Chapter 3
Debra was having a meltdown about her fascinator, which was anything but fascinating.
She’d rejected the ones the royal designer had offered, declaring them “too fancy”.
Now, she pulled a face in the full-length department store mirror, shook her head, unpinned the baby blue one, then picked up another.
This time, it was coral, which matched her dress perfectly.
She pinned it, then caught Ash’s eye in her reflection.
“Better, or worse?” She tilted her head one way.
Ash nodded. “Better.” They’d been on the fascinator fast train for the past half an hour, and she was eager to get off at the next station.
However, her mum screwed up her face. “You don’t think the blue would be better? More contrast? I watched that interior design show the other night, and they did a lovely room with coral and baby blue.”
“The only problem is, you’re not a room, Mum. Go with the coral. Matchy matchy is all in.”
Her mum frowned. “But does it say Mother of the Bride?”
Ash rolled her eyes internally, got up, and put an arm around her mum. “It doesn’t need to say that, because you are the mother of the bride. It’s simply a fact.”
But Ash knew what her mum wasn’t saying. That there was another mother of the bride, who happened to be the Queen. Which was why she was putting the weight of the day on a six-inch piece of feathered millinery. Coral or blue, she’d still fret.
“Do you know what colour Cassandra’s wearing? Do Queens wear fascinators?”
Ash bit down a smile. “I’ve no idea to both questions.”
Debra frowned again. “I’m going to get them both and decide at home.”
“Good choice.”
They walked out of the changing room, the woman at the door giving Ash a double-take, recognising her face, but struggling to place it. She got that a lot these days.
Being England captain had given her a tiny slither of niche fame. Marrying the heir to the British throne meant she was in the tabloids weekly. However, not many people expected to see her in John Lewis shopping with her mum, so they mainly looked confused.
The only real change to their routine was the car. Ash had stopped taking the tube the day she was made England captain, but the chauffeur thing was still new to her mum. Debra liked to pretend she missed her freedom. Ash knew she secretly loved being driven places for free.
They walked through the store, past the handbags section, then through the haze of the perfume and makeup departments, before exiting onto a side street and getting into Ash’s royal car. She wasn’t even married yet, but the privilege had already started.
Her mum slid onto the black leather seat, pulled on her seatbelt, and wiped her face where the rain had caught her. “This bloody weather.” She turned to Ash. “Did you reply to Jaz and Beth, by the way?”
Her aunt and cousin were also having a mini-meltdown. It turned out if you married into royalty, it caused a million questions from family who suddenly had no idea what to wear to a wedding, even though this was not their first rodeo.
Ash rolled her eyes again, this time externally. “Yes, and I told them to wear what they’d normally wear to a wedding. But that didn’t go down well. Jaz has got something made especially, and Beth raided Ted Baker. My whole family are going to upstage me on my big day, aren’t they?”
Her mum covered Ash’s hand with her own. “They just want to do you proud, love. They want to show the watching world that Victoria is marrying into a good, solid family. One that dresses well and looks the part.”
When they arrived back at her parents’ street, there was a row of photographers camped at the end, all looking thoroughly miserable in their waterproofs.
Ash almost felt sorry for them.
Almost.
As the wedding drew near, the neighbours had agreed that only those who lived on the street were allowed in and out. The royal family had provided staff to police the perimeter, which meant the car sailed straight through.
Debra clambered out, shopping bags banging against her legs. She threw herself through her bright pink front door, which they’d recently repainted on account of the daily attention. However, Ash wasn’t so lucky, being snagged by Julie from next door.
“All right, Ash!” Julie stepped forward and gave her a hug, as fat rain drops fell on Ash’s cheeks. “I wondered if we’d ever see you around here again, now you’ve gone up in the world! Nice to know you still have time for us little people.”
Discomfort rippled across Ash’s skin, but she smiled at Julie all the same. “I still remember my roots,” she told her. “Lovely seeing you Julie, but it’s a bit rainy for a chat.”
Ash gave Julie the widest smile, then dived inside before she could say anymore. She could already feel the long lenses from the end of the road being trained on her, and she did not want a photo with her hair slapped to the side of her head.
At the wooden kitchen table, her dad hunched over his laptop, glasses perched on the end of his nose, scowl in full bloom.
“How’s it going?” Her mum dropped her bags, then kissed the top of her dad’s head as she made a beeline for the kettle.
Her dad sighed and sat back. “I don’t know. I always thought I’d quite fancy doing the father of the bride speech, but now I know I’m one of two, it’s extra pressure, isn’t it?”
Ash stepped behind him and started kneading his shoulders.
He leaned into it with a groan.
“You could see it as an advantage. You’re a man of the people.
You bring a different perspective. Plus, you know me like nobody else.
Sure, Oliver will do his speech, but it won’t be yours.
” She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, just as her mum had done.
“Don’t stress. Whatever you say will be perfect. ”
He smiled up at her. “Thanks, love.”
Did he believe her? Ash had no idea. But she was going for the tactic she used with her team. Nobody responded well to criticism, whereas most people responded well to positivity.
She sat at the table next to him.
“How’s your speech going?” he asked.
She and Victoria had agreed they’d both say a few words. Which was a lovely idea, but Ash had been avoiding it for days. Victoria had already written hers, which only piled the pressure higher.
“Haven’t started it yet, but it’s only going to be short, so I’m not too worried,” she lied.
Her dad gave her a sceptical look, then reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sure it’ll all go smoothly on the day, and there will be some wonderful memories to look back on.”
“Provided you and I manage to walk up the aisle without tripping.”
“Why would you say that?” her mum shrieked. “I had a dream the other night that happened, and the whole congregation sucked in an audible breath, the organ player paused, all while the world watched.”
Ash exchanged a look with her dad. “Thanks Mum, really reassuring.”
Her mum walked over with a plate of chocolate digestives, waving a hand as if that would never happen in a million years.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll both walk down the aisle no bother. Julie next door will still be asking me for an invite. And my fascinator will be pored over by fashionistas the world over.”