Bridesmaids (33 page)

The first thing I notice when I walk into the ballroom is that the music has stopped; virtually the only thing I can hear is my own heartbeat, which is now hammering away as if I’d just run up five flights of stairs.

The next thing I notice is Jack. Standing there, on the other side of the room, and the only person in the place wearing jeans, a T-shirt and, most bewilderingly, holding a microphone. I can see some guests out of the corner of my eye exchanging baffled looks and I glance at them for a second as if to say: ‘I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s going on either.’

‘What…what’s happening?’ I splutter.

‘You’ll see,’ says Grace, smirking.

Then the music starts, the unmistakable opening bars of a song I recognize instantly. Jack lifts up the microphone and feedback screeches through the sound system, prompting a sharp collective intake of breath from everyone in the room.

‘Sorry,’ he says, and I suddenly realize that he looks terribly nervous. ‘Although you might think that sounds good compared with what you’re about to hear.’

Georgia giggles.

‘Evie,’ says Jack, ‘we haven’t spoken for a while now. That was partly due to pride on my part–and I’m guessing it was the same for you too.’

He’s right across on the other side of the room, but our eyes are locked as if we’re inches apart.

‘I also thought…well, I thought you’d found someone else,’ he says. ‘Now I know–thanks to your friends–that’s not the case. And that
you
know I was completely faithful.’

I try to swallow. I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot, simultaneously terrified, confused and exhilarated, and desperately trying to keep this tearing emotion inside me in check.

‘But the thing is,’ Jack continues, ‘given that I didn’t phone you, I guess I need to do something to prove just how much I feel about you. And–although it’s a shame that the only thing I could think of makes me look a complete and utter prat–there really is only one way to do it.’

There isn’t a person in the room who isn’t nudging, whispering and speculating about what he’s saying. I flash a look at Grace and she grins. Jack starts slowly walking towards me and, with lightning running through my veins, I hear Ruby Turner’s backing singers launching into song.

Then, to my complete amazement, so does Jack.

Jack Williamson, a man who has
never
sung in public–a man who
swore
he never would–is singing. He’s singing to
me.

His voice is deep and ever so slightly off-key, but I don’t think I’d care right now if he sounded like a castrated seagull.

As Jack sings, the guests who were initially wondering what the hell was going on, now start to get into the swing of things–and one or two even stand up and begin swaying, as if they’re at a Queen concert. Someone actually holds their lighter up.

By the time Jack has walked all the way over to me, I am totally unable to determine whether I should laugh, cry or just pass out with the sheer insanity of it all. Either way, when I touch my cheeks, I find they are soaked with tears.

Jack looks into my eyes to sing the final line and we’re so close now I can see the contours of his face in the sort of detail that I never thought I’d see again. It takes my breath away.

‘Nobody
…
but
…
you.’

He puts the microphone down on the table next to me and pulls me towards him as I wipe away my tears. With applause echoing all around us, Jack leans forward and our lips meet.

It is the sweetest, deepest, happiest moment in my twenty-seven years on this earth. And right now, right at this moment, I know I’m going to say something I thought I’d never say to anyone. Ever.

I pull back and I look at Jack, my Jack, my shaking hands clutching his, while I search for my voice.

I find it. And I whisper to him.

‘Jack. I love you.’

Three years later

‘You know,’ says Valentina, admiring her profile in the mirror, ‘I had my doubts about wearing a bridesmaid dress at eight months’ pregnant, but I should have known, if anyone could carry it off–I could.’

I can’t help smiling to myself. Valentina may have been married for three years and be about to bear her first child for Edmund, but some things never change. So are you a little bit surprised? That they’re still together, I mean? Well, don’t worry–I suspect a few others are too.

Let’s face it, when they first met, it didn’t take a cynic to recognize that Valentina appeared to be as romantically attached to Edmund’s Gold Card as she was to Edmund himself. But, somewhere along the way, a funny thing happened: she fell in love with him. Whether it was when she witnessed him saving a man’s life on their honeymoon, or when they found out baby Paris (Orlando if it’s a boy) was on the way, I’m not entirely sure. But it happened all right–and the Barnetts couldn’t be happier. Which from Valentina’s point of view is fantastic, because divorce is
so
last year.

The door to our hotel suite opens and Polly walks in.

‘Where’s your mum?’ I ask, slightly nervously. I may have been fully expecting Grace to be late, but it doesn’t make me feel any less jumpy about it.

‘Just coming,’ says Polly, who at eight is so grown up now. ‘You didn’t really expect us to be on time, did you?’

‘Soooo sorry!’ says Grace, bursting through the door and ushering Scarlett in with one hand and her bags in with another. ‘I’ve been trying to get out of the house for an hour but my mother phoned to ask if I wanted anything from Debenhams while she was in there. Then she phoned to ask if I wanted anything from M&S. Then John Lewis. Then she phoned back to ask was I absolutely sure I didn’t want anything because M&S had some lovely paté in–she knew it was lovely because Maureen Thomas from church had some the last time she was round there and it had real Cointreau in and…Oh look, the upshot is:
sorry
. Now, where do I get changed?’

Okay, so they got off to a shaky start, but Grace and Patrick haven’t looked back since the early events of their marriage. It took a while for Patrick to win Grace’s trust back, but once he’d got a new job and she moved to a new law firm (with a new female boss who couldn’t be less like her old one), things just started slotting back into place–and a good place at that.

‘Right,’ says my mum, straightening her turban–which along with the three-quarter pants she’s wearing makes her look like she’s just appeared out of a magic lamp. ‘I can’t be hanging round here all day. I’ve got guests to greet. See? See how responsible I can be?’

I go over and kiss her.

‘You’re right,’ I say fondly. ‘At least about you needing to get going. The responsible bit I’ll reserve judgement on.
And make sure Bob gets here on time, will you?’

Georgia brings the champagne over to top me up again.

‘Bloody hell, not too much!’ I say. ‘Or I’ll be doing the splits on the dance floor later–and I’m leaving that to Valentina.’

‘You don’t think the fact that she’s eight months’ pregnant might stop her this time?’ asks Georgia.

‘Oh, it’ll just make it all the more impressive.’

Georgia laughs–and I realize it’s a while since I heard her do that.

She and Pete separated last month, an event which would make any future bride, even one with an unshakeable belief that they’re doing the right thing, think twice. Neither have been bitter, or acrimonious, or anything other than completely sensible about it. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t hit both of them hard. Which just goes to show that two good people don’t always make for a good marriage.

With twenty minutes to go, I head into the bathroom to touch up my lipstick and Valentina follows me with her own extensive cosmetics collection.

‘One of the hotel staff just passed this in for you,’ she says, handing me an envelope.

I put down my lip brush and open it, while Valentina starts tonging her hair for the fifth time today.

‘God,’ I say, reading it.

‘What is it?’ she asks.

She leans over to read with me.

‘Oh Charlotte! Do you think I’ve got time to phone her now?’ I ask Valentina.

‘Absolutely not, there’s only a few minutes left,’ she says, fiddling with my hair. ‘Do it later, or tomorrow. After this long, one day isn’t going to make any difference.’

The bathroom door opens and Scarlett and Polly poke their heads around it.

‘You two have got the prettiest dresses I’ve ever seen, no competition,’ I tell her.

‘Come on, Auntie Evie,’ says Polly. ‘It’s time to go. Bob’s here to escort you down the aisle.’

I walk out into the hotel room and look at the clock. She’s right. Two minutes to go.

‘You look beautiful, Evie,’ says Bob, appearing at my side. ‘I feel so proud.’

We link arms, and with my bridesmaids behind us, we head downstairs until we reach the door to the room where the ceremony is taking place. I can already see Jack standing at the front waiting for me, and my heart leaps.

‘Well, you’ve proved someone wrong, anyway,’ says Grace, straightening my veil.

‘Oh?’ I ask her.

‘My mother,’ she says, grinning. ‘She said this morning she never thought she’d see the day when Evie Hart walked down the aisle.’

‘You know, Grace,’ I whisper, as the guests hush and the music starts. ‘I couldn’t agree with her more.’