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

by Vicky Pattison

  ‘For me? Thank you. This is just what I need right now,’ I say. Jane may be untrustworthy but I’m literally running on caffeine these days and I believe in not looking a coffee-giving gift horse in the mouth.

  ‘So how are things?’ Jane says, perching her bottom on the edge of my desk.

  ‘Good!’ I say brightly. ‘Busy, you know. But good.’

  Jane smiles and takes a sip of her coffee. ‘So, I just wanted to have a little chat about Darla.’

  Right. What does Darla have to do with her? ‘Oh,’ I say, going with it. ‘Of course.’

  Jane’s smile drops slightly, her eyes becoming serious. ‘I had breakfast with her this morning.’

  Huh? Why is she having breakfast with my author?

  ‘OK . . . ’ I say, trying not to jump to conclusions. Jane and Darla met at Darla’s launch. Maybe they’re becoming friends.

  ‘She’s – how shall I put this delicately . . . oh, this is tricky. Well, you see – she’s desperately unhappy.’

  I frown. ‘I know she was a bit upset about the deadline being brought forward but desperately unhappy? I don’t think so. What did she say?’ My stomach starts to churn. Something bad is about to happen. I can feel it.

  Jane shrugs. ‘I guess Darla just feels like you don’t have the headspace to give her what she needs right now.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘Just with all the press attention, your wedding planning and,’ – she drops her voice – ‘that thing with your sister.’

  I screw my face up. There is a ring of truth to this – didn’t I just say I couldn’t deal with Darla’s emotional neediness right now? But I’m not going to admit that to Jane. Yes, I haven’t been at Darla’s beck and call but then I can’t encourage that kind of behaviour in authors either. I have other work to do. But I’ve done my job. I’ve been doing a great job with her. Haven’t I? And then I remember that there was another email she sent me which I didn’t respond to. It landed in my inbox immediately after I got the email from Tracy and it just slipped my mind.

  But that’s just a couple of emails. And a couple of missed calls. Darla is a diva and I would challenge anyone to respond to all her threads of communication at all times.

  ‘Ah,’ I say in the most professional tone I can muster, despite my upset. ‘I wish she had felt able to come to me about it. I’ll give her a call now, see if I can’t calm her down a little.’

  Jane grimaces. ‘Well, that’s the thing. I think she’d like to move over to my list.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ I shake my head. ‘Move to your list as in—’

  ‘I’ll be her editor. At least for a while. You know, until you get back on your feet.’

  ‘Back on my feet?’ I stand up from my desk. Jane is towering over me and I don’t like how that feels.

  ‘I mean until your wedding’s done and the press attention has died down.’

  She’s lying. Jane is poaching my author, from right under my nose. She has no intention of handing the reins back over to me. She doesn’t even like Darla’s writing. All she likes is that she’s a bestseller and how great that will look on her CV.

  ‘I think we should chat to Toni about this. It seems very unorthodox.’

  Jane sighs. ‘I already did.’

  ‘And she’s all right with it?’

  ‘She thinks it’s a good idea. You must realise that your head has been somewhat in the clouds recently.’

  Maybe I have been a little distracted, but it’s only temporary! And I discovered Darla. I published her book. She wouldn’t even be on Richmond Books’ list if it wasn’t for me. And now she’s going to be taken away from me? STOLEN from me?

  ‘Why didn’t Toni speak to me about this herself?’ Toni’s the boss. This is her call, not Jane’s.

  ‘Oh, she’s going to,’ Jane said airily, ‘but I thought you might like a heads-up so you could prepare yourself for when she does.’

  I can’t think of what to say. I’m too shocked to think straight.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s already decided, there’s no point in trying to fight it when Toni speaks to you,’ Jane says. ‘Darla is happy with the move. She wanted to give you the early heads-up herself. She’s been trying to ring you all morning, but apparently, you haven’t been picking up so I told her I’d do it for her.’

  Shit. I should have just answered her calls.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t. Cry.

  I’m going to cry.

  I made a vow a long time ago to never cry at work, but I can feel the tears filling my eyes, blurring my vision.

  ‘I – I have to go.’ I say, stalking past Jane and breaking into a run for the ladies’. Once I get there I lock myself into one of the cubicles and carefully dab at my eyes with a tissue, trying to catch my breath.

  My phone in my blouse pocket beeps with a text. I see Daniel’s name pop up and exhale with relief. How does he always know when I need him? I open up the text.

  I can’t make the florists today! So sorry. Work busy. See you later. x

  This is the third time this week he’s changed plans with me with little or no explanation. I don’t bother replying and just stuff the phone back into my pocket. I try once again to dab the tissue to stem the flow of tears, but it’s no use. The tears are coming thick and fast and no amount of tissue in the world is going to stop them.

  It’s 6 p.m. and I’m walking along the busy Mayfair streets, towards the florists we’re using for the wedding. I wanted a lovely local florist in Notting Hill to do our flowers but Daniel’s mother insisted we use Mayfair Blooms who they’ve been doing business with for years. I would’ve gone with my choice but she’s offered to pay so I couldn’t really turn that down.

  The air is a little cool but I welcome the breeze – it’s helping to clear my head. After I managed to stop crying, I pulled myself together enough to get through the rest of the day. Toni did call me into her office to discuss Darla moving over to Jane’s list, and she mostly just repeated what Jane had said, albeit in a less patronising tone. I couldn’t quite believe she had agreed to the move and I tried to make the point that it was my work and vision that had turned Darla into a best-seller but she just said that she thought I had a lot going on at the moment and Darla needed more attention than I was able to give her right now. They wanted to keep Darla happy, which apparently meant not working with me.

  I arrive at Mayfair Blooms, my heart heavy in my chest. I don’t think the elaborate flower displays are going to be enough to cheer me up today.

  ‘Rebecca Ashworth?’ says a polished-looking woman. She’s wearing a crisp green and white striped apron and her chestnut-coloured hair is tied up in a very neat chignon.

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ I say with the politest smile I can muster.

  ‘Oh, good. I’ve been expecting you. I’m Camile, the owner. We have a mock-up of your bridal bouquet in the back room.’

  She must be mistaken. This is the first time I’ve visited the florists. I’ve not decided on any arrangements yet. How could she have done a mock-up?

  I follow Camile into a large back room, trying to get my head around what’s going on. ‘Here you go!’ She says cheerfully pointing at one of the ugliest bouquets I’ve ever seen in my life. I never thought a bunch of flowers could look so unappealing, but these are something else. They’re yellow and white, but the yellow flowers are stiff and tight, like dandelions. And the white flowers are huge and over the top. It’s not my taste at all.

  ‘They’re, um, lovely,’ I say politely, ‘but I haven’t actually decided what I’m having yet. May I look at some other options?’

  Camile’s smile drops for a moment. ‘But Elena instructed that we use this specific arrangement. She even sent a photograph, look!’

  I stare, dumbstruck, as Camile hands me a printed version of Elena and Rupert Balfour’s wedding picture – Elena is carrying the exact same bouquet that Camile just showed me. What the hell? I agreed to use Elena’s florist, not have her exact
wedding bouquet!

  I groan inwardly, trying to think about how best to broach the subject with Camile. She’s obviously worked very hard on creating this for me to see and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. It’s at times like this when I wish I was a little more like Lizzie. She’d just come straight out with it and say what she thought. She’d demand that the flowers be changed and that would be that. Job done.

  And then a voice behind me says, ‘I’m terribly sorry but you cannot have that bouquet. It’s vile.’

  Camile’s mouth drops open in horrified shock. I spin around to see Nicole, looking very chic in a long-sleeved black Diane von Furstenberg dress. Beside her, sneezing quietly, is her friend Seffy, whose lips appear to be much plumper than they were the last time I saw her.

  ‘Nicole? What are you doing here?’ I say, surprised to see her but also slightly relieved that she’s said what I was thinking.

  Nicole comes over and squeezes my arm. ‘Daniel told me he couldn’t make it and I couldn’t let you choose flowers alone. Flowers are très important.’

  ‘Très important,’ Seffy agrees, muffling another sneeze. ‘Sorry, I’m a little allergic to pollen.’

  I reach into my bag and hand her a tissue, which she accepts gratefully, dabbing at her dainty little nose.

  ‘And it looks like I got here just in time. There’s no way you can have those . . . wait – those are the flowers my mother had.’

  ‘I know,’ I say with a grimace. ‘She’s instructed Camile here to mock-up the same arrangement for me.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ Nicole says decisively. ‘You can’t let her steamroller you into that. My mother can be a tad . . . opinionated.’

  ‘But she’s paying for them. I’ll feel bad if I choose something different.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll pay for them no matter what you choose. She wouldn’t want to upset Daniel. I’ll deal with Mother, don’t worry. Rebecca, what flowers do you want?’

  Nicole stares at me intently. She genuinely wants to know the answer. Beside her, Seffy’s eyes are beginning to stream. She looks like she’s crying. ‘Are you okay? Do you need to leave?’ I ask.

  ‘No! I’ll be fine in a second!’ She says, blowing her nose noisily into the tissue. Nicole looks at her in disgust.

  ‘Well,’ I start, thinking about it for a moment. ‘I want something midsummer, and romantic and almost magical-looking. Lots of pinks and creams. With tawny leaves, maybe.’

  Camile nods with a smile. ‘Don’t tell Elena this – she’s one of my best customers – but I think that sounds much lovelier than these.’ She points at her mock-up.

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Nicole says with a clap of her hands. ‘Let’s pick your wedding flowers!’

  I can’t help but smile and Nicole takes my hand and leads me over to where huge buckets of flowers are lined against the wall, Camile and Seffy following closely behind.

  I’m not sure what’s caused this sudden change in Nicole. Yes, we had fun the other night but I put that down to the champagne and Nicole’s interest in hearing about the Vogue photoshoot. But today? She didn’t have to come out here this evening to help me. She might just be here because Daniel asked her to be but as we smell the flowers and gather bunches of them from the buckets, I don’t really care what the reason is. I’m glad she’s here. And as she pulls out her phone to take a selfie of us, I kiss her on the cheek to say thank you.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Lizzie

  I’m trying to get ready for my next date with Justin but all I can think about is Mum. We ended up drinking quite a lot of wine the other night and after we’d talked about all the sad things, the mood lightened and we actually had a laugh together. I couldn’t get over how much she sounds like me and Bex. She sounds like family, which sounds like a daft thing to think because she is family, but I suppose I’ve lived pretty much my whole life without knowing what having a mother feels like so this is all new to me. I showed her my Instagram and she loved all the photos. She told me how she had had a Polaroid camera back in the day and never went anywhere without it either. I can’t believe all the things we have in common. She works as a receptionist at a GP surgery down south now. She’s not in a relationship, but lives by the sea and has a nice, if lonely, life. By the time Jay got home we were pretty smashed, so I got her a cab back to the hotel she’s staying at near Paddington. She’d been shouting out of the window as the cab pulled away, wishing me luck on my date and saying that she’ll call me to arrange a shopping trip.

  I was bouncing off the walls after she left. There was too much running through my head – getting to know Mum, learning that Bex and Dad had sent her away when she wanted to come back, telling her about my life. It was a lot to process but I was excited at the thought of having a mother figure back in my life. Jay didn’t share my enthusiasm, though. He was quiet when I introduced Mum and hasn’t said a lot about it since. Right now, he’s straightening my hair for me and I can tell he wants to talk about it so I ask him what he thinks of the whole situation.

  ‘Why now?’ he asks as he glides the ghd down my unruly curls. ‘What made her decide to seek you out now?’

  I shrug. I’d be lying if I said this thought hadn’t occurred to me but I’d done some thinking. ‘She wasn’t brave enough before. It’s taken her years to gather up the courage to find us. She really regrets leaving. She just wants to make amends. It can’t have been easy for her to make that decision.’

  Jay doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow.

  ‘I feel happy about this. Please don’t ruin it. Can’t you be happy for me?’ I say. ‘I haven’t had much to be excited about recently except Justin and I don’t even know if that is anything to get excited about yet. Please be happy for me. I need you to do that for me.’

  ‘Lizzie, you know I love you and want you to be happy but I’m a cynic, you know that. I’m sorry. I do think you should tell your sister, though. She has a right to know.’

  I fold my arms. ‘Does she? She didn’t think I had a right to know that Mum had emailed her.’

  ‘It’s Becky. I’m sure she had a good reason. She always has a good reason. Maybe she was just trying to protect you.’

  I huff. ‘I’m not so sure. Her head’s somewhere else these days. I don’t think she was thinking about me at all. Plus she’s a bit of a control freak. She’ll have hated Mum contacting her, not the other way round.’

  ‘I still think you should tell her that you’ve seen your mum and that you plan on seeing her again. She’s your sister. And you’s are crazy close.’

  ‘Hmmm, I’m not so sure about that any more. She seems too busy getting cosy with her new “family” recently. And besides, even if I do tell her, she might go into big sister mode and start telling me what to do. I want to get to know Mum in my own time, without any judgement.’

  ‘I can’t deny Becky can be a bit bossy.’

  ‘A bit? I’ve had to sneak around, not having any fun in case I embarrass her, remember? Meanwhile she’s living it large with her new and improved sister. I haven’t seen her properly for ages. She hasn’t even called to see how my job’s going!’

  ‘Your fake job that you don’t actually have?’ Jay asks with a smirk, brushing a comb through my hair.

  I smile ruefully. ‘Yeah. But she doesn’t know it’s fake.’ I shake my head. ‘Can we change the subject, please? I’m about to go on a date with the great love of my life and I don’t want to turn up with all these serious thoughts on my mind. Let’s cheer things up a bit.’

  Jay leans down and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Of course, babe. I just want you to be okay.’

  ‘I’m fine!’

  ‘Okay. Well, speaking of changing the subject, I have a very important question to ask you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you think you’re going to do a bit of mattress dancing with the dreamy Justin De Luca tonight?’

  I start laughing. ‘JAY!! Awww, who knows, mate – let’s just hope he d
oesn’t run away from me this time, eh?’

  The last time I met Justin I wasn’t sure how much of an effort he’d made with his appearance. Tonight is a different matter. An effort has definitely been made. I walk into the French restaurant in Soho and spot him sitting at a central table looking a bit nervous and a lot sexy. He’s wearing a crisp white button-down shirt that clings gorgeously to his muscled arms. I notice that he’s wearing cufflinks, too. His hair, while still a mass of waves, is a little neater than the last time and he’s shaved as well. Not as much stubble as last time. He spots me walking across the room, and his eyes widen, which I take as a good sign. Jay’s handiwork has made the impact I was hoping for. My hair falls thick and sleek around my shoulders, and I’ve kept my make-up simple with a soft pink lip and a slick of lengthening mascara on my lashes. I’m wearing my black scuba skirt, with a black vest tucked in and some simple yet effective gold accessories.

  Justin stands up as I take my seat, like a gentleman and as though I’m a lady. It’s all a bit stiff, to be honest. This doesn’t feel like natural behaviour from him but he’s clearly trying to impress me so I go with it.

  ‘Hello,’ he says in his luscious American accent. ‘You look awesome.’

  ‘So do you,’ I say. We sit down and I get a whiff of the most delicious scent of citrus, smoke and spice. It’s intoxicating and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in his neck.

  ‘I already ordered a bottle of red wine, hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘God, no. That sounds great.’

  Justin chuckles. I decide not to tell him that I never really drink red wine. I did once and it was too strong for me. Sort of like a really pungent Ribena. There may have been dancing on the bar and there was definitely one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had the next day. Oh, well. I can just sip at it slowly and act dignified.

  Justin and I smile awkwardly at each other as the waiter pours out the wine. I think this is what they call sexual tension. I can feel the crackle between us. It can’t just be me, can it? I’ve been known to misread these situations before (who hasn’t?) but from the way Justin is looking at me, I’m almost certain he can feel this too.