by Anna Bell
I am feeling optimistic. With less than three weeks to go until the big day I have pretty low expectations. I know that I don’t have time to order a bespoke bridal dress and my options are limited to off the peg. Not that that matters, it’s all in keeping with our low-fuss, low-key approach to the wedding. I’ve already briefed the girls.
‘Oh, my God,’ says Lucy. ‘Look at this on the sale rail.’
She pulls out a dress and I gasp and practically drop the rest of the ones in my arms. There is a beautiful long ivory dress with tiny silver beaded flowers sewn onto netting over the top half and a swishy skirt at the bottom. I never expected to fall in love. Forget Danny, I wonder if I could marry the dress.
‘That’s beautiful,’ I say, looking at the size-ten label and starting to weep. I haven’t been a ten since somewhere around puberty. ‘Have they got any bigger sizes?’
‘Um, there’s an eighteen,’ says Lucy.
I look at the size-ten dress and down at my hips and back at the dress again. I’m pretty much a size twelve in most shops, but the skirt looks quite generous. It’s not a brand I recognise and maybe, just maybe, it could be one of those labels that has a liberal approach to sizing.
‘I’ll try it,’ I say snatching the dress from her hands in the nicest possible way.
‘Great, and I found us some dresses,’ says Kerry, handing one to Lucy.
‘What are we? The ageing aunts?’ she says. ‘Where’s the cleavage or the leg?’
‘I thought they might be flattering.’
‘Hmm,’ says Lucy. ‘What about these?’
‘We’re not providing the evening’s entertainment for the stag do,’ says Kerry, folding her arms over her chest.
‘What about these?’ I say, finding a compromise: a short turquoise dress with a lace top and a hot-pink one that’s calf length.
‘I guess one of those might work?’ says Lucy.
Kerry gives the dresses a suspicious look.
We all go into our little cubicles and I pretend in my head that we’re in a movie. The loud music that’s pumping in the speakers is just perfect. I can’t wait until we do the big reveal where we all swish back our curtains and whoop with joy.
I strip off quickly and undo the little zip at the side of the dress and try and climb into it, only it’s a lot narrower at the thighs than I thought it was going to be. It’s pretty deceptive. I try to breathe in before I realise that that makes absolutely no difference. How an earth do I make my thighs breathe in? I try and stagger my stance to accommodate it but it’s not going to budge and I let it drop to my feet.
I look at my tree-trunk thighs and wonder if I’m going about this the wrong way. Maybe I should slip it on over my head.
‘Oh wow. This is hideous,’ says Kerry.
‘Which one?’ asks Lucy.
‘The pink one. The pink is a no go.’
‘OK, I’ve got the turquoise one on. Could be a goer.’
I pick up the dress again and take a deep breath as I pull it on over the top of my head.
The good news is that I’ve got it on over my chest. Never have I been so thankful to only be more of a B than a C cup. The bad news is that I’ve got it stuck on my hips, but I reckon with a little wiggle . . .
‘Ooh,’ shouts Kerry. ‘Winner, winner, chicken dinner. I think this is our one.’
I hear the sound of the rings scraping along the curtain rail at the top from both sides of me and there are excited squeals from the two of them as they’ve found their dress. But hang on, in the movie in my head, I’m supposed to be there too.
I’m eager to join them and show them mine and I wiggle again and this time I get my thighs in. Hurrah!
I look at the zip on the side and there’s absolutely no way that that’s going anywhere. But it’s not as if the dress is going to fall down with it open, is it? I bet I could get a floaty bit of fabric to cover it and it would blend right in with the rest of the dress.
‘How are you getting on, Lydia?’
‘Well, I’m in,’ I say, wondering if it matters that I’m not going to be able to eat or maybe even breathe during my wedding.
Lucy yanks open the curtain and gasps.
‘Oh my God, Lydia, you look beautiful,’ she says, pulling me out of the cubicle.
‘Oh,’ says Kerry clapping her hand to her mouth. ‘It’s gorgeous, it’s just . . .’ She spins me round on the spot and I shuffle round like a broken ballerina in a music box as the two of them exchange glances.
‘It’s a little tight,’ I say, trying to place my hand strategically over the gap.
‘Just a little,’ says Kerry.
My mum walks in at this point with Olivia.
‘Aunty Lydia, why are your pants see-through?’
‘Darling, that would look lovely on you if it was the right size. I’ll go and see if they have one.’
‘They don’t, I checked,’ I say.
‘Then I’ll get them to phone other stores or order it online. Take it off,’ she says, shaking her head as if I’m being utterly ridiculous.
Lucy helps me shuffle back into the changing room.
‘Do you want a hand?’ she asks.
‘I might need one.’
‘I think you need more than one,’ says Kerry.
‘Everything all right?’ asks the sales person.
‘Fine,’ we all say.
I’ve gone bright purple with the exertion.
‘Ooooookay,’ she says with a roll of her eyes. ‘I’ve got some scissors if you need them. Of course, if I cut you out, you’ll have to buy the dress.’
‘No, it’s fine, it’s nearly off.’
‘Whatever,’ she says, skulking off.
‘Oh God, what if I have to buy this dress and another dress. I’ll have bought three wedding dresses,’ I say, sighing.
‘At least it would be third time lucky,’ says Lucy.
‘And we could always make something out of the material,’ says Kerry. ‘Olivia loves playing brides; we could make her a wedding dress from it.’
‘Oh great, a two-hundred-pound bespoke dressing-up dress,’ I say.
‘I bet it would really be the best present ever though,’ says Kerry laughing.
I sigh and suck in every ounce of flesh until eventually Lucy pulls the dress clear of my hips and from there it’s a quick pass over my head. It turns out Kerry was right; I definitely needed an extra hand – six to be exact.
I pass it to my mum to take to the counter to see if she can track down a bigger size, and I slip my normal clothes back on. I’m relieved to be able to move every muscle without restriction.
‘So your dresses looked lovely,’ I say as Kerry and Lucy emerge with them draped over their arms.
‘Well, at least we got ours sorted,’ says Kerry. ‘It was probably too much to hope for that we’d get all of them done and dusted today. If Mum can’t track yours down, perhaps we can go to Southampton at the weekend. They’ve got a big John Lewis there.’
‘Yes, maybe. Danny’s coming down at the weekend, though, and time seems to go so quickly, what with all the travelling,’ I say, sighing. ‘Plus, I really should make an effort to take him to see Dad and Frances.’
Kerry rolls her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Dad, it’s not like he’d even speak to you when you were there anyway. He seems to have ‘Ultimate Trucks’ on loop.’
‘I guess, and then I’d have more time to spend with Danny.’
‘If you’re so short on time together, why don’t you meet halfway?’ says Kerry.
‘What, like a mini-break? Why didn’t I think of that?’ I say, thinking that I’d get an extra few hours with him, I’d get to have him all to myself and there’d be no fear of running into Ross.
‘Yes, that way neither of you would have that long drive. I guess Worcester would be halfway, wouldn’t it? You’d have to check, but we stayed in a lovely cottage in the Malvern Hills a few years ago when Olivia was little. I could give you the details. I bet it wo
uld be dead cheap this time of year.’
‘Kerry, you are a genius.’
‘I know,’ she says, beaming.
‘I’ll talk to Danny about it tonight.’
‘And I’ll dig out the link to that place. In fact, I got on really well with the woman who owned it, I bet I could phone up and cheekily get a discount.’
‘Now that would be great.’
It sounds like the answer to my prayers. By the time I made it home on Sunday night at nearly midnight, I was knackered and felt as if I’d blinked and the weekend had gone by. At least this way we’d get to have a Friday night together and a bit of Sunday evening too.
‘Right, they have this in size twelve in Winchester,’ says my mum. ‘I’ve put it on hold and I’ll pick it up tomorrow.’
‘That’s amazing. Thanks, Mum,’ I say, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a big hug. ‘Well, I guess that’s everything sorted. I don’t know why people get so stressed about weddings,’ I say jokingly before I realise that Lucy’s face is falling. ‘Ah, Lucy, I didn’t mean it like that.’
She smiles.
‘No offence taken. I think it’s great what you’re doing. I wish we’d done the same,’ she says.
‘But your wedding’s going to be great.’
‘I know it will be, but I don’t know if it’s what I want anymore.’
There are tears in her eyes and Mum and Kerry give me a look.
‘Why don’t I go and buy these dresses?’ says Mum, taking them off Lucy and Kerry, ‘and you girls go and get a cup of tea or a glass of wine. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow.’
‘We won’t stay, I’ll get Olivia home for her tea,’ says Kerry, and after quick goodbyes they all hurry off and I put my arm through Lucy’s and take her upstairs to the cafe.
‘Is Ed’s mum putting too much pressure on you?’
‘No,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘It’s everything. I just thought that if I threw myself into the planning that I’d get swept away by it all, but the more it goes on the more I’m still terrified and Ed’s so upset. He keeps thinking that I don’t want to marry him, and I do.’
‘You just don’t want to have a wedding.’
‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘Or not the type of wedding that Ed’s mum wants.’
We order hot chocolates and sit down on the comfy sofa to wait for them.
‘But surely Ed can understand that?’
She shakes her head. ‘He can’t. He thinks that we’re only going to do it once so we should make it a big one. God, you’re so lucky that you and Danny are on the same page.’
‘I think it was just the circumstances. Who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t tried to elope. Why don’t you talk to Ed again? Like really talk to him, and I’m sure you’ll sort things out. Maybe scale it back a bit.’
‘Like cancel the harpist for the wedding breakfast. And the doves.’
‘Yes, like that,’ I say, pulling a sympathetic face. I couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘Why don’t you make a list of the things you want from the wedding and get Ed to do the same and then go from there.’
She nods. ‘That’s not a bad idea. Thanks, hon. What am I going to do with you up in the Lakes? Who’s going to calm me down?’
‘I’ll be at the end of my phone. You can FaceTime me anytime, well, anytime within reason.’
‘It’s not going to be the same though, is it?’ she says, stirring the cup the waitress plonked down in front of her.
Now it’s my turn to blink back the tears.
‘It’s going to be fine. We’ll see each other all the time and we’ll phone. Plus, I’m not going yet, I’ve still got my long notice to work.’
She nods but neither of us look at each other. I know that I’m not going to lose touch with her and she’ll still be my best friend, but both of us know this is the end of an era. I try and keep the tears at bay and I focus all my thoughts on Danny as I tell myself for the billionth time that I’m doing the right thing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m officially broken and part of me is left in Riga. Whilst I organised what can only be described as an epic stag do, I can’t actually tell you a lot about it. Not because of the law of the stag, but because I can barely remember a thing. Our hotel seemed nice and it was cold outside. I’m sure the city was beautiful?! I did, however, find this in my pocket when I got home so I presume I must have bought it for you. Or possibly an ageing aunt.
Parcel containing doll dressed in Latvian national dress;
Danny to Lydia, March 2018
I scrunch my nose up at the satnav, wondering exactly where she wants me to turn now.
Arriving at destination, on right. She says again.
I slow right down and look at the hedgerows, trying to see where the cottage is, but there’s nothing here. The road is getting windier and I’m wondering if I should turn back to the main road when I see two oak trees flanking a driveway.
‘Eureka,’ I shout, as I turn down it. I pull up into a courtyard and my stomach flips when I see Danny’s car already parked outside. There are what look like three little cottages all dotted around the courtyard, but only one has lights peaking out the side of curtains and smoke billowing out of the chimney at the top. It must be ours. It looks lovely and romantic and I can’t wait to get inside and snuggle into him.
I hurry round to the boot to get my bag when the front door opens and Danny comes out.
‘Hey, you,’ I say as I fling my arms around him and give him a smooch.
‘Hey, yourself. Did you have a good drive?’
‘Yes, not bad at all considering it’s a Friday night. I made it in two and a half hours.’
‘Mine was pretty much the same. Makes a difference, doesn’t it, meeting halfway?’
‘I know, Kerry’s a genius. And this place looks amazing,’ I say as I pull my weekend bag out.
Danny takes it off me and takes my hand to lead me over to the front door.
‘Wait until you see inside.’
We walk straight into the lounge and the warmth of the fire instantly hits me. The bleached wooden floors are full of furry rugs and the leather sofas are filled with cushions. Danny’s already got a bottle of red wine open with two glasses next to it, Michael Bublé’s playing and the lights are down low.
‘So this is pretty romantic,’ I say, turning to him and playing with the collar on his shirt.
God, I’ve missed him. It’s been a bloody long week. I’m not looking forward to doing this for the next few months. We’ve only been doing it two and a half weeks and even that seems like two and a half weeks too long.
He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me in towards him.
‘So, are you going to show me the bedrooms?’ I purr.
‘I could,’ he says, slipping off my oversized cardigan. ‘Or I could show you afterwards.’
He starts kissing down my neck and I think he’s right; we’re never going to make it upstairs. I unbutton his shirt and push him towards the sofa.
‘Definitely afterwards,’ I say as I pull my dress over my head. ‘We’ve got plenty of time. After all, we’ve got the whole weekend.’
‘Um, and this time we don’t have to worry about mothers walking in on us or how loud we’re being.’
‘It’s so nice that it’s just you and me,’ I say as he unhooks my bra.
Just me and him, exactly as it should be.
*
There’s something so naughty and decadent about lying on the sofa naked with only a hint of a the sofa throw covering me. Danny tops up my wine glass and I throw my head back against the sofa and purr with contentment.
‘I wish we could stay like this forever,’ I say.
‘Well, it won’t be long until you’ll be living with me all the time.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, thinking this is my perfect in to telling him about my job. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced he’ll think it’s the right thing to do. It’s good experience for my C
V and will make the transition between jobs easier. ‘About that,’ I start, when there’s a knock at the door. We turn and look at each other before Danny stands up to answer it.
‘You can’t get it, I’m naked,’ I say, wrapping the sofa throw firmly around me.
‘But it’s obvious we’re in,’ whispers Danny. ‘I’m sure it’s probably someone telling us we’ve left the car lights on or something.’ He shoves his shirt back on and quickly buttons it up before he pulls another throw off an arm chair and wraps it round his waist. ‘Head into the kitchen and I’ll let you know when they’ve gone.’
Reluctantly, I pull myself up just as whoever is at the door knocks again. How bloody rude, knocking twice. They’re the ones interrupting our evening.
‘Hey, Danny,’ I hear my sister say as he opens the door.
I freeze in my tracks. What the hell is she doing here?
‘Danny boy,’ shrills Lucy.
‘What’s going on?’ I say making sure the sofa throw is covering as much of me as possible as I walk back into the lounge.
‘Aw, you two, matching outfits,’ laughs Lucy as she strolls in, bottle of Prosecco in her hand.
Danny’s about to shut the door when it gets pushed open again.
‘Bloody hell, Dan, put some clothes on,’ says his brother Stuart. He’s closely followed by Gaz.
I suddenly feel exposed, even with the throw.
‘Leave them alone, they’re still in that honeymoon phase,’ says Kerry, ‘remember that time when you couldn’t keep your clothes on? Oh how things change.’
The four of them snigger wearing smug we-know-what-it’s-really-like looks on their faces. How do they know that Danny and I won’t be at it like rabbits when we’re old and grey?
Danny looks out into the courtyard as if waiting to see who else pops up, but with no one else lurking out there he shuts the door.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he says, looking between them all.
‘Well, you know how you said that you didn’t want a hen or a stag do,’ says Lucy, grinning.
‘Oh no,’ I say, shaking my head. I’ve been looking forward to a cosy, romantic weekend all week. I don’t want it ruined by penis straws and condom veils.
