‘You’re welcome. I’m enjoying myself immensely,’ Tara said warmly.
‘You’re going to look lovely.’ Liz smiled at her daughter. ‘Very classy and elegant.’
‘Well, I didn’t want a meringue. I’m not tall enough for it. And the veils looked a bit OTT on me, didn’t they?’
‘Cathedral length isn’t you. And a short one would cut the outfit in half. I think you’re right to go with something simple in the hair. The bustier is so decorative, it’s all you need,’ Tara agreed.
‘Is Nadine doing bridesmaid for Carol?’ Liz sipped her wine appreciatively.
‘Nope. Flatly refused. A friend of hers is going to be her bridesmaid. I think she’s better off, to be honest. Nadine’s a loose cannon. You wouldn’t know what she’d do on the day.’
Liz’s lips tightened. ‘She’d better behave herself at the wedding.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Jessica backtracked hastily.
‘Is her father coming to the wedding?’ Liz inquired.
‘Er . . . I don’t think so.’
‘Well, of course, there’s been bad feelings between them for years, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who’s going to walk her up the aisle? I hope it won’t be Nancy, because having seen the state of her lately she’ll be staggering up it,’ Liz sniffed.
Oh Lord! Jessica groaned inwardly. The day had turned out very well; she didn’t want to have any bad vibes now.
‘You know, Liz, I think we should pop into Michael H on our way back to the car. I just happened to notice a lovely dress and coat ensemble in the window when we were passing. It might suit you very well for the wedding,’ Tara interjected diplomatically, aware of the rising tension.
‘Good idea. Wouldn’t it be great if we got your outfit as well? Would it be too much to hope for?’ Jessica said eagerly. She could have kissed her aunt for changing the subject. Liz was still very annoyed at the double wedding plan and never lost a chance to let Jessica know that she wasn’t impressed.
‘I suppose so,’ Liz said unenthusiastically. ‘I haven’t given much thought to what I’m going to wear.’ Jessica felt a surge of irritation. Her mother was making no effort. She’d been very subdued all day, allowing Tara to take the lead. She could give the appearance of being interested, she thought resentfully. She knew what was wrong with her mother. Niggling at the back of her own mind lurked guilt. Guilt because she’d enjoyed herself buying her wedding outfit even while being aware that her mother’s heart wasn’t in it because she was missing Ray.
A dart of sadness pierced her. If her father were alive, she would be deliriously happy. Longing to walk down the aisle on his arm. But he wasn’t and no amount of guilt or grief would bring him back. And besides, she knew that Ray would hate to think that they couldn’t enjoy the wedding because he wasn’t there. She understood where her mother was coming from and she felt terribly sorry for her. But part of her felt resentful, which made her feel guilty, which in turn made her feel resentful again and she felt like calling the whole thing off.
‘It was just a suggestion,’ she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.
‘No time like the present, Liz,’ Tara said briskly, demolishing a prawn cracker. ‘We’ll have a look. Might get some ideas. If you prefer I can make you an outfit.’
‘Will you stop rushing me?’ Liz said testily.
‘Dear, if I was rushing you, you’d know about it,’ Tara drawled. ‘Now eat up your greens and do what you’re told.’
‘You always were a bossy boots,’ Liz said crossly.
‘Prerogative of the older sister,’ Tara said equably. ‘If you’re a good girl tonight you can have a whole bottle of wine. It might put a smile on your face. Great for your facial tone . . . smiles,’ she said pointedly.
‘Ah, give over,’ Liz retorted, but it was said fondly, and Jessica gave a sigh of relief.
‘Mam! It’s gorgeous. It’s really, really elegant,’ Jessica raved an hour later as her mother stepped out through the wooden swing doors of the fitting cubicle in Michael H.
‘Is it a bit Mother of the Bridey?’ Liz demurred as she stood in front of a full-length mirror and studied her appearance with a critical eye.
‘Well, that’s what you are, you idiot.’ Tara threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘But I know what you mean,’ she conceded. ‘And no. It’s an outfit that could take you anywhere. You can mix it and match it. Dress it up or down. I think it’s smashing.’
‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ Liz agreed, turning around to have a look at the back. It was a simple cerise linen shift dress, superbly cut, with a grey, full-length lightweight coat. The coat had cerise buttons and cerise edging at the collar and cuffs. As Tara had said, it could be worn anywhere.
‘What do you think?’ Liz asked Jessica, still unsure.
‘I love it, but you’re the one that will be wearing it, Mam, so it’s up to you.’
‘Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll leave it. I might take a trip to Gorey, there’s a few good boutiques there,’ Liz decided, retracing her steps back to the cubicle.
‘I thought it was gorgeous on her,’ Jessica whispered, disappointed as she and Tara flicked through the rails while Liz got dressed.
‘So did I,’ Tara murmured.
‘She’s in a dodgy sort of humour these days. It’s really getting me down,’ Jessica confessed.
‘Try not to take it personally. I know it’s hard for her. But damn, it’s hard for you too. Do you want me to have a talk with her?’ Tara offered.
‘Oh, no, I don’t think so, thanks all the same,’ Jessica said hastily. ‘That might really get her back up. And anyway, I don’t want her to think that we’re ganging up on her either. Both of us will just have to get on with it and make the best of it.’
‘Well, you did good today, girl, and you’re going to look beautiful. Mike’s eyes will be out on stalks or my name’s not Tara Johnston! In fact he might even have a stalk on him when he sees you in that bustier,’ Tara declared.
Jessica giggled. Her aunt was incorrigible.
‘What are you two laughing at?’ Liz demanded suspiciously, coming up behind them.
‘Aunt–niece confidentiality, I’m afraid. Rest assured it wasn’t about you. You’re not the sole topic of conversation, despite what you might think,’ Tara said airily, holding a blouse up against herself. ‘I think I’ll try this on. Might as well treat myself to something, seeing as I’m up in the big smoke.’
‘What was she saying to you?’ Liz couldn’t contain her curiosity as Tara headed for the changing cubicles. ‘Was she giving out because I didn’t buy the outfit?’
‘No, Mother, she wasn’t,’ Jessica said tartly. ‘She made a very vulgar joke, if you want to know.’
‘Oh . . . oh,’ Liz said, deflated. ‘Are you going to share it with me?’
‘I don’t know if you’re in the humour for vulgar jokes.’ Jessica made a face.
‘What does that mean?’ Liz bristled. ‘I’m no prude. How could you be a prude related to that one?’ She indicated the changing-room where Tara was.
Jessica sighed. ‘It’s nothing to do with you being a prude, Mam, it’s just . . . ’ She hesitated. ‘It’s just . . . ’
‘What? Just what?’ demanded Liz.
‘There you go, that sort of thing,’ Jessica said hotly. ‘Always on the defensive, tetchy. I can’t do anything right lately.’
They stared at each other over a clothes rail. Liz’s face crumpled.
‘I’m sorry, Jessie. I’m really sorry. I know I’m being a wagon, I can’t seem to contain it. I think I must be starting the change or something. I am fierce tetchy these days, aren’t I?’
‘You’re not starting the change, you’re only forty-six, Mam!’ Jessica couldn’t hide her exasperation.
‘Well, I could be,’ Liz said defensively.
‘No, you’re not, you only had a blood test six months ago when you went for a cholesterol check. I remember you telling me about it, that the doctor d
id a range of tests, and you weren’t menopausal. Don’t be wishing that on yourself.’
‘I’m not.’ Liz scowled.
‘Look, I know what’s wrong with you. And I do understand,’ she said earnestly. ‘I know you’re missing Dad like mad, so am I. But we’ve got to get on with things. That’s why I wanted to keep the wedding as low-key as possible.’
Liz bit her lip and shook her head. ‘I know, Jessie. I know. I’m being very self-centred. I’m sorry. Take no notice of me.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Jessica walked around to the other side of the rail and hugged her mother. ‘We’ll get through it together and try and have as good a day as we can.’
‘You’re right, love. And you’re going to look stunning.’
‘I hope so.’ Jessica smiled, glad that they had cleared the air.
‘Go on, tell me what that Tara one said to you,’ Liz urged, tucking her arm into Jessica’s.
Grinning, Jessica repeated Tara’s assertions and was rewarded by her mother’s loud guffaw, which brought a smile of relief to her aunt’s face as she pranced out of the cubicle to show off her new blouse.
25
‘Hi, Liz. Hi, Tara.’ Carol greeted the sisters affably, following Jessica into the sitting-room. She’d jogged up from Phibsboro to see them. ‘Did you have a good day shopping?’
‘Very productive,’ Tara informed her. She was sprawled on Jessica’s couch with her shoes off, drinking red wine. She looked very fit and healthy for a woman in her late forties, Carol thought sourly. Tara did a lot of hill-walking and her shapely tanned legs would be the envy of many a twenty-year-old.
‘What did you buy?’ Carol perched on the side of an armchair and smiled down at Liz.
‘I bought nothing. Tara bought a blouse and a new set of pinking shears and Jessie bought her wedding outfit.’
‘What! Already?’ Carol couldn’t believe it. ‘What did she buy? Let’s see it. Did she bring it home?’
Tara held up her hand authoritatively. ‘Sorry! No viewing until the day of the wedding. It’s my baby until the wedding day.’
‘Aw, Tara, come on, don’t be a meanie,’ Carol protested. ‘Jessie, let’s see what you bought. Have you bought everything?’ she asked her friend, who had just walked back into the sitting-room.
‘I sure did. I’ve no intentions of traipsing around day in day out trying to decide what to wear. I knew what I wanted; I went for it, and I’ve got the material and my shoes—’
‘Your shoes as well? Were they an awful price? I was shocked when I went looking,’ Carol said ruefully.
‘Forty euro in Barratts,’ Jessica informed her cheerfully. ‘Glass of wine?’
‘Forty euro in Barratts. You bought your wedding shoes in Barratts?’ Carol couldn’t believe her ears as she shook her head at the offer of wine.
‘I certainly did, and they’re gorgeous, and if you’ve any sense you’ll do the same and not be spending a small fortune on a pair of shoes that you’ll get precious little wear out of.’
‘But it’s your wedding day!’ protested Carol.
‘So?’ Jessica said coolly.
‘But don’t you want everything to be special?’
‘Of course I do. I’m not going to walk down the aisle looking like Secondhand Rose, Carol, but I’m not spending a fortune either. We don’t have a fortune to spend.’
‘Did you get Katie’s dress yet?’ Carol changed the subject.
‘No. We’re going to have to shop for it one of these days.’
‘Have you bought yours yet or are you having it made?’ Tara said silkily.
‘Actually I’m buying mine.’ Carol fiddled with her engagement ring. She liked Tara about as much as she liked Katie. Mother and daughter were too alike for her tastes.
‘Some of them are fairly pricey, if the ones we were looking at today were anything to go by. Do you remember that satin sheath we saw? It was outrageous. One thousand, five hundred euro. I’d make it for the price of the material,’ Tara remarked.
‘Not everyone is as talented as you, Tara,’ Carol said drily, not sure whether she was being got at or not.
‘We’re heading out for dinner. I’ve booked a table in Kelly and Ping’s at eight-thirty if you’d like to come,’ Jessica interjected swiftly.
‘Thanks, but no, I’ll continue my run, Gary’s meeting me in the club later. I just popped in to say hello,’ Carol said hastily. Having dinner with Tara and Katie was an ordeal she could do without.
‘By the way, I assume the men will be wearing morning suits?’ She looked at Jessica for confirmation.
‘Umm . . . well, actually Mike was thinking of wearing the new grey suit he bought for his interview.’
‘You’re joking, Jessie! He can’t go up the aisle in a business suit.’ She was clearly horrified.
‘Well, he can and he will, Carol. Hiring suits costs a fortune. And you never know who’s been in them. I’d hate to have to wear a rented suit, wouldn’t you?’
‘Men don’t care. They don’t think of things like that. Aw, come on, Jessica, I really want Gary to look his best. Top hat and tails is de rigueur. Isn’t it?’ She appealed to Liz.
‘I’m not getting involved, Carol. Sort it out yourselves,’ Liz said firmly.
‘Well, Gary can wear top hat and tails if he wants to,’ Jessica said matter-of-factly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ scoffed Carol. ‘It would look stupid in the photos if Gary was in top hat and tails and Mike was in a suit.’
‘We can do separate photos,’ Jessica pointed out reasonably.
‘I suppose,’ Carol said sulkily, seeing that she was getting nowhere.
‘I was wondering if it would be a good idea for you and Nancy and myself and Jessie to meet up and have a chat. We need to discuss the menu and so on and so forth,’ Liz suggested. ‘Why don’t you both come over Sunday afternoon? We need to meet sooner rather than later and it would be good to have the arrangements agreed upon and finalized, don’t you think?’
‘If you say so,’ Carol said curtly, standing up. ‘I’ll get Gary to bring me down on Sunday. See you then.’
‘Bye, Carol,’ Tara said cheerfully, ignoring the tension in the air.
‘I can give you a lift down tomorrow if you want. We’re leaving after breakfast,’ Jessica offered. She knew Carol was in a huff over the suit business and as usual felt it was up to her to smooth ruffled feathers.
‘No, thanks, I’ve a match tomorrow afternoon.’ Carol didn’t even look at her as she marched out into the hall.
‘Right, I’ll see you Sunday.’ Jessica smiled brightly, determined not to be riled. She didn’t want her mother getting on her high horse about tensions between herself and Carol. She had enough on her plate as it was, she thought resentfully, tired of having to constantly mollify the pair of them. It was her bloody wedding, for crying out loud – people should be mollifying her!
* * *
Carol picked up her rhythm as she jogged on to Botanic Road and headed northwards. She was pissed off big time. She might as well be a spectator at this bloody wedding for all the input she was having. Jessica had picked the date, the church, the venue, without reference to what she or Gary wanted. Now she was dictating the dress code. It just wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly. For two pins she’d tell her so-called best friend to shove her fucking wedding up her arse. If only she wasn’t so constrained. So desperate. If she pulled out now, she’d never get Gary up the aisle. When she’d suggested the double wedding, she’d never dreamed that Mike and Jessie would be such cheapskates about the biggest day of their lives.
The nicest thing in the world would have been to plan the wedding of her dreams, she thought wistfully. A wedding that wouldn’t take place in the bloody sticks. She was damn sure she wouldn’t be having her wedding reception in a parochial little hotel in a parochial little town where everybody knew everybody’s business. It was galling to think that half the parish would know what was on the menu and approximately how much the w
edding had cost.
She’d felt like telling Liz to stuff her meeting. What was the point in having a meeting to ‘discuss’ the menu and so on, when anything she suggested would be steamrolled by that pair of bossy wagons, Carol thought sourly as she pounded purposefully along the pavement.
If it were left to her she would have a wedding in Dublin in as posh an hotel as they could afford. She’d travel to the church in a white limo, and step out on to a red carpet, the queen of all she surveyed. After a poetic, artistic service she’d be photographed in the Botanic Gardens, before joining her guests to drink champagne while a stylish, sophisticated quartet played classical music in the background. They would dine like kings on lobster and quail, she thought wistfully, as she turned left and ran parallel to the Tolka River before turning right to tackle the Washerwoman’s Hill.
Her wedding list would reflect her refined tastes, not for her chunky glassware and china from Woodies and Dunnes and Roches. She’d have the finest linen, the most elegant tableware, the most delicate crystal, she fantasized as she kept up the pace, ignoring her aching knees and lungs.
But what was the point, she thought mournfully as she crested the hill and jogged past the Bon Secours Hospital, bathed in the late evening sun. What was the point in spending a fortune on her wedding dress? No one except the nosy neighbours would see it and be impressed. She didn’t give a hoot about impressing the neighbours at home, she thought disdainfully. They all looked down their noses at the Logans; they could go to hell. Maybe she wouldn’t buy the fabulous brocade dress that had cost a fortune but had made her look like a vision in white. It would be wasted on the hicks down home. She could be parsimonious like Jessica and save herself a couple of thousand euro and buy a dress in a mediocre little bridal boutique, or even worse, get it made by Tara, she though disdainfully. How small-town tacky was that?
‘No!’ she muttered grimly. She wasn’t going to sink to those levels. She was going to have a decent wedding dress, even if she didn’t buy it in Marian Gale’s, and damn it, she thought mulishly, she was going to have a wedding list, even though Liz had snootily said when she had mentioned the subject at one stage that ‘it was far from wedding lists she was reared’.
Double Wedding Page 20
