The wedding shop in Trecaldwith is nothing like the flash bridal stores I’ve walked past in London. Their chic, minimalist shop fronts showcase sleek oyster dresses scattered with tasteful Swarovski crystals glinting under discreet lighting. Buy me, look gorgeous on your big day and live happily ever after, they scream. Quietly.

In contrast, the shop window of Wendy’s Wowzer Weddings is crammed with frothy, chalk-white creations. Huge rhinestones are catching the sun and blinding passers-by. Ruffles and frills are vying for attention in a riot of satin and lace.

‘There is no way on earth I’m going in there,’ says Storm, folding her arms across her Killers T-shirt. She glances around anxiously in case anyone she knows has spotted her within spitting distance of the naffest shop in the world.

‘No probs. We can choose you something. Maybe that one.’ Kayla points at a pale peach bridesmaid dress in the window, which is uber ruffled around the neck and waist and has fat, puffed sleeves edged with lace.

Storm blanches, shoves the shop door open and hurtles inside.

‘Nice one,’ murmurs Emily, who’s almost beside herself with excitement about our pre-wedding try-on session. Even though I’ve warned her that we won’t be buying anything today.

‘Reverse psychology.’ Kayla taps her head and purses her lips because she thinks it makes her look wise. ‘Works every damn time.’

When we follow Storm into the store, a tall woman in an emerald green trouser suit rushes over. The chunky metal necklace she’s wearing bangs up and down with every step.

‘Come in, and welcome,’ she gushes. ‘My name is Maria and I’m at your service today. Which one of you lovely ladies is the blushing bride-to-be?’

‘Yuk,’ mutters Storm.

‘That’ll be me. We’re just having a look at dresses today, if that’s all right. We won’t necessarily be buying.’

Kayla rolls her eyes at my honesty, but it doesn’t seem right to raise Maria’s hopes of commission.

If she’s disappointed, Maria doesn’t show it. ‘Of course.’ She smiles. ‘You need to choose carefully for the most important day of your life and it’s a decision that can’t be rushed. When exactly is the Big Day?’

‘September the 22^nd,’ says Kayla, running her fingers across a veil that’s thickly encrusted with crystals.

‘September the 22^nd this year? And you haven’t got your dress yet? Gosh, you’re leaving it rather late. Unless the wedding is rather… spontaneous.’

Her eyes, topped by a bright slick of pearly green eyeshadow, travel down my body and come to rest on my stomach.

‘She’s not up the duff. Just getting on a bit,’ declares Storm, who’s standing right in the middle of the store as though she’s scared that the dresses will contaminate her.

‘And are you a bridesmaid, dear? I’m sure we can find a dress that will make you feel like a million dollars,’ says Maria, blissfully unaware of the massive and, quite frankly, dangerous challenge she’s taking on. ‘What colour are you thinking of?’

‘Black,’ says Storm with a scowl.

Maria doesn’t miss a beat. ‘We don’t have much demand for black, however we do have midnight blue for the more, um, assertive bridesmaid. Why don’t you all take a look around while I have a word with the lady who’s just come in.’

She scuttles off gratefully to talk to her new customer while Kayla, Emily and I start working our way through the rails of dresses lined up along the walls of Wendy’s wowzer establishment.

There are some simpler, sleeker designs if you delve beneath the froth and Kayla soon pulls out a beautiful, understated dress in off-white silk that’s cut on the bias.

‘Try this one, Annie. It’ll really suit you.’ She presses it into my hands and shoves me towards the changing room. ‘Maria won’t mind, will you, Maria.’

The large carpeted changing room has a button-back pink chair in one corner and a floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. Ugh, if there’s one thing I hate in well-lit changing rooms it’s a floor to ceiling mirror that shows every bump and bulge.

‘Strip down to your underwear,’ orders Maria, who appears to have followed me in.

Carefully avoiding my undies-clad reflection, I stand obediently while Maria manoeuvres metres of soft silk over my head. The dress drapes down and settles across my stomach and hips.

It’s more off-the-shoulder than I’d realised but breath catches in my throat when I risk looking in the mirror. The dress is absolutely gorgeous and Kayla’s right, it does suit me. I can imagine myself in this swooshing down the aisle towards my lovely Josh in his dark suit waiting for me at the altar. He’d be so proud of me in this fabulous dress.

‘Lovely, darling,’ says Maria, opening the door of the changing room and propelling me into the shop.

Emily stops running her fingers over a satin dress in sugar-plum pink and her mouth drops open. ‘Wow, you look well lush in that.’

‘You look gorgeous, mate,’ says Kayla. ‘Ooh, I think I’m coming over all tearful. What do you reckon, Storm?’

She ferrets about in her handbag for a tissue as Storm gives me a cursory glance.

‘Yeah, not bad. How much is it?’

Ah yes, in all the excitement that’s the most important thing I haven’t checked out. Maria turns over the tag that’s hanging from the back of the dress and squints at it underneath her gold-framed glasses.

‘This one is £950 but I can give you a five per cent discount.’

Eek! Even with the discount, that’s around £900 that needs to go towards keeping Tregavara House afloat.

‘Crikey, that’s a bit steep,’ says Kayla.

Maria’s scarlet lips draw into a tight pout. ‘It’s a very reasonable price for a dress of this exquisite quality. We do have a slightly less expensive range over here for the bride on a budget.’

She points at a rail dripping with frothy creations. The more ruffles, the cheaper the dress, apparently.

‘You could treat yourself, Annie.’ Kayla walks around me slowly with her hands on her hips. ‘Maybe you could put it on your credit card?’

But my credit card is already maxed out with boring day-to-day stuff and I can’t justify spending so much money on a dress I’ll wear once. Even if that once is my wedding. I run my hand along the smooth silk before heading for the budget section. It’s either that or I will be wearing a bin bag to go up the aisle.

Maria is very patient but trying on a costly, to-die-for dress before heading for the bargain rail was such a mistake – it’s like swapping a sexy weekend with Aidan Turner in a five-star hotel for a snog behind the bike sheds with the local letch. The cheaper dresses just don’t measure up and after a while I give up and climb back into my jeans.

Emily and Kayla have better luck with a floor-length green dress which makes Kayla’s red hair look amazing. But Storm steadfastly refuses to try on anything, claiming she’ll look ‘like, totally sad.’ Eventually, with the help of some KFC bribery, I persuade her to try on a simple blue dress that cinches at the waist and falls in soft waves to the ground.

‘You look fabulous,’ breathes Emily when my sister stomps out of the changing room. And she does, even when she hitches up the dress to reveal her Doc Martens underneath. But she refuses to let me take a photo on my phone to show Barry.

‘No way,’ she hisses, heading back to the changing room at full speed. ‘Barry would put it on Twitter and if it went viral I’d have to stay in until I died of old age.’

So, with our heads full of ideas but not enough money to make them happen, we leave Maria with no shopping bags and feeling rather glum.

I’ve never hankered after beautiful things – money was tight growing up so I quickly learned there was no point asking for the latest must-have toys or trainers. And since starting work I’ve hardly ever shelled out on costly shoes and clothes or expensive face creams. Clarks, Primark and Superdrug are my stores of choice.

But I’d love to look good on my special day and I’m not sure a bin bag is going to cut it.

We’re heading for KFC because a promise is a promise when Tom lollops into sight ahead of us. His stride falters when he spots Emily but then he walks resolutely towards us.

‘Hello, everyone.’ It’s hard to see his face because his long, dark fringe is swinging in front of it like a shield.

‘Hey, Tom. Are you here on your own?’ asks Kayla.

‘Nope, I’m here with my mum who’s gone into the fishmonger’s,’ he mumbles. ‘Hi there, Emily.’

‘Hey, Tom.’ Emily smiles but continues fiddling with her phone which has just beeped with a message. It’s always a novelty when we’re away from black-hole Tregavara House and texts pile in thick and fast.

‘We’ve been trying on wedding and bridesmaid dresses, preparing for the big day,’ says Kayla.

‘That’s nice. I bet you all looked really nice.’

And he stares at Emily with such longing, I want to give him a hug. Unrequited love can be an absolute bugger.

When Emily carries on staring at her phone, Tom starts fidgeting from foot to foot and pulls at the rapidly descending waistband of his baggy jeans. ‘I’d better go back and collect Mum then. See you at choir, Emily.’

When Emily nods absentmindedly, I could shake her.

Storm watches Tom slouch off into the distance with a thoughtful look on her face. ‘You do know that he’s kinda mad for you, don’t you, Em? You can be a bit of an airhead about stuff like that.’

‘He’s just a friend,’ asserts Emily, shoving her phone into the pocket of her cardigan.

‘Believe me, he’d like to be more than that, mate,’ says Kayla.

‘Do you think? It doesn’t matter even if he would because I’m off all men.’

‘What, forever?’ snorts Storm.

‘Maybe. They’re too much trouble.’

‘Not all men are like Jay,’ I tell her. ‘Tom is kind and gentle and he’s nice looking. Not as boy-bandy as Jay but he’s sweet.’

Storm nods. ‘Yeah, he’s pretty fit if you’re into that nerdy emo “kiss me or I’ll cry” look.’

‘He looks all right but I don’t care. Men just aren’t worth the effort,’ says Emily with a toss of the head as though she’s worked her way through a battalion’s worth of scoundrels. ‘Though I appreciate that I might change my mind one day, when I get as old as Annie.’

Nice!

‘Well, I think you’re doing the right thing,’ says Storm.

‘Do you?’ Emily glows at Storm’s approval.

‘Yeah, I admire you for sticking to your feminist principles.’

Being a feminist didn’t mean crying off all men the last time I checked but what the hell. There’s no way I’m arguing the specifics of feminism with a stroppy teenager so I make do with an eye-roll at Kayla, who giggles and leads the way towards our lunch.

When you’re feeling low, there’s nothing like a bucket of fried chicken to boost those good endorphins. And after filling our faces, we’re ready to hit the high street in Penzance, which is where I find a perfectly nice knee-length dress that’ll do just fine. It’s made of cream satin and lace with a fitted bodice and full skirt – and it’s in the Monsoon sale which helps me like it even more.

‘It makes your boobs look perky,’ is Kayla’s opinion. Which has got to be a good thing.

And Emily gives me a thumbs up after she’s walked around me to inspect the dress from all angles. ‘It fits you well and you look nice,’ she says with a grin. ‘Really nice.’

Really nice rather than well lush but I buy it anyway.

---

‘Only a couple of shopping bags? It’s a miracle,’ laughs Josh, poking his head out of the sitting room when we trudge into the hallway. He’s been coating the shed with weather-proof paint all morning and there are flecks of green in his thick dark hair.

‘There was nothing to buy ’cos Cornwall’s full of rubbish shops,’ declares Storm, throwing her jacket in the vague direction of the coatstand and heading for the stairs.

‘Annie tried on a gorgeous wedding dress. It was oyster silk and’ – Emily stops and bites her lip – ‘is it all right to say ’cos you’re the groom? I wouldn’t want it to be bad luck or anything.’

‘It’s fine, Emily, because I didn’t buy it. I bought this one instead.’ I wave my Monsoon bag at Josh and hide it behind my back when he tries to look inside.

‘Yeah and you look great in that one too. I just meant you looked beautiful in the silk dress – like a proper princess. The one you bought is lovely, it’s just a bit less… wedding-y. Although you’ll still look amazing on the day and regal and…’

Kind, gentle Emily tails off, horrified that she might be saying the wrong thing. And she makes a dash for the kitchen after I reassure her that I know what she means.

‘Freya would approve of the silk dress seeing as she already thinks you’re a member of the royal family,’ says Josh, beckoning me into the sitting room.

It’s a standing joke in his family that Freya mistook me for a princess when we first met because of my unusually bright blue eyes. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls my hips against his. ‘Why didn’t you buy it, if it was just right?’

‘It was around £900, even with a discount.’

‘Wow, that’s steep. But you could have bought it and we’d have managed. I want this to be your special day.’

‘Josh, it would have cost just about every penny we’ve got to cover the whole wedding and we’re trying to put money away for the roof as well. So buying it would have been completely daft and totally unfair.’

‘Unfair to who?’ he asks, nuzzling his nose against my neck.

‘Unfair to everyone who’s relying on us to keep a roof over their head. And Emily’s exaggerating anyway ’cos the dress wasn’t that great whereas the one I bought makes me look the spitting image of Elizabeth Taylor circa the early 1960s.’

Josh laughs and crushes me against his chest. ‘I love you, Miss Trebarwith, but are you sure? I’d buy you an expensive engagement ring and a snazzy silk wedding dress if we didn’t live in this money pit.’

‘I don’t need those things,’ I tell him, looping my arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe so we’re almost nose to nose. ‘I’ve got more than I ever thought possible – a proper home, a family and you. I don’t need anything else.’

Yuk! I sound like the kind of schmaltzy greetings card I’d never send anyone in case they thought I’d lost it. But it’s true and I’ll do whatever’s best to keep my home and my family safe. If only I knew exactly what that was.

Josh kisses me and I sink into it, only slightly distracted by my inner voice whispering: Sell the money pit, Trebarwith, buy the dress and live happily ever after. In Trecaldwith.