“We’re never talking about this again.”
“I don’t know why you’re being so uptight about it.” I sigh, keeping my eyes on the ceiling and Cordelia’s train off the floor. “I’ve done this a million times. Every bride needs help peeing in her dress. Think about brides with those really big skirts, how do you think they pee? And you’re lucky to have this big bathroom. Imagine being in a portaloo and attempting it. It takes a lot of skill.”
“Stop talking,” Cordelia snaps. “You’re giving me stage fright.”
I clam up and wait patiently for the tinkle.
“Do you remember our chat in the loos at the engagement party?” I ask her, when she’s started going. “I was in the cubicle and you came bursting in.”
“Oh, yeah. I was so angry that you hadn’t quit already.”
“You made me stop mid-pee.”
“Seriously?”
“You gave me such a fright, the pee literally stopped.”
“I had no idea I had so much power.” I hear her tear off the loo paper.
“All done,” she announces, standing up and flushing, then gliding over to the bathroom mirror while I sort out her train. “So, how do they do it, then?”
“Do what?”
“Brides in big skirts,” she says, washing her hands.
“You can approach the loo frontway on, so your back is to the cubicle door if you get me. It’s more of a straddle,” I inform her, opening and holding out my clutch, which has all her makeup inside. “Or there’s an extremely neat trick with those big blue Ikea bags.”
“You’re joking,” she says, selecting her eyeliner from my bag.
“You cut a large hole in the bottom of the bag and step into it, pulling it up by the handles. The bag neatly contains the skirt, lifting it off the floor.”
“You’re telling me that brides are supposed to bring an Ikea bag to the wedding?”
“No, I make sure there’s a prepared one stowed away in the loo.”
“That’s so … smart.”
“I know.”
She finishes reapplying her makeup and I snap the clutch shut, holding open the door for her to lead the way back downstairs to the reception.
“What did you think of the food?” she asks, taking my hand for balance on the stairs because the banister is covered with opulent flowers entwined all the way round.
“Potentially the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten.”
“And do you think everyone liked the speeches?”
“They were brilliant! Went down a storm. All of them were the perfect balance of funny and emotional. Yours was obviously the best, but don’t tell the others. I loved the story about Jonathan’s pants in Tuscany. And I got a bit emotional when you thanked me.”
“Of course you did. Your tear ducts are very overactive.”
“Are you happy with everything?”
She smiles at me. “I’ve never been happier.”
And I believe her. All day she’s been radiant and relaxed, and no one could possibly watch her and Jonathan and believe they shouldn’t be together. I always look out for the almost unnoticeable, seemingly insignificant moments on a wedding day—the way Jonathan’s fingertips lightly brushed hers when the vicar was welcoming the congregation; how he proudly held out his hand to help her down the steps for some photos in the grounds of Dashwell; her giving him a kiss on the cheek before they went into the wedding breakfast together when she thought no one was looking, then gently wiping the lipstick off his skin.
Cordelia told me that she feels closer than ever to him, now that he knows about everything that happened. They’d talked about it for hours. His insistence that she must have been very brave to overcome that when she was just a teenager is making her start to believe it, too.
These two really are going to look after each other for the rest of their lives.
Cordelia stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Teeth check,” she announces, making sure no one’s around, then curling her lips back so I can inspect.
“You’re all good.”
“What’s happening now?”
I check the time. “First dance in six minutes. Stand still while I sort your bustle.”
While I crouch down to sort the ribbons and shorten her train, a guest spots us hidden round the corner on her search for the bathroom and takes the opportunity of Cordelia being on her own to come and tell her how wonderful the wedding is. As Cordelia’s dress swishes this way and that when she reacts and gestures, I move like a red satin crab around the hem, concentrating on matching each ribbon on the train with its fellow on the inside skirt of the dress.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome the happy couple to the floor for their first dance!” the master of ceremonies announces.
Cordelia forgets what I’m doing and happily floats off toward the dance floor, leaving me in an odd squat, which is hard to get out of in a fitted satin dress on my own. At least I’d just managed to tie the knot in the last ribbon of her dress. I only hope it holds.
A venomous voice floats down. “I know who you are.”
I look up to see Annabel towering over me, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing victoriously.
“Annabel, always a pleasure.” I grimace, straightening and praying that my dress doesn’t rip. Thankfully, it doesn’t.
“You and Cordelia are pathetic,” she declares, once I’m at her eye level.
“Would you mind if we discussed this outside?” I ask, with a winning smile, leading her away from the reception. “I’d rather no one else heard our conversation.”
“Fine.” She sighs, letting me guide her away, eager to offer her opinion on the matter. “Yet another cover-up I’m selflessly aiding.”
I take her out through the same doors onto the patio to which I’d followed Cordelia on my last visit to Dashwell, when Annabel had invited herself round for dinner just to taunt her. This isn’t one of the designated smoking areas, so we have it all to ourselves.
“All right, Annabel,” I begin, ready for whatever she’s about to throw my way. “You can say your piece now.”
“This family is full of secrets and lies. And you are no better than any of them. A professional bridesmaid? It’s so embarrassing! She had to hire a friend! My God, I think I’d leave the country if anyone thought I’d do any such thing.”
“It’s not embarrassing, Annabel. It’s my job. And hiring a bridesmaid isn’t the same as hiring a friend.”
“Why should I keep this secret for Cordelia?” She smirks, relishing the moment. “Maybe people deserve to know the truth about her.”
“What truth is that?” I ask, irritated. “Anyone planning a wedding for four hundred people would need a little bit of help.”
“The press would love this. Lady Cordelia Swann is so pathetic that she had to hire someone just to spend time in her company.” She shrieks with laughter. “It’s too hilarious!”
“Cordelia is not pathetic,” I argue, ruffled on Cordelia’s behalf. “If anyone is pathetic, it’s you.”
She recoils. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say confidently, the rage bubbling inside me, brushing any fear of her aside. “You’re the one who’s pathetic, Annabel. You were friends with Cordelia once, and she’d have done anything for you—in fact, I think part of her reluctantly always will because of whatever bond you once had—but you don’t deserve her. You care more about status and how the world sees you than the character of the people you choose to keep close. It’s a bad mistake.”
She looks furious, riled at the audacity of my allegations. “How dare you? I’m not the bad friend! I’m not the one who kissed her boyfriend!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say, exasperated. “Annabel, do you really believe that the boyfriend who cheated on you several times with your mates didn’t also try to cheat on you with Cordelia? Do you really think she instigated it? I’ve only known her for a few months and I’d be willing to bet a lot of money on the fact that there is no way in hell she’d do that to you or anyone else. She’s fiercely loyal, to the point where she’s scared now to let anyone else in, because she doesn’t have the energy to be so heartbroken again.”
She looks frazzled and suddenly unsure, her eyes darting around us, searching for a solid argument to throw in my face. “She was … she was stupid. She was a bad influence. She overdosed, not me.”
“Do you know what I think, Annabel? I think the reason you’re still angry with Cordelia is because you’re angry with yourself. She’s a good person and a good friend.”
“Oh, really?” She snorts. “If she’s such a good friend, then why does she have to pay you to be one?”
“She doesn’t,” I say simply. “She fired me a while ago. I’m here as a genuine bridesmaid, not a professional one. Do you have any genuine bridesmaids, Annabel?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I saw that you’d announced your bridesmaids on social media. Your sister Georgia obviously makes sense, but I was surprised to see you’d asked … What were their names? Oh, yeah, Ella and Madison. You met them a few months ago, in the summer, right? At Ella’s dad’s restaurant opening. Madison is a model based in New York, yes?”
“So?” she asks haughtily.
“So, did I hear a rumor that Madison has dropped out of the wedding because she’s launching her acting career and has been cast in a movie that’s filming soon?”
“She has other commitments in May,” she explains, sniffing. “I completely understand. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
I nod. “I’m sorry to hear that. Genuinely. It’s hard when a friend lets you down, especially on such an important day.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you saying any of this? None of this professional-bridesmaid nonsense has anything to do with me. This is about Cordelia.”
“As someone who’s been to a lot of weddings, trust me when I say this, Annabel.” I take a step toward her, speaking in a sincere and kind tone so she knows that I mean it—I’m not being patronizing. “You deserve people around you on your wedding day whom you trust. You’re going to need them. Go ahead and spend the rest of your time surrounding yourself with people who bring you more status and fame, but when it comes to a day that really means something, make sure you have people at your side you can rely on, people who genuinely care about you.” I offer her a smile. “People who would have your back on your wedding day, should someone accuse you of being pathetic when you’re not in the room. That’s all there is to being a bridesmaid.”
She stares at me, baffled.
“Anyway,” I say brightly, stepping back to give her some space, “it’s been great talking to you. We should go and enjoy the party. We’ll have missed the first dance, but the band is meant to be really good. Also, it’s definitely time for a Jägerbomb, don’t you think?”
She collects herself, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and giving me a look of disgust, sneering, “I have to go.”
She turns on her heel and marches back into the house, slamming the patio doors behind her. Oh, well. I tried. I take the opportunity of a moment to myself, looking out over the view, listening to the muffled music.
“That was intense.”
I yelp, jumping out of my skin at the sound of Tom’s voice as he appears from the shadows, behind a pillar. “What the … Have you been there the whole time?”
He holds up his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, my heart thumping so loudly from the fright he’s given me that I can hear it ringing in my ears.
“I was having a cigarette.”
“You don’t smoke!”
“I used to. I thought I might allow myself one, as it’s a wedding and I’m letting my hair down. Always tempting when I’ve had a few drinks.”
“Well. This isn’t a designated smoking area.”
“Yeah, but it’s quieter out here and I thought I might be able to get away with it, you know, because it’s my house and everything.”
I nod, chagrined, and then we stand awkwardly in silence, listening to the thud of the bass from the speakers reverberating through the house and out across the grounds. I’ve spent the majority of the day avoiding eye contact with Tom, glancing away and pretending I’m not staring at the back of his head whenever he turns in my direction. Earlier his hair was neatly styled—I was impressed in the church when I stole a look—but by now it’s sticking up in all directions. He’s taken off the jacket of his morning suit but, sadly, his wonderful arms are covered with his shirtsleeves. I hope he rolls them up later if he gets hot on the dance floor.
He steps forward with his hand outstretched, a grin spreading across his face. “Sophie, is it?”
I take his hand and shake it, laughing at how cheesy the gesture is. “Yeah, Sophie. Nice to meet you properly.”
“You too. Those were lovely things you said about my sister. Thanks for protecting her. I’m sorry about the way Annabel spoke to you.”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, looking impressed. “I thought I might have to step in but you seemed to have it covered. I can’t help but think after that showdown you might have earned yourself a new client.”
“Why?” I frown at him. “Are you in need of a bridesmaid?”
“After what I just heard, I actually feel that, yeah, everyone needs a bridesmaid.” He grins. “But I was talking about Annabel. She should have taken your card.”
“There’s no chance Annabel would ever consider hiring me. And now I’ve probably given her even more reason to blab about who I really am. No doubt it’ll be all over the press in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. When Cordelia told them the truth about you, Annabel’s parents seemed to think it was a very good idea. Apparently, she’s been under a lot of pressure and they’re worried about how she’s handling it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wake up to a phone call from Lord or Lady Derrington. You may have locked in your next gig.” He grimaces. “Although that would mean you’d have to put up with Annabel and her demands for months.”
“After Cordelia, I’m sure I can handle anything,” I point out, to which he nods in agreement. “I’ll worry about Annabel tomorrow. Tonight, we should enjoy the wedding.”
“Good thinking.”
“Tom,” I say, turning the conversation serious for a moment, “I’m sorry about … everything. I feel really bad about it.”
“It’s OK,” he says, looking at the floor. “I understand. You were doing your job, and you’d signed contracts. And you’ve become an amazing friend to Cordelia—you’ve really been there for her. You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”
“Well, I am. I’m really sorry for lying to you.” I hesitate, trying to read his expression. “Not that everything was a lie.”
“Is that right?”
He lifts his eyes to meet mine, allowing himself a small smile. Cordelia might have got through to him last night. I let myself hope again.
“Yeah. Like when you asked me if I’d like to go for a drink with you and I said I would. That wasn’t a lie.”
OMG! I’M BEING SO SASSY RIGHT NOW.
“Really. That’s interesting.”
“So, if you’d still be game, then we should go on a date. Would you like to go on a date with me?”
UNBELIEVABLY SASSY.
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’d like that,” he says, making my heart soar and my smile break so wide, my jaw hurts.
“Cool! Great,” I say, in a very non-sassy, gushing manner. “What do you want to do? Is there somewhere you’d particularly like to go?”
“With you, Sophie?” He grins. “Anywhere.”
“You have very sexy arms!”
“What?” Tom shouts back over the band.
“Your arms!”
“What about them?”
Wait. Oh, God, what am I saying? Why have I blurted out how I feel about his arms while we’re on the dance floor with hundreds of other guests, dancing wildly to the Proclaimers? All those Jägerbombs have made me completely delirious.
Or maybe it’s Tom.
“What about my arms?” he asks again, pausing his wild array of dance moves to lean in close to be sure he can hear my next answer.
I panic.
“You have them!” I yell.
He gives me a strange look. “Yeah.”
“Cool!”
He starts laughing. “Sophie is weirder than Emily.”
“Your dad made a very similar joke this morning.”
“Dad and I have the same jokes? Uh-oh. That’s not good.”
I smile as he gets back to his dancing, wondering if it might be possible to ask the band how much extra they’d charge never to stop playing, so we never have to end this evening. Since our chat outside, we’ve had to mingle with other guests (him) or help the bride to pee again (me) or wrestle the microphone from Lord Meade before he proposes yet another toast (both of us), but somehow we’ve found ourselves drifting back to each other between our tasks, and now it’s finally late enough that everyone is merry and dancing, and we have an excuse to be together without any duties calling.
The song comes to an end and we belt out the last line, laughing and clapping along with everyone else. As he looks to the stage, I take the chance to gaze at him. He has a very nice neck.
Uh-oh. A new obsession.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cordelia announces into the microphone, slurring her words as Jonathan stands with an arm around her shoulders, steadying her even though he looks mightily unsteady himself. “It’s just a few minutes until midnight, so the countdown to the New Year will soon commence!”
The crowd cheers. She wobbles down the steps from the stage and then, grabbing Jonathan’s hand, she makes a beeline for me and Tom, waving and going, “Yoo-hoo!”
“Are you aware you were saying ‘yoo-hoo’ as you came toward us?” I laugh, as she falls into my arms, the countless glasses of champagne transforming her from an awkward hugger to a normal one.
“Yeah, I really don’t know where that came from. Anyway, I got you a gift. Jonathan!” She whacks his arm, interrupting his conversation with Tom. “Jonathan! Focus! Give Sophie her gift!”
“All right, just a minute.” He laughs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black box.
She takes it and excitedly passes it to me. “I read that it’s nice to give your bridesmaid a token of your appreciation. I should have given it to you this morning, but I was too distracted with the puppy news. Open it.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“Open it,” she insists.
Embarrassed by her generosity, I shyly push open the lid of the Swann & Co. box and stare down at its contents. It’s a necklace from her jewelry line, but I haven’t seen this one before. It’s a silver pendant in the shape of a swan.
“What do you think?” she asks, anxious for my reaction.
I clutch the box. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“I know you like people to spell things out, so let me tell you exactly what this is,” she says theatrically.
“It’s … it’s a swan.”
“All right, smart-arse, yes, I know you know it’s a swan, but let me tell you what it means,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re my best mate. That makes you family. So it represents my family.”
“Cordelia,” I croak, blinking back tears.
“And also, you are a swan whisperer. I have video proof if anyone should doubt it.” She grins. “You inspired me. It’s going to be part of my next collection. It’s called the Sophie Swan. Cute, right?”
I burst out laughing, pulling the delicate chain out of the box.
“Here,” Tom says, taking it from me as I hold up my hair. “Let me.”
He clips it on at the nape of my neck and I let my hair fall loose again, admiring the pendant resting on top of my dress. Cordelia gives me another hug, then pulls back, smiling at me. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
“So, now you’ve made sure the bride is happy,” Tom begins, when Cordelia and Jonathan move away to the middle of the dance floor ready for midnight, “what’s next for a professional bridesmaid?”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the band’s singer announces into the microphone, “prepare for the countdown to the New Year!”
The crowd cheers again. A spotlight falls on Cordelia and Jonathan in the middle of the guests. I smile over Tom’s shoulder as Cordelia gazes at Jonathan, her hands around his waist.
“Bridesmaid rules…,” I begin.
“TEN!” the singer’s voice booms around the ballroom.
“… if the bride is happy…”
“NINE!” the guests all join in.
“… then I’m happy.”
“EIGHT!”
“And if you’re happy…” He smiles, putting a hand on the small of my back and pulling me close to him …
“SEVEN!”
“… then I’m happy.” He gently brushes a loose tendril of hair behind my ear.
“SIX!”
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“FIVE!”
I stand on tiptoe and kiss him. He kisses me back.
“FOUR!”
I know you’re supposed to wait until midnight.
“THREE!”
But, right now, I don’t care.
“TWO!”
It’s like Cordelia says.
“ONE!”
Sometimes it’s fun to break the rules.
From: Dwayne@extremeskydiveuk.com
To: Sophie.Breeze@zapmail.co.uk
Subject: Booking Confirmation
Dear Sophie,
Congratulations, your booking is confirmed for your TANDEM SKYDIVE ADVENTURE on Saturday, 12 February 2022!
Please find details of your booking attached and don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions. We look forward to seeing you soon!
Best wishes,
Dwayne
Extreme Skydive UK … ARE YOU READY TO TAKE THE JUMP?