Chapter Ten
The sun shines through my bedroom window, casting spots of shimmering light over the room as I hurry in from the bathroom, hair wrapped up in a towel.
Today has to be perfect - we’re viewing Lucy and Alex’s wedding venue, and as I’m the stand-in for the groom, I need to be on top form.
No clumsiness, no silliness, no feet stuffed into mouths - today, I need to be the epitome of grace and organisation - the ideal maid of honour.
I’m weirdly nervous as I carefully apply my make-up in anticipation of Lucy’s mum and aunt’s arrival.
I feel like I’m meeting a boyfriend’s parents for the first time, though of course, I’ve never done that.
Still, I imagine the anxiety is similar - the tightness in the chest, the fussing over what’s appropriate to wear, the worry that you might seem too coarse or too ill-mannered.
I’m still jittery as I wait with Lucy in the living room, cup of coffee clutched in hand. I start slightly when she places her palm on my jiggling knee.
‘Calm down, Leesh!’ She clucks her tongue. ‘What is up with you?’
With a wane smile, I lift my shoulders and shake my head.
It’s easier to do that than to explain the real issue - that I’m afraid I’ll make a terrible impression on the mother of the bride and that I’ll prove that I’m not up to the task of helping Lucy on the run up to the most important day of her life.
Before Lucy can say another word, she’s interrupted by the doorbell.
‘Oh, that will be them!’
She hurries off to greet them at the door, while I take a deep breath and stand up from the sofa, smoothing down my sundress.
It’s set to be extremely hot today, so I tried to pick out an outfit that was appropriate for the occasion while still keeping me cool - my nerves are guaranteed to have me sweating buckets, I don’t need a stuffy ensemble to exacerbate the problem!
Dragging my feet, I walk into the entry hall and smile shyly at the two women standing in the doorway.
‘Alicia, this is my mum, Gina.’ Lucy gestures to the tall lady with pale blonde hair. ‘And my Auntie Jen.’ She nods to the shorter one whose long dark locks are coiled into a stylish chignon.
It was a good idea to go for my floral patterned sun dress - both Gina and Jen are dressed in almost matching blazer and linen trouser sets, although Gina’s is periwinkle and Jen’s is navy piped with white.
If I’d have opted for my first outfit option - shorts and a baggy t-shirt - I’d have looked a right scruff next to these elegant, proper grown-ups.
With a smile that could warm even the coldest heart, Gina comes forward and clasps my hand in hers.
‘So, this is the illustrious Alicia we’ve heard so much about over the years.’
Illustrious? I don’t think I’ve ever been described in such manner during my whole three decades and a bit on the planet! Still, the sincerity of Gina’s comment emboldens me to relax some.
‘That’s me, I guess!’ I giggle, my nerves beginning to fall away. ‘I’ve heard so much about you too, it’s great to finally meet you both.’
That’s a half lie - Lucy has told me loads about her lovely mum , but this is the first time I’m even hearing the name Auntie Jen. The aunt in question looks much more severe than her sister, with her sharp, ice-blue eyes and expression like she’s permanently smelling something unpleasant.
‘Hm, likewise, I’m sure,’ Jen replies, a whisper of sarcasm in her tone. ‘Shall we get going, then?’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t like a cup of tea first?’ Lucy gestures towards the kitchen. ‘I can show you guys my bridal planner, one of the bridesmaids bought it for me, and -’
‘Well, there’s no point in faffing around, is there? After all, you didn’t have us come out all this way just to see the inside of your house, did you?’ Jen snaps impatiently. ‘Let’s just get to this venue.’
And with that rather rude remark, she marches off towards the parked Vauxhall on the road while Gina shrugs apologetically and follows after her. Lucy and I exchange quick glances before heading out ourselves and bundling into the backseat of the car.
‘I can’t wait to see Thicklewick Manor, Luce,’ Gina comments as we drive off. ‘It sounds wonderful, the perfect place for a wedding.’
‘It is, Mum, it really is.’
‘I suppose the groom hasn’t had much of a say in anything,’ Jen snorts with unkind laughter. ‘What’s his name again, Alec?’
Lucy’s Mum lets out a saccharine, too loud to be real laugh. ‘Oh, Jenny, it’s Alex , you know that.’
‘That’s the one. I bet he’s just had to go along with all your girlie ideas, eh, Luce?’
‘Actually, Alex has been very involved in the planning process,’ Lucy responds evenly, though her fists are shaking in her lap. ‘Thistlewick Manor was his suggestion.’
That shuts Jen up sharpish, and I can’t stop the satisfied smirk from sneaking across my face as she mumbles a weak reply and remains quiet for the rest of the journey.
I spot a stacked-stone turret towering over a hedge as we speed down a country road, then take a quick turn to the right down an impossibly long driveway, rows of bright blue and white hydrangeas lining either side.
The sprawling lawn is neatly striped and in the distance, I can see an ivory fountain in the middle of an immaculate flower garden, overlooked by a grand pergola.
The manor itself is just as impressive as its grounds - a grand, wisteria-draped building that might have been plucked from one of those steamy Regency television shows.
All four of us fall silent as we park the car and wander somewhat timidly toward the limestone stairs that lead to the oak double doors.
No one seems to want to knock, so I take matters into my own hands and lift the heavy brass knocker thrice.
Within a minute, it opens to reveal a fair-haired man in a crumpled shirt and slightly grubby khaki trousers.
‘Welcome back, Lucy! Oh dear, I must apologise for my dishevelled appearance, I’ve been doing some weeding this morning.’ He fondly shakes her hand before turning to the rest of us. ‘Hello, welcome to Thistlewick Manor, you must be the mother of the bride, the maid of honour, and -?’
Jen waits a beat before sulkily responding. ‘The bride’s aunt.’
‘Excellent! I’m David Clarke, owner of the manor and your tour guide for the day. If you’d like to follow me, we’ll jump straight in.’
The floorboards creak tunefully as David leads us through the winding halls, explaining the historical function of each room with passionate zeal. Dumbstruck, I gawk open-mouthed at the sheer grandeur of the manor, marvelling at every scroll-work sconce, oil painting and fabulously opulent chamber.
‘It must be incredible to live here, David.’ I crane my neck skywards, staring in awe at the celestial mural painted across the ceiling. ‘I’m insanely jealous.’
‘Oh goodness, I don’t live in the manor, no!
’ he chuckles heartily. ‘No one has for over thirty years, not since my Uncle Robert had ownership. I have a much more modest house in the village, although there is a room upstairs that I’m able to stay in should the need arise, say, if an event runs long or my historical research takes me into the wee hours. ’
‘Has that ever happened before?’
A boyish twinkle appears in David’s eye. ‘Once or twice, perhaps. Once I get started digging into history, I find it quite difficult to stop!’
He leads us along a winding corridor and up a flight of stairs to a well-appointed powder room, complete with a large vanity table, pale sage wallpaper with a textured, art-decor style pattern and a huge full-length mirror framed with gleaming silver filigree.
‘This is the bridal suite where you and the groom will be stationed after the wedding. We’ve got all the mod cons, including a shower room through there, should you need it. We’ll be serving champagne and croissants the morning after, too.’
‘It’s a beautiful room!’ Her smile widens as she looks around, eyes a-twinkle. ‘And I sure like the sound of croissants.’
Scowling, Jen pokes an ornate chaise lounge with a manicured finger. ‘Furniture looks a bit tired.’
David blinks, momentarily astonished before swiftly reverting to his regular, chipper manner.
‘That’s an antique . Every single furnishing in this manor is an antique, except of course, the tables and chairs we’ll be using for the wedding breakfast. I’ll take you through to the dining hall now, we’ve got it all set up for you.’
We gasp in unison at the sight of the reception room.
Before three windows that stretch floor to ceiling, a long top table sits proudly, laden with pale pink rose petals and tiny silver glasses containing flickering tea lights.
Ten round tables cover the floor, each crowned with a silver candelabra and delicate chiavari chairs graced with blush chiffon bows.
David crosses the room and tugs at a braided golden rope, which lifts an ivory draped curtain to reveal a dance floor, complete with huge wooden letters lit up with LEDs that spell out LOVE.
‘Oh darling, it’s perfect!’ Gina gushes, eyes already shining as she takes it all in. ‘You’ll have the best day here, my girl, I just know it. The grounds will be so beautiful for photos, too.’
‘If the weather isn’t a wash-out,’ Jen comments unhelpfully.
David clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable and unsure what to do with Jen. You and me both, Dave!
‘Well, I’ll - I’ll let you ladies have a look around yourselves. If you need me, I’ll be in my office. It’s just down that corridor, first door on the left.’
Sighing, Lucy runs a hand along the soft linen of the top table, then spins around to face us.
‘Do you guys really love it?’
‘Is that a serious question?’ I scoff in disbelief. ‘This is amazing, Luce. Imagine what it will look like when we’ve got all your rustic decor in.’
Her eyes shimmer as she looks around, mentally placing each vintage book and glass atop the tables.
‘Rustic? ’ Jen wrinkles her nose. ‘Oh dear, I don’t like the sound of that.’
Lucy’s smile falters. ‘What do you mean, Auntie Jen?’
‘Well, why would you want to clutter up a nice room like this with old bits of tat? You should go for something more contemporary, like those big champagne glasses you can get filled with diamantes and feathers.’
I snort with derision at her gaudy, tasteless idea, and when she shoots daggers my way, I quickly disguise it as a cough.
‘I’m not sure contemporary really works in a venue like this, Jen,’ Gina chimes in gently. ‘It is a historical manor, after all.’
Irritated that no one seems to agree with her, Jen huffs and squares her shoulders like an overly proud peacock. ‘Well, don’t take my advice, then.’
Pretending to be interested in the view outside, Jen turns her back on us. While she’s distracted, I stick my tongue out at her and whisper in Lucy’s ear.
‘Don’t worry, we won’t!’
*
It’s a long day, made much longer by Jen’s whinging at every given opportunity, but finally, Lucy and I are dropped back at the cottage.
‘You’re sure you don’t want to stay for a cuppa?’ Lucy offers. ‘It’s a big drive back for you both.’
‘No dear, I think we’d better get a move on.’ Gina leans in so her sister won’t hear. ‘Jen’s getting in one of her moods, the longer we stay, the more mardy she’ll be, I’ll get her out of your hair!’
I could kiss Gina right now, but instead I settle for a hug. ‘See you at the hen party!’ I beam at her.
‘Can’t wait,’ she grins back. ‘Say goodbye, Jen.’
Auntie of the Year murmurs something from the passenger seat of the car, and I don’t bother to ask her to repeat it.
Soon enough, it’s just me and Luce again, standing on the front step of Appleseed Cottage. She elbows me gently in the ribs, linking her arm around mine.
‘Let’s you and me go and have that cuppa.’
The second we’re inside, we switch the kettle on, and I search through the cupboards for a couple of chocolate biscuits. Once the tea is brewed, the long-awaited debrief commences.
‘Sorry about my horrible auntie.’ Lucy tuts as she sits beside me on the sofa. ‘It wasn’t my choice to invite her.’
‘I’d have had your head examined if it was!’ I chuckle behind my mug.
‘Ugh, I know - and she’s worse than I remember.
’ Lucy buries her head in her hands. ‘God, why do some family members get away with murder? They just seem to get a pass for the hurtful things they say, no one dares call them out on it for some reason. And if you ever try , everyone glares at you across the dinner table, like it’s forbidden to bring up anything that might cause a scene, despite the fact it was dear old auntie who started it in the first place! ’
‘It’s one of life’s great mysteries, I suppose.’ I shrug my shoulders and sigh in camaraderie, though honestly, I can’t relate.
My family doesn’t really do drama, (not since the awful divorce, at least) and I know I’m in the lucky minority.
It’s probably because our unit is so small - Mum has no siblings so there’s no interfering aunties or uncle to contend with, and we don’t see my dad’s side at all, or him, for that matter.
It’s pretty much me, Mum, Sam and Kevin against the world, with occasional cameos from Nan and Granddad.
‘I hope she behaves herself at the wedding.’ She bites her lip. ‘I can just imagine the sort of snarky comments she’ll be making about the decor and my dress all day.’
‘I’ll make sure she behaves,’ I promise firmly. ‘That’s part of my duty as maid of honour, right? Keeping unruly aunties in check?’
Grinning, Lucy clasps my hand tight. ‘Thanks, Leesh. You’re the best maid of honour ever.’
I stretch my lips into a pale imitation of a smile, which isn’t easy as my tummy begins to twist and turn so insistently, I have to press a hand against it like I’ve got period cramps. I just hope against hope that I can live up to Lucy’s expectations.