PORTSTEWART, NORTHERN IRELAND
Sophie’s eyes flickered open, as the misty morning light began to make its way over the top of the curtains and into the room. It took her a couple of minutes to get her bearings as she tried to remember where she was. She smiled to herself as realization dawned. She was in her old bedroom in her parents’ house in Portstewart, on the north coast of Northern Ireland.
She threw back her single duvet, thinking how thin and cheap it felt compared to the expensive duck down version she had at home, yet it was so comfortingly familiar all the same. It had been a long time since she had slept in this bed but it was almost as if her body had memorized every contour and spring in the mattress and it was the first unbroken night’s sleep she had had in years.
She walked to the window and drew back the pale pink linen curtains that she could still remember choosing when she was fourteen and had persuaded her parents to redecorate. Immediately, her heart lifted as she looked out at the view of Portstewart Strand, stretching for miles towards the emerald-green hills beyond, like a wide, sandy version of the Yellow Brick Road beside the wild, rolling Atlantic Ocean. The sky was pale blue, smeared with lilac and orange, suggesting that it was going to be a warm, clear day. She had planned for it not to be, after the relentless rain of the past three months. But she felt thrilled that the sun would be shining on such a special day. It felt like a good omen.
On the door of the heavy pine wardrobe hung her wedding dress, zipped carefully into a protective cover. Melissa had persuaded Geneva to let Sophie take the same one she had tried on, by promising to get Geneva an audition for the American version of the singing show she was working on. ‘Is she good?’ Sophie had asked, picturing Mark’s reaction if she was terrible.
Melissa waved her hand dismissively. ‘Good enough. Mark will be fine, if that’s what you’re worrying about.’
Sophie nodded. ‘If he’s not fine about her singing, he’ll certainly be fine about her appearance. She’s absolutely gorgeous – he’ll probably start dating her!’
‘No, he won’t!’ Melissa retorted, her dark eyes suddenly fierce.
Sophie had looked at her curiously. ‘Why do you care?’
‘I don’t… it’s just…’ Melissa hesitated.
‘Geneva’s way too tall for Mark!’ Amy leaned forward from the back seat. ‘They’d look ridiculous together.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Melissa, giving Amy a grateful look in the rearview mirror. ‘That’s what I meant.’
Sophie unzipped the protective cover and ran her hand over the gown inside. It was a white, silk, strapless sheath, which was very plain, but Sophie thought it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. There was something about the way it was cut that made it look as if it had been created especially for her body. There were no bulges, no creases and definitely no straining buttons – just a perfect silhouette.
The children’s voices floated upstairs from the kitchen, where they were already cooking breakfast with her mum. Sophie smiled to herself. They didn’t see that much of her parents, so when they did, it made it feel like more of a treat. Her mum especially spoiled them rotten but Sophie never objected. It was exactly how grannies were supposed to be.
She zipped up the bag as lovingly as if she was dressing a newborn baby and made her way out of the room and down the stairs. She had offered to buy her parents a new house when she first started to make serious money, but they had politely declined, saying no amount of money could buy a view as good as theirs.
They had a point. From every large window, there were spectacular views of the beach, the sea and the craggy little islands dotted in the distance. The colours changed constantly with the colour of the sky and it was impossible to either recreate it or become bored by it.
‘Well, good morning, bride-to-be!’ Her mum turned to give Sophie an excited grin, as she walked into the large, airy kitchen.
‘Mummy, me and Granny are making special wedding pancakes!’ Emma was perched up on the granite worktop beside the hob, patiently holding a plate out for Sophie’s mum to serve the pancakes she was cooking.
‘How lovely! You are such a good girl, Emma.’ Sophie planted a kiss on top of Emma’s silky blonde head.
‘She is,’ her mum agreed, giving Emma a proud smile. ‘She’s been soooo helpful.’ Only Sophie picked up the faint trace of sarcasm in her mum’s voice. She could well imagine just how ‘helpful’ Emma had been.
‘I’m helping too!’ Sophie looked over at Theo, who was sitting at the big oak table in another part of the kitchen, shovelling the last bit of a pancake into his mouth. He had a suspiciously Nutella-like moustache on his top lip.
Sophie laughed and walked over to scoop him up, covering his face in kisses, tasting the sugar that was stuck to his skin as she did so. ‘I don’t think scoffing them counts as helping, little love,’ she told him, putting him back down on the chair and sitting on the one beside him.
‘So…’ Her mum put a plate of fresh pancakes in the middle of the table and sat down opposite Sophie, smiling at her with eyes that were the same as hers, with just a few more lines around the edges. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I feel like I wonder why I didn’t do this years ago.’ Sophie helped herself to a pancake and sprinkled some sugar on it. ‘I can’t wait to marry him.’
‘Yes, well, better late than never, I suppose.’ Sophie’s mum looked at Emma and Theo, who were busily tucking into their pancakes either side of Sophie. ‘It’s a bit different to our day… back then, having your own children at your wedding would have been unthinkable. Now, it’s the norm.’ She gave a rueful shrug.
‘Amy did it the “right” way and look how that worked out.’
Her mum nodded. ‘Aye, that was a bad old business, for sure. But that’s not typical. Georgina got married first and it worked out all right for her.’
Sophie thought, but didn’t say, that her older sister Georgina’s marriage to Shaun was a success because they were both as boring as each other, along with their two boring sons, who had followed their parents into dull jobs in the Civil Service, to nobody’s surprise. There was absolutely nothing about Georgina’s life that she envied or wanted to emulate.
Sophie looked at both children fondly. ‘I’m glad the kids will be there. And at least we’ve got our ready-made bridesmaids and pageboys!’
Emma and Megan were to be the bridesmaids, while Theo and George were the pageboys. Sophie had asked Jack too but he had laughed and said, ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’
As it turned out, he was too ill to travel anyway. Sophie had told Emily she understood if she couldn’t make it either, but Emily was adamant that she would be there. ‘Mum and Dad are glad to be able to look after him. They like to be needed.’
‘Will Daddy be here soon?’ Emma looked up at Sophie. She was such a daddy’s girl. The deep bond that she and Steve had developed when she was a baby was stronger than ever, even though she was now eight years old. There was a time when Sophie had resented it. Had felt pushed out of their little bubble. But it was hard to remember now. Now she felt only pride that they had such a close relationship.
And Theo had definitely helped to balance the books. Just as Steve and Emma shared a special bond, so did she and Theo. He had come along just when she needed him most and she sometimes thought he had saved her sanity. Unlike her difficult first few months with Emma, she had connected with Theo instantly and could see so much of herself in him. They were like two sides of the same coin.
‘No, we’re meeting Daddy at the church,’ she said, smoothing the hair back on Emma’s face. ‘By tradition, the groom isn’t really supposed to see the bride before the ceremony.’
‘Not that there’s much tradition going on today,’ Sophie’s mum muttered.
Sophie ignored her. ‘That’s why he stayed at the hotel with the others.’
‘Poor Daddy.’ Emma shook her head sadly.
‘Why “poor Daddy”?’ Sophie gave Emma a quizzical look. Steve, Emily, Amy and Melissa were all staying in a very swanky hotel resort a few miles outside the town. He certainly wasn’t going to be slumming it.
‘Because he doesn’t get to eat Granny’s pancakes, silly!’ Emma said, as both Sophie and her mum burst out laughing.