Four Weddings and a Fiasco. Catherine FergusonЧитать онлайн книгу.
or bridal car arrival checker. I can even be called on to help a bride choose between two shades of lipstick – obviously a decision of vital importance, so no pressure there, then. I take it all very seriously because I know how important it is that the bride feels beautiful on her special day.
I usually enjoy every aspect of it.
But today, with my legs still shaky from that phone call, all I want to do is get through the work and go home.
I draw in a breath of bracing March air. ‘Right. Better get in there.’
‘Are you all right, darling?’ Mallory peers at me. ‘You seem a bit queer.’
That almost makes me giggle. Sometimes Mallory seems to have been born into the wrong century. And the sort of day I’m having, ‘almost a giggle’ is quite a result. It reminds me why Mallory is my best friend. One of the reasons, at any rate. She has this knack of being able to perk me up instantly – whether her remarks are intentionally funny or otherwise.
‘I’m feeling better by the minute,’ I tell her honestly.
I leave Mallory scouting round the grounds while I head up to the bride’s bedroom.
Squeals of delight greet me when I enter – mainly from Chloe and Sophie, her cousin. Both are bridesmaids and both are already high as kites with excitement.
Andrea, slim and newly fake-tanned in cream satin bridal underwear, is standing by a free-standing mirror, holding in front of her The Dress.
‘Hi, Katy. What do you think?’ she squeaks. ‘Isn’t it just Kim’s dress to a tee?’
‘Gosh. Yes. It’s amazing.’ I’ve no idea what Kim Kardashian’s wedding gown looked like but there’s no denying it, Andrea’s dress is stunning.
‘It’s a mermaid silhouette gown,’ she says proudly, swishing it in front of her. ‘See the fishtail?’
‘Put it on, Mum,’ orders Chloe. She grins at me. ‘I’m Kourtney and Sophie is Kendall.’
She sees my knitted brow.
‘Kardashian?’
‘Ah. Right. Well, you both look sensational,’ I say honestly. They do. They’re wearing identical white dresses. Long and figure-hugging with posies of white roses.
Andrea’s dress, when she’s eventually in it, is quite simply jaw-dropping.
White with long lace sleeves, it’s quite modest from the front.
But when she turns and looks back at us with a coquettish little smile, we all let out a gasp.
The gown is daringly backless, plunging down almost to Andrea’s waist, with a long train stretching out over the carpet. Neither is the veil a shrinking violet. It’s quite simply the longest I’ve ever seen, swooping right to the floor. With her deep tan, Andrea carries it off perfectly. Ron really won’t know what to do with himself.
‘Ron’s getting a buzz cut,’ says Chloe, raising one eyebrow. ‘So he’ll look the image of Kanye.’ She looks at Sophie and they both burst out laughing.
Andrea seems totally unperturbed. She’s too busy swishing this way and that in front of the mirror. And to be fair, the girls’ merriment is probably far more to do with the excitement of the occasion, than deliberately taking the mickey out of poor Ron.
Andrea turns suddenly. ‘You’ll never believe it, Katy. The wedding’s off.’
‘What?’ I stare at her, confused.
She laughs and waves a hand at my daftness. ‘Not our wedding, silly. Dieter Hanson’s wedding to Blaze Jorgensen.’
‘Oh. Right. I see.’ To be honest, I’d forgotten all about it.
‘It was meant to be today? The same day as ours?’
‘Yes. I remember now.’
She nods at the open tabloid newspaper on the bed. Dutifully, I go over and glance at the headline. Sure enough, there it is. The whole story with a picture of Dieter Hanson emerging from some building with his head down, looking understandably devastated.
I must still be feeling fairly wobbly after hearing about Sienna’s imminent return, because his plight suddenly strikes me as incredibly sad. The breakdown of a relationship once so full of promise. All those dashed hopes and dreams. One person left to pick up the pieces of their life …
My throat is suddenly thick with emotion. I’m no stranger to the trauma of love gone wrong. I know exactly how Dieter Hanson must be feeling today.
‘I felt so sorry for him, I sent him an invitation to our wedding,’ says Andrea.
Her announcement is so unexpected, it instantly catapults me out of my sudden gloom.
We all stare at the bride for an incredulous moment. Then Chloe and Sophie burst into gales of laughter.
Andrea purses her lips. ‘Well, that’s not very nice, I must say. The poor man must be absolutely devastated.’
‘Oh, Mum, we’re not laughing at him being jilted.’ Chloe looks guiltily at me. ‘It’s just do you really think he’s going to want to come to your wedding?’
Andrea shrugs huffily. ‘Probably not. I just thought it might cheer him up to be asked.’
Chloe looks at me as if to say, A film star at my mum’s wedding? I think not!
But when Andrea glances at me for support, I find myself nodding. ‘Absolutely. You need all the support you can get at a horrible time like that, when you feel as if nothing makes sense any more and all the colour has been bleached out of your world.’ I swallow hard. ‘And your guts are being slowly dragged out through your mouth by an alien force …’
All heads whip round to me. I suddenly remember where I am and my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
‘Right, let’s get some shots of this amazing dress,’ I say hurriedly, moving round to find the perfect angle.
Bloody hell, it’s not like me to overreact like that. Especially in a professional setting. Mum’s bombshell news about Sienna coming home has knocked me completely off-kilter.
Andrea fills a glass with champagne, which she shoves into my hand, clearly thinking I need it after my bout of emotional leakage. A glass of delicious fizz would definitely help. But after taking one sip, I set it firmly down.
I’ve learned from experience.
At one of my first ever weddings, the champagne in the bride’s room was flowing freely and I was so nervous, I drank two glasses on an empty stomach then spent the next three hours trying to enunciate my words and keep the camera from wobbling. I have no memory of taking the photographs, although strangely, it turned out to be one of the best albums I’ve ever produced. What it lacks in formal group shots, it more than makes up for in candid, relaxed photos of all the guests, which suggests I was snapping away happily as if I was on my holidays.
Thankfully, the bride and groom loved that album. Even if I did have to delete an unsually high number of blurry images and photos of nothing but feet.
I’m very aware it could have been a different story altogether.
I steer clear of the champagne now, tempting though it is. One sip is definitely enough.
The girls are admiring themselves in the mirror and chattering away about the cancelled wedding.
‘I feel dead sorry for poor Dieter,’ Sophie says, thrusting her face close to the mirror to apply more lip gloss. ‘It was bad enough when Ryan dumped me last year, but imagine how horrible it would be having it splashed across the front pages like that.’ She nods at the tabloid newspaper on the bed. ‘I’d absolutely want to hide away forever.’
‘I hope it’s not a bad omen,’ says Andrea with a nervous giggle.