The Wedding Girl Read online

  She threw open the door of the kitchen joyfully and felt a sudden jerk of astonishment. Her mother and father were sitting companionably together at the kitchen table, both still in their dressing gowns, as though they were on holiday.

  `Oh,' she said, not quite sure why she felt so surprised.

  `Milly!' exclaimed Olivia, putting down her paper. `Are you all right?'

  `We assumed you stayed the night at Harry's,' said James.

  `Have you had breakfast?' said Olivia. `Let me get you some coffee and how about some nice toast?'

  `Yes,' said Milly. `I mean, no. Look, listen!' She pushed a hand through her hair, and the smile returned to her face. `I need to tell you some good news. Simon and I are going to get married!'

  `Oh, darling!' cried Olivia. `That's wonderful!'

  `So you made up with him,' said James. `I'm very glad to hear it. He's a good chap.'

  `I know he is,' said Milly. A smile spread across her face. `And I love him. And he loves me. And it's all lovely again.'

  `This is simply marvellous!' said Olivia. She picked up her mug and took a sip of coffee. `When were you thinking of having the wedding?'

  `In two hours' time,' said Milly happily.

  `What?' exclaimed Olivia, dropping her mug down on the table with a little crash.

  `Milly, are you serious?' said James. `This morning?'

  `Yes! This morning!' said Milly. `Why not?'

  `Why not?' said Olivia, her voice rising in panic. `Because noth ing's arranged! Because we've cancelled everything! I'm very sorry, darling, but there isn't a wedding to have any more!'

  `Mummy, we've got everything we need for a wedding,' said Milly. `A bride and a groom. Someone to give me away'-she looked at James `and someone to wear a big hat and cry. We've even got the wedding cake. We don't need any more than that.'

  `But Canon Lytton-'

  `We told him last night,' said Milly. `In fact, it's all arranged. So come on!' She gestured to the pair of them. `Get dressed! Get ready!'

  `Wait!' called Olivia, as Milly disappeared out of the kitchen door. `What about Simon? He hasn't got a best man!' The door opened and Milly's face appeared again.

  `Yes he has,' she said. `He's got a jolly fine best man.'

  `It's all very easy,' said Simon, taking a gulp of coffee. `Here are the rings. When the vicar asks you for them, you just hand them over. And that's it!'

  `Right,' said Harry heavily. He took the two gold bands from Simon and stared at them for a couple of seconds as though trying to commit their form to memory. `The vicar asks me for the rings, and I hand them over. Do I hold them out on the palm of my hand, or in my fingers, or what?'

  `I don't know,' said Simon. `Does it matter?'

  `I don't know!' said Harry. `You tell me! Jesus!'

  `Dad, you're not nervous, are you?' said Simon.

  `Of course I'm not fucking nervous!' said Harry. `Now go on. Go and shine your shoes.'

  `See you later,' said Simon at the kitchen door, and grinned back at Harry.

  `Are you nervous?' said Isobel, from the window-seat, when Simon had gone.

  `No,' said Harry, then looked up. `Maybe a bit.' He pushed back his chair abruptly and strode over to the window. `It's ridiculous. I shouldn't be Simon's best man, for Christ's sake!'

  `Yes you should,' said Isobel. `He wants you.'

  `He hasn't got anyone else, you mean. So he asks his old dad.'

  `No, that's not what I mean,' said Isobel patiently. `He could easily phone up a friend from work. You know he could. But he wants you. You are his best man. And mine.' She reached for his hand and after a moment he squeezed hers. Then she glanced at her watch and pulled a face. `And now I really must go. Mummy will be having kittens.'

  `I'll see you there, then,' said Harry.

  `See you there,' said Isobel. At the door, she turned back.

  `Of course, you know what the perk of being the best man is.'

  `What's that?'

  `You get to sleep with the chief bridesmaid.'

  `Is that so?' said Harry, brightening.

  `It's in all the rule books,' said Isobel. `Ask the vicar. He'll tell you.

  As she went into the hall, she saw Rupert coming down the stairs. Unaware that he was being watched, his face was full of an unformed grief; a raw misery that made Isobel's spine prickle unpleasantly. For a few moments she stood silently, saying nothing. Then, suddenly feeling like a voyeur, she forced herself to make a sound with her foot and pause for a moment before walking forward, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts before he saw her.

  `Hello,' she said. `We were wondering if you were all right. Did you sleep well?'

  `Great, thanks,' said Rupert, nodding. `Very kind of Harry to put me up.'

  `Oh my God,' said Isobel. `That was nothing! It was very kind of you to come all this way to tell Milly about . . .' She tailed off awkwardly. `You know the wedding's back on?'

  `No,' said Rupert. He gave her a strained smile. `That's great news. Really great.' Isobel stared at him in compassion, wanting somehow to make everything right for him.

  `You know, I'm sure Milly would want to you to come,' she said. `It isn't going to be a big, smart wedding any more. Just the six of us, in fact. But if you'd like to, we'd all be delighted if you could come.'

  `That's very kind,' said Rupert after a pause. `Very kind indeed. But . . . I think I might go home instead. If you don't mind.'

  `Of course not,' said Isobel. `Absolutely. Whatever you want.' She looked around the empty hall. `I'll find someone to drive you to the station. There's a fast London train every hour.'

  `I'm not going to London,' said Rupert. A distant, almost peaceful expression came to his face. `I'm going home. To Cornwall.'

  By ten-thirty, Olivia was fully dressed and made up. She peered at her reflection in the mirror and gave a satisfied smile. Her bright pink suit fitted perfectly and the matching wide-brimmed hat cast a rosy glow over her face. Her blond hair shone brightly in the winter sunshine as she turned her face this way and that, checking for make-up imperfections and fluff on the black velvet collar of her jacket. Finally she turned away and picked up her bag, noticing with pleasure the handmade pink silk bows now decorating her patent leather shoes.

  `You look stupendous!' said James, coming in.

  `And you look very handsome,' said Olivia, running her eyes over his morning coat. `Very distinguished. Father of the bride.'

  `Mother of the bride,' rejoined James, grinning at her. 'Speaking of which, where is she?'

  `Still getting ready,' said Olivia. `Isobel's helping her.'

  `Well then,' said James, `I suggest we go and partake of a little pre-wedding champagne. Shall we?' He held out his arm and, after a moment's hesitation, Olivia took it. As they descended the stairs into the hall, a voice stopped them.

  `Hold it. Just for a second. Don't look at me.'

  They paused, smiling at each other while Alexander snapped away for a few seconds.

  'OK,' he said. `You can carry on now.' As Olivia passed him, he winked at her. `Great hat, Olivia. Very sexy.'

  `Thank you, Alexander,' said Olivia, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. James squeezed her arm and her blush deepened.

  `Come on,' she said quickly. `Let's have that champagne.'

  They went into the drawing room, where a fire was crackling and James had laid out a champagne bottle and glasses. He handed her a glass and raised his own.

  `Here's to the wedding,' he said.

  `The wedding,' said Olivia. She sipped at her champagne, then sat down gingerly on the edge of a chair, being careful not to crease her skirt. `Are we having speeches at the reception?'

  `I don't know,' said James humorously. `Are we having a reception?' Olivia shrugged and took a sip of champagne.

  `Who knows? It's up to Milly. This is her day now.' A flicker of emotion passed over her face. `I'm just another guest.' James met her eyes compassionately.

  `Do you mind?' he said. `Do you mind that we ar
en't having the big lavish wedding that you planned? The ice swans and the organist flown in from Geneva and the five thousand VIPs?'

  `No,' said Olivia after a pause. `I don't mind.' She smiled brightly at James. `They're getting married. That's the important thing, isn't it? They're getting married.'

  `Yes,' said James. `That's the important thing.'

  There was a pause. Olivia stared into the fire, cradling her drink.

  `And you know,' she said suddenly, `in many ways, it's more original to have a tiny, private wedding. Big weddings can become rather vulgar if one isn't careful. Don't you think?'

  `Absolutely,' said James, smiling.

  `One might almost have planned this all along!' said Olivia, happiness starting to edge her voice. `After all, we don't want the world and all its riff-raff at the wedding of our daughter, do we? We want an intimate, exclusive wedding.'

  `Well, it'll certainly be intimate,' said James, draining his glass. `I'm not sure about exclusive.'

  There was a sound at the door and he looked up. Isobel was standing in the doorway, dressed in a long flowing column of pale pink silk. Her hair was wreathed in flowers and her cheeks were self-consciously flushed.

  `I've come to announce the bride,' she said. `She's ready.'

  `You look wonderful, darling!' exclaimed James.

  `Absolutely beautiful!' said Olivia. Isobel shrugged.

  `I look all right,' she said. `You should see Milly. Come and watch her walking down the stairs. Alexander is taking pictures.'

  `Darling,' said Olivia sharply, as Isobel turned to go. `What happened to the roses?'

  `What roses?'

  `The silk roses that were on your dress!'

  `Oh, those,' said Isobel after a pause. `They . . . fell off.'

  `Fell off?'

  `Yes,' said Isobel. `You can't have sewn them on very well.' She looked at Olivia's perplexed face and grinned. `Come on, Mummy. The roses don't matter. Come and see Milly. She's the main attraction.'

  They all filed into the hall and looked up the stairs. Coming slowly down, smiling shyly through her veil, was Milly, wearing a starkly cut dress of ivory satin. The stiff, embroidered bodice was laced tightly around her figure; the long sleeves were edged at the wrist with fur; in her hair sparkled a diamond tiara.

  `Milly!' said Olivia shakily. `You look perfect. A perfect bride.' Tears suddenly filled her eyes and she turned away.

  `What do you think?' said Milly tremulously, looking around at them all. `Will I do?'

  `Darling, you look exquisite,' said James. `Simon Pinnacle can count himself a very lucky young man.'

  `I can't believe it's really happening,' said Olivia, holding a tiny hanky to her eyes. `Little Milly. Getting married.'

  `How are we all going to get there?' said Alexander, taking a final picture. `I want to take my tripod with me.'

  `Milly?' said James, looking up at her. `It's your show.'

  `I don't know,' said Milly, a perturbed expression coming over her face. She descended a few steps, her train falling behind her. `I hadn't thought about it.'

  `Let's walk!' said Isobel, grinning at her.

  `Shut up, Isobel,' said Milly. `Oh God. What are we going to do?'

  `If we take both cars,' said James, looking at Olivia, `you could drive Alexander and Isobel, and I could come on with Milly ...

  He was interrupted by a ring at the front door and they all looked up.

  `Who on earth ' said James. He looked around, then silently went to open it. A man holding a peaked cap under his arm was standing on the steps. He bowed stiffly.

  `Wedding cars for Havill,' he said.

  `What?' James peered past him onto the street. `But these were cancelled!'

  `No they weren't,' said the man. James turned back.

  `Olivia,' he said. `Didn't you cancel the wedding cars?'

  `Of course I did,' said Olivia crisply.

  `Not according to my information,' said the man.

  `Not according to your information,' echoed Olivia, shaking her head in exasperation. `Does it ever occur to you people that your information might be wrong? I spoke to a young woman at your company only yesterday and she assured me that everything would be cancelled. So what I suggest is that you get back in your car, and speak to whoever mans the telephone, and sure enough, you will find-'

  `Mummy!' interrupted Milly in agonized tones. `Mummy!' She pulled a meaningful face at Olivia, who suddenly realized what she was saying.

  `However,' she said, pulling herself up straight. `By very good fortune, the situation has changed once again.'

  `So you do want the cars,' said the man.

  `We do,' said Olivia haughtily.

  `Very good, madam,' said the man, and disappeared down the steps. As he reached the bottom, the words `fucking nutter' travelled audibly back towards them.

  `Right,' said James. `Well, you lot go off ... and Milly and I will follow. Isn't that the protocol?'

  `See you there,' said Isobel, grinning at Milly. `Good luck!'

  As they descended the steps to the waiting cars, Alexander drew Isobel back slightly.

  `You know, I'd really like to take some shots of you on your own some time,' he said. `You've got fantastic cheekbones.'

  `Oh really?' said Isobel, raising her eyebrows. `Is that what you say to all the girls?'

  `No,' said Alexander. `Only the stunning ones.' He looked at her. `I'm serious.'

  Isobel stared at him.

  'Alexander-'

  `I don't know if this is out of order,' he said, hoisting his tripod on his shoulder. `But maybe, when all this wedding business is over . . . you and I could go for a drink?'

  `You've got a nerve!' said Isobel.

  `I know,' said Alexander. `Do you want to?'

  Isobel began to laugh.

  `I'm very flattered,' she said. `I'm also pregnant.'

  `Oh.' He shrugged. `That doesn't matter.'

  `And . . .' she added, a faint tinge coming to her cheeks, . I'm going to get married.'

  `What?' Ten yards ahead of them, Olivia wheeled round on the pavement, her eyes bright. `Isobel! Are you serious?'

  Isobel rolled her eyes at Alexander.

  `It's just an idea, Mummy,' she said in a louder voice. `It isn't definite.'

  `But who is he, darling? Have I met him? Do I know his name?'

  Isobel gazed dumbly at Olivia. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, looked away and shifted on the ground.

  `He's . . . he's someone I'll introduce you to later,' she said at last. `After the wedding's finished. Let's just get that over first. All right?'

  `Whatever you say, darling,' said Olivia. `Oh, I'm so thrilled!'

  `Good!' said Isobel, smiling weakly. `That's good.'

  Harry and Simon arrived at the church at ten to eleven. They pushed open the door and looked silently around the huge, empty, decorated space. Simon glanced at his father, then walked a few paces up the broad aisle, his shoes echoing on the stones.

  `Aha!' said Canon Lytton, appearing out of a side door. `The bridegroom and his best man! Welcome!' He hurried down the aisle towards them, past the gleaming rows of empty mahogany pews, each adorned with flowers.

  `Where do we sit?' said Harry, looking around. `All the best seats are taken.'

  `Very droll,' said Canon Lytton, beaming at him. `The places for the groom and his best man are at the front, on the right-hand side.'

  `This is very good of you,' said Simon, as they followed him towards the front of the church. `To reinstate the service at such short notice. And with such small numbers. We're very grateful.'

  `Numbers are immaterial,' said Canon Lytton. `As our Lord said Himself, "Where two or three have met together in my name, I am there among them."' He paused. `Of course, the collection plate may suffer a little as a result ...' He broke off delicately, and Harry cleared his throat.

  `Naturally, I'll make up the shortfall,' he said. `If you give me some kind of estimate.'

  `So kind,' m
urmured Canon Lytton. `Ah, here comes Mrs Blenkins, our organist. You were very fortunate that she was free this morning!'

  An elderly woman in a brown anorak was walking up the aisle towards them.

  `I haven't practised anything up,' she said as soon as she reached them. `There hasn't been the time, you see.'

  `Of course not,' said Simon at once. `We completely-'

  `Will "Here Comes the Bride" do you?'

  `Absolutely,' said Simon, glancing at Harry. `Whatever. Thanks very much. We're very grateful.' The woman nodded, and marched off, and Canon Lytton disappeared in a rustle of linen.

  Simon sat down on the front pew and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  `I'm terrified,' he said.

  `So am I,' said Harry, giving a little shudder. `That priest gives me the creeps.'

  `Will I be a good husband?' Simon threw back his head and looked up into the cavernous space of the church. `Will I make Milly happy?'

  `You already do make her happy,' said Harry. `Just don't change anything. Don't think you have to act differently because you're married.' He met Simon's eye. `You love her. That's enough for anyone.

  There was a noise at the back of the church and Olivia appeared, a vision in bright pink. She walked up the aisle, her heels clacking lightly on the floor.

  `They'll be here in a minute,' she whispered.

  `Come and sit beside me,' said Harry, patting the pew. For an instant, Olivia wavered.

  `No,' she said regretfully. `It wouldn't be right. I have to sit on the other side.' She lifted her chin slightly. `Since I am the mother of the bride.'

  She sat down, and there was a few minutes' silence. From out of nowhere the organ began to play quietly. Simon stretched out his fingers and stared hard at them. Harry looked at his watch. Olivia brought out a compact and checked her reflection.

  Suddenly there was a rattling at the back of the church and they all jumped.

  Simon took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. But his heart was pounding and his palms felt damp.