The Winter Wedding (6 page)

‘Yes,’ she said, unfazed, opening one box. ‘And most of it’s for the kitchen.’ She held a cherry-shaped biscuit cutter in one hand, and a tiny sieve for icing sugar
in the other. ‘There were some things that had to come, of course.’

She dusted her hands off on her jeans and perched on the edge of the bed, testing it. ‘I feel quite settled already.’

‘Great,’ I said. It suited her, this room. The simplicity of it, the generous casement windows that let the sunshine fall in wide, pale trapezoids on the floor.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. ‘Why doesn’t this woman have any stuff?’

I shrugged, but couldn’t tell her it wasn’t true.

‘Messy break-up,’ she said. ‘Three months ago. Jude. Musician and not-quite-a-grown-up. When we moved in together, I brought almost everything. He’d been living in a
houseboat, so he didn’t have much – and when I moved out, I left most of my things there.’

‘You couldn’t bring it with you?’

‘Oh, of course I could have – I just didn’t really want to. I’m aware it sounds nuts – who has money to throw away on a new TV, right? But when we broke up it was
all so miserable that I just wanted a totally clean slate, a new start. I can’t face seeing things every day that remind me of him. Oh – a few notable exceptions. I was hardly going to
leave him all my DVDs,’ she said, smiling.

‘Never.’

There was a glassiness to her eyes that belied the smile.

She misses him. Appearances can be deceptive.

‘It’s great to have a new start,’ Amber said.

That was when I knew I had to make sure hers was a good one.

‘What about you? Are you seeing anyone?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m better at being single.’

I went to my room and left Amber to unpack the few things she’d brought. I thought about what she’d asked.

I didn’t long for romance – God no. I didn’t need to be taken out of real life – real life was good. I was happy with real life. But occasionaly I wondered if there was
potential for it to be better. I guess, when I put the largely unexamined material of my emotions under the microscope, well maybe there was a little part of me that wanted to know what everyone
was talking about. Because I’d never had any cartoon bluebirds follow me through the park, never had that stereo playing out beneath my bedroom window, never had any meaningful encounters at
the top of the Empire State, or even got a Valentine’s card from anyone apart from Lila (and yes, I wish she wouldn’t do that). I knew what it was to care but not to be the centre of
someone else’s world.

Sam had always been there – at every birthday since I was fifteen. I thought of the book he gave me for one of the birthdays in my late twenties that I’d ended in vodka-fuelled
contentment sleeping on his shoulder:
One Day
. As I’d read it, following the story of two friends, not a world away from the two of us, the gift seemed like a kind of promise.

It embarrassed me that he could break through my emotional barriers, even though we were miles apart and out of touch now. I loved the bones of him; more than that, he was part of me. Which was
why it wasn’t straightforward. Thinking of Sam didn’t bring up one simple emotion but many, interlaced and inextricable. I couldn’t see, from this close proximity which one was
true. I knew what I wanted to believe – that everyone has a soulmate, and Sam was mine, and like something out of a film we would get together in the end. The soundtrack would be a mix CD of
the nineties songs we’d listened to in his room, and that we played from my stereo in the skate park. All of the props were ready. The story was ready for filming. It was just that Sam
didn’t want it to happen, not the way that I did.

I was coming home after an evening of working late, and jazz music trickled down the steps to the flat. When I got upstairs, I found Amber sitting at a stool in the kitchen,
stirring some cake mixture.

‘Hey, there,’ I said, calling out to her. She smiled and turned down the volume on the iPod dock. ‘What are you making?’

‘Chocolate and raspberry torte,’ she said. ‘Fancy some when it’s finished?’

‘God yes,’ I said, settling down on the sofa. ‘Thank you.’

‘How was work?’ Amber asked.

‘OK,’ I said. After I’d sorted Emma’s expenses – a muddle of receipts and scrawled notes that she needed changed into cash ‘urgently’, Josh and I had
stayed talking through potential locations.

‘I’ve flagged up a brilliant place to film with the locations department and I’m really hoping they’ll choose it. A country manor down in Sussex.’

‘Sounds interesting.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You know, Hazel, I’m sorry about—’ Amber glanced down. ‘One of the other assistants mentioned something
the other day. About how Tim’s job . . . Well, how you have been due a promotion for a while.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘It’s hardly your fault.’

‘No, but it doesn’t seem right. It really doesn’t. I can see how much everyone there respects you and your work.’

‘This stuff happens,’ I said, ‘It’s starting to dawn on me that maybe, in spite of what she’s said, it kind of suits Emma having me where I am.’

‘She seems to rely on you a lot.’

‘She’s been going through a difficult time.’ And it had been going on for nearly a year, I thought. I didn’t want to dwell on the topic much longer. I wanted to try and
stay positive about it all. ‘How are you settling in, anyway?’

‘It’s good,’ Amber said. ‘In some ways not that different really, given that Tim and I have been working together for years. People seem nice. Money’s crap, of
course, but nothing new there.’

‘Yep. And there are perks, obviously . . .’ I said, the same thing I’d been saying to myself since I started.

‘Yes. Of course,’ Amber said.

‘But it would be nice not to have to get Value orange juice once in a while, maybe splash out on a top that wasn’t from H&M?’

‘Exactly.’ She nodded, laughing. ‘And sometimes I wonder if it might be fun to do something else, on the side. Talking of that, how’s the wedding planning
going?’

Amber had caught me more than once, the glow of my iPad still strong at two or three in the morning as I scoped out venues and dresses for Lila’s wedding. Even with the late notice,
I’d found a couple of really interesting places where ceremonies could be conducted – the one my heart was set on was the ballet school where she’d first had dance lessons. I was
waiting to hear back from them on availability.

‘I’m sure you’ll do a brilliant job,’ Amber said, taking the wooden spoon from the mixture and passing it to me. I dipped my finger into the remaining mixture and tasted
it – indulgent and sweet, with layers of flavour. Pretty near perfect. I nodded my approval. I thought of what she’d just said and felt the sudden weight of responsibility.

‘Thank you. I’m hopeful I can give her and Ollie the wedding they want. But that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified, obviously.’

Amber smiled warmly, and I started to laugh. As I did, I felt the tension that had been building up over the past week start to slip away. And the flat – maybe, just maybe, it was starting
to feel like home again.

The following Friday night, I went around for dinner at Ollie and Lila’s mews house, a short walk from my place, down the main street and then onto a cobbled alleyway. I
knocked on the door and Lila ushered me inside. Ollie’s place had always been nice, even when Ollie was living there with his best friend – and soon to be best man, Eliot, and the only
real furniture they had was a black faux-leather sofa. But with Lila’s decorative touches, it had turned into a beautiful, stylish home. Lila had decorated the living room with black and
white prints of her favourite ballets and musicals, and cornflowers in antique apothecary bottles on the window sills and open shelving added a splash of colour.

Ollie dished up sea bass with a mango and watercress salad. ‘Here you go, Hazel. Thanks for stepping in and saving us, by the way.’

‘It’s a pleasure,’ I said, with a smile.

Lila passed me the guest list to look over. ‘Here are the people we want to invite.’

‘This is final?’ I asked them, taking a sip of cool white wine as my eyes drifted over the long list of names.

‘Oh, and the other side too,’ Lila said, pointing to the paper.

I flipped it over to see another half-page of names.

‘It’s practically final, yes.’ Ollie said. ‘Eliot you know, right?’

I nodded. I’d met Ollie’s best man a couple of times, and he happened to work at the same city bank as Ben. I still found it slightly mind-boggling, how a city could be so big, and
so small at once.

‘Well he and his fiancée Gemma will be on the top table too. You said you might want to add a couple of people, didn’t you, Lila?’

‘I’m thinking about it,’ she said. ‘Rehearsals have just brought me really close to a couple of the other dancers, Raoul and Adele, and I think I’d like to invite
them, if we have space, plus ones for both.’

I tore my attention away from the extremely long list, and working out what I was going to do about it, for a moment.

‘So things are going well with the show?’ I asked.

‘There’s such a friendly atmosphere,’ Lila enthused, ‘and the director knows how to get the best from everyone.’

‘Great. Right, so I’ll pencil in Raoul and Adele, and then in terms of what you’ve already got, that’s, erm . . .’ I did a quick mental calculation, then scribbled
down the result. ‘One hundred and sixty adults and twenty children.’ I shook my head. ‘This isn’t good. None of the venues on my shortlist will fit that many
people.’

‘One hundred and sixty?’ Lila gawped. ‘I didn’t realise it was that many.’

Ollie turned to her. ‘We said we didn’t even want a big wedding.’

‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘And we don’t. Perhaps I should have added up as we went along. God, how did it come to that many?’

‘Well, you’ve given Mum and Dad plus eight, and there are all of Grandma Joyce’s neighbours on here too.’

‘Maybe cut that back a bit,’ Lila said. ‘I must have been in a really generous mood when I wrote that.’

‘We were a couple of glasses of wine down, I think,’ Ollie added.

‘And you’ve got Brandy and Graham, from the village library. Do you really need them there?’

‘They’ve known us since we were tiny,’ Lila protested. ‘I mean how could I not . . .’

‘And the optician?’

‘I’ve always liked him.’ She smiled.

I went through the list with my pencil, drawing a thick line through the names of anyone I felt didn’t absolutely have to be there. Lila reached out a hand to stop me but I shooed her
away. This was a cruel-to-be-kind moment, if ever I saw one.

‘Last thing. Is Ben going to use his plus one?’ I asked tentatively.

‘I don’t know if he’s even coming himself, yet,’ Lila said, looking hurt.

‘OK. Well, we’ll deal with that one later. We can pare this down a lot with just the people we’ve already discussed.’

‘Oh God, though,’ Lila said, her brow creased with concern. ‘We’re bound to upset someone.’

‘They’ll understand. It’s for the greater good,’ I told her. ‘I’ve seen your budget and it’s not going to stretch to this, not even if you have it in
the community centre.’

‘We’re not doing that,’ Lila said, horrified.

‘Of course we’re not.’

‘One hundred and ten,’ I said proudly, passing the list to them. Lila and Ollie read through it, nodding and sharing the occasional anxious look.

‘I’m happy if you are,’ Ollie said, looking at Lila.

‘Just take it,’ Lila said, passing it back. ‘Don’t let me look at it again. It’s got to be all about quick decisions, I know that.’

‘Brilliant,’ I said, with satisfaction. ‘Can I show you the invites now?’

‘Yes, please,’ Lila said, the smile returning to her lips.

I took one last glance at the list before putting it away and a name jumped out at me. I don’t know how I’d missed it the first time.

My breath caught, and my chest felt tight.

Then a trace of hope rose up in me filling my lungs with light – that damned hope that stopped me drawing a line under the whole messy thing.

Sam was on the list.

‘You’re inviting Sam?’ I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

‘ We were planning to ask him to the evening do,’ Lila said. ‘Is that awkward? We don’t have to, I mean, if it would make you feel uncomfortable.’

‘No,’ I reassured her.

‘Why, who’s Sam?’ Ollie asked, his interest piqued.

‘No one,’ I said quietly.

‘Hazel’s best friend from home,’ Lila said. ‘ We saw him from a distance when we were back in Bidcombe. She made a pass at him last Christmas—’

‘LILA,’ I snapped, furious.

‘Sorry, that came out wrong,’ Lila said.

Ollie held his hands up, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry I asked. Forget I mentioned it.’

Silence fell, and Lila glanced down, her cheeks flushed.

‘It was a long time ago,’ I explained to Ollie. ‘And I’m sure – if we do see each other at the wedding – everything will be completely back to normal. It was
one drunken moment, that’s all.’

Lila’s gaze met mine, urging me to accept her unspoken apology.

‘ We don’t have to invite him,’ she said. ‘ We really don’t. It’s just . . . I’ve known him a long time, but I guess only through you.’

‘Of course he should come,’ I said. ‘Can I put this away now?’ I held the list up. ‘No more changes?’

‘Sure,’ Ollie nodded.

I put it away in my wedding folder. Next to it was a collage of different cake ideas. ‘How about we talk about something altogether more interesting? The cake. Or should I say cakes
– because it always seems strange to me that on such an important day you’d only celebrate with one.’

Ollie smiled. ‘Now, I’ve had a few ideas about this.’

I glanced at the space I’d allocated in my diary for today, Sunday: Wedding Cake day.

I made some breakfast and sat at the kitchen table with my French toast, fruit and coffee, browsing the websites of the country’s most highly respected wedding bakers. Traditional tiered
cakes vied for my attention alongside rich, indulgent gateaux, minimalist macaroon towers and delicate, delectable-looking French tarts and pastries. Cakes were the make or break element in a
wedding, as far as I was concerned – they had the power to turn a day from great into absolutely unforgettable. Then I looked at some of the prices, and my happy helium balloon leaked a
little air.