The Winter Wedding (18 page)

‘Would you want the ceremony itself to be outside? I’d just need to look into how we make sure it’s all legal. Or you could always do the legal bit somewhere else.’

‘We’d be happy to do the legal bit first,’ Josh said. ‘ We don’t really mind where, we just want somewhere special to say our vows.’

‘OK,’ I made a note. ‘That’s great. That makes things easier – so I’ll still be able to find somewhere nice for you, but we really have free rein then on a
fantastic location for you to have the ceremony with all your friends and family.’

Josh passed me a sheet of paper. ‘This is the budget we’re looking at. We’re hoping that should cover it.’

I had to stop my jaw dropping. ‘Yes, that looks fine. Even with the tight deadline – I should be able to present you with some really good options working to this figure. Now –
you say you’ve ruled out India. Is there anywhere else that you’d like me to look into when I draw up some ideas for you?’

‘We were thinking of the Caribbean.’

‘Antigua,’ Sarah said.

‘Cuba.’

Josh and Sarah’s answers came in unison, and they started to laugh.

‘Both of those are options,’ Josh explained.

‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Any theme you had in mind?’

‘No,’ Sarah said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘Can’t think of anything worse. We just want something chilled out, low key, informal. We want our guests to be comfortable
wearing what they want, just hanging out.’

Josh glanced at Sarah and then back at Hazel. ‘But we might need to retain a few traditional touches,’ he said, gently. ‘You know, for my mum and dad. They are a bit more old
school than Sarah’s family. They’ll be expecting the usual run of things – ushers, top table, that kind of thing.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Like I said, we don’t have much time on this, so we might just need to get started on choosing a venue and we can decide on some of the other aspects of
the day as we go along. Does that sound all right to you?’

Josh and Sarah nodded.

‘I’ll start researching venues for you now. I’ll send the details over and then let’s talk again.’

‘So – tell me,’ Amber said. ‘What’s she like? Josh’s Sarah?’ Her eyes were wide and curious.

‘Why are you so interested?’ I asked.

‘Everyone’s interested, aren’t they? The way Josh talks about her, it’s like she’s practically another member of the office.’

‘She’s nice,’ I said with a shrug. ‘And pretty, I guess. If you like that tousle-haired, tanned, fiery, glittery-eyed kind of . . . well yes, I suppose by anyone’s
standards she’s pretty. And she’s bright, funny . . .’ I tried to keep things positive. Yes, there were things about her I was less keen on, but to dwell on those would be . . .
well, unhelpful and unkind. Josh was marrying Sarah.

‘He seems happy?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘I would have thought this would be a challenging one, eh. With her being such a traveller and Josh’s parents . . . ’

‘What about Josh’s parents?’ I asked.

‘Apparently they’re super-traditional,’ Amber said, matter-of-factly. ‘You know he’s from money, right?’

‘Is he?’ I asked. It had never come up, and while he was well-spoken, and seemed like perhaps he’d seen the inside of a theatre once or twice, it still surprised me. He was
always so humble. Plus his bike was crap.

‘Oh yes. Dad’s a lord or something. Didn’t he ever tell you that?’

I shook my head. I felt a pang of envy that he’d confided in Amber, but never in me. We’d talked often enough, hadn’t we, for him to make mention of it?

‘Not that he told me, of course. One of the work experience girls had a crush on him and it came up when she Googled his name. Adding the workies on the tea round has its pay-offs, you
see.’ Amber smiled. ‘Massive pile in the country, apparently. I’m kind of surprised they wouldn’t be having the wedding there.’

It seemed increasingly odd that Josh hadn’t said a word.

‘I guess they want to leave that all behind,’ I said. ‘I can understand that. Probably a lot of expectations that come with it. Getting away from it all, well there are
benefits to that, aren’t there?’

Josh was a low-key kind of guy, and clearly had made his own way in life rather than living off whatever funds his parents had. It made sense that he would want to have the wedding independently
too. Infuriatingly, it all made me warm to him a little bit more.

I moved through images on my Macbook, researching tours for Josh and Sarah to go on after their wedding. We’d settled on Cuba.

One was a tour of a coffee plantation, with accommodation on a stunning hacienda surrounded by lush scenery. I could just picture the two of them relaxing in the hammocks.

Planning Josh and Sarah’s wedding still felt very strange. Picturing them there on the beach, taking their vows to be with each other for ever. It was what all three of us were working
towards, and yet my feelings were conflicted.

I’d arranged to meet Josh at the pub on the corner, to update him, so I packed my laptop and left the flat.

‘Hazel, I really appreciate you stepping in like this. I know it must all seem a bit crazy . . .’

We took our drinks back over to the table, and I steeled myself to ask the question. ‘No more than any wedding is,’ I smiled. ‘Look, I don’t want to be nosy . . . but
when we were talking the other day, I realised I don’t know a thing about your family. Are they OK about the wedding happening abroad?’

Josh looked a little distant for a moment, and his brow furrowed. ‘Oh they will be,’ he said. He seemed uncertain, though. He shrugged. ‘They know what Sarah’s like.
Strong-minded. My mum and dad respect that in her.’

‘Cool,’ I said. ‘And you’re sure there’s nowhere, like a family home . . . you might want to, you know, consider . . .’

Josh looked at me and rolled his eyes skyward. ‘Right. My secret’s out,’ he said, laughing.

‘Sorry.’ I felt sheepish. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to get away with such obvious snooping.

‘I don’t think my family home would be right for our wedding, even if it is what my family want. It’s . . . I don’t know. Showy, I guess. And Sarah would hate it, of
course.’

‘Fine. I shouldn’t have pried.’

‘It’s fine,’ Josh said warmly. ‘But it’s just not relevant.’

‘OK,’ I said.

‘You’re bothered that I didn’t tell you, aren’t you?’ he asked.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. ‘You’re the son of a lord and you just didn’t think to mention it?’

He shrugged. ‘I bet there’s a ton of stuff I don’t know about your family.’

I suppose that was true.

‘Sarah hates it all, anyway,’ Josh said, glancing over to the bar.

I stayed quiet, waited for him to say more.

‘Everything about my family,’ he said. I couldn’t read him, but something in his expression told me it wasn’t as comfortable a truth as he was making out. ‘She says
it’s the money, the airs and graces, whatever, but they really aren’t like that. I think she feels judged by them . . . even though she has no reason to feel that way.’

‘Maybe she’ll come around,’ I said.

‘That’s what she’s saying about all this – that once we’re married she knows she’ll feel more settled, calmer about everything, including my family. It sounds
weird, but . . .’

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘I got that sense from her. She certainly seems to love you a lot.’

I said the words, which were true, and felt a raw place open up inside my chest.

That night, at home, I got out a new empty box and my set-making equipment and started putting together the beach ceremony scene. I lined the aisle with tiny flowers, and made an arch out of
twine. There was an uncomfortable feeling that wouldn’t shift. I didn’t want it to be Sarah there. I wanted it to be me.

That Sunday I went down to Columbia Road flower market.

‘Two bunches of roses for a fiver.’

The call rang out clearly in the crowded Hackney streets. I walked on the cobblestones of Columbia Road, taking in the sights and smells of the flower market, looking for inspiration. I was
going to put together a couple of bouquets and extras to photograph for the website I was putting together. I’d already written most of the content and compiled a grid of links to other sites
that I wanted to include. Amber had offered her help on the techy side of things.

Now I just had to – I scanned all the blooms, then smiled to myself. I just had to pick out the flowers I liked, and that I thought would look most beautiful. On a bright Sunday morning,
it didn’t seem much like work at all.

‘Hey,’ I turned at the familiar voice, and saw Gemma hurrying to catch up with me. Over the past week I’d purposely put her and Eliot out of my mind – I didn’t want
to interfere with problems that had gone way past the colour of bridesmaids’ hair accessories.

‘Hazel,’ she said breathlessly.

‘Hi.’ I kissed her on the cheek.

‘Have you got time for a coffee?’ she said.

‘Yes, sure.’ The flowers would wait, and I could gamble on there being some last-minute bargains.

We got outside seats at a nearby café, ordered drinks and looked out onto the lively throng of hipsters, locals, excitable tourists and seasoned gardeners. ‘I love it here,’ I
said, to break the silence.

‘Yes,’ Gemma said. Her voice was calm, her tone a little more muted than usual. ‘I needed a breath of fresh air this morning. This place always reminds me that there are such
beautiful things in the world if you just take the time to look for them.’

I waited a moment for her to speak, then, when she didn’t, filled the quiet once more.

‘How are things with Eliot. Have you spoken?’

She nodded. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been wanting to phone, but, well, everything’s been such a muddle I guess it’s easier to explain face to
face.’

I nodded, hoping desperately that the muddle she’d mentioned wasn’t beyond fixing.

‘Eliot came and spoke with you, then?’

‘Yes. Thanks for telling him to. I just can’t get over how much worse he made things by keeping quiet. You heard me the other day – I was convinced he’d found someone
else. So he lost his job? Who cares?’

My face broke into a smile, instantly.

‘He hated the bloody place anyway,’ Gemma said, shaking her head. ‘I mean, yes – we were counting on the money to finance the wedding, but the last thing I want is for
him to feel trapped somewhere because of that. I didn’t work this hard for the past decade for nothing – I wanted to have the money and independence for the things that really mattered
to me. I wouldn’t care if Eliot was a skint artist, or a bin man, or a barista. He’s Eliot. And I’m totally in love with him.’

The passion she spoke with filled me with hope and happiness, and I suppose if I’m honest, just a little bit of envy.

‘I still want to marry him,’ Gemma said, welling up. ‘Of course I still want to marry him. And now I know that he wants to marry me just as much.’

A wave of happiness and relief swept over me.

‘Great,’ I said. ‘You sound happy.’

‘I’m over the bloody moon, Hazel. I’ve missed him so much.’

‘And he’s missed you, too.’

‘Oh, and here’s a surprise. Eliot’s not going to look for another job.’

‘What?’ My chest tightened.

She must have sensed my discomfort as she quickly chimed in. ‘Don’t worry. It’s fine. I mean – it’s crazy, but it will be fine. He’s going to train as a
pilot. He’s always wanted to do it, and I’ve managed to convince him that now’s the time.’

‘Wow,’ I said, surprised. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘Yes. He got his licence years ago, but it’s stayed as a hobby. Now he wants to see if he can make a living out of it.’

‘And you’re behind him on this?’

‘One hundred per cent. He’s my Eliot, no matter what, and to see him like this – full of enthusiasm again. It’s amazing, Hazel. He’s like the man I first
met.’

That evening, I picked up Gemma and Eliot’s wedding folder again, and started to plan.

When I came out of my bedroom at dinnertime, I saw Amber in the kitchen, apron on and her hair in a loose bun on the top of her head. Beside her on the counter were trays of
cupcakes, ready to go in the oven.

‘You’ve been busy,’ I said. I drank in the sweet cinnamon and ginger scent of them as I walked up to her. ‘Who are all of these for?’

‘You, if you want,’ she said, looking up with a smile. It didn’t go quite as far as her eyes, though, which were missing their usual bright glimmer.

‘You made all of these, for nobody in particular?’ I asked, confused. Even for a baking aficionado like Amber, this was not usual.

‘Mm-hmmm,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘Let’s call it culinary therapy.’

Amber opened the oven to put them in, letting out a blast of heat that pushed me back a step.

She took off her oven gloves and sat down at the table, pulling out the chair beside her.

‘He’s in love with you,’ she said, matter-of-factly.

‘Who?’ I said, flummoxed. This wasn’t a sentence that got said. No one was ever in love with me. I wasn’t one of those women. I don’t know when that got set in
stone, but I knew that it just
was
.

‘Sam,’ Amber said. His name – familiar but made curious and surreal by the context, hung in the air between us.

‘He told me this evening. I’ve been an idiot, Hazel. I should have known it – and I should never have risked our friendship over it. But it’s great – I mean for you
– you, the two of you could be something awesome. You’ve always got along so well.’

‘What . . .?’ I said, feeling dizzy and muddled. ‘I absolutely do not understand what’s going on here.’

‘Sam. He said he got it all back to front. He thought it was me he liked – but all along it was you. That perhaps it had always been you. He freaked out about losing your friendship
but then once he was with me he seemed to lose it anyway, and that was when he saw how much he missed you.’

‘Right,’ I said, slowly taking it all in.

‘So – in short – it’s you he wants.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Amber. ‘You know I had no idea.’

‘Of course I do,’ she said. I saw she was upset, and felt bad about it – I’d led her into this situation after all. Sam was my friend.