Chapter 34
The morning of the wedding is bright and crisp – cold, but not in a way that is unpleasant or wet or icy. The sky outside the hotel room window is actually blue, which is nice. There’s always a worry, with winter weddings, that they will be dull. Well, not in this family, but you know what I mean.
We’re at a country hotel just outside Leeds, the sort of place with grounds and deer wandering about like they own the place, and really tiny, fancy little foods, rather than the cosy staples you want at this time of year.
I can’t remember what food I chose, but I know that it wasn’t fish and chips, or steak and ale pie.
I’m here, I’m in my silky mustard dress – as per the dress code for women.
Men are to wear black suits, which is easy; most men have a black suit.
I did not, however, have a mustard dress, so I had to buy one.
Not sure I’ll ever wear it again, but at least I’m not a bridesmaid, so I got to choose a fit that suits me.
April, Hannah’s bestie, is wearing her mustard bridesmaid dress, and it’s far too frilly for my liking. I’m so glad she never asked me.
Today is going to suck, frills or not, let’s face it.
It should have been my big redemption arc.
Me swanning in, fresh back from New York, fancy new job, handsome man on my arm.
That was supposed to be the story, after what happened at the engagement party.
It was going to show everyone that I was okay now.
That what happened in the summer was just a blip, not who I was.
I guess I was hoping that, if people were going to be talking about me, it would be for good reasons, rather than gossiping about what happened before.
I don’t want to be known for that – as the dick pic girl, who exploded with rage by the toilets.
I can already feel the glances. Is that Liberty? Didn’t she have a bit of a breakdown last time? And maybe I’m imagining it, maybe this is me projecting, but I’m already tired of defending myself in my head. I know things are bad when I’m rehearsing my arguments.
I’m currently in Hannah’s hotel suite, sitting in a velvet armchair in the corner, sipping prosecco – the breakfast of champs.
Hannah’s sitting centre stage, in front of the mirror, checking her curls are still secure. She seems calm but excited. Not nervous at all.
The room is full of women – everyone giddy and full of prosecco, so you can imagine the volume level.
My mum, her usual breezy, chatty self, is passing around pastries, which will hopefully sober up some of the older ones, but leave me with my buzz, the one that’s going to get me though the day.
Auntie Eleanor is perched on the edge of the chaise, sitting awkwardly, trying not to crease her outfit.
Gran looks gorgeous in her twin set, with her big hat (not as big as Auntie Eleanor’s though – hers is so big it’s got its own seat by the door).
And then there’s April. Hannah’s best friend.
Who had a wedding in the south of France last summer that, if you believe her, was attended by a minor royal, a footballer, and two runners-up from Love Island (different seasons – not sure why that matters).
‘I mean, yes, technically we had fireworks,’ April continues, examining her nails, ‘but classy ones, not tacky ones. We flew in an opera singer from Rome – you really struggle, to find quality in the UK these days… although I’m sure your wedding will be great, Han.’
‘Thanks,’ Hannah says with a smile.
I think I’d be taking offence from that, but why get upset on your wedding day?
‘No one had fireworks back in my day,’ Gran says. ‘Well, not unless people had too much to drink and started spilling family secrets.’
‘Remind me to buy you a few cocktails,’ I joke.
She gives me a wink.
‘I really can’t wait,’ Hannah blurts. ‘I don’t even care about the fireworks. I just want to be married. Honestly. I know it won’t always be perfect, but we’re going to buy a bigger house, have babies, start our family right away, not leave too long between each kid.’
‘How many do you want?’ Mum asks.
‘At least four,’ Hannah replies.
‘Wow, and I thought one was a handful,’ my mum jokes.
‘I was an angel,’ I protest playfully – although I’m sure I was. I’m more chaotic as an adult, to be honest with you.
It’s nice to hear that Hannah has a plan. She knows what she wants and she’s starting strong, going all out to get it. Sure, it might not pan out that way, but she’s looking to the future and she’s excited.
My heart feels heavy. I have no relationship, no job, no dreams – no hope.
And of course I’m sitting in a room full of married (or very soon to be) women. The one sad single girl listening to everyone being excited for the future, or reminiscing about the past.
Whatever way I look, it makes me feel sad.
I feel like a tornado, leaving chaos in my wake, knowing I’ll destroy wherever I head next – but not the wedding, I’m going to be on my best behaviour today.
I want things to be perfect for Hannah. That’s why I’ve told people Jordan is still held up, but he sends his apologies.
My brave face is firmly on, now I just need to work out the prosecco dosage to keep it there.
It’s going to be a long day.