by Jane Linfoot
She crosses the shop, to hiss in my ear. ‘How else do you think he affords that car of his? Not to mention all those super expensive clothes? He’s fully subsidised by the Bank of Mother.’
‘OMG,’ I mouth silently, half appalled that I got him so wrong, half of me thinking that it doesn’t matter at all. I don’t even want him, but if I did, I’m not completely shallow and materialistic. Although I’m not sure I’d be up for a mother-comes-too package.
‘Think about it, Poppy.’ Jess is still talking under her breath. ‘He doesn’t do that many weddings, he’s pretty much always either here or traipsing after you, up at the farm.’
As the door pings open, I flash Jess a look, warning her to back off, and fast. She’s a great source of information, but sometimes it’s too much.
‘Afternoon, Jules.’ I hope the smile I send him is sincere enough to make up for Jess just blowing his credibility out of the water.
Jess is doing the big smile thing too, in fact she’s looking so guilty, I’m half expecting her to offer him prosecco.
‘We were hoping you’d brought us something for the walls?’ As she sidles up to him, and slips her hand on his shoulder, I’m getting an unwelcome insider-view of the male-persuasion tactics she boasts about.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, Jess.’ As he takes her hand in his, and gives it a squeeze, something tells me she’s met her match, and not in the dating way. ‘Today I’m trading ideas.’ He gives her the full benefit of the smile that shows all his teeth.
Trading ideas? The phrase is a teensy bit cringey. As for whether Jules is brilliant, or a total fake, I reckon I’m still on the fence about that one.
‘Although my first suggestion is more for Poppy than for you.’ There he goes, with all the teeth again. He’s completely disarming simply because he’s so direct.
‘Lucky Poppy,’ Jess says, but she’s saying it totally without rancour, and what’s more she’s simpering, so I’m guessing she’s still putty in Jules’ hands.
‘And?’ I cock an expectant eyebrow at Jules. Not that I’m pushy myself, but some of his directness is definitely rubbing off on me.
As he turns his full attention my way again, I falter in the face of those startling blue eyes. ‘Now you’ve got the first Daisy Hill wedding under your belt, I think the next important step is to have a photo shoot, up at the farm.’
‘Okay.’ This far I’m following.
‘I’d like to set up a fake wedding shoot. We choose a perfect day, we provide everything, and we get the run of the venue, without the inconvenience of a wedding to get in the way.’
It sounds intriguing. ‘Go on,’ I say.
‘If we get wonderful shots of all the picturesque places around the farm, it will not only showcase the venue on the website, but it will also inspire brides to book, because they’ll know they can have those same gorgeous locations in their very own wedding albums.’
‘Fabulous ideas, and so very, very bankable.’ Jess chimes in, more involved in the conversation than I’d expected. ‘I’m impressed.’
Bankable, whatever it means, being the highest praise Jess gives. Preceded by two ‘very’s, it’s off the scale.
‘But why would you do this for Rafe?’ He’s hardly been sucking up to Jules. Quite the reverse in fact.
‘You did such a great job with Lara and Ben’s day,’ he says.
‘I’m not sure guests with mud all over their tuxes and Phase Eight dresses counts as great,’ I squirm. ‘And what about the rabbits having nervous breakdowns?’
‘Stop putting yourself down,’ he says sharply, then directs one of his soft winks he does, straight at Jess. ‘Jess and I both know a great formula when we see one, don’t we love? Put it this way – we’re backing a winner here, and this way we get a piece of the action.’
When the hell did these two get so pally? Although I’m not sure how Jess will react to being called ‘love’.
Jules turns back to me. ‘You’ll be our bride, Poppy.’ He hesitates for effect, then adds, in a tremulously deep tone, ‘Obviously.’
Crap, crap, crap. ‘Obviously’ my butt. I can’t pretend to be a fucking bride. Not a fake one.
‘Absolutely out of the question.’ Jess has swooped in from nowhere, uninvited, to save the day again, bless her interfering ass. ‘Categorical “no” to that. Sorry, you’ll have to choose someone else, Jules.’
Firm and direct – that same winning combination. I’m definitely watching and learning here.
Jules opens and closes his mouth. ‘Okay.’ he drawls, scrunching up his face.
Thinking on his feet here, he’s suddenly changed from a gorgeous Spaniel puppy into an ugly French Bulldog. Good for us ordinary mortals to know there are times when even he’s not a hundred percent stunning.
‘Your friend Cate’s gorgeous, and very photogenic.’ Jess is straight on the case. ‘Cate can do it. She damn well owes you, this is all because of her anyway.’
This makes me smile. There’s definitely some divine justice in Cate being our fake bride. She’ll love the practice anyway.
‘And then you and Immie can be our bridesmaids.’ Jess is beaming at me.
I hesitate. ‘I don’t know about Immie.’
‘What she lacks in height she makes up for with bone structure,’ Jess says, ‘and it’s definitely good to have bridesmaids that look real, rather than everyone looking like models.’
As for doubts about Immie, I was thinking temperament not bones, but whatever. But there again, a dry run might soften her up for the real wedding.
‘Excellent, that’s all settled then.’ Jules’ is flying. ‘And I’ll provide the groom.’
He said that so enthusiastically, I wonder, not for the first time, if, despite the time and attention he’s lavishing on me, he’s actually gay. But aside from these bi-curious musings, I can’t believe these two have missed out the most crucial item. ‘All brilliant, but what on earth are we going to wear?’
‘I’m coming to that,’ Jules turns his blue gaze straight onto Jess. If he was asking her to walk into the ocean fully clothed, I think she’d be about to follow him.
Then she lets out the biggest purr I’ve yet heard. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking that, Poppy.’ She’s practically squealing with excitement. In the walking into the sea scenario, she’s kicked off her loafers, and she’s happily diving into the waves. ‘Brides by the Sea will provide the outfits, of course we will, it’s a no brainer Jules.’ Her beam stretches from one crystal drop earring to the other.
‘Fabulous, fantastic, amazing, totally awesome.’ Jules grins at Jess as the superlatives gush out of him. ‘I just knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.’
Jess’s cheeks might be pink, but her voice is back to normal. ‘Great,’ she says, as she brings him nicely back to heel. ‘We’ll need to be credited, of course.’
25
In Rafe’s kitchen at Daisy Hill Farm: Fuchsia lips and a bit of a problem
‘I can’t believe we’ve had to wait until the end of April for a warm sunny day for the photo shoot. And it’s so good of Jules to agree to do it, even though it’s his birthday.’ Yes, it’s me, showing Jess into Rafe’s kitchen the morning of the shoot. ‘We’re almost ready to put on the dresses.’ I tell her.
‘A great omen that everyone could drop everything and come at a moment’s notice,’ Jess says, as she picks her way through the mayhem. She lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘Did you manage to sort out a cake? It’s lucky Jules mentioned needing to finish in time for the birthday dinner with his mum, or we wouldn’t have known.’
I nod. ‘It’s not my best.’ Thrown together late last night, and just my luck for my industrial size stocks of cocoa to run out. ‘I went for a plain sponge with piped chocolate buttercream sides and filling, with caramelised sugar toffee on top.’ An old favourite of my mum’s. The toffee is sometimes hard to cut, but the mix of soft sponge and chocolate and crackling toffee is delectable. ‘And I improvised for the decorations.’
At least Jules’ early dinner date with his mum means there’s no time for birthday drinks. Perfect for an anti-social person like me, although I feel mean thinking it.
‘Good girl.’ Jess pats my shoulder. ‘Let’s have the cake now, while everyone’s here. Give me the nod as soon as he comes back in.’ With a groan Jess throws first her giant bag, then herself onto Rafe’s kitchen sofa, and settles down to watch the preparations.
It seems so long ago since I woke up on that same sofa. Looking back, breakfast on a tray that day was the high point in my working relationship with Rafe. Despite us battering our way into his kitchen today, he’s still less than helpful about anything to do with weddings, and totally black about life in general. But given the shoot is indirectly for his benefit, he could hardly refuse today could he?
‘Brilliant that you could get us a whole beauty team too, Jess. Prosecco?’ I beam, as I whoosh across the room the width of a dance-floor to hand Jess a glass of fizz. ‘We decided wine would help get us in the mood, and the cake will soak it up once Jules comes back.’ Fingers crossed Jess will decide it’s way too early for the Hendricks I know she’ll have in that cavernous bag of hers.
How the hell Jess blagged four hair and make-up artists at twelve hours’ notice is anyone’s guess. But they arrived on the dot of seven, and they’ve been hard at work ever since, their fold out boxes and stand up mirrors spread along the length of Rafe’s chunky kitchen table. Cate and Immie and two other friends of Jess’s, who have come along to fill out the bridesmaid party, are lined up on chairs.
‘Gorgeous hair.’ I catch Cate’s eye, as the make-up lady moves in to spray on her foundation.
Cate runs her hand over the braids and curls entwined on back of her head. ‘It’s lovely to have a dummy run. I’m definitely booking this team for mine.’ She does a sitting down dance in time to The Supremes singing Baby Love.
I’ll give you one guess whose iPod we’re listening to. Locating Rafe’s iPod dock was the first thing Jules did when he arrived, straight after kissing everyone on both cheeks. In case you’re wondering, this is his Up-Tempo Romantic list.
In the next seat along, Immie’s frown deepens as her make-up lady moves in with the lip brush. ‘Give me pink fucking lips, and I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ she hisses through gritted teeth.
Cate and I exchange glances. Swooping in with more sugar is the only way to diffuse the situation. ‘Don’t worry Immie, it looks pink, but it comes out paler,’ I promise. I’m completely bluffing here. Hopefully Jules will appear soon so I can sweeten her up with a huge piece of birthday cake, because in less than five minutes from now somehow we have to persuade her to put on a floral bridesmaid’s dress.
And right on cue Jules appears, camera in hand.
‘Okay, hold it there, I’ll just get a few “getting ready” shots.’ Somewhere along the line, Jules seems to have entirely forgotten that this isn’t for real.
Talking of cues, I take this as mine. Skipping across to where I’ve left the birthday cake on the side by the Aga, I catch Jess’s eye.
‘No, actually Jules, you hold it there.’ I’m using my most commanding voice, and catch the astonishment on his face as I clap my hands.
Jess gets to her feet, and as someone turns down the volume on the music the room goes quiet. She gives a husky cough then she turns to the room. ‘Okay everybody. Jules is the brains behind this fabulous – we hope – wedding shoot.’ She pauses for the ripple of laughter. ‘And he is extra fabulous, because he’s come to do it on his birthday. So before we start, we’d like to sing Happy Birthday and give him his cake …’
Taking this as my second cue, I whip the cake out of its box. ‘Jules, this is for you.’ There’s a gasp around the room, then a round of applause, which is a lot more than I deserve given how fast I threw it together. Happily everyone overlooks the less than perfect piping, and is wowed by the toffee and the decorations – a stripy icing scarf knotted on the top, and an icing camera on a tripod made from barbecue sticks.
I put the cake down, then reach over to Jules. His usual stunning smile has stretched to a dazed, yet delighted, grin. There’s something else different about him today, but in the excitement I can’t put my finger on what it is.
‘Happy birthday, Jules.’ After a quick hug and a peck I dip away. As I light the candles on the cake, the queue for birthday kisses with Jules is already long.
Somehow Jess has crossed from the sofa to the front of the line. No surprise there then. As soon as she’s had her hug – which between us went on for way longer than necessary – she moves on to lead the singing. Once the Happy Birthday chorus is done, Jules manages to break off from hugs for long enough to blow out the candles, and pose for a picture. Then I chop up the cake and send it round the room in serviettes. Maybe lashings of soft chocolate icing wasn’t the best idea, given that everyone ends up with it smeared across their cheeks. Even though I say it myself, that cake is so delicious it’s worth every calorie. Eventually someone turns the music back on again, and Jules dusts the crumbs off his lips and picks up his camera.
‘Thanks Poppy, for a wonderful cake, and thanks everyone for the birthday wishes.’ He’s back to his picture perfect grin, and all eyes are on him. ‘We need to get back to work now. So I know you’re still in your dressing gowns ladies, but big smiles all round please.’ He swoops in and begins to snap. I’m just hoping he doesn’t insist on bridesmaids in lingerie shots, or he might catch a right hook from Immie.
‘And now we need a smile from Poppy too.’ Jules spins his lens towards me. Note the way he’s telling, not asking. ‘You are already looking amazing, sweetie.’
Sweetie? When did he start calling me that? I wrinkle my nose into a grin, because he might just be right about me looking great. I was beautified first, probably because my no-hope hair was so quick to do, but the make-up they’re using is translucent, yet luminous. People talk about make-over transformations, but I’ve never felt more fabulous.
‘Sweetie, can I have a word?’ Jules is artfully steering me into a corner. ‘Outside,’ he murmurs pointedly, and the next minute he shoulders me through the door into the hallway.
‘Is something the matter?’ And then it hits me. It’s the first time I’ve seen Jules without his scarf. That’s why he looks different. My eyes lock onto the downy chestnut hairs poking up at the open neck of his dusky blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. For a fleeting moment I’m worried that he’s about to come in for a full blown birthday snog.
But his hands are rammed into the pockets of his safari jacket, and his voice is urgent. ‘We’re a man down, Poppy.’
‘Man what?’ I’m not sure I get what he means. At least I’ve escaped the snog.
‘The damned groom’s let me down. I thought he was running late, but he’s just sent a text to say he’s not coming at all.’
‘Oh, bugger.’ Nightmare scenario. Grooms who don’t turn up are bad news all round, although I’m secretly thanking my lucky stars this isn’t a real wedding. At least today we can replace him. ‘That’s a bummer, especially given we’re almost good to go in the kitchen. What are you going to do?’
Jules ruffles his fingers through his hair, and his waves fall back into perfect place. ‘You’re going to have to find someone else.’
‘Me?’ I look at him, open mouthed. Fleetingly I wonder if my hair would fall perfectly if I raked my fingers through it and left it to flop, but I decide his haircut probably cost an arm and a leg more than mine. ‘Why me?’
‘Basically, because you’re the problem solver round here.’ His flash of the full tooth smile, fades as fast as it appeared. ‘Actually I’ve racked my brains to think of a stand-in and come up with diddly squat.’ He’s looking suitably shamefaced as he squeezes out the last word. ‘Sorry.’
Looks like it’s over to me then, dammit. My mind races. First things first. ‘What size was the groom anyway?’
Jules purses his lips. ‘Probably about Rafe’s size.’ He says sheepis
hly.
Something tells me he had Rafe in mind all along. ‘You have to be joking, we can’t use him.’ These two have the worst relationship of any two men I know, though I still haven’t worked out why. ‘But the other guys who work on the farm are all stockier, so they won’t do either.’ I’m thinking aloud. Talk about grab a husband.
‘It can’t be just anyone, we need looks too,’ Jules reminds me. ‘Which is another reason why Rafe would work.’ He definitely has thought this through. ‘Much as I hate to hand out compliments, he’s got a great jaw, and cheekbones to die for. He’ll have to step in.’
I can’t say I’ve noticed those details myself. But maybe Jules is desperate to get this show on the road.
Jules claps his hands. ‘Great, that’s settled then. If Rafe stops scowling long enough to put on a suit, I reckon he’ll be dream-boat material.’ He’s back to the many-toothed smile. ‘Be a good girl, go and ask him.’
I’m wincing at how patronising Jules sounds, but at the same time not wanting to let everyone else down. ‘I would, but I have absolutely no idea where he is.’ That’s the whole truth, and the perfect excuse. Lately Rafe’s taken to disappearing for hours at a time. We’ll have to find someone else.
‘It must be our lucky day. Talk of the devil,’ Jules says, peering out of the window. ‘Guess who’s crossing the yard now? ’
‘Great,’ I say, really not meaning it. Immie and Rafe? I doubt there could be two less cooperative models in the entire world. Jules has no idea what he’d be letting himself in for.
‘So, what are you waiting for?’ Jules is steering me again, this time towards the door to the yard. ‘Off you go! Grab us a groom!’
26
In the feed store at Daisy Hill Farm: Grabbing a groom
‘Rafe?’ By the time I catch up with him, he’s already in the feed store, and I’m flailing to find the right words. How the hell do you ask a guy to be a groom for a day? It’s embarrassingly close to proposing.
