Sunday 17th December
At Brides by the Sea: Shortcuts
By the time we’ve all got to the shop and Katie’s standing in the White Room in her dress and her platforms, Poppy’s totally nailed her soothing tones again.
‘We’re all going to stay super-composed here, Katie. At Brides by the Sea we pride ourselves on delivering happy outcomes. And we’re absolutely going to achieve one of those this evening.’ She puts a glass of amber liquid on the console table. ‘Sip this, it’ll help.’
After a mini debate in the kitchen, we decided, with the wedding tomorrow, we’d go for a relaxing Pimms and apple juice Winter Warmer, rather than Jess’s usual ‘hard times’ cocktail of neat gin laced with Rescue Remedy.
Katie’s chewing her knuckles and her nose is like a beacon as she stares down at her skirt and mumbles. ‘It’s too short for the kitten heels, it’s not even working with flats.’ However much Seth wanted her electric blue platforms at the ceremony, I’m sure he didn’t want to see this much of them. As the dress is now, after Marilyn’s ill-judged, high-speed hacking session on Friday morning, the hem is bobbing around her ankle bone. You don’t have to be Yves St Laurent to know it’s not a good look.
Poppy’s got her inner serene goddess well and truly channelled here. ‘So, let’s explore the options, very calmly, one by one.’ She’s sticking up her fingers as she talks. ‘Pulling the skirt to sit lower isn’t going to work. We definitely don’t want to chop another foot off and make it properly short, we agree the ankle skimming isn’t working, and adding a longer petticoat looks wrong too.’ She pauses and goes again. ‘We know all your mini snowflake sequins were specially added. We do have a longer skirt here we could substitute, but it hasn’t got snowflakes on it.’
Katie’s wail is teensy, but it’s still a wail. ‘But the snowflakes are what make it m-i-ne.’ Her bottom lip is trembling. ‘Without them I could be any old bride, but those make me feel like a mountain princess.’
Even as I wave my arm around the long rail of dresses beside me, I know the answer. ‘Any of the above?’
This time it’s a proper wail. ‘Nooooooooooooo!’
Poppy and I are exchanging private despairing grimaces when the shop door slams. As we hold our breaths to listen, there’s a loud stomping in the hallway and a familiar booming voice.
‘Talk about SOS, What’s your Emergency? Don’t worry, whatever shitheap you’ve landed in, I’m here to pull you out.’ She gives a cough. ‘I’ve done three meditation classes and a power napping course today. I’m beyond ready to concentrate my mind.’
‘Immie.’ Poppy’s throat cutting signs are going entirely unheeded as Immie bursts through from the hall.
She stands and assesses the damage, with her hands on her hips. ‘Rory told me you’re up to your armpits in disaster, and trumping toad farts, he’s not joking. What the hell happened there, Katie? You look like you’ve been out limboing with a hedge trimmer.’ She’s never one to hold back, but we could really do with a less forthright summing up. She couldn’t have fitted more banned words into one sentence if she tried.
‘I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.’ I’m looking out at the street lights washing the mews outside with pale light, cringing with guilt.
Poppy turns to me, her voice firm. ‘No, Hols, when you let the dress leave the shop you had no idea this was going to happen. We’ve all agreed, there’s only one person responsible for this debacle. And that’s Marilyn.’
Immie’s eyes are wide. ‘Marilyn did that? Frig Precisely Peaceful, my inner beauty’s going to have to take a running jump. What an elephant-arse bitch queen … troglodyte mayonnaise … head slapper …’ She stares round at us, shaking her head. ‘Truly, there are no words.’
In some ways, she might have been better to have started with the last bit.
Poppy raises her eyebrows and turns to Katie. ‘I’m sorry, I was hoping for more up-beat input there.’
Katie shakes her head. ‘Not at all. It’s great to hear you telling it how it is, Immie. Actually, it really helps.’
Immie gives her a searching stare. ‘You are sure you know what you’re getting into, marrying Marilyn’s son?’
I’m flashing Poppy a ‘what the hell?’ look. From my really, really limited experience, I’d say you don’t ask a woman that question any time within six months of her wedding, let alone the night before. If there’s one thing in life more wobbly than a jelly, it’s a bride.
Katie lets out a sigh. ‘I do know, and Seth’s completely worth it. Coping with his mum is our joint mission in life.’
Immie flops down on the chaise longue. ‘Great. Well, in that case, where are we up to?’
Poppy’s eyeing her resignedly. ‘Okay, telling it like it is, we have thousands of snowflake sequins on the ruined skirt, which all need cutting off and hand-sewing onto the replacement skirt.’
Immie’s sitting up. ‘Is that all? Why didn’t you say that to start with?’
Poppy’s looking bemused. ‘The first time around, the lady doing the job had the skirt for three weeks. We’ve got approximately eleven hours. I know you regularly work wonders, Immie, but I think this one’s out of your league.’
Immie gives a low laugh. ‘Aren’t you forgetting about Blue Watch? How many times have they hoicked us all out of the shit?’ She’s talking about the team of firefighters Chas works with.
Poppy’s frowning. ‘Well, they saved the day putting up Alice’s twiggy ceiling at the Manor last Christmas. And they helped Sera find the missing groom. Then they were like angels with magic wands when we had to move your wedding from the house to the barn at short notice.’ She’s mixing her metaphors, but we still get what she means. ‘I don’t see where they can help with this one, though?’
Immie’s laughing. ‘That’s because you don’t know about their secret vice. You don’t think they spend all those hours on call at work playing snooker, do you? Blue Watch are seriously into needlepoint. But for chrissakes don’t go broadcasting it. It’s classified information.’
Poppy’s looking flabbergasted. ‘You mean they can sew?’
Immie’s looking super-pleased. ‘Only like dreams. Give them the needles, the thread and the snowflakes, and set them up at the big bench in Sera’s studio. We’ll have them working their little tushes off faster than you can say cross stitch. With all of them, they’ll piss on this job in no time. There’s a load drinking two doors down in the Hungry Shark. I’ll get Chas to round them up.’
Poppy’s still not convinced. ‘They’ll work through until morning?’
Immie nods. ‘However long it takes. You know Blue Watch. There’s nothing they love more than an emergency. Even if there aren’t ladders involved, they’re genetically programmed to respond to people like us, who are up creeks without paddles.’ She opens her bomber jacket and gives a chortle. ‘Anyway, it’s official – Firemen can go all night. It says so on my t-shirt.’
Katie’s standing flapping her hands. ‘Thank you all so much, I don’t know who to hug first, everyone’s being so amazing.’
‘Maybe just hug us altogether?’ That’s Poppy’s cue for a massive group hug. Somehow when people in London do them, they never work as well as the ones here. You’ve got to admit, people in St Aidan might be hideous for sticking their noses into everyone else’s lives. But they know how to come in and haul you out of trouble.
To steal a phrase from Immie … Festering frog farts, who’d have thought?
Okay, so not only am I going to get to spend the night with a whole load of hot hunky guys in the building, but it looks like we’re right on course for a Dress Rescue too. If I’m really lucky, they might even fix the loose button on my jacket. But with a pre-wedding cock-up this enormous, that has to be a good sign for tomorrow. Doesn’t it?