I wasn’t sure what we wanted Millicent to do. I looked at Harry for help. She gave me a brief, business-like nod and switched on her iPad.
‘I’ve drawn up some menus,’ she said.
‘Have you?’ I was surprised. Harry hadn’t inherited our mums’ talents in the kitchen.
‘Mum helped,’ she admitted, obviously meaning Suky had done the whole thing for her.
‘I’ve got various combinations of dishes,’ Harry went on. ‘I thought we could work out the best ideas, then see what ingredients we need to make them and get people to donate what they can.’
‘I don’t want people going short just for my wedding,’ I pointed out. Harry waved away my concerns with an elegant flick of her hand.
Millicent was making notes in a Cath Kidston notebook with a pen shaped like the Loch Ness monster.
Harry jabbed the screen of her iPad.
‘For instance,’ she said briskly. ‘If we choose carrot soup as a starter, we’ll need thirty pounds of carrots. We can ask people to give us whatever carrots they’ve got. Then I’ve got a team ready to do the cooking…’
She meant Mum, Suky and Eva.
‘And we’ll need waiting staff,’ Harry said. ‘I thought if Imogen was home she could take that on.’
Millicent beamed. She was very proud of her beautiful teenage twins Imogen and Bradley who were both now at university. I was fond of Imogen myself. She’d had a hard time when she was younger but she’d really come out of herself recently.
‘Immie just got back in time,’ Millicent said, a shadow crossing her face. ‘But Brad got stuck on his way home. He’s gone to stay with my in-laws in Glasgow.’
And he’s probably loving every minute, I thought unfairly.
Harry started talking about mushroom soup and I zoned out, staring out of the window as they talked. Millicent’s grey stone town house had a small square front garden full of rose bushes. There were no flowers now of course, and the bare plants bowed under the weight of the snow. Beyond the garden was the road, normally buzzing with traffic and passers-by, but today it was quiet and still. I loved Claddach’s energy usually, its feeling of creativity and how it was unafraid to be different, but it was also very busy most of the time. In the summer months it was over-run with tourists and in winter there were more than enough writers’ retreats, artists’ colonies and poetry workshops to keep the hotels, restaurants and our café busy. It was nice, though, to see the streets quiet and still. It felt a bit like a breath, as though the whole town was waiting to see what happened next. I shivered. Waiting to see if the wedding goes ahead, I thought, over-dramatically.
‘We can set up collection points,’ Harry was saying, as Millicent scribbled frantically, her Loch Ness monster wiggling.
I frowned. This was getting way too complicated.
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘This is crazy. Why don’t we just put the word out and ask everyone who’s coming to bring something. It can be like a pot-luck wedding breakfast.’
‘You might end up with thirty lasagnes and nothing else,’ Harry warned. I grinned at her.
‘Well, so what?’ I said. ‘I like lasagne.’
Millicent looked up.
‘I can coordinate,’ she said. ‘People are bound to ask me what they should bring. I’ll just keep track of who’s bringing sweet and who’s bringing savoury. It’ll be fine.’
‘Thank you, Millicent,’ I said, grateful my wedding hadn’t turned into a warped version of a harvest festival.
Harry looked relieved too. She shut her iPad case with a snap.
‘Oh thank god,’ she said. ‘I’d confused myself with all those recipes for soup. Millicent, can you ask Immie if she and a couple of friends can help serve the food? Chris from the pub is doing the bar and he’d just had a delivery before the avalanche so we should be okay for drink.’
‘If anyone asks, I’ll get them to bring a bottle of wine too,’ Millicent said, a cheeky glint in her eye. We all stood up and Millicent put her arm around me.
‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she said in what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but actually made me feel slightly nervous. ‘I’ll take care of it all.’
‘So that’s the food sorted out,’ I said, as we emerged back out into the town square. ‘What’s next?’
‘Dresses,’ Harry said. I gave a little skip and clapped my hands. I’d been hoping she’d say that.
‘Leona’s expecting us,’ Harry said, guiding me towards the dress shop. ‘She says she’s got some ideas.’
Leona definitely had ideas. She had dug out a couple of sample dresses and hung them up in the fitting room ready for me. My first wedding dress, the one I’d ordered when Jamie and I were engaged first time round (before I screwed it up) had been very Jane Austen inspired. It had a square neckline, little capped sleeves and an A-line skirt. This time round I’d found I couldn’t even look at that dress. I’d sold it on eBay and Leona had helped me pick a different style. It was more modern, sleeveless with a deep V-neck, straight skirt, and all-over lace like Kate Middleton’s. I loved it, but I knew it was quite detailed and I doubted Leona could recreate it in the few days we had left.
‘This is the sort of thing I think you should go for,’ Leona said, pulling open the curtain to reveal the dresses she’d found.
I gasped in delight. They were both fifties-style with nipped-in waists and full skirts. One had sleeves and the other didn’t, and one had a neat belt while the other had a sash made from ribbon.
‘They’re simple and easy to alter,’ Leona explained. ‘I’ve got accessories that will work with both of them, and I’ve got bridesmaids’ dresses in a similar style.’
‘I love them,’ I breathed. I reached for the one with the little belt and no sleeves. ‘This is the one I like best.’
‘Very Audrey Hepburn,’ Harry said. ‘Try it on.’
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I took off my jeans and my jumper, and Leona helped me into the dress.
‘It’s not going to fit,’ she warned. ‘It’s a size ten and you’re a twelve.’
She zipped up the back as far as it would go. I breathed in, but the zip wouldn’t go up all the way.
‘Don’t worry,’ Leona said. ‘I can let out these seams no problem.’
I looked at myself in the mirror.
‘I like it,’ I said. ‘I really like it.’
‘Some gloves,’ Leona said, opening a drawer in one of the mirror cabinets round the edge of the room and finding a pair. ‘Try these ones first, then I’ll dig you out a new pair on the day – we don’t want them getting marked.’
I pulled them on, feeling like a Hollywood starlet. The dress fell to just below my knees. It had a full skirt and a narrow waist with a fitted bodice. The gloves covered my arms up to above my elbows. It wasn’t how I’d ever imagined my wedding dress to look, but I loved it.
‘I’ll go and find you some shoes so you can see it with heels,’ Leona said. She disappeared into the back room of the shop.
‘And we can put your hair up,’ Harry said. She stood behind me and twisted my curls up, holding them in one hand. I grinned at her in the mirror.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘I’ve not found a hairdresser yet,’ she said.
‘You know what I mean.’
Harry looked serious.
‘I’ve always felt a bit guilty,’ she said. ‘For you and Jamie not getting married before. I kind of felt responsible.’
I turned to face her.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I said. I’d got involved – sort of unwillingly – with Harry’s former business partner, which had led to me and Jamie splitting up for a while. It was a long story and really quite messy. I didn’t like talking about it, which was why Harry and I never really mentioned it.
‘But I was the one who brought Xander into our lives,’ she said, chewing her bottom lip.
I gave her a small smile.
‘I think he would have arrived whether you wanted him to or not,’ I pointed out. Xander had been determined, to say the least.
Harry sighed.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to make it up to you, that’s all. I couldn’t bear the idea of another wedding being cancelled.’
‘I appreciate it,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘I really do. But don’t feel responsible. Nothing Xander did was your fault.’
She nodded.
‘Just as long as you know I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘I know.’