Chapter 67 Amy
There are shrieks when I appear in Flynn’s morning suit, a white bath towel folded over my arm like a waiter. Flynn helps me with the tie and I catch myself in the full-length mirror.
‘Leave it,’ I tell him as he fiddles with the strap on his blush-pink bridesmaid’s dress for the millionth time. ‘You look great,’ I promise. How often have I grumbled about how I look? Yet now I’m out of my body I can treat myself how I treat other women.
Laura is on the dusty pink velvet stool, her hair in rollers, a girl fussing over her as she delicately applies enough make-up to make it look like Laura isn’t wearing any make-up at all. The soft light in here makes her look dewy and gorgeous. I step over and offer to fill her flute and she gives me the widest smile.
‘Looking foxy, Flynn,’ she says, patting my bottom and ensuring this is met with more shrieking.
I can see Flynn’s surprised face as he sits uncertainly at the foot of the bed, smoothing the dress before placing his hands piously in his lap as he gazes round at all the women staring in mirrors, blowing on fingernails and sipping drinks. A giggle rises up and I move across and hand him a Buck’s Fizz which is almost entirely orange juice.
‘Alright, Amy?’ I ask, nudging him with a foot.
He just stares up at me in bewilderment.
Being in the middle of this energy, Taylor Swift playing on someone’s Bluetooth speakers, makes me want to break into dance. I’m so much lighter now than a few hours ago. Flynn returned from the walk, an arm around me as we watched Mum disappear inside to find Geoffrey and pack up their room. He told me I should talk to her, then pulled me close and whispered that he loved me.
When I look across at Mum, carefree on a seat next to Laura, anxiety flutters. What did he learn? What should she tell me? We will have to ask her, I know that. Mum isn’t someone who keeps secrets from us. I’m sure it’s simply that she doesn’t want to overshadow Laura’s weekend with something worrying her. We’ll sort it after this weekend.
I am extra attentive, making sure she is waited on too. I realize I often don’t put Mum first, don’t fuss over her, have always let her look after me, the baby of the family. I was always Daddy’s girl and proud of it, then since he died I’ve been so wrapped up in losing him, I’ve neglected Mum.
I want this to be the best day, and Flynn laid out the ways we can practically help. Also being in this body, channelling Flynn’s energy, I reflect on what he would do right now if he was me. He is a magnet for fun. I have realized since Dad I’m so quick to be a killjoy, a mix of guilt and self-importance stopping me from cutting loose.
I suggest a ridiculous photoshoot, getting each hen posing with Laura, getting Mum in the mix, forcing selfies with Flynn and bouncing around the room, ensuring everyone’s glasses are topped up and they’re having a good time. It feels good to simply be sharing this moment, watching Mum crease with laughter and pride as she rests a hand on Laura’s shoulder. Laura was right on the call the other day – I do need to loosen up and allow myself some fun. I can’t rail against every injustice all the time. I can take a day off.
I’m just lining up another shot when Patty strides into the room. She’s like a Dementor, everyone quaking as she swoops around the room, threatening to descend on her victim. In this case it is, of course, the bride.
‘The wedding planner isn’t up to muster,’ she announces, her wide-brimmed lilac hat like a spaceship we might all be forced to board. ‘The band seem to be wandering around the grounds with no clue where they’re to be playing. I’ve lost the flamingos, I think they’re hiding. The chef’s outraged because I dared to ask him a question about the duck – the French can be so sniffy about their food – and don’t even get me started on the napkin placements …’
Throughout her speech I can see lines appear on Laura’s glowing face, her mouth turning down, the light dimming in her eyes.
I want to throw my hand towel over Patty’s head and bundle her outside, but I know I need to behave impeccably and not upset Laura. Flynn, however, has stood up, smoothing his blush-pink bridesmaid dress as if he’s about to go into battle.
Stepping forward he grips Patty’s forearm and in a loud voice starts sympathizing with her predicament. ‘This is frankly dreadful,’ he says, making me sound posher than I have ever sounded before. ‘But I am certain that together we can get these things sorted and it will all be gurt lush.’
Patty starts mouthing underneath the hat, but Flynn steamrolls on.
‘I mean, with both of us on the case, we can make all those problems go away. I insist that we get going immediately. Shall we?’ he suggests and Patty, clearly determined to have Laura leaping up, seems to wither in the face of such confidence and meekly allows Flynn to steer her out of the room.
‘Now where the band be to, then?’ he says loudly in my Bristol accent, clearly for my benefit.
Laura’s jaw unclenches, her whole body relaxing as she watches Flynn steer Patty away.
He gives me a wink as he leaves, one hand fiddling with the strap on his dress as he waves goodbye. My eyes meet a grateful Laura’s in the mirror.
‘Buck’s Fizz, anyone?’ I suggest, and I bustle around the room once more, delighted to see her laughing again.