Christmas at the Little Wedding Shop

The last person in the world I want to see.

I’ll spare you the worst details. Enough to say, his name was Johnny, it was back in uni days, and my humiliation was complete. End of.

Shrinking back against the line of hanging dresses, I try to make myself invisible as I creep forwards to hear better. I’m literally turning my ears inside out, but as the voices move through into The White Room the volume fades. Which is extremely annoying, because they seem to be chatting for ages. And whatever I said about this being the last person in the world I want to see, part of me is aching to catch a glimpse. Just the teensiest peep to see if I’m right. And despite my sensible head screaming ‘no, no, no’ it’s as if my bad-girl feet have a will of their own.

Before I know it, I’m through in the hallway. My bridesmaid’s dress might be expansive, but desperate times and all that… A second later, I’m swirling the skirt, winding tulle around my legs, like I’m folding an umbrella. Hauling it into some kind of diagonal surrender. By the end my ankles are clamped so tight under the twists of fabric, I have to jump to move. But the good news is I’m slender enough to squeeze in beside the Christmas tree and duck behind the mannequin that’s dressed in an Alexandra Pettigrew Sophia dress. And despite the occasional soft jingle from the sleigh bell Christmas deccies I disturbed, I’m enjoying an unrivalled, yet concealed, view of the shop door. What’s more, I’m pretty certain so long as I don’t move I won’t be spotted.

‘Cross my heart, promise I’ll literally only look for a nanosecond.’ I whisper to myself, making ridiculous bargains with whatever fates hurled Johnny across my path. I mean St Aidan is on the edge of Cornwall. No one comes here by accident.

So long as I remember not to breathe, and not to let my heart bang too loudly, that’s everything covered. Which is damn good timing, because the next thing I know, there’s the clatter of loafers on floor boards and they’re back.

‘Well thanks for the bears.’ That throaty lilt sailing over Jess’s shoulder has to be Johnny’s.

Even thinking his name makes me cringe. But bears? Everyone wants to buy the knitted bear wedding couple from the White Room window because they’re unbelievably cute and dinky. But no one’s allowed to because they’re our Brides by the Sea shop mascots. They’ve been here as long as we’ve been open.

‘My pleasure.’ Jess’s triple-volume croon says it all.

We all know Jess would sell her grandmother given half a chance, but surely not those particular six-inch-high, knitted bears?

Suddenly there’s no need to move because Jess takes one step sideways and leaves me a clear view. There’s that feeling where your whole stomach drops so fast you feel it’s left your body. And then it’s like there’s water rushing through your ears, and a whole flock of seagulls just got loose in your chest.

It’s him.

Except older. And thinner. And ten years more worn. But still the same hollow cheekbones, still flipping that same piece of hair back off his forehead. For a second I think I’m going to die. But then Jess begins to talk again.

She’s got her hand on his arm as she reaches for the door handle. ‘So enjoy the wedding… and Christmas… and good luck with your best-man’s speech…’

Wedding? He’s here for a wedding? I gulp so hard at that I almost inhale the veil that’s dangling next to my cheek. As the shock of the word makes me lurch, there’s the softest tinkle of a bell. And even though it’s the tiniest sound, two heads whip round towards the tree. And just as my eyes lock with Johnny’s dark brown ones, and I see his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, Jess lets out a squawk.

‘Sera? What are you doing behind the Christmas tree?’

Just what I didn’t need. But I can still bluff it. My brain’s racing so fast it’s already reached the excuses pile. Nuts between floor boards. Loose mice. Lost bears. I’m wavering, weighing up the long-term pitfalls of each answer. I’ve pretty much decided to go with the pistachio, and I’m this close to getting away with it when one kitten heel gets jammed in a knot hole in the floorboards. Had my feet been free to move, I might very well have got away with it. Working with the tourniquet of my twisted skirt, I don’t stand a chance. Balance? I’ve completely lost it.

What begins as a tiny wobble, expands to a series of lurches. I’m aware I’m somehow in free fall, and from the hideously loud jangling beside me, I’m guessing I’m taking the Christmas tree with me. Before I know it, I’m in a nose dive, and the floor’s rushing towards me.

‘Waaaaaaaaa‌aaaaaahhhhhhhh…’ My scream has to be huge, because I can’t hear the sleigh bells any more.

In a last-minute effort to avoid a face plant, I hurl myself over onto my back. As the sequins on my dress splinter across the floorboards, and the tree comes crashing down, the face I’m looking up into is Johnny’s. On the up side, the thump of the impact has apparently culled the entire seagull flock. And even though my breathing has turned to gasps, there still isn’t enough force in my chest to make words.

Johnny’s pushing the tree back to the vertical with one hand, still holding his bag of bears in the other. Which pretty much sums up my life. The guy catches the tree, while I end up on the floor. Sprawled horizontal is never the best look, even if my legs are wrapped up like a mermaid’s tail. Especially when my beachy blonde hair and freckles look so bad with the colour of the dress. That’s why I concentrate on my career, every time.

And for once, that cool sardonic smile of Johnny’s is bursting into a laugh.

‘Seraphina East. All in pink.’ He rubs the back of his free hand across his forehead as he looks down at me. ‘I knew there could only be one of you in the world. We must stop meeting like this.’

And then he’s stooping, grasping my hand, and before I know it, a waft of delicious man scent whooshes past my nose, and he’s whisked me back onto my feet. What’s more, as I drag a stray pine cone out of my hair, my dress is unravelling as if it’s alive. In the time it takes to blink, I’m back to the shape of one of those doll birthday cakes, with a Barbie body, and a sponge made in a pudding basin. Except in my case, it’s without the boobs.

‘You see… he said “pink” too.’ I’m sticking my chin out at Jess. ‘And what about the bloody bears? Who said you could sell them?’

It’s not often that Jess is lost for words, but for some reason it must be catching, because she’s opening her mouth and closing it again, and no sound’s coming out. And we’re all standing staring at each other when there’s a warbling noise from The Seraphina East Room.

Johnny’s the first to react. He raises his eyebrows. ‘Anyone expecting a Skype call?’

Fate works in mysterious ways. Johnny disappearing at the speed of light? Or me? Either is good.

‘That one’s mine.’ I hurl myself towards the sanctuary of The Seraphina East Room.

Johnny’s voice echoes after me. ‘Sorry to have disturbed your Friday. I’ll let you get on, then.’ So like him to want the last word. Although that’s not exactly true. The last time I contacted him he didn’t get back to me. At all.

A second later I’m in front of the laptop, staring at an empty chair on the screen, wondering where the heck my Bridezilla sister has got to.

2 (#u60404d61-4139-5196-bb00-56345d14b5f7)

Friday, 16th December

Brides by the Sea: Red carpets and wild ideas

‘So is Alice online yet? I’m dying to see her.’

As Jess swoops in next to me on the chaise lounge, she almost knocks my laptop off my knee. With any luck, Alice will move her on from Johnny. Although I’m aching to find out if he mentioned where the wedding was he was going to. Not that he can possibly have any link to Alice’s wedding. Can he?

‘Alice will be along any second.’ I’m whispering to Jess in case Alice comes back on screen. ‘She’s in Brussels, with an army of builders.’ As planned, the ‘b’ words have Jess leaning in even more intently.

In case you’re wondering, Alice works in international interiors. We’re currently waiting for her to attend to urgent site business, which probably means she’s bringing her make-up up to speed before she comes on screen properly.

As Alice’s figure sweeps past the webcam, Jess’s voice shoots high with surprise. ‘Oh, she’s dark. And beautifully groomed. So you’re not alike at all, then?’

Despite the insult, I can’t help laughing, because it’s true. Alice rocks the ‘Audrey Hepburn, poised for the red carpet’ look. Whereas I’m more ‘Courtney Love, the morning after’.

‘Great, I’m here now…’ As Alice slides into view again, she’s got her professional voice on, although it’s less snippy than usual.

‘And she’s so glossy.’ Given Jess is murmuring at my elbow, I take it she’s set on joining in and making this a conference call.

As for the gloss, it’s the expensive sort, not the flashy kind. The prefix high-end applies to every item in Alice’s life. But despite ten minutes spent applying concealer, she’s still got tired-shadows under her eyes.

‘I’ve been trying to get you for hours, Sera…’ She’s exaggerating. Obviously. It’s barely eleven and I’ve been next to my laptop for ages.

But whatever, the tension between us is already crackling. And I’ve no idea why exactly. When we were kids she was the kind of older sister who bossed me about without mercy, but she always stuck up for me when the going got tough. Since we left home, we respect each other’s views and lifestyle choices. Although they’re not the ones we’d choose for ourselves, we care about each other from a safe distance. And like so many other siblings, when we get together, we revert to type.

As for the Skype call, if I know Alice this is my reminder to pick her up when she flies in tomorrow. So I’m getting in first.

‘Don’t worry Alice, I’ve set my alarm for six, I’ll be in Exeter when you land… promise…’

There’s a pause, as she rolls her eyes, not believing a word.

‘That’s why I’ve rung…’ Her second hesitation is long enough for her forehead to pucker under her fringe. ‘Actually I’m not going to be able to come tomorrow after all.’

‘But why not?’ My voice is shrill with shock. Alice never breaks appointments. And what about her wedding? There has to be shedloads of work left to do for that.