Monday
I woke the next morning to a kiss from a showered and dressed Jamie.
‘I’m going to help Dad on his rounds,’ he said, picking up his bag. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I was a bit disappointed we weren’t going to start the day the way we’d ended yesterday, but it was nice to have the bed to myself, I couldn’t deny. I snuggled down under the crocheted blanket. Jamie may have had his faults (his taste in music being one. I was not having Metallica as the first dance at my wedding, no matter how persuasive he could be) but I couldn’t fault his work ethic.
I was a bit of a workaholic myself, but at that moment my job seemed very far away. I stretched out in the bed and closed my eyes, drifting off into sleep…
And then there was a furious banging at the bedroom door. I sat up with a start, my heart pounding, and looked at the clock. Gosh it was nine-thirty. I’d not intended to sleep for so long.
I pulled on my dressing gown, and stumbled to the door, bleary eyed. Harry stood there. She was wearing black cigarette pants, with a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off her smooth, brown chest, and her hair pulled into a glossy top-knot. I stared at her. She was carrying her iPad, brandishing it like a clipboard.
‘Esme,’ she barked. ‘Why aren’t you dressed?’
‘Because until two seconds ago I was asleep,’ I said. ‘Why are you dressed like someone from The Apprentice?’
Harry looked down at her outfit.
‘I’m your wedding planner,’ she said. ‘I’ve dressed for the job.’
‘Oh no you’re not,’ I said. I turned and padded back to bed, pulling Suky’s blanket over my legs.
Harry followed me into the bedroom. She perched on the side of the bed and prodded me with one neatly manicured finger.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fun.’
‘No,’ I said. I closed my eyes. Harry pulled the pillow out from under my head and hit me with it.
‘Harry,’ I said, infuriated. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘Come on. We’ve got loads to do. I’ve arranged to meet Millicent to talk about the food, and then we’re going to Leona’s to sort out your dress, and your mum said you’ve got an appointment with Kirsty about the ceremony.’
Reluctantly I sat up. Harry was right, I did have a lot to do. Sorting out a wedding in five days wasn’t going to be easy.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But you’re not in charge.’
‘I am,’ Harry said. I looked at her through narrowed eyes.
‘Okay, you’re in charge,’ she said. ‘But I’m still the co-ordinator.’
‘Whatever makes you happy, H,’ I said, privately vowing not to let her co-ordinate anything.
Harry waggled her fingers at me and with a shower of silvery sparkles, a mug of tea and a plate of toast appeared on my bedside table.
‘No magic,’ I warned.
She shrugged.
‘Tansy’s gone for a walk with Parker,’ she said, waggling her fingers again. My wardrobe doors swung open and out flew a pair of jeans and a jumper. They plopped onto the end of the bed.
‘Get up,’ she said, picking up a slice of toast and taking a bite, then putting it back on the plate. I swatted her with my dressing gown belt.
‘Go away,’ I said. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes and we can go to see Millicent.’
I hit the shower, pulled my own blonde curls into a much messier version of Harry’s sleek bun, and put on a bit of make-up. Then I headed downstairs to find Harry.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, writing a list. She looked up as I came in.
‘Finally,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
I let her hustle me out of the front door, pausing just long enough to pull on my coat, and into her mum’s new car – a chunky version of the new-look Mini. It had replaced the battered Beetle our mums had shared for twenty years that had finally died last winter.
Harry folded her legs into the driver’s seat and we set off down the road. The snow showed no sign of thawing. It was still bitterly cold. I briefly wondered if it was too cold to snow or if that was a myth. It really was icy, though. And so still and quiet with no passing traffic.
Harry parked in the town square and meekly I followed her into the snowy street. Some teenagers – I assumed – had built a huge willy from snow in the middle of the square and two women I didn’t recognise were busy knocking it down, chuckling to themselves as they did. Harry looked at me and rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was giggling too.
We went up the stairs that led to Millicent’s B&B and rang the bell. She answered straightaway, as though she’d been standing behind the door, and pulled me into a hug.
‘Oh, Esme,’ she said. ‘You’ve been so brave, saving those people. They’re doing well by the way, I’ve been on to the hospital. And now you need our help and we’re going to do whatever we can to make sure your wedding goes without a hitch.’ She went off into peals of laughter. ‘A hitch,’ she repeated, letting me go and standing back so we could enter. ‘Without a hitch.’
‘Hi Millicent,’ I said, taking off my coat and hanging it on a hook in the shape of a stag. My coat looked slightly odd, hanging from one antler. ‘Thanks for offering to help.’
‘No problem at all,’ she said, showing us into the lounge. It was a big room with high ceilings, stuffed full of furniture. Harry and I sat down on the red tartan sofa. Millicent was English – one of the many people who had escaped from the rat race and come to Claddach in search of a better life – but she really, really loved Scotland. She used Scottish phrases that had once sounded odd in her Surrey accent but now just sounded, well, like Millicent. She wore a lot of tartan and saw it as an interior design must-have; the whole B&B was decorated in various shades of deep red with accents of tartan and tweed and pictures of stags, castles and pipers on the walls. Needless to say, the tourists all adored her hotel and she was enormously successful. Harry and I both thought she was brilliant, though we hadn’t always felt that way. And there was no doubt that if you needed something doing in Claddach, she was the person to ask.
Millicent had a pot of tea and a plate of homemade biscuits (shortbread, natch) ready for us.
‘Shall I be mother,’ she said, pouring tea into three cups. ‘And Harry, you tell me what you need me to do…’