Sequins and Snowflakes Page 17

  Poppy’s taking down the hood of her parka. ‘Great we’ve found you, Sera. We went across to Rose Hill first, but we missed you.’

  Jess beams. ‘Macaroon anyone?’ She hands the box to Poppy. ‘And how are things going at The Manor?’

  I try to catch Jess’s eye by doing a frantic eyebrow wiggle to flag up to her she’s on very dangerous ground here. I know she’s trying to steer the conversation as far away from the dress ‘situation’ as she can. But she’d have been better sticking to juices and cordials, because when we called into The Manor on our way over, nothing was moving forward. And Alice was not a happy bunny.

  Poppy offers the macaroons to Immie, who takes a handful, then crashes onto a Louis Quatorze chair.

  ‘It’s that bloody Quinn,’ Immie says, as she hoovers up her first macaroon and swallows it whole. If she carries on like that she’s never going to work out if all the different colours have their own tastes. ‘He couldn’t organise a piss-up in a pig farm.’

  ‘He couldn’t?’ I watch as the next three macaroons disappear from Immie’s palm. Pink. Peacock blue. Orange. They’re gone in as many seconds.

  ‘For someone who supposedly makes things happen, he’s made shit-all progress.’ She gives a snort of disgust. ‘If he thinks he’ll be ready for a wedding in two days’ time, he’s deluding himself.’ Reaching over she scoops up another fistful of macaroons.

  Not that I’m biased at all, but I think she’s being a bit unfair on Quinn. It’s down to more of us than just him. And it’s all very well dishing out the criticism. But what we need are solutions. And people who will concentrate on a job and finish it. Rather than start it and waft away ten seconds later. When I dare to steal a look at Alice, instead of looking horror-struck, I’m shocked to see that behind the ginger macaroon she’s nibbling on, her lips are twitching.

  ‘Quinn always leaned on his PA more than his publicist.’ Alice sighs and shakes her head. Immie’s ‘tell it how it is’ attitude might be blunt, but it’s resonating with Alice.

  Poppy gently lifts the macaroon box out of Immie’s reach.

  Immie clears her throat. ‘Actually I’ve come to offer Chas and his fireman mates… to help. Honestly, Blue Watch will sort you out in no time.’

  Poppy chimes in with her support. ‘They’re ace on ladders, and they did a great job with the twigs and lights in the tipi last summer – when Chas didn’t get married.’

  Long story. He and Immie met when his Daisy Hill wedding went off the rails at the eleventh hour, but the party carried on. Not that we want to dwell on weddings getting called off.

  ‘The guys are on their Christmas pub crawl tonight, so tomorrow will be a write-off.’ Immie’s eye roll ends up as a broad grin. ‘But they’re free today. Say the word and they’re all yours.’

  It sounds too good to be true. We’ve got the branches, but only because it was the kind of adventuring Quinn enjoyed. I was starting to doubt they’d ever get off the ground. As I send Alice a querying glance, she’s nodding so vigorously, for once her hair is a total disaster.

  ‘Brilliant. Couldn’t be better. Thanks so much for that, Immie.’ I’m mentally punching the air.

  ‘I’ll get them along right away.’

  ‘We’ve got a tiny bit more to do here,’ Jess adds. She can be so diplomatic.

  ‘Go for it.’ Immie’s up, ransacking the macaroons again. ‘We’ll get straight off and see you at Rose Hill later.’ She’s in such a rush to round up her firemen she careers out into the hallway and crashes headlong into the Christmas tree. ‘Fuck… shit… festering snowmen…’

  But along with the string of expletives as colourful as the macaroons, there’s another sound.

  ‘Bells?’ Alice leaps to her feet. ‘Sleigh bells? Exactly what we need for Snowball’s harness.’ She’s been reunited with her own voice and as she dashes across The White Room she’s sending Jess an imploring smile. ‘I don’t suppose we could borrow a couple?’

  A second later we’re in the hall, stripping the Brides by the Sea Christmas tree.

  But even though Alice is having a momentary distraction from her bigger problem, as we unhook the bells from the branches, I’m wondering where the hell we’re going to find her a couture column wedding dress two days before Christmas.

  28

  Thursday, 22nd December

  On the way to Rose Hill Manor: Strategies, jitters and surprises.

  ‘Phone signal? That’s almost as much of a novelty in Cornwall as having your husband-to-be turn up for his wedding.’

  It’s Alice, we’re zooming along the road towards Rose Hill, and if she’s said that once since we left St Aidan, she’s said it… Well, put it this way, who would have thought it was possible to express two random thoughts a) Cornwall’s a bit quiet and b) you could be happier with your fiancé, in so many different sentences that all mean the same thing.

  Okay. I know we should be at Brides by the Sea, focusing on the ‘where the hell do we go next?’ wedding dress question. But just as we got the last bell off the tree, there was a beep from Alice’s phone, announcing – ta-da – there will be a bridegroom after all. What’s more, he’s heading for The Manor as we speak.

  As we drive through Rose Hill village, past the pretty stone cottages that line the high street, Alice finally stops running her fingers through her hair. A second later, her hand lands on my arm. ‘Slow down, Sera. Or maybe, stop. I need to decide if I want to get there before Dan. Or after him.’ It’s rare for Alice to be this indecisive. Although going in with a firm strategy is her all over.

  I pull over by the green, next to the village Christmas tree. ‘So, what are you thinking?’ It’s a tentative question and I’ve deliberately left out any emotive words. Like ‘feeling’, ‘problem’, or ‘wobble’. As I listen to her breathing, I count the lights on the tree. Seventy-six red. 84 blue. I’m up to ninety-nine yellow when she finally breaks my concentration.

  ‘I’m a bit jittery.’ Her voice has done that disappearing trick again. She dips into the pack of jelly babies I bought her earlier, then offers me one.

  ‘And?’ I ask, taking a red one. Maybe I’ll get to count the green lights while she thinks about this. But no.

  ‘That’s all.’ She sighs, then lapses into silent chewing. When we were kids we used to fight over the red jelly babies. Alice always won, obviously. But she’s not that fighty today. Let’s face it, if she’s let me get a red one, she’s really off her game.

  When Quinn drummed his fingers on the steering wheel I thought he was being a bit of a poser. But suddenly I’m doing it. What’s more surprising is, it’s helping me see we shouldn’t be dithering. So I go for it. And if we’re talking new voices, the one I’ve found belongs to someone pretty damned bossy and uncompromising.

  ‘Well, we can sit here all day counting lights on Christmas trees…’ Understandably I get a blank look from Alice for that but I haul out that sassy smile I learned with Poppy. ‘Or… how about we roll with the punches, get up to The Manor, and take it as it comes? I’m sure you’ll be fine as soon as you see Dan. You can always hide behind the crowd of firemen.’ Given they’re fast responders, I’m assuming Blue Watch are already there, transforming the ballroom. And what is the collective name for more firemen than you can count on one hand? A hose? A splash? An engine-full?

  ‘Okay. You could be right,’ she agrees, kicking the bags at her feet as she recrosses her legs. When she dips down into own her bag her squawk is loud enough to startle a passing dog-walker. ‘Sera, what the hell’s this?’ Even the dog stops in its tracks and stares at the car, as Alice scoops up my crumpled carrier from the mat well.

  ‘Oh.’ As the Tesco Metro bag splays open, I watch, helpless, as a Clearblue pregnancy test falls out into her lap. Talk about screwing this up. It seemed such a great idea to hit the shop for sweets and the tests, so I was fully equipped and ready, should the moment arise. I just wasn’t expecting it to be quite this soon.

  Before I can say any more s
he’s jumped in. ‘Sera, you’re not…? Really…? Are you…?’

  Talk about a happy accident. The ideal opening to bring up the subject. Or maybe not. The appalled expression on Alice’s face makes me chicken out completely. ‘A teensy false alarm.’ I say, knowing I have to take this on myself. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s nothing. But I just wanted to check, anyway.’

  As she peers into the bag she laughs. ‘What three boxes? That’s six tests. Buying them for all your friends too? I’ve heard of fertility festivals but this is ridiculous. Are pregnancy tests a group activity down in Cornwall?’

  I pull a face. ‘It’s always good to have a backup. Just to be certain.’ It’s the perfect opening to suggest a mass pee on sticks behind the hedge for the two of us, then we could get this over with here and now. But I’m not that brave. And although I grabbed the tests on impulse along with the jelly babies, in reality the pregnancy question is probably be the last thing we want to throw into the wedding mix right now.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to joke about something this serious.’ An anxious frown has chased off her smile, as her hand lands on my arm again. ‘If it isn’t good news and you need to talk, I’m always here. You know that, don’t you?’ She gives me a squeeze, firmly back into big-sister mode. Strong. Concerned. Responsible. And between us, that’s a thousand times easier to handle than wobbly bride.

  ‘Back at you,’ I say, with a lot more irony than she suspects. Although the jolly thump I give her on her shoulder is only to hide how bad I’m feeling for not coming out with the truth – as I suspect it. ‘Great, well if you’ve got all those boxes safely back in the bag, shall we go then?’

  As I slam the car into gear and roar off up the lane, I probably deserve the disgusted looks the dog-walker and the dog are dishing out to me. Yes, from the spinning wheels and the shower of gravel I’m leaving behind, I’m driving like Quinn. But it’s only so I can get Alice to Rose Hill before she has a chance to go weak again.

  As for what will happen when we get there, as we race up the drive and catch sight of Snowball out in the field, I’m definitely grabbing a white horse wish.

  29

  Thursday, 22nd December

  At Rose Hill Manor: Rare beasts and sharp edges

  In the race to get to Rose Hill Manor first, Alice wins. When we pull up outside the house in my gran’s mini, Dan’s Range Rover is spectacularly absent. But on the upside, from the mini bus and handful of cars, it looks like Blue Watch are already here. So to take Alice’s mind off Dan, rather than freezing our butts off waiting out in the car park, which is what she wants to do, I bundle her through the house to the ballroom.

  I’m not being sexist here. And I definitely don’t want to get caught up in the male objectification trap. I mean, some people disapprove of stopping for too long to admire muscly men up step ladders. But, on the other hand, the sight of a great team of guys working well together is heart-warming in a peculiarly satisfying way. And even though Blue Watch – plus Rafe, who’s tagged along too – can’t have been here for more than half an hour, by the time Alice and I get to the ballroom, there is plenty to smile about. And before you jump to conclusions, this has nothing to do with me and my one-woman-strong ‘Quinn Appreciation Society’ either. Because Quinn is nowhere to be seen.

  ‘The branches are flying up,’ Poppy says happily. She and Immie are directing from the ground, as Chas and his friends work like lightning, running up and down ladders, hanging branches off the ceiling trusses, and threading fairy lights through the twigs. Poppy steps back and nods up at the ceiling. ‘The first truss is finished and lit. What do you think? Is it working?’

  As Alice and I stand, gazing up at the cloud of twigs hanging across the room, studded with a galaxy of tiny light spots, there’s a long, long silence. Eventually I dare to sneak a sideways peek, to judge her expression, but her fist is over her mouth so I can’t tell. At least she’s not running her fingers through her hair.

  ‘So?’ I prompt, holding my breath. Somehow I daren’t say how dreamy it looks, in case she’s about to shout it down.

  Alice purses her lips. ‘It definitely isn’t anything like the celestial sky I was wanting…’ Up their ladders, the guys stop their hooking and winding and tying, and are suddenly still. In the ominous pause that follows, every eyeball in the room is glued to Alice, and every stomach in the room is hanging, ready to plummet.

  ‘But…’ She takes a breath. ‘It’s just like the pictures you showed me, Sera… And from what I can see this far…’ She scrunches up her face as she deliberates. ‘It’s looking promising.’

  ‘Phew.’ I say, beaming around the room, trying to compensate for my sister being queen of the understatement. ‘Woohoo, we’ll take that as a “yes” then.’ I punch the air and do a little circle and high-five everyone in reach with a free hand. Although right now, I might be a bitch, but I wish Alice could be just a little less matter of fact and a bit more enthusiastic.

  She looks up at Chas. ‘Thanks so much, guys, you’re doing a great job. I really appreciate you stepping in to help with my wedding like this.’

  Which is better than nothing, so that wish just came true. Although if we’re talking white-horse wishes, I saved that for something a lot more crucial than the ceiling. There’s a minor rumble of gratitude for the appreciation among the guys as they go back to work.

  Immie’s beside us now, muttering. ‘Quinn buggers off, things get done. Anyone noticed the reverse correlation?’

  Alice hones straight in on Immie’s criticism. ‘So where’s our dandy highwayman gone today, then?’

  ‘Does chasing a disco floor mean anything to you?’ Immie rolls her eyes at Alice. ‘Exactly the kind of wild-goose chase our Quinn specialises in.’

  Alice shakes her head. ‘The sky was my dream, the disco floor was for the guys’. Guess which one they’re running around the country after?’

  ‘Who’s talking about wild-goose chases?’

  Alice stiffens as a low voice resonates from the next room.

  A second later Dan appears in the doorway, pulling his woolly hat off his dishevelled dark hair, rubbing his stubble behind his huge scarf. ‘Hey Sera… lovely to see you.’ Given he practically falls over me as he walks in, I’m the first to get one of his trademark bear-hugs. ‘I can see you’re all busy here.’

  ‘Great to see you too.’ I go in for a squeeze that’s so hard it whooshes every bit of air out of my lungs. If I’m laughing like a mad thing, that’s more to cover up my relief that he’s here. ‘How’s my future brother-in-law? Still as handsome as ever, I see.’

  Between us, he’s going to scrub up into a fabulous groom. Now he’s arrived, that is. Dan’s one of the rarest of beasts – a geek in hunk’s clothing. Six-four and built, but behind those boy-next-door good looks, he’s hiding a super-brain. What’s more, he’s kind and easy-going, and best of all, he adores Alice. Has done since they were teenagers. There’s something about his relaxed warmth that smoothes down her sharper edges.

  ‘To be honest, I’m effing freezing.’ Dan shrugs further into his duvet jacket and rubs his hands. ‘Whatever happened to the warm wet west?’

  Rafe who’s wandering by with a branch, stops. ‘Too cold for snow, too,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Unless it warms up some we won’t be having a white Christmas.’

  Or a white wedding either. But has Alice taken this on board? Right now she’s standing apart from the crowd, hanging onto her wedding manual like it’s a life buoy in a stormy sea. With the belt of her Burberry trench coat pulled tight and the branches strewn across the floor, she’s doing a great impression of a frozen scarecrow in a winter field. As she offers her cheek to Dan for the briefest of pecks, the muscle in the side of her jaw is flickering. When he gives her arm a passing squeeze, she whirls out of his grasp and ends up out of reach. Glaring.

  ‘So you decided to turn up then…’ Alice says. ‘… finally.’ If Dan was cold before, after that sub-zero stare from Alice he’ll have hyperther
mia.

  From the way he barely shrugs, it looks like he’s expecting the frost-bite treatment. ‘You knew I had like a thousand apps to wrap up before I came.’

  ‘Please.’ Alice gives a snort. ‘Spare me the bloody app excuse. There’s so much to do here I’ve actually had to get the fire brigade in to help. The fire brigade… How embarrassing is that, when it should have been you?’

  Dan closes his eyes, drags in a deep breath and tries again. ‘But the guys have been here to cover for me.’

  ‘Quinn? All Quinn’s done is cause havoc.’ Her voice soars. ‘As if smashing the bloody crystal wasn’t enough, he then goes on to kidnap poor Sera. My bloody sister, of all people…’

  I can’t believe that me getting stuck on the island is up there with the smashed glasses at the top of Alice’s catalogue of wedding disasters. I can’t decide if I should be honoured or horrified. What’s more, even if she’s repeating herself an incredible amount – I mean who says bloody that many times? – it’s a major breakthrough that uptight Mrs Clean Mouth Alice is swearing at all. She’s always been crap at cursing. Not that I can afford to be a competitive sibling when she’s better than me at everything, but expletives are the one area where I can beat her hands down. Although it’s maybe not the best sign, given her knuckles are shining white where her fists are clenched across her chest.

  If Dan’s eyes are wide with horror at the kidnap allegation, it doesn’t come through in his voice. ‘Calm down… breathe… it’s fine, I’m here now…’ His words couldn’t be more soothing.

  Alice’s eyelids flutter. ‘Okay…’ She takes a breath and when she speaks all the yell has gone from her voice. She’s back to Mrs Organise. ‘Great. So have you brought the post box?’