quick reply. I could be persuaded. Daniel’s engaged (don’t ask!!!). Engagement party on Saturday. Swing by and we can disappear early for champagne cocktails? xoxoxoxo. She put her phone down before returning to the more important topic of Rebecca and Daniel.

  ‘I wouldn’t even mind, but he’s marrying her. My brother is so much better than that. I had brunch with him a few days ago and you should have seen him when he told me. Completely oblivious. He has no idea what he’s getting into. No clue that he’s marrying . . . ’ – Nicole lowered her voice to a whisper – ‘trash. He’s so innocent. So . . . so good.’

  ‘He really is better than her,’ Seffy agreed, stubbing her cigarette out underfoot. ‘So much better. I can’t believe your parents are okay with it.’ Seffy always sycophantically agreed with everything Nicole said while also stoking the fire.

  ‘Oh,’ Nicole laughed. ‘They’re not! They genuinely thought she was just a bad habit. A rebellion. A scummy phase.’

  ‘Even after she moved into his flat?’

  Nicole rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, she totally wormed her way into his flat. He didn’t have any choice! She’s wormed her way into his heart, ugh. And now she’s going to be a Balfour. It’s ridiculous. Conniving little runt.’

  Seffy grimaced. ‘Why doesn’t your dad just, you know, threaten to financially cut him off if he goes through with it?’

  ‘Ha! Upset the golden child? No way. Daniel is the light of their lives. They hate that he’s marrying some northern monkey, but they’d prefer to wait for him to realise his own mistake than to be the bad guys for actually telling him. Dad’s invested the past ten years grooming Daniel to take over the family business. They’re not going to chance upsetting the apple cart too much. You know what they’re like. They don’t like to make a fuss. Not publicly, at least.’ Nicole looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Doesn’t matter to Dad that Daniel doesn’t even want to work for the family business. Doesn’t matter that his daughter would happily, happily take Balfour Industries to the next level.’ In her own way, Nicole did love her brother but she’d grown up in his shadow. It had never occurred to their father that she might be better placed to take over the family business. She understood their clients in a way that Daniel never could, but her father couldn’t see that, nor did he realise that Daniel didn’t even want to take over. Her brother had had everything handed to him and now he was risking it all by marrying that girl. Didn’t he realise what that would do to the family name? He could be so selfish sometimes. Well, Nicole thought, it looks like it’s up to me to save Daniel from himself and to save the family from public embarrassment.

  ‘But you’re such a wonderful jewellery designer.’ Seffy said now, lying through her teeth again. She glanced at the ring on Nicole’s finger, a huge, twisted monstrosity made of platinum and peridot. Seffy looked down at her own bracelet from the same range. She couldn’t wait to get home and take it off. She only wore it when she met Nicole. The rest of the time she hid it in a shoebox under her bed. Every piece from Nicole’s range was a hideous eyesore – not to mention physically painful to wear due mostly to how bloody heavy they were.

  Nicole smiled proudly at the ring on her finger. ‘I know, babes, right? Thanks though. But I do wish that my parents would realise that Daniel isn’t the only one with potential in this family. I mean. Daniel is great at his job, but he’s not passionate about it. He doesn’t care about those people who need luxury cars and private jets, or if they need to find out the name of the maître d’ at a Michelin-star restaurant in St Barts and don’t know where to get it. But I do. Daniel would much rather be working on a farm somewhere or playing chess with underprivileged youth or something equally heinous. Remember when he used to have a poster of Black Beauty on his bedroom wall? He thought he was going to grow up to be a vet.’

  Seffy sighed dreamily at the thought of Daniel riding Black Beauty across blustery moors. She would happily marry Daniel Balfour in a heartbeat. She lit two cigarettes and handed one to Nicole, who took it gratefully, hoovering up a huge drag and breathing out a plume of smoke in the direction of a nearby table of diners.

  ‘It’s just all so unfair.’ Seffy said, tipping back the remainder of her champagne and signalling to the waiter to bring more. ‘I wish your parents would see how amazing you are. And what�
�s so special about Rebecca Ashworth anyway? She’s so . . . plain.’

  Nicole narrowed her eyes and leaned in. ‘And so boring, with her books and that annoying twangy accent.’

  ‘The accent is horrid!’ Seffy agreed, although, in truth, she had developed a fondness for northern accents since she started watching Game of Thrones, not that she’d EVER tell Nicole that.

  ‘You know,’ Nicole went on casually, ‘I always thought Daniel would end up with you.’

  Seffy sat up a little straighter in her chair. She had had a massive crush on Daniel for years, ever since she was a teenager and saw him coming out of the Balfour bathroom wearing just a towel.

  ‘Really?’ Seffy giggled, touching her neck with a manicured hand. ‘Noooo. Really?’

  ‘Oh, totally,’ Nicole continued. ‘You’re sooo much prettier than her.’

  Seffy smiled warmly at Nicole for the first time all day.

  Nicole pouted slightly. ‘You know . . . if anyone could tempt him away from Trashy McCoronationStreet, it’s you.’ She flicked her ash on the floor and dropped her voice further. ‘He used to have a ridiculous crush on Angelina Jolie,’ she assessed Seffy. ‘If you had longer, darker hair you’d totally look like her . . . ’

  A naughty grin spread across Seffy’s face. ‘What are you saying, darling?’

  ‘I’m saying that he might be my brother, but he’s also just a man like any other man. They all only think about one thing. If we could tempt him to stray, then we can help him to get out of this horrible relationship. And soon he’d realise the huge favour we’d done him.’

  ‘It would be being cruel to be kind. Daniel deserves more than some northern nobody.’