Wednesday 6th December
At Brides by the Sea: Drop-ins and blind spots
‘Have you heard from Jess today?’
It’s Poppy, arriving at the shop late the next afternoon, in time to help with what, from the appointments book, looks like a mass collection of groomsmen’s suits.
I look up from the desk, where I’ve been sorting through my pictures since early this morning, and nod at the phone. ‘Jess has rung every half hour. If not more.’ How can I spend all day shuffling pictures? Discarding the rubbish ones is easy, but it’s amazing how long it takes to sort the rest. If you’re a ditherer like me, faced with a couple of thousand shots from the day, the tweaking could go on forever.
Poppy’s brow wrinkles. ‘That bad? And Jess has barely been away a couple of days. I knew we should have installed webcams in every room.’
I shake my head. ‘If she had more signal, she’d be on Skype full time. Lucky for us, halfway up a mountain, she’s got problems with her buffering.’
‘So is there any news?’ Poppy’s eyebrow wiggle tells me exactly the kind she’s asking about.
I laugh. ‘She’s found Kaffee Klatsch, which sounds exactly like Jaggers Bar, but with gluhwein and an upper level.
Poppy’s eyes go wide. ‘Jeez, these skiers must be hardcore. There’s no way Jaggers’ customers could negotiate stairs after Happy Hour.’
I carry on. ‘The chalet’s got a fabulous balcony. There are six bathrooms, but they’re all on the small side.’
Poppy’s listening intently as she slips off her Barbour and hangs it in the kitchen. ‘That’s the trouble with living at the Manor. Everywhere else will feel like a doll’s house afterwards. Is there any sign of a ring?’
‘Not yet.’ I have a feeling we’ll be asking the same question every hour for the next two weeks. ‘If he hasn’t done it already, he might leave it until the last day? Unless he’s planning to take her somewhere special.’ It’s ironic. After making a complete wreck of my own proposal, I’ve become the expert on them.
Poppy’s flicking through the rail of suits that Sera brought out earlier. ‘And how are the pictures?’
Now it’s my turn to frown. I hesitate. ‘The food ones are fine. Your cake looks as amazing in the photos as it did in real life.’ I love taking pictures of oysters at any time. And Poppy’s simple three tier cake, with a silver-leaf bottom layer and delicate lace icing, was a gift to photograph.
‘And can I peep at the rest?’
I stand up and sigh as I give her my chair. ‘Help yourself. Lucky for me, the first dance was very slow.’ As I stare at the close up of Zoe and Aidan on the dance floor, I’ve lost all sense of whether they’re good or bad.
Poppy sighs as she flicks through. ‘Zoe looks gorgeous. You’ve really captured how in love they are. And the house is looking fabulous too.’ Her face lights up. ‘And these are all the bits I missed.’ She flicks through some more. ‘Seeing it all here and filling in the gaps from the day, I mind much less about not being there.’
‘In that case, I’m pleased I took them.’ Poppy looking at them in that light makes it easier for me to write off my awkward day with Jules.
She grasps my hand and squeezes tightly. ‘Truly, I’m all good again today. But thanks for helping last night.’ She’s already sent me about a hundred texts saying the same thing. And telling me not to worry.
But there are times like yesterday when I know all she needs is a hug from her lovely mum. As huggers go she was a world champion. When we were younger I had my fair share from her. Especially as she was the one who stepped in and had me round a lot after Freya died. There was nothing quite like having your cheek pressed up against one of her flowery, icing-sugar covered pinnies in that kitchen that always smelled of warm baking. When she died suddenly from cancer a few years ago, it felt as if the sun had gone out in the village. It’s the saddest thing that she isn’t here to see Poppy’s baby.
‘Any time, Pops. That’s what I’m here for, remember.’ There’s a jingle of bells as the shop door opens. ‘And obviously I don’t mind helping a few groomsmen into their suits either.’
She grins. ‘That’s good to hear, seeing as there are ten of them.’
‘That’ll be five each, then.’
We’re both looking towards the doorway, stifling our guilty giggles, expecting to see a crowd. So when it’s Jules who appears instead, we can be excused for exchanging puzzled glances.
Poppy gets her act together first. ‘Jules, lovely to see you, how can we help?’ You can tell from the way she thinks on her feet she’s a seasoned wedding pro.
Me standing in front of Poppy seems to have nipped the usual air kiss fest in the bud.
‘I said I’d pop round. So here I am.’ As Jules clears his throat, I sense there’s something different about him, but I can’t pinpoint what.
Poppy and I are both grinning like loons. ‘And?’
‘You’re going to show me your wedding album, Holly.’ Another of Jules’s trademark steam- roller statements, where a question would have been way more appropriate.
‘Right.’ I’m croaking because my voice has dematerialised. When he said he’d drop by soon, I assumed he’d give me a couple of days. Not come leaping in next afternoon. ‘They’re not quite ready.’ It’s a massive understatement. Maybe he expected me to stay up all night on Photoshop? Looking at his grey complexion he might well have done that himself. Now I focus more closely, his eyes are so bleary I wouldn’t be out of line offering him some matchsticks to prop them open. What’s more, his sparkle is totally – well, what can I say other than ‘not sparkling’. It’s like today we’ve got Jules, the totally wrecked, matt version.
‘Not ready? And you call yourself a professional?’ His voice is high with disbelief. Even his hair is lank as he tosses it back. Wrestling a laptop from a pregnant person isn’t polite either, but he does it anyway. And if we were craving questions, they weren’t ones like those.
Poppy pulls out her phone and starts texting madly. A second later my own phone pings. It’s a one-word text from her.
Pimples
She points to her cheek and forehead, then swizzles her eyes towards Jules. Sure enough, when I look again, yesterday’s flawless complexion is breaking out. Okay, I know it’s shallow and mean. But when I zoom in on the two giant zits on his forehead I can’t help feeling a teensy bit pleased that he’s not quite so perfect after all. Absolutely bloody delighted, even. In the same way seeing Kate Middleton with a spot makes you feel better knowing she’s human too. There’s another ping.
Your pics are so great you’ve brought him out in a nervous rash lol
Let’s be clear. We wouldn’t text literally behind Jules’s back if he hadn’t forced his way in so rudely. At least smirking at Poppy makes me feel less as if my soul is under the microscope here, with Jules sniffing and snorting and coughing his way through my wedding files. One more ping.
Sorry, he is well out of order. Defo no cupcakes for him
By the time he clears his throat again, I’m almost past caring about the scrutiny. He leans back, shuffles in his parka pocket and pulls out a memory stick. I’m still smiling at the Lilo and Stitch key ring it’s attached to, which seems way too cute for serious old him, when he starts talking.
‘I like to post a best moments mini-album for my wedding couples within twenty four hours. There are a couple of shots here I know they’ll love. If you don’t mind, I’ll take copies.’
It takes me so long to pick my jaw up off the floor, I don’t reply.
‘Hello, anyone home?’ He dangles Lilo in front of my nose. ‘Some of us haven’t got all day, you know. A quick yes or no will do.’
Poppy steps in. ‘Yes – so long as we see what you’ve chosen.’
He’s straight back at her. ‘All in the file I’ve created here. Jules for Zoe and Aidan’s First Album.’ His memory stick is in and out of my computer in a flash. ‘I may edit a teensy bit more. Get the rest to me by Friday. Okay. That’s me done.’
I finally get my gaping jaw into gear. ‘You want my pictures?’ If I’m behind here, it’s because after everything he’s said, I can’t believe he’s even asking.
‘Obviously.’ Jules’s look of disgust couldn’t be huger. ‘No point keeping a dog and barking myself, is there? Some of them are …’ He hesitates as if he’s searching for the right phrase.
And that’s when I spot what’s wrong. A ping three seconds later tells me Poppy’s seen it too. Except it’s so obvious once I’ve noticed, there’s no need to read the text.
One of Jules’s startling blue eyes is brown!!!!
Where Jules should be rolling two deep-turquoise eyes, the colour of St Aidan Bay on a summer’s day, complete with shimmer, instead there’s only one. The other’s a murky greyish brown. More like a puddle after a rainstorm.
‘… not too bad at all.’ Jules frowns at us. ‘Is something wrong?’ As he blinks at us we get an uninterrupted view.
Poppy and I stare at each other as though we’re about to burst. I’m aching for her to jump in, when there’s the sound of the shop door. From the excited voices and clatter of feet, it sounds like the start of a stampede. From the speed of Poppy’s reaction, however big her bump, she isn’t suffering from baby brain.
Pushing past Jules, she dives in the desk drawer and pulls out a pair of sunnies. ‘Quick, pop these on before the boys arrive.’ She’s hissing at him. ‘You’ve got a wardrobe malfunction. One of your contacts is missing.’
Jules stutters. ‘Contacts? What contacts?’ He gives a wince of disgust as the specs hit his hand. ‘Don’t you have Ray-bans? Or some with less bling?’
Poppy shakes her head at me. ‘Jeez, Jules, we’re a wedding shop not an opticians. They’re unclaimed lost property, not prescription lenses. Just put them on or these guys will eat you for breakfast.’
‘Who’s here?’ The flyaway cat’s eye frames he’s peering through give him a curiously androgynous air. But at least the mismatch is hidden.
This one I know. ‘The groomsmen’s party, from the upcoming Manor wedding.’ Probably the reason poor Jess is stuck up a mountain as we speak.
‘Shite, if they see me like this I’m done for.’ Jules groan is heartfelt.
Poppy nods. ‘On every count. So move it. Lie low in Sera’s studio.’
He pushes his sunnies up and wrinkles his nose. ‘My head’s hammering, I’ve got what I came for, so I might choose my moment and make a run for it.’
‘As you like.’ Poppy’s already got her welcoming face on and she’s crossed the room to usher in the group. ‘Hello Paul, Brett, Gus …’ She’s talking to them through the doorway. ‘Gary and Ken, you two already met Holly.’
As Gary laughs it’s obvious he’s Santa from last Saturday. ‘Without the pony and tights this time.’ Although he’s clean shaven, he’s still got a sizable paunch. What’s more, I can completely see how he nailed the local karaoke championships with his Karma Chameleon.
‘Not to mention the beard, and the ho ho ho’s.’ As if they weren’t enough clues for me, Ken gives an elfie skip. Just to be sure.
‘Harry, Travis, Tom, Taylor and another Tom.’ As Poppy waves in the last man, there’s a blur of a stripy scarf as Jules bolts across from the desk.
As he pauses momentarily in mid-dash, the chandelier reflections flash off his glasses. ‘I’m going to say, “hi and bye”. I’ll catch up with you all very soon.’
As Jules whooshes away down the hall, Gary gives a chortle. ‘Now there’s a man with a twinkle in his shades. I’m liking Julian in blue mirror glasses.’
Ken’s purses his lips and he arches one neatly plucked brow. ‘My gaydar’s on overdrive. Do spill, has pin-up boy Jules finally come over to the dark side? I always knew he’d make a fabulous pixie.’
I surprise myself by leaping to defend Jules’s manhood. ‘Absolutely not. Those are borrowed sunnies. To ward off a headache. That’s absolutely all.’
‘Whatever.’ Ken gives a smirk. ‘We might change his mind at St Aidan’s wedding of the year.’
Poppy’s taken up her station at the end of the rail of suits. ‘So, who’s for trying on?’
Aware I’m supposed to be helping here and knowing I need to get my wedding muscles into shape, I decide to chip in. I look down the line-up of friendly faces. ‘So, which one’s the groom?’
I can see Poppy’s lips twitching as a sandy haired guy steps forward.
‘That’s me.’
I’m opening my mouth to congratulate him, when another voice chimes in.
‘And me.’ Blond number two steps next to him.
It’s out before I can stop it. ‘What?’ From the way my eyes are popping, I’m entirely giving away that my customer service skills are zero. After Mr and Mr Claus, two grooms shouldn’t come as a surprise. I make up for it by racking my brains to remember their names. ‘W-w-w-well, great. That’s brilliant, T-travis and T-taylor. You two are going to make a lovely couple.’
I’m standing back, mentally patting myself on the back for the way I picked myself up there, when I hear a ripple of laughter. Small at first. Then it rises to a room full of hearty guffaws. From the way Poppy’s smile is splitting her face in two, there has to be something not right.
‘Two lovely guys are tying the knot. Which explains why there are so many groomsmen. What’s so funny?’
Travis takes pity on me first. ‘We are both getting married – just not to each other.’
I’m bemused. ‘Keep going.’
Taylor joins in. ‘Travis and I are twin brothers. And we’re getting married to twin sisters.
‘Double trouble,’ Ken chimes in.
Obviously not happy to be outdone by an elf, so does Gary. ‘Two for the price of one.’ He grins. ‘Like all your Christmases coming at once.’
‘Right.’ Twins marrying twins. If I’d done every combination, I doubt I’d have got to that. Ever.
Although, just for a second I get a stab. Not that I get flashbacks a lot. But when I do they’re as clear as if they happened yesterday. Playing weddings with Freya. Not that we did it often. We were way more likely to be shipwrecked, or dressage instructors, with our little brothers as horses. Or on safari using a cut up dustbin for a jeep. She was the strong one, the wild outdoor one, always the one who decided. But on the days when we wore those long dresses handed down from our cousins and paraded around with tea towel veils, we always promised each other when we grew up we’d get married on the same day. Which just goes to prove how little we knew about real life. And how much we were taking the future for granted.
Lucky that one of us is on the ball here instead of drifting off. Poppy’s already back by her hanging rail. ‘So, all the alterations have been done, boys. We’re using the bigger fitting rooms down here today. I hope no one’s put on too much weight the last couple of weeks.
As fast as Poppy locates the name tags, I’m handing out the suits. Once everyone’s safely tucked behind the fitting room curtains, she comes over and hisses into my ear.
‘So Jules’s big secret is that he wears coloured contact lenses.’ Her tone is dramatic.
‘So that’s why his eyes look like he got them enhanced on Photoshop?’ I’ve heard of them, I’ve just never met anyone who was a regular user. ‘And why he looked so lopsided with one missing?’ And all this time I assumed it was because he was extraordinary. Not just the spots, then. He’s less superhuman in all departments.
Poppy nods. ‘I found out by accident when I woke him up one night when he was staying in a camper van at the farm. He’d taken them out to sleep.’
‘But otherwise people don’t talk about it?’
‘It’s St Aidan’s best kept secret.’ She grins. ‘If anyone mentions his startling eyes, he claims it’s all down to his mum’s blueberry smoothies. She smiles. ‘Mesmerising blue eyes are a great way of holding people’s attention when he’s taking pictures. And women love them too – mostly.’
I suspect she’s pulling a face because he had a crush on her a while ago, but she knocked him back. ‘Like Jess, you mean?’
‘Jess is ninety per cent immune. But she still has a soft spot for Jules. Although she gets very cross when he won’t do as he’s told.’
As the fitting room curtain moves and the first guy comes out Poppy moves to enthuse.
‘Hey, transformation, or what, Brett?’
He runs his fingers through not much hair. ‘Once my new haircut’s grown a bit, it’ll be perfect.’
I nod as he grins at his reflection in the huge White Room mirror. ‘Grey tweed. That’s very easy on the eye.’ Especially on a hottie like Brett.
As the line of hunky guys files out, they’re all looking stunning in their own way. But the sad thing is, although I can appreciate the lookers, none of them raise even a tiny flutter. Not that getting Luc back would ever happen. I’m resigned to that. But even this far down the line, I’m still a million miles away from moving on. And anyone reminding me of my lift shaft tummy at Home Brew Cottage the other night, forget it. Because I have. That didn’t count for anything at all.
Refolding ten suits, sliding them into their smart Brides by the Sea travelling covers, sorting the payments, I can see why Poppy needs an extra pair of hands. It’s the best part of an hour later by the time the guys file out past the Christmas tree.
‘Have a fabulous day on the 15th,’ Poppy calls after them, as we stand together waving.
After yesterday I can’t help musing. A double wedding in the most upmarket venue in the county? What the hell kind of nightmare would that be for a photographer? Even Superman Jules will have his work cut out with that one. In skiing terms, it makes my two-person ceremony on the beach seem like the nursery slopes. But on the upside, it’s not something I’ll ever have to worry about. After Nate and Becky, I’ll be full speed back to quiches, casseroles and my easy life. And for me, it can’t come soon enough.