I want to die. No, scratch that, I am going to die. My heart is going to explode out of my chest, or my lungs will pop, or my legs will fall off my body. Or all three at once. Either way, I ain’t going to make it to the chapel. Wherever that may be, as I don’t actually know and I’m simply blindly following Tom across the grass. Literally, as I’m sweating so much it’s running into my eyes and I can’t see a thing as I grind my knuckles into them.
‘There’s a bridge, but it’ll slow us down going that way,’ Tom says. Says? How is he still breathing enough to speak? ‘So we’ll have to jump. Ready?’
What? No, I’m not ready! I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.
I open my eyes in time to see the stream looming ahead. It isn’t very wide, but my legs are ready to crumble beneath me. I feel like I’m running on a pair of jelly sticks at the moment and they are not in any state to catapult me across the water, no matter how narrow it is.
But it seems I have little choice in the matter. There’s so much momentum going, I can’t stop. Plus, Tom won’t let me. I don’t know if he’s sensed my reluctance, but he’s got a tight grip on my arm and we’re ploughing towards the grassy bank.
‘Go!’ Tom cries.
‘Gah!’ I cry.
With Tom half-dragging me, I make it across the stream, but there’s no time to celebrate. The chapel is just ahead – and so are Archie and the bridesmaid. The bridesmaid is – inexplicably – wearing heels, which has slowed the pair down, so we’re not far behind. If we sprint, we could just propel ourselves into first place. I somehow find a reserve of energy and we surge forward, a weird war cry erupting as we near our competitors. There’s a strangled cry, but this time it isn’t coming from me.
‘My ankle!’ the bridesmaid howls, hopping on one foot while trying to grasp the other. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle. Ow!’
I try not to flash a smug grin at Archie. I try extremely hard, honestly, I do. But I fail. I fail badly.
Ha ha! Looks like we’ve won!
We sail through the open doors of the chapel, smiles of victory on our faces despite the pain and exhaustion.
‘Hello.’ Francelia turns to face us from the front-row pew.
‘What took you so long?’ Alice asks as the smiles fall from our faces. There is no victory – for me and Tom at least. There is only crushing disappointment and the very real possibility of death.
‘How?’ Tom doubles over, placing his hands on his thighs as he sucks in fresh air. ‘I don’t… How?’
‘You either have it…’ Alice shrugs. ‘Or you don’t.’
Archie stumbles into the chapel, with his partner limping after him, and scowls at me and Tom, but his scowl deepens when he spots Alice and Francelia.
‘We’re third?’ He wheels round to face his wincing partner. ‘We’d have been first if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous shoes. They’ve been a hindrance every step of the way.’ He staggers to the front of the chapel and kisses his aunt on the cheek. ‘Congratulations. At least somebody’s taken the crown from Tom at last.’
The bridesmaid throws herself into the nearest pew and massages her ankle. ‘So, what’s the prize then?’
Carolyn, who has been perched on the altar, slips down and holds out an envelope. ‘I was going to wait for everyone to finish to announce it, but that could be quite some time.’ She hands the envelope over to Alice with a beaming smile. ‘Congratulations! You’ve won a meal for two at Little Heaton’s finest restaurant tomorrow night.’
Alice takes the envelope with trepidation and glances at her stepmother. ‘A meal for two each?’
Carolyn pulls a face. ‘I’m afraid not. They only had one table available, so you’ll have to be each other’s date. Sorry.’
Francelia’s lips twitch into a brief but terrifying smile. ‘How romantic.’
‘I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t win,’ I say to Tom, nudging him with my elbow. ‘Otherwise we’d have had to go on a date.’
Tom blanches. ‘Losing’s a lucky escape then.’
‘All right, no need to look so utterly disgusted at the prospect.’ I wish I’d nudged him a bit harder now. ‘I happen to be a fantastic catch.’
Tom snorts, but I can see the very beginnings of a smile twitching at his lips. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘It’s true.’ I hold up my thumb. ‘I’m fun, as long as you don’t do anything to piss me off. I think the ship has sailed for us on that count, though.’ I hold up my index finger for my second point. ‘I have a high tolerance of crappy action films.’
‘Not that high if you consider them “crappy”.’
‘I sit through them without too much complaint. What more do you want?’ I hold up a third finger. ‘I’m not into PDAs, so you don’t have to worry about looking soppy in front of your mates.’
‘What if I’m into PDAs?’
I look at Tom and practically laugh in his face. ‘I highly doubt that. That’d be like Victor Meldrew playing footsie with Margaret out in public.’
Tom laughs, and I’m shocked when his face doesn’t crack. ‘I used to love One Foot in the Grave.’
‘Me too. It was my Aunt Dorothy’s favourite. The only time I ever heard her laugh was when she was watching her sitcoms.’
‘Did she watch Keeping Up Appearances?’
‘Of course. She liked all the classics: Dad’s Army, ‘Allo ‘Allo!, Last of the Summer Wine, Some Mother’s Do ‘Ave ‘Em. I wasn’t allowed to watch a lot of telly at Aunt D’s, so I grew to love them too. It was either British sitcoms or quiz shows in Aunt D’s house.’
‘You can’t beat the classics,’ Tom says, and I’m amazed to have found two things in common today. We both have fantastic taste in TV and a hatred of all things wedding. If he wasn’t already attached and I had as high a tolerance for mood swings as I do crappy action films, we’d be a perfect match.
‘What do you mean, he’s too busy for karaoke?’ Alice’s face is stony as she perches on the end of my bed while I apply my make-up at the dressing table. I’ve showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a sparkly top, which is much more ‘me’ than the fancy dresses I’ve brought with me to meet Francelia’s standards. A group of us are off to the village pub for a karaoke night, which should be fun. Unfortunately, Alice is quite keen for Twiggy to join us, so she can vet him and make sure he’s up to her standards, which came as a bit of a surprise to me as I was under the impression that a pulse was the only requirement when it came to my love life.
‘What exactly is he doing? Not another drive, surely.’ Alice goes to the window and sweeps a hand towards the pane. ‘It’s pitch-black. There’s nothing to see.’
‘The moon?’ I suggest. ‘Or the stars?’
I see Alice narrow her eyes through the reflection in the dressing-table mirror. ‘Is he a stargazer?’
I shrug my shoulders. Is my imaginary admirer a stargazer? I’m struggling to keep up with his fake exploits already. Having a pretend suitor is mentally exhausting.
Alice turns to Piers, who is sitting on her bed, phone in one hand, glass of wine in the other. Our room has become pre-karaoke night central, with both the bride and groom here as well as Archie. Everybody else was ready ages ago, but Alice took an age in our shared bathroom so I’m still catching up.
‘Is Twiggy a stargazer?’ Alice asks Piers and I almost poke a mascara wand into my eye. I spin around on the stool, but Piers doesn’t appear to have heard.
‘Hmm?’ He lifts his gaze – briefly – from his phone. ‘What was that?’
‘Twiggy,’ Alice says. ‘Is he a stargazer?’
Piers lifts his head, a frown in place, and I know I have to act fast. Why did I tell Alice that Twiggy was Piers’ cousin? Because he either had to be a guest of the bride or groom, and it seemed the more sensible option under the circumstances.
‘Actually, the truth is,’ I say before Alice can say another word and further land me in it, ‘I didn’t invite him to join us.’
‘What?’ Alice gives me an icy stare. It doesn’t look dissimilar to Francelia’s favourite expression. ‘Why not?’
Yes, Emily, why not?
‘Because…’ I fiddle about a bit with the mascara wand, dipping it in and out of the tube until Alice snatches it from me and screws the lid on. ‘Because he doesn’t wear socks underneath his trousers, and you know how much that bugs me.’
There’s a momentary spell of silence as Alice takes a deep breath in, sort of like the quiet before the storm. I draw back, preparing myself for the onslaught.
But it doesn’t come. Alice simply hands the mascara back and pats me on the shoulder (I instinctively flinch as she comes at me with an open palm, but there’s no malice there).
‘Fine.’
‘Eh?’
‘It’s fine. If it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be.’
I don’t trust this Alice. This Alice is not the headstrong woman I’ve known for the past ten years. She’s being far too lenient. Too reasonable.
What’s the catch?
‘Never mind. There’s plenty more fish in the castle.’ She sits down on my bed, next to Archie, and beams at me. There’s the catch. No Twiggy = more matchmaking, starting with Archie. It’s only Tuesday, meaning I’ll have to endure four more days of this. I’m not sure I have the strength.
I turn back to the mirror, fighting hard against the urge to throw daggers at my best friend’s reflection.
‘We don’t all have to get up and sing, do we?’ Piers asks as I apply a final coat of mascara to my lashes. ‘I mean, it’s a bit lame, isn’t it?’
‘Lame?’ Alice blinks rapidly at her future brother-in-law. ‘We had some brilliant karaoke sessions back at uni.’
‘But we’re not at uni any more.’
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun,’ Carolyn says.
‘Maybe I should just stay here.’ Piers shrugs. ‘It’s not really my thing. Plus, I still haven’t decided on the photos I want for the reception’s slideshow.’ He jiggles his phone at Carolyn and resumes his scrolling on the screen.
‘You can’t stay here like a great big misery.’ Carolyn leans across the bed to kiss him on the cheek. ‘But I promise you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to.’
Piers beams at his fiancée before dropping his gaze back down to his phone. ‘How about this one?’ He holds the phone out to Carolyn, but she scrunches up her nose and shakes her head.
‘No way. I’ve got three chins and a nasty breakout of spots on my forehead.’
‘What’s this about?’ Alice moves across the bed so she can have a nosy at the offending photo.
‘We’re having a slideshow at the reception, on a big projector screen, showing photos of our relationship, from our very first date to our engagement. But Piers has yet to choose any photos that don’t make me look a state.’
‘Speaking of photos…’ Alice hops off the bed and grabs the envelope of old photos her uncle passed on earlier. ‘Uncle Ned gave me these. Apparently, they’re old photos of us as kids. Granny and Grandpa must have taken them.’
‘Ooh.’ Carolyn wriggles her fingers at the envelope. ‘Let’s have a quick look.’
The sisters sit together on the bed, the thick wad of photos held between them. They’re soon pissing themselves laughing at the dodgy hairstyles and fashion choices of the early to mid-nineties. Intrigued, I squeeze in beside Alice so I can have a gander.
‘Oh my God.’ I press a hand to my mouth. ‘What happened to your hair? An electric shock?’
A young Alice is pouting at us, her short hair a backcombed mass held down with tiny, multicoloured clips. She looks like a strawberry-blonde, accessorised Edward Scissorhands.
‘Hey, I looked cute.’ Alice sticks her tongue out at me before plucking the photo from the pile and adding it to the bottom. The next photo has been taken by the fountain in the courtyard. Archie and Tom are perched on the stone wall of the fountain, with Alice and Carolyn on either side. Archie’s arm is around Alice’s waist while Carolyn is leaning her head on Tom’s shoulder. They look like the very happy, cosy foursome I haven’t been able to picture until now. Tom is smiling, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and looks so unlike the surly bloke I’ve witnessed that I have to peer at the face for a minute to convince myself it really is him.
‘You really were the best of friends,’ I say as yet more evidence is presented before me: Alice throwing her head back laughing as Tom gives her a piggyback, Archie ruffling Tom’s hair as they both grin at the camera, the four of them perched on a tree in the woods. Tom appears to be a fun-loving young man – what the hell happened to change that?
‘We were.’ Alice flips to the next photo, where she’s sitting in Tom’s lap on the stone steps at the entrance of the castle. ‘The summers here were the best, until Francelia’s stupid necklace changed everything.’
‘I don’t understand how that drove you all apart.’ There’s another photo of a grinning Tom. ‘I get why you didn’t want to come back here, but why is there such a distance between you and Tom? He knows you didn’t take the necklace.’
‘I know.’ Alice’s gaze slides to Archie. ‘But it’s complicated. Anyway…’ She pushes the photos back into their envelope. ‘We should get going. The others will be waiting for us.’
We meet the rest of the karaoke gang in the entrance hall and walk down the hill together and into the village. As well as our bedroom gang, best man Teddy is here, along with bridesmaids Thea and Josephine (whose ankle has recovered after the treasure hunt), plus a couple of cousins and a female relative nobody seems to know but who is happily chewing Teddy’s ear off while clinging on to his arm with a death grip.
‘Did anybody invite Tom?’ I ask Alice as we reach the bottom of the hill. Alice gives me a funny look, somewhere between surprise, delight and hope, which is an odd combination, but I know exactly what is going through my friend’s mind: why is she enquiring about Tom? Ooh, does this mean she fancies Tom and they’re going to get together, get married and have lots and lots of babies? It’s nonsense, obviously, but the thoughts are there and happen so quickly the corresponding facial expressions merge into one loopy-looking feature.
‘I don’t think so.’ Alice’s eyes slide to Archie, who is walking on the other side of me. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just wondered.’ I pull a face. ‘Didn’t want him ruining the night with his grumpy face.’
Alice threads her arm through mine. ‘You seemed to work well together during the treasure hunt.’
‘Because we both wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.’
Alice doesn’t even acknowledge my contribution. ‘And you seemed to be having a good chat in the chapel. He seemed happy, like the old Tom again.’
We’re in dangerous territory here. Alice is gearing up to interfere, and if there’s anybody who would be averse to her meddling, it would be Tom. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would take well to a bit of matchmaking. Besides, he thinks I’m a numpty with no sense of direction and a penchant for having sex in the woods with random men I’ve known for an hour or two. No wonder he was surprised by my ‘great catch’ declaration.
And, oh yes, he’s engaged with a baby on the way.
Alice is most put out when I deliver this little nugget of information.