I’ve chosen a navy-blue fishtail gown with a diamante halter neck for the rehearsal dinner. It’s the most glamorous dress I’ve ever owned, and I’ve even gone the extra mile and bought a matching clutch. The dress was on sale, but even with the pretty hefty discount, this is the most I have ever spent on one item of clothing; I’d usually expect two or three outfits for the price. But, I’d reasoned as I admired my body from all angles in the changing room’s mirrors, I’ll get my money’s worth from it. I’ll wear it often: the staff Christmas do, swanky dates (if I’m ever invited on one – and if I accept), doing the washing up… Yes, I’ll get lots of wear out of this extremely expensive, not-very-practical dress.
‘Wit woo.’ Alice gives a wolf whistle when she emerges from the bathroom and sees me twisting in front of the dressing-table mirror, trying to convince myself that my bum can’t possibly look that good. ‘Nobody’s going to be paying any attention to the bride-to-be tonight.’ Alice joins me at the mirror and rests her head on my shoulder.
‘Is it too much?’ Alice has seen the dress before – she’d convinced me to part with the weep-inducing chunk of my salary – but now I’m worried it isn’t suitable after all.
‘Don’t be daft.’ Alice sits on her bed and removes the towel she’s wrapped around her hair. ‘There’s no such thing, honey. You look amazing. Own it.’
Alice starts to towel dry her hair while I turn back to the mirror. I do look amazing, even if I’m not feeling so hot inside.
‘Do you think Tom will be there tonight?’
I haven’t spoken to him since my little disappearing act this morning. I found the old buttery down near the kitchens and hid out there for a while before returning to my room to attempt to lose myself in my book, but the dashing Tudor hero was doing nothing for me. Tom is all I can think about. And that damn scan photo.
‘Carolyn invited him, so I hope so.’ Alice drops the towel on the floor and grabs the hairdryer. ‘Why do you ask?’
I shrug. ‘Just curious.’
Alice watches me for a moment. ‘You’re wearing that dress to impress Archie, right?’
I turn around to look at Alice and place my hands on my hips. ‘I’m dressing to impress myself.’
I turn around again and catch Alice’s eye-roll in the mirror. ‘Whatevs, Ms Pankhurst.’
I ignore her jibe and sit down carefully at the dressing table, running my fingers through my hair. I’m thinking a loose plait to the side, with a diamante clip to keep the wispy bits off my face.
‘Emily? Is everything… okay?’
I move my hair to the side and start to plait it. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You just seem a bit quiet.’
I turn to Alice and smile sweetly at her. ‘Are you saying I usually have a big gob?’
‘Who could ever accuse you of that?’ There’s a good dollop of sarcasm in Alice’s voice. ‘Seriously, though, is everything okay with you and Archie? He really is a great guy and I don’t want you to just dismiss him like you usually do. You two could be good together.’
‘Oh, Alice.’ I sigh as I twist around on my stool. ‘I don’t think Archie is half as charming as you think he is.’ I start to rub my fingers without meaning to. ‘In fact, I don’t think he’s very nice at all.’
‘Is this about your dinner date? Because Archie told me all about it: the crummy service, the bad wine, and the waiter washing his feet in the sink!’ She shakes her head. ‘You can hardly blame him for being peeved. Plus, he’s really stressed with work at the moment.’
‘It isn’t just that,’ I say, but Alice has already switched the hairdryer to its maximum setting, drowning out my voice.
Alice looks stunning in a red, floor-length dress overlaid with red lace and sequins that dance in the light. But, for perhaps the first time during our decade-long friendship, I don’t feel like the booby prize next to her. My confidence hasn’t dimmed since we left the safety of our room and the dressing-table mirror.
We’re eating in the great hall for the rehearsal dinner, and the room looks magical. The two seemingly endless tables running parallel along the length of the room are swathed in white tablecloths, and they sparkle with perfectly polished cutlery, crystal glasses, and the silver candelabra set out at intervals, their candles creating a soft glow around the vast room. Fairy lights have been strung from the ceiling, while more are wound around pillars and threaded tastefully through huge floral displays. The whole room looks like a fairy tale come to life in front of my eyes and I’m doubly glad I decided to buy this dress. I would have looked out of place in my usual clobber.
Carolyn and Piers greet us at the entrance, kissing both our cheeks in turn. Carolyn is wearing a simple wrap dress, but she looks elegant and the radiant smile on her face would make any outfit shine.
‘Look who’s here.’ She grabs Alice’s hand and steers her to the right, where Francelia and Roderick are standing. ‘Dad finally made it.’ If it had been me, I’d be pretty pissed off my father had arrived four days later than planned, but Carolyn tinkles out a laugh and beams up at him. ‘Just in time for the stag-night fun.’ She winks at her father before leading Alice and I towards the tables.
‘I thought Archie would be walking Carolyn down the aisle for real,’ Alice whispers. Carolyn is striding ahead, out of earshot.
‘Your dad didn’t look very apologetic.’ In fact, Roderick had merely smiled benignly at his daughter while appearing on the verge of yawning.
‘Dad never apologises for anything.’ Alice rolls her eyes before nudging me lightly and pointing out the huge projector screen set up at the far end of the room, showcasing a slideshow of photos of the happy couple. Currently, there’s a black and white shot of Piers feeding strawberries to a blissful-looking Carolyn. ‘That reminds me of you and Archie last night.’ Alice presses her lips together as I pull a face. I feel just as sick as I did while having numerous toasted marshmallows foisted upon me.
Carolyn, seeing us watching the slideshow, wanders back towards us. ‘This is just a little preview we put together. There’ll be loads more tomorrow for the actual reception, with video clips and everything. Francelia and I put it together and it’s taken us for ever to agree on the content, so I hope everybody enjoys it. Ah, here you are, Emily.’ Carolyn indicates my place setting, and it feels as though my stomach has dropped to the floor. I’ve been seated between Archie and Tom, while Alice is seated further down the table, among the bride and groom’s close relatives and the wedding party.
I sit down as gracefully as I can, trying to channel Audrey Hepburn, and resist the urge to fidget with my hair as I wait for the other guests to arrive. Carolyn seems to be in her element as she greets her guests, chatting and laughing with them, and although Piers looks as reserved as ever, he does keep touching Carolyn – a hand on her arm, an arm around her waist, even a kiss on her cheek at one point – and it’s warming to see. They are clearly two very different people, but perhaps this will work out and Carolyn will get the happily ever after she deserves.
My attention is taken away from Carolyn and her betrothed when I spot Archie in the doorway. He looks dashing in a dove-grey tuxedo, his eyes crinkly as he smiles in greeting at the happy couple, but my stomach churns as he saunters towards me. What do I say to him? What will he say to me?
‘Good evening, Emily.’ Archie smiles brightly at me. Has his smile always looked this sinister?
‘Hello.’ I tuck my hands under my thighs as he sits down next to me.
‘You look spectacular.’ I flinch as Archie reaches for a loose tendril of my hair. ‘Emily, sweetheart.’ He tuts and shakes his head. ‘I am so sorry about our misunderstanding earlier. It was unforgivable of me to talk to you in that manner. I’m ashamed.’ He places a hand on his chest. ‘Deeply ashamed.’
I don’t know what to say. Do I accept his apology but make it clear I don’t want anything more to do with him? Or will that make him angry? I don’t want to cause a scene, but I also don’t want to play nicely either. Luckily, we’re distracted by the arrival of Tom, who has certainly scrubbed up well for the occasion in a pair of fitted charcoal trousers teamed with matching waistcoat and tie. The sleeves of the shirt underneath have been rolled to just below his elbows, his tanned forearms displayed beautifully against the stark white. To say Tom looks gorgeous would be doing him a disservice.
He. Looks. Hawt.
I fear I may be drooling.
Too late, I realise Archie is watching me, his eyes narrowed as he observes me gawping at the gardener.
‘Hello again.’ Tom slips into his seat, which is ridiculously close to mine. His thigh is only a gnat’s bollock away from my own. I’d only have to shuffle over ever so slightly to touch him.
Which I won’t, obviously.
‘Hi.’ I’m aiming for a neutral tone, but it comes out squeaky and alarmingly Mickey Mouse-like. I clear my throat and try again. ‘Hi. It’s nice to see you again.’
I cringe inwardly – and perhaps outwardly too. Our conversation is so stilted. You’d never have guessed we kissed last night. Which is a good thing, I guess.
‘Hello, Tom Thumb.’ Archie leans across the back of my chair so he can pat his old friend on the back. ‘Good to see you, mate. We haven’t had much chance to catch up, have we? Alice says you have some rather exciting news to share?’
Tom rearranges the perfectly set out cutlery, his head shaking slowly. ‘Nope, nothing exciting to share on this front, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, don’t be so coy!’ Archie chuckles. ‘I hear there are wedding bells on the horizon for you too. And the patter of tiny feet?’ He reaches across, making me scoot back as he invades my personal space. ‘Congratulations, mate! We’ll have a proper toast later, once our glasses have been filled.’
Tom doesn’t take Archie’s proffered hand. Instead, he offers a tight smile and gives another shake of his head. ‘There isn’t going to be a wedding.’
Archie snatches back his hand and raises his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’
‘I’m afraid you’ve received some old news.’ Tom catches my eye. ‘There isn’t going to be a wedding, because Lydia broke off the engagement. Months ago.’