Thursday 20th December
At Brides by the Sea: Blowy days and views of shoes
‘Cobalt blue and hot pink. Let me guess. It’s your Alpine wedding?’ It’s Jess. She’s already made it back from the airport, when most people would still be in baggage handling. And like the super-woman she is, first she whooshed around the entire shop. And now she’s peering over my shoulder, checking out the slideshow on my laptop.
There are tingles on my neck as the photos flash onto the screen. But this time around it’s more excitement at how well they’ve turned out than being self-conscious that she’s looking at them. ‘Just some of Seth and Katie’s better pictures. I pinged them off to Jules a few minutes ago.’ In the end their pictures are even prettier than I’d dared to hope. And that’s despite Marilyn hijacking my trusty assistant. Talk about a handful. Not only did she let him take her to get the dent in her head glued, she also made him detour via Brides by the Sea on the way back, so she could choose a new fascinator.
Jess leans in closer. ‘A night-time kiss under the stars, with snow falling, and all those hunky snowboarders in the background. It’s making me feel very nostalgic.’
I’m smiling because Jess still in holiday mode sounds so dreamy and unlike herself. ‘So I take it you had a good time?’ If this is what the mountains do for you, maybe we all need a high altitude break. I sneak a look at her left hand. ‘No last minute engagement ring, then?’
As she brushes back her windswept bob and finally slips off her fur-trimmed ski parka, I can’t help noticing. After two weeks of snow and sun, she’s so tanned she’s almost turned into Bart. And I’m sure the white snow-goggle effect around her eyes where she’s been wearing her sunnies will soon fade. Although after my own recent toothpaste disasters, I’m in no position to criticise.
She gives a husky snort. ‘That Bart Penryn is a scoundrel. The places he lured me to with the promise of diamonds.’ It’s not only her personality that’s had a make-over. With her calf-length brown furry boots and black snowflake-print ski pants she’s looking more like a lost guest from Monday’s wedding than St Aidan’s most switched-on bridal-shop owner. ‘Last night we sat through an entire ice hockey match and Bart convinced me he was going to do the deed over the loudspeakers.’
I can’t help laughing. ‘How wild would that have been? Phoebe on Friends got proposed to at a football game and hated it, though.’ Which reminds me, my boxed set is still waiting for me, unwatched.
Jess nods at me enthusiastically. ‘Exactly. That’s the silly part. I would have hated it too.’ She looks down and scrutinises her bare wedding finger. ‘It’s years since I had a holiday. Even though I’ve come home empty-handed, I’ve still had the most wonderful time. Regardless of whether he wants to marry me or not, the man is a legend. He might be a pirate, but he’s also proved himself to be a top-quality gentleman. When I stop to think about it, I’m happy to take him just as he is.’
I grin at her. ‘That’s great news. To be honest, I’m not sure I can take any more weddings.’
For the first time, Jess’s eyes pull into focus. ‘I’ve heard you’re very good at this, Holly, but now I can see it for myself.’ Her voice is suddenly earnest. ‘Your photographs have a completely different feel to Jules’s. They’re much more up-close and relaxed. It’s as if you’re photographing your friends.’
‘I’m fine with the edible ones.’ Let’s face it, given my day job, those should sparkle. ‘The rest, not so much.’
Jess’s brow furrows. ‘Jules thinks you made your brides comfortable because you were a woman. But from the feedback I’ve had, it’s about you being able to reach out and connect with people. That shines through in your work too.’
I let out a groan. ‘Feedback?’ It sounds like Trip Advisor.
Jess gives a mysterious flutter of her eyelashes. ‘Believe me, when brides have fabulous days, they tell me. And between us, Jules wouldn’t be sending you hand-tied arrangements if he wasn’t delighted with you.’ She nods at the bunch of roses and frosted berries on the desk that were delivered to me yesterday. All the way from the flower department in the basement. ‘And it’s all great experience for your beach wedding. By the way, how’s that going to work with the wind?’
My gulp’s so huge it sounds like it came from Gollum. I wasn’t expecting to leap from Interflora to my most dreaded day ever. As if an outdoor wedding isn’t bad enough. With Luc turning up on the same day, my heart feels like it’s being freeze dried in my chest. Let’s face it, though, if Marilyn can stride back into the wedding in a new hat, after getting bashed on the head by a drone, I can pick myself up here. I make sure my tone is suitably airy.
‘Wind’s what the beach is all about for Nate and Becky. Extreme surfers like a stiff breeze.’ From my porthole window in the bedroom this morning, the sea was slate gray with waves as high as mountains. When Jules’s thank you card got whooshed off the windowsill in the draught from the closed window, I missed the significance. If I hadn’t been obsessing about Luc, I’d have thought about tomorrow’s wedding.
Jess shakes her head. ‘You do know it’s gale force out there? Our pilot said the wind was so strong, our plane almost ended up back in Switzerland.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Although this does mean your very own Luc will be winging his way across the Atlantic to you faster than ever.’ She lets out a low laugh. ‘I’m Luc, and I’m coming to get you …’
As a bit of sick comes up into my mouth, I’m wishing I hadn’t had the seventh maple syrup pancake for breakfast. ‘It’s definitely not like that.’ There’s no need to ask how she knows he’s coming. When she hasn’t been busy with proposal outings, she’s been on the phone to anyone and everyone in St Aidan. She’s probably more tuned into the local grapevine than when she’s here at the shop.
Jess beams and peers out beyond the fairy lights and glittery ivy that are trailing across the window. ‘Well, here’s someone who might put a different slant on Luc’s wedding appearance.’
I’m so busy sticking my chin in the air, maintaining my position, I don’t get around to glancing at the window. ‘Poppy, Immie, Lily, Rafe and Rory are all very clear where I stand on this.’ I know my dreams are a bit of a giveaway. But I’m confident that apart from that one wobble with Poppy, my public face has been consistent. It’s bad enough Luc turning up, without everyone witnessing me falling flat on my face when he ignores me. Sadly my programme of personal upgrading hasn’t got beyond buffing my nails. And with so much wedding stress, my carb boycott lasted approximately five seconds. I’ve got the whole of this evening to dedicate to beautification. But as yet I have no idea what I’m going to achieve, or how.
Jess looks puzzled. ‘What has Poppy got to do with anything? It’s Becky who’s waving at us from the Mews.’
‘Becky?’ When I finally swizzle my eyes past the Christmas display, the wild arm movements I catch as she heads for the door look like someone who’s drowning rather than waving.
As I hurry out into the hallway, she’s already by the Christmas tree, so I go in for my hug and two kisses. ‘Lovely to see you. Is everything okay, Becks?’ As our cheeks squeeze together, the soaking I get has to be tears rather than sea.
If nothing else, the last two and a half weeks in the wedding shop have sharpened my disaster- management skills. Arriving three hours early, when she’s supposed to be out sorting the marquee? Looking like she just surfed through a tidal wave, when she’s not even wearing her wet suit? My bride-in-distress alarm bells couldn’t be clanging any louder, so I’m keeping it positive here as I drag her into the White Room. ‘Sit down. Shall I get you some gin?’ I’m racking my brains to remember if there’s any cake left in the tins.
Jess steers her onto the chaise. ‘Or you could try some schnapps? Raspberry, peach or chocolate? I’ve got miniatures in my bag. They’re great for resuscitating lost mountaineers.’
Becky gives a groan. ‘I’m sorry. But alcohol’s not going to help here.’ For a woman who regularly braves the high seas, her voice is small and very pathetic. ‘Our wedding just got blown away.’
‘Crap.’ Way too major for a cupcake diversion, then. ‘What the hell happened?’
She’s whimpering into the sleeve of her Pray for Surf hoodie. ‘We were at our spot down the coast, and the guys left off building the main tent, because the coastguard came to close the beach. And while they were talking, the whole marquee just took off over the sea.’ As she shakes her head her eyes are wide with disbelief. ‘All that’s left of our venue is a few broken poles. And the caterers think their vintage van will end up in the water. So they’re pulling out too.’
There’s one tiny blissful moment when it feels like the day I’ve been dreading for the last week is about to melt away. But one look at Becky’s anguished face makes me forget that. ‘Okay, let’s look on the bright side. Your ceremony’s at the Town Hall, so that part’s still good.’
Her nod escalates into a wail. ‘The guys have gone off to look for the canvas, but even if they find it, it’s hopeless. How did we ever think a beach wedding with camping would work at Christmas?’
There’s no point admitting I’ve asked myself the same thing. For me, even sleeping in a tent in summer stretches my comfort envelope. Why anyone would want to do it in winter is beyond me. Add in a wedding, and I can’t get my head around it at all. ‘I know it’s all about the sea, Becks. But given the – er – gale difficulties, would you think about moving to a more sheltered location? Somewhere further inland?’ As Jess and I exchange glances, it’s obvious we’re thinking of the same place.
Becky’s head shoots up. ‘You know somewhere that’s available at such short notice?’
I’m treading carefully. ‘Daisy Hill Farm, where your parents are staying, has a barn, which I know is still set up from a very relaxed ski wedding on Monday. If you don’t mind that it’s not at the beach, we could ask about using that?’
I’m expecting reservations. So when she almost knocks me over hugging me I’m not ready for her.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’
The only good thing about ending up in a heap halfway along the hall floor, is the view of the Jimmy Choos on the bottom shelf of the shoe cabinet. I’m lying having a quiet swoon at the silver strappy sandals when a close up of Jess’s furry snow boot brings me back to earth.
Jess is beaming down at us. ‘Surfing and snowboarding are highly interchangeable. They’re both about hanging loose.’ She sounds like she’s the expert on both now. ‘Great work, Holly, you handled that like a true pro. In that case there’s no time to lose. I’ll ring Poppy right away.’
As I see the smile of relief spreading across Becky’s face, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jess hesitates as she turns to leave. ‘Just one other thing. While you’re down there, Becky, do settle the argument. Luc is coming back to see Holly, isn’t he?’
Becky grins across at me. ‘Of course he is. Everyone knows that. Why else would he be coming?’
For what it’s worth, if she’d said that before, I might have been less keen to resurrect her wedding party.