Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Steph’s extravaganza would have put the royal family to shame, had they been there.
I’m not entirely sure that they hadn’t been invited, actually, for the coup of the century, but in the end, she had to make do with the likes of me.
I had arrived, as directed, at my parents’ house at practically daybreak on the morning of the wedding. Nick dropped me off, grinning.
‘Will I recognise you next time I see you, or will you have had a Steph-over?’
I grimaced.
‘Probably. But I’m going to go with the flow. At least Minty will be there, too; we can compare our dresses and hairdos and remind each other to behave.’
Blowing me a kiss, he drove back home; he would be at the church later but for now I was on my own.
Flinging the front door open, Steph, resplendent in a long ivory satin bathrobe, feathery mules and her hair in rollers, gawped at me.
‘Was that Nick?’
‘Yes.’
‘Isn’t that all off?’
‘I don’t know what or who gave you that idea, but no, of course not.’
‘But Dorothea said it was. What about me?’
What about you? And why are we talking about this on your wedding day? But I knew the answers. It was, and always had been, all about Steph, and that wouldn’t change.
‘I’m sure you’ll find someone ideal to help,’ I said soothingly. ‘Now, shouldn’t I be getting into my dress?’
I allowed myself to be shoehorned into my horrible dress and my hair to be curled and teased and sprayed until I looked like Medusa had put her finger in an electric socket.
I posed awkwardly for ‘ad hoc’ photos of ‘the girls’ getting dressed and didn’t even blanch when Dorothea removed my half-empty glass of champagne saying, ‘That’s enough, Laura.
No one likes a tiddly bridesmaid.’ It was as if Nick’s love had cast a protective bubble around me, inside which I could hear and see everything, but was unaffected by it.
‘I’m so glad it’s worked out for you and Nick,’ said Minty, after she had dragged me to the bathroom, where she produced half a bottle of champagne from behind the shower curtain and poured some into a tooth mug for us to share.
‘Oh god, look at my hair,’ she moaned, gazing into the mirror.
‘I look like my mother in the nineties.’
‘I was hoping it would drop a bit as the day goes on,’ I said, giggling. ‘But this is the sergeant major of hairsprays; there’s no way it will fall out of line until it’s been washed at least twice.’
There was a sharp rap at the door.
‘Hurry up in there, the cars have arrived.’
I quickly rinsed out the tooth mug and we emerged, to step into the waiting cars and be whisked off to the church.
As we walked down the aisle, I felt a swell of emotion.
After all, there was my baby sister, on my father’s arm, looking beautiful in her elaborate dress.
I was happy for her. I glanced sideways and saw Nick, his eyes only on me, and gave him a grin Dorothea would have despaired of (‘Bridesmaids should be demure, Laura, and resist drawing attention to themselves.’) When the ceremony was over, we posed again for about a million photos before repairing to Radley Hall, Hugo’s family seat, for the reception.
I took longer to look at it now than I had done when we went to the concert.
It was a rather forbidding – and to my mind, ugly – pile, which had been enthusiastically restored by the Victorians in the gothic revival style.
There were lots of towers, pointy windows and steep roofs with grotesque gargoyle finials.
‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ said Minty loudly, ignoring the surprised or disapproving glances of several wedding guests.
‘God knows what the Victorians were thinking; there was a perfectly serviceable Jacobean house there before, until my ancestors decided to mess it up. I think it’s even worse inside – you’re quite sure that Dracula’s going to pop out any second and sink his teeth into you, if he could find his way past all the soft furnishings.
No wonder Dorothea feels at home there.’
Giggling, we walked in through the looming porch into the large, ornate hallway where we were each given a glass of champagne and were soon joined by Nick as well as a steady flow of Minty’s friends and family.
By the time we were ushered through to dinner, held in the ballroom, which had been set up with about twenty round tables, my feet were killing me, and I kicked off my tight, high-heeled shoes.
I was, of course, seated at the top table, with Nick elsewhere in the room.
Given the cost and the elaborate nature of the wedding, I had fully expected a modern, fancy parade of tiny portions decorated with jus of this and foam of that, with a shaving of the other, so I was surprised to be presented with a traditional, rather flavourless, British menu, which started with leek and potato soup.
‘My mother insisted on our cook masterminding the whole thing,’ muttered Minty, who had swapped around the name cards so that we could sit together. ‘She trained about a million years ago and has never changed a thing, so don’t expect any garlic or colours other than brown and orange.’
‘I’m surprised Steph was okay with it,’ I said, breaking off a piece of the rather tough bread. ‘I would have thought she’d wanted something more frou-frou.’
‘She probably did,’ said Minty. ‘But can you imagine challenging Dorothea and my mother? This is how weddings at Radley have always been done; anything else would be considered distinctly beneath them. At least the wine’s good, and there’s plenty of it.
Probably had to develop that tradition to wash down the awful food. ’
Four courses later, with my gigantic portion of sticky toffee pudding and custard barely dented, came the speeches.
Dad did brilliantly and brought a tear to my eye, and Hugo managed an adoring few words about Steph, which she looked pleased with, and a barely audible thanks to the bridesmaids.
Next, we were ushered into yet another huge room for coffee and, when we returned to the ballroom, all the tables had been cleared and rearranged around the sides of the room while a band had set up at one end.
Hugo and Steph took to the floor, guests forming a circle around them as the strains of ‘Everything I Do’ by Bryan Adams started up.
All the bridesmaids had been instructed to participate in the first dance, swaying awkwardly in a line to watch the bride and groom.
As soon as they were joined by Dorothea and Giles, then others, Nick came over to me and held out his hand.
I took it gladly and, as his arms slid around me, felt happier and more relaxed than I had all day.
I just had to hope the hairspray wouldn’t asphyxiate him.
‘Are your duties over?’ he asked.
‘Just about. I’m required again in about three hours to jump around excitedly for the bouquet throwing – but definitely not catch it, because Jen-Jen’s going to do that—’
Nick burst out laughing.
‘It’s already decided who’s going to catch the bouquet?’
‘Oh yes,’ I said solemnly. ‘But we all have to fight over it like desperados, otherwise it won’t look right. Then I have to be there to wave them off on their honeymoon. Only then am I allowed to go home. I’m not sure I can stay awake that long, to be honest.’
‘I’ll keep you going,’ said Nick, pulling me onto the dance floor. ‘And our reward at the end can be a twelve-hour sleep followed by a huge breakfast and an invigorating walk with Steve.’
I danced happily in his arms, thinking how perfect that sounded.