“A man,” she mouthed. “Giles someone.”
“Giles? I don’t know a Giles. I…”
“Says he wants to talk to you,” Gillie said, shrugging.
My heart racing, I took the receiver Gillie was holding out to me. No doubt Mr. Taylor had seen through Gillie’s tall tales. This was probably him telling me he knew the truth, telling me that Grace’s will was null and void and I was going to prison for impersonation.
“Hello?” I asked, hardly daring to speak. “Jessica Wild speaking.”
“Jessica Wild. It’s Giles Wheeler here. I got your message. I’m so sorry your florist ran out on you. I can’t believe a florist would do that. It really doesn’t fit with our professional code.”
The florist. Of course. The florist who was laboring under the false belief that I had appointed another florist months before, but he’d run off to Bermuda with a former client, leaving me in the lurch. Hey, I’d been desperate. “Your code? Florists have a professional code?”
“Of course we do. Now, I am, naturally, busy on the day of your wedding. I already have two weddings and one party that day. But I can squeeze you in, if we can work quickly. So, are you free to meet later today?”
I thought for a moment. Fenella had sent me an appointment blocking out several hours that afternoon that said, simply: Pls keep free—I will be with caterers and need to get hold of you.
“This afternoon’s good,” I said quickly. “Where are you based?”
“Me? No, I’m coming to you. I want to see where you live, who you are, what you want from your flowers. Okay?”
“Um, okay. I live in Islington.”
“Islington,” Giles said thoughtfully. “Yes, yes, I think that might work.”
“It might?”
“The wedding,” he said, ignoring my question. “Is it going to be in Islington, too?”
“No. No, the wedding’s going to be at the Park Lane Hilton.”
“The Hilton. I see. Urban metropolis meets Islington savoir faire. Yes, yes, I can see this working. I’m loving it, in fact. So, shall we say three PM?”
He sounded so excited, I found myself nodding. “Okay!”
I gave him my address, agreed that there was “lots to think about,” then, feeling slightly better about things, turned back to Gillie.
“I have to go home,” I said, relief flooding my body at the prospect of getting out of there. “Can you tell Anthony I’m seeing the florist?”
“Sure, no problem.” She smiled as I walked back to my computer, deleted Fenella’s appointment, and picked up my coat.
Chapter 27
BY THE TIME I got home, my heart was still pounding in my chest and my mind was racing with questions. But, as I kept telling myself, everything was okay. So long as Anthony didn’t know about Mr. Taylor, Mr. Taylor didn’t know about the wedding, Max didn’t know this marriage wasn’t entirely the romantic commitment he thought it was, and Fenella didn’t know that I had completely forgotten about the flowers until this morning, everything would be okay. Everything would be fine.
So when Giles arrived, looked me up and down, then swept into the sitting room and announced that he’d looked deep into his soul and knew, just knew, that Grecian was the way to go, I found myself agreeing on the spot. In retrospect, I realized that Grecian probably wasn’t what Fenella had in mind; in fact I was pretty certain it wouldn’t entirely work with her minimalist theme, but I figured it didn’t matter in the great scheme of things. He was promising flowers, and that meant I could tick something else off my to-do list.
“By Grecian, do you mean togas?” I asked curiously, handing Giles a cup of tea. He’d been in the flat only a few minutes, but he was already spreading out photographs on the sitting room floor. He was tiny—about five feet tall—skinny, and wearing a pin-striped suit with a bright pink shirt and cowboy boots, which, I realized, meant that without them he was probably only four foot ten.
He rolled his eyes. “Darling, this is not the ’eighties. I mean vine leaves. I mean decadence. I mean maximalism. Grapes. Wine. Huge overflowing table displays and restrained walls. I want twigs, tall twigs, like trees, around the reception hall, with little fairy lights that come on as the sun goes down. Like an enchanted forest. Magical. Like A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
My eyes lit up. “I love that play. And I love the idea of an enchanted forest. You know?” An image floated into my head of me as the Fairy Queen, all ethereal and dream-like. I felt Giles’s eyes on me and reddened slightly. “But it’s not exactly…Grecian, is it?” I asked.
He looked at me reproachfully. “You have to think outside the box,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re talking classical. Magical. Aphrodite. Titania. They are one and the same.”
“Which would make me Bottom?” I giggled. “Or would that be my future husband?”
Giles raised his eyebrows, and then his face turned serious again. “There is a lot to do,” he said soberly. “But before we get started, I have to know. Why was it that you turned to me to do your flowers? When you were so dreadfully let down? It helps me, you see, to understand what it is you’re looking for. Did you choose me because of my attention to detail, because of my vision? Was it my creativity, my flair? And who recommended me to you? Was it Antonia Harrison? Or Isabella Marchant?”
I smiled weakly, not sure I could admit that I’d found him through Google, not now that he was going to build me my own enchanted forest, a dream-like stage for an unreal wedding. “So many different people,” I said, eventually. “Every time I mentioned flowers to anyone, your name came up.”
“Yes,” Giles said, nodding, his eyes shining gratefully. “Yes, that happens. It’s a responsibility, you know. I make people’s dreams come true, and it’s not an easy job description. But I always succeed. So, let’s get going, shall we?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “Let’s sort out those Grecian classical mythological Shakespearean wedding flowers.”
Giles looked at me suspiciously for a second, then shrugged. “So,” he said. “Talk to me about colors. Tell me the colors that you love, that you want to surround yourself with.”
I thought for a moment. Orange, I wanted to say. Orange is my favorite color—it’s bright and warm and friendly without being overpowering or bossy or placid or weak. But instead I pulled out the Pantone numbers Fenella had sent me. I owed her that at least.
“We were thinking red and green,” I said unenthusiastically.
“We’ve got these Pantone numbers.”
“Pantone numbers?” Giles looked at me strangely. “You know flowers don’t really conform to Pantone numbers?”
I blushed. “I know…I just…”
“You’re in advertising, right?” Giles grinned.
I nodded.
“So that’s all I need to know,” he said, taking the Pantones. “I’ll do my best to match them. And I’ll send you drawings in the post. Now, talk to me about the ceremony and reception. I need dimensions of the rooms, I need photographs, I need numbers of guests. And then I need to see your dress. And shows. I need to measure your arms. I need to know what lipstick you’re going to wear. I’m going to turn you into a princess, Jessica Wild.”
“So I can live happily ever after, The End?” I asked, forcing a grin and doing my best to ignore the lump that had appeared in my throat.
“So you can live happily ever after, The Beginning,” he said, shaking his head. “Weddings are not the end, they are the start.”
“The start,” I said quietly. “Of course it is. Let me…go and get my dress.”
I ran to my bedroom and pulled the white lace dress out of my wardrobe. Giles frowned when I held it up for him.
“This? This is your dress?” He was looking at it the same way I had when I first saw it. He had a shrug of an expression on his face.
“Yes,” I said, slightly defensively. “I mean, it’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course! I love it!” Giles said immediately. “It’s just not what I was…ex
pecting. It’s lovely, though. Really…lovely.”
He took it from me and hung it from the picture rail on the sitting room wall. As I looked at it, I remembered the lace that itched slightly, and conjured the image of myself in the mirror when I’d tried it on, looking like any other bride, looking anonymous.
“I mean, there were nicer dresses,” I said, trying hard to explain. “But this one, you know, was nice, and…”
“And I’m sure it’s beautiful on,” Giles said, smiling just a little bit too brightly. “Really beautiful. Anyway, it’s your wedding, right? And that’s one day of your life you should have everything just the way you want it.”
“And you think I can look like a fairy princess in this dress?”
“Exactly like one,” Giles said firmly.
He measured my arms, then analyzed the contents of my makeup bag. I gave him a file Fenella had given me, labeled PARK LANE HILTON DETAILS, which held not just measurements and photos but also the names of everyone who worked there, their policy on music and dancing, and menus from each of their restaurants. Then we spent an hour or so looking through photographs of flowers and twigs—me saying yes, no, or maybe to each one—and for the first time in a long time I realized I was enjoying myself. I got interested in the different types of fairy lights; I listened seriously as Giles explained the different types of twigs and their connotations. And by the time he was packing up his things, I really didn’t want him to go.
“I’m so pleased you found me,” he said, clutching me in his arms as I said a reluctant good-bye. “I have a wonderful feeling about this wedding. It’s going to be magical. Pure fantasy.”
“Fantasy,” I said, allowing myself a little smile. “You know, I think you might be right.”
Chapter 28
PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 35, 36, 37, 38…
To do
1. Do whatever Fenella tells me to do.
The next week or two went by in a blur and before I knew it, there were just two days until the wedding and Giles was at my flat to deliver a rehearsal bouquet. It was huge—long-stemmed white roses, lots of leaves and twigs, a couple of deep red roses that smelled divine, and a whole load of other flowers I didn’t know the names of but would never admit as much to Giles.
“It’s…beautiful,” I breathed. “So perfect.”
Giles smiled. “It is rather good, if I say so myself,” he said, excitedly. “Now, remember, carry the flowers to your left as you walk up the aisle.”
“Okay,” I said seriously. “Flowers to the left.”
Giles frowned. “You’re looking thin,” he said. “Have you lost weight? You’re not on one of those ridiculous pre-wedding diets, are you?”
“Diet? No, no of course not,” I said quickly. “It’s just, you know, stress. Wedding stress.”
Giles nodded. “Gotcha,” he said. “Well, probably not a bad thing. You can always pile the weight back on during your honeymoon. Eat, shag, sleep, shag, eat, that’s all honeymoons are for, isn’t it?” He winked, and I nodded as enthusiastically as I could. He was right—the honeymoon would be great. Sure, Anthony and I had been busy lately; sure, we never seemed to have time for much of a conversation, but that was normal. Organizing a wedding in weeks was stressful, and Anthony had his hands full at work. It didn’t mean anything.
“So where are you going?” he asked.
“Where are we going?” I looked at him blankly.
“On your honeymoon.”
“Oh, right.” I leaned back against the wall, trying to remember what Fenella had written in the e-mail titled HONEYMOON. “Um, France. The south of France.”
“Nice,” Giles said approvingly. “Nothing like jet lag to spoil a good holiday. Keep it simple, then you only have to enjoy each other.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I smiled brightly. “You know, I really can’t wait. It’s going to be just…wonderful.”
“You all right?” Giles looked at me in concern. “You look a bit white.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Completely fine.” I forced a big smile to emphasize just how fine I was, just how relaxed and not at all exhausted I was.
“Helloooo.” I heard the key in the door; moments later Helen appeared. She sighed heavily and sat down on the sofa, then frowned at Giles. “And who’s this?”
“This is Giles,” I said. “You know, the guy who’s doing flowers for the wedding. Giles, this is Helen, my flatmate.”
“No, I didn’t know,” Helen said pointedly. “I guess you forgot to tell me.”
I blanched slightly. “Really?”
“You’ve been busy.” Helen shrugged. “It’s no biggie.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you.” Giles jumped up immediately and formally took Helen’s hand.
“Yeah, likewise,” Helen said, pulling herself up again. “So, anyone want a drink? Cup of tea? Gin and tonic?”
Giles arched an eyebrow. “Gin and tonic. Ooh, yes, I think so. Thank you.”
She got us all a drink, then turned to Giles. “So come on then, talk me through the floral displays,” she said. I thought I could sense a bit of tension in her voice, but shrugged it off. If anyone was tense, it was me, not Helen.
Giles’s eyes lit up and he started to talk Helen through the bouquets, the table arrangements, the enchanted forest.
“There are going to be little fairy lights in the twigs,” I found myself saying. “They’re going to come on when the sun sets.”
“Nice,” Helen said appreciatively. “That’ll be really nice.”
“It’ll be more than nice,” Giles said immediately, then he grinned. “Well, you’ll see for yourself, won’t you? Day after tomorrow.”
Helen sniffed. “Yeah, actually Jess, I was going to talk to you about that. I’ve got this interview, you see. So I might be late.”
“To the wedding?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “But it’s on a Saturday.”
Helen blanched slightly. “Yeah, I know, but it’s this job…I…Look, you’re the one who keeps telling me I should focus on my career. And I’ll do my best. I just can’t, you know, guarantee I’ll be there at the beginning.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Right, no problem. I mean, it’s a job interview. That’s important.”
“Yes it is,” Helen said.
I bit my lip. “So you’re sure you can’t get out of it? The interview, I mean?”
Helen shook her head. “It’s a really good job. And you always say that work’s really important,” she said.
Giles frowned. “But…” He looked at me curiously. “Isn’t Helen your bridesmaid?”
Helen shook her head. “No. I mean…well, no, I’m not.”
“But Jess”—Giles’s voice was an octave higher than usual as he flicked through his book—“this isn’t right. You said you wanted a bouquet for…for…” His eye scanned the page in front of him. “Yes. Here. It says Helen.”
“It does?” Helen stared at me. “I was under the impression that you didn’t want me as a bridesmaid,” she said defensively. “I mean, I dropped enough hints and you never said anything…”
I met her eyes awkwardly. “I hadn’t…I mean…”
“Look, it’s no problem,” Helen said quickly. “I mean it’s no big deal. And I do have this interview anyway, so…”
“You have to come. Hel, I can’t do it if you’re not there.” My voice caught slightly.
“Of course you can,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “So, who’s going to be your bridesmaid? Just out of interest?”
“I’m not having one,” I said tightly.
“Not having one?” Giles’s eyes widened. “But why? We have flowers for a bridesmaid. It creates a symmetry. Without one, the design—it’s not going to work. It will be lopsided!”
“No bridesmaid,” I continued, biting my lip and looking at Helen tentatively. “I was going to ask you to…to…” I took a deep breath. “To give me away.”
“You want me to give you away?” Helen’
s eyes opened in surprise.
I shrugged awkwardly.
“Seriously?” Helen was staring at me now. “You seriously want me to give you away?”
I nodded. “But it’s fine, if you can’t,” I said quickly. “I mean, if you’re busy…”
“I thought you didn’t care,” Helen gasped. “I thought you had Fenella now and you didn’t need me around anymore.”
I stared at her incredulously. “Fenella?”
Helen reddened slightly. “She’s all you talk about. Fenella this, Fenella that…I mean, you don’t need two bossy boots in your life, do you?”
I giggled. “You’re the only bossy boots I want,” I said, taking her hand. “Honestly, Hel, you have to be there.”
“Well, then, looks like I will,” Helen said, biting her lip. Then she punched me lightly on the arm. “I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you ask me before?”
“I should have,” I agreed. “I just kept forgetting, I’ve had so much on my mind…”
“I could have gone to a frigging job interview, you realize?”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I sniffed. “You know this is all down to you. All of it.”
“No it isn’t. It’s down to you, Jess. You pulled this all together.”
“So you still need the bouquet?” Giles asked uncertainly.
“Definitely. A big one,” Helen said, her eyes shining. “The best you’ve got. I mean, you know, after Jess’s…”
Giles nodded and waved his hand to his eyes. “Well, girls, this is all getting a bit emotional for me. So much as I’d love to stay, I’ve got work to do,” he said, rolling his eyes indulgently. “Jess, I’ll be at the hotel on Saturday morning at six to get the flowers set up; after that I’ll do the reception flowers. It starts at eleven AM, right?”
I nodded.
“So that’s the day after tomorrow, right?” Helen said suddenly.
Giles and I both nodded.
“Right,” Helen said sagely. “It’s just that, as far as I know, you haven’t had a hen night. Have you?”
The Importance of Being Married: A Novel Page 26
