The Winter Wedding (24 page)

And as I walked through the cobbled piazza, carol singers singing and children running excitedly in and out of the toy shops, I started to.

Back at home, I put the set back in my cupboard. I thought of Josh – it had been the one he’d liked most. I thought of his warm smile when he’d been here and
seen my sets for the first time. Now that we no longer worked together, I’d have no reason to see him at all. The thought made me feel desperately sad. Josh was the man who made me smile,
made me laugh, made me feel best about being me.

Maybe Lila was right. Maybe I was scared of really feeling something.

I dialled Josh’s number, and as he picked up I almost lost my nerve. I gathered my strength and asked him.

‘Have you ever been to Scotland?’

‘No,’ he said curious. ‘But I’ve always wanted to.’

‘Excellent.’

This was insane. But I ’d come this far.

‘Because you’re coming with me, next weekend.’

19 December

Castle Belvedere, Scotland

I looked out of the kitchen window. People scurried through the park, dressed warmly in coats and scarves, and laden with shopping bags. The window panes were lacy with frost.
‘It looks freezing out there,’ I said. ‘Which bodes well, I hope.’

Amber and I were in the kitchen with her mum Ella, putting the final touches to Eliot and Gemma’s wedding cake. It looked spectacular – red roses dotted around the edges, and silver
balls adding a little sparkle. ‘How’s the forecast for tomorrow looking?’ I’d been clicking on the Met Office app on my phone for days now, with the Scottish region where
Castle Belvedere was set as my default location, but the forecast kept changing. ‘Varying hour to hour at the moment,’ I said. ‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and
see.’

‘Lucky we’ve got a four-wheel drive, then,’ Ella said warmly. It felt natural to have her here in our kitchen, somehow. She was the honey-coloured warm to pale, dark-haired
Amber’s cool. She and Amber worked together seamlessly, mixing and icing, chatting as they went. After her initial reservations about working with her mum, Amber had come around to the idea
– she had decided to set up a company that would be an off-shoot from her mum’s shop. So they both worked independently, but for the same business.

‘It’s going to be quite an adventure getting this cake up there,’ Amber added.

‘Thanks for driving,’ I replied. ‘Above and beyond the call of duty, really.’

‘Oh there’s no such thing,’ Ella assured me. ‘With Amber building up the wedding arm of the business we need to get word of mouth spreading.’

‘And even if that weren’t the case,’ Amber said. ‘I don’t think we’d trust anyone else to get this baby up there in one piece, quite frankly.’

‘You all set?’ Ella said.

I flicked through the train tickets in my wallet – one for me, going up today, the day before the wedding, and returning the day after, and one for Josh, who’d be arriving tomorrow
morning.

‘Yes, I think so.’ I glanced down at my bag, ran through in my mind the things I’d put in there – most of it on the iPad, but print-outs of the schedule and final to-do
lists. I would be arriving at the castle tonight, helping to settle the guests and attend to the welcome meal at a nearby restaurant.

I felt a flicker of excitement at the prospect of Josh meeting me there, but it was tempered with uncertainty. Had I been too hasty in inviting him? Sarah had only just disappeared from view,
after all, and while he seemed calm and accepting of what had happened, there was every chance that shock was masking his grief, and that reality would set in once we were away. But – I told
myself – a change of scene and the chance to meet some new people would do him good. Plus I wanted him there. I really wanted him there.

‘Do you think it’s pumping the right amount of snow?’ I asked Josh, the next day. ‘I mean, this is a bit of a blizzard – I think Gemma had more of
a picturesque light dusting in mind.’

The snow machine I had arranged at the eleventh hour was positioned behind a bush next to the entrance of Belvedere Castle, and was hurling out fake snow. If I got the angle right, it would mean
that when the bride arrived, she would have snowflakes under foot as she approached the castle, just as we had discussed – but just a few degrees out and Gemma would be saying her vows with
clumps of white in her hair.

‘Surely she’s not going to care once she’s here,’ Josh said, checking the side of the machine for instructions. ‘She’ll be so caught up in the
moment.’

I furrowed my brow. ‘You haven’t met Gemma.’

‘Ah, right. I see.’

It was true that Gemma had softened in her approach over the last couple of weeks, though. Coming so close to everything falling apart seemed to have nudged her into letting go of some of the
smaller details on the wedding. She was no longer fretting over the wedding favours – but it certainly wasn’t safe to assume that she wouldn’t mind if the bigger things went
wrong.

I checked my phone. ‘I can leave you to sort this, can’t I, Josh? It’s just the hairdresser and make-up artist are due to arrive, and I need to direct them to the room where me
and her bridesmaids are staying.’

He looked bemused. ‘I thought I was supposed to be a guest here?’

‘Not just any guest. You’re my plus one,’ I smiled. ‘And that means you have to muck in a bit.’

‘And there was I thinking that with my own wedding getting cancelled, I’d be off the hook.’

‘No way,’ I smiled.

I squinted through the mist of hairspray, and arranged the bouquets on the bride’s bedspread.

‘So, bridesmaids, here are spreadsheets for the day. Everything’s on there for you.’

Tess, Gemma’s six-year-old niece and flowergirl, was toying with the satin ribbon on her dress. ‘And you, sweetheart. Are you still OK to sprinkle the rose petals and glass pebbles
on the table?’

Tess nodded. ‘I’m excited.’

She looked over at Gemma, who was sitting in front of the mirror with large heated rollers in her hair, her hairdresser tonging loose strands at the front into ringlets. She motioned for me to
bend to her level.

‘Auntie Gemma looks funny,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘I think she looks prettier without those things.’

I let out a laugh. I rearranged a small pink rosebud that had come loose from Tess’s hairband. ‘Don’t worry, they aren’t staying in. Your auntie’s going to look
better in a minute.’

‘Are you sure this is going to look all right?’ Gemma said, putting her hand up to the front of her hair. ‘You don’t think it’s getting a bit too, you know,
ringletty? I don’t want to look like Annie.’

I got the feeling it was time to top up the bubbles. I opened the window and picked up the bottle of Champagne from the window ledge, where it was staying cool. ‘Top up, anyone?’ I
offered the bottle to Gemma. She looked relieved, and held out her glass.

‘You don’t think ringlets are a bit . . .? I don’t know . . .’ she pulled one straight in the mirror. Gemma took a deep breath, then glanced over at me, a look of
desperation in her eyes. ‘Done?’

‘They’re classic,’ I said.

‘Do I want classic, though?’ Gemma twisted her mouth to the side.

I bit my tongue. Classic and traditional had been Gemma’s keywords from day one.

‘I want something people will remember. Something – unique. I can’t go in looking like this. The more I look at it, the more I feel just like every other bride.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

I dashed downstairs and out of the front door, and was hit by a blast of snowflakes. I put my hands out in front of me and blocked it. I caught sight of Josh hammering at the side of the
machine. ‘How do you stop this thing?’

I found the button and we both started to laugh. ‘I don’t think that’s quite the effect Eliot and Gemma had in mind . . .’ I said.

‘It’s like a power hose,’ Josh said. ‘Enough to send Gemma flying.’

‘I’ll take a look at the settings. In the meantime, Josh – could you do me a favour? Collect some mistletoe? We need enough to make a tiara with.’

‘Your wish – or should I say Gemma’s wish – is my command,’ Josh said. Before he left he looked back at me struggling with the snow machine. ‘Good luck with
that thing.’ Somehow, with his warm gaze on me, it didn’t seem so bad.

‘Ha!’ I said, finding a button on the underside of the machine and pressing it. It sent out a gentler spray of fake snow, then juddered to a complete stop.

I pressed the other buttons, trying to restart the machine. ‘Hazel!’ came the call from Gemma’s room. ‘My hair!’ With increasing desperation, I punched at the
buttons, but nothing would persuade the machine to restart.

I checked my phone. We were at wedding minus one hour – and I had promised Gemma and Eliot a white winter wedding.

‘Hazel!’ Josh, metres away across the lawn, had turned around to face me, and was pointing directly in front of him. ‘Look!’

I squinted, trying to make out what he was pointing at. I couldn’t see a thing.

‘There,’ he said, pointing again.

Then I saw it – falling gently, dots of white against the green backdrop of the highlands, were the tiniest flakes of snow.

I checked my watch. It was only half an hour before the ceremony, and while guests had started pouring into the venue, Amber and Ella – and, most importantly, the cake
– were nowhere to be seen. I smiled and greeted the guests one by one, leading them through to a warm lounge where there was space to relax ahead of the ceremony.

As Eliot and Gemma’s friends and family mingled, and a buzz built up in the lounge, I escaped to a quiet hotel bedroom to call Amber.

‘Where are you?’ I whispered urgently when she picked up.

‘We’re on our way. Don’t worry.’

‘Don’t worry? How can I not worry?’ I hissed back. ‘It’s midday and you’re not here. Please at least tell me you and your mum haven’t disappeared down a
crevasse somewhere.’

I heard Ella’s voice shouting out. ‘We’re fine, Hazel. Tell her we’re fine, Amber.’

‘We’re fine,’ Amber said. ‘And no, we’re not in a crevasse. We’re just stuck behind some rather stubborn sheep at the moment, that’s all.’

‘Sheep?’ I said, no longer able to disguise my building panic. ‘These two are about to get married, and we’re one wedding cake and a village of gingerbread houses short
of a reception right now.’

‘Cool your boots,’ Amber said. ‘We’ll be there. Chill.’

I put down the phone, hoping with every bone in my body that they would be right.

Lila and Ollie came in to the lounge, and after greeting their friends, came over to me. Lila looked beautiful in a knee-length green silk dress, and a fur stole, her blonde
hair swept up and to the side, pinned with a clip made from holly berries.

‘You look great,’ I said. She smiled. ‘Well, we made it, which is the main thing. You guys didn’t pick the easiest venue in the world to find.’

‘Part of what makes it so special,’ I said. I was still quietly praying that it wouldn’t be so special that it proved impossible for Amber and Ella to find. ‘You settled
in to your room OK?’

‘Yes – it’s fantastic,’ Ollie said. ‘View out across the forest. It’s so peaceful round here, isn’t it, Lila?’

‘A lovely change from the city,’ Lila said. ‘Just what we both needed.’

It was heartening to see my sister looking so relaxed.

‘Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’d better make sure everything’s in order.’ With a flood of relied, I spotted Amber and her mum coming in with the
cake.

‘Sure,’ Lila said. ‘We know you’re on duty today, don’t worry. Let’s chat later this evening.’

She kissed me on my cheek and we hugged. It was her cheek pressed against mine this time, gently but firmly as if she didn’t really want us to part. Something had changed. But I
didn’t know what.

Gemma and Eliot’s entrance hadn’t exactly been usual. He’d rented a private plane for the day, and with the crowds gathered round to watch, he’d brought
his beautiful bride in to land in the grounds close to the castle. Gemma had hauled out her full dress and they’d walked arm in arm up to the venue to hoots and cheers, a flurry of snowflakes
falling around them.

Now, here we all were, in a grand room at Castle Belvedere, watching them about to get married. Josh was standing next to me.

‘Will you take this woman,’ the celebrant said, ‘to be your lawfully wedded wife?’

‘I will,’ Eliot said. Standing at the top of the aisle, a red rose in the lapel of his suit, he looked strikingly handsome. I could hear the quiver in his voice as he spoke, holding
his bride’s hand in his.

Gemma, in her floor-length ivory dress with lace bolero, and a twisted mistletoe tiara in her hair, seemed completely content and at peace as she stood with her groom.

Now, emotion was all well and good. But there was no way I was going to relax until they’d said their vows.

‘Will you take this man,’ he continued, ‘to be your . . .’

‘YES,’ Gemma squealed.

‘I have to finish,’ the man said, laughing. ‘Your lawfully wedded husband?’

‘Yes, yes, YES,’ she squealed again. She kissed Eliot on his mouth, hard, and the crowd let out a cheer.

It was DONE. I smiled with relief. Months in the planning, a dozen or more sleepless nights along the way, a budget that had been broken more than once, and Gemma and Eliot were finally man and
wife. And they’d had a proper dusting of real snow, after all.

Instinctively, I took Josh’s hand and squeezed it gently. He turned to look at me, and I felt a tingle that started in the pit of my stomach and spread right down to my toes.

The caller at the Ceilidh boomed out a new command: ‘All spin with new partners.’ Before I’d heard the end of the sentence, Eliot’s father, a
broad-shouldered man in a kilt, had swept me round in a circle and by the end of the dance I was bent double with laughter and gasping for breath.

‘Well, that was an experience,’ I said breathlessly, as I caught up with Josh back at our table.

‘You’re a natural,’ Josh said.

‘You were watching?’

‘Of course I was watching,’ he said. His cheeks coloured in a way that you could have missed, but I didn’t.