Jess had hopped on the Luas and got off at Stephen’s Green. She was meeting Amy for dinner later in Carluccio’s and had no intention of driving. One of the main joys of teaching was the holidays, and she had spent all morning repainting her bathroom, which had been a nasty shade of turquoise and was now a lovely pale French grey. It perfectly showed off the old-fashioned white bathroom ware and silver taps. She would love to install a fancy power shower and new tiles, but that would have to wait until next year, as her budget was blown, and there was just so much work to do in the old cottage.
She had treated herself to a cut and a blow-dry and then spent an hour shopping on Grafton Street for something new to wear. Why everyone had to make you feel a freak because you wore a size sixteen or eighteen was beyond her! It was bizarre that all the shops had mostly the same clothes in the same small sizes, and anyone even a fraction larger was frowned on. She had found a great-fitting purple skirt, which showed off her long legs, and although it was a little tight in the waist had impulsively bought it. She was dieting like mad, and hopefully in another month or six weeks it would be perfect on her. Glancing at her phone she realized the time, and headed for the restaurant, where she grabbed a table near the window.
‘Hey, your hair looks great!’ Amy enthused, noticing the minute she saw her. ‘You should keep it that length for the wedding.’
‘Thanks.’ Jess’s hair, when it was long, went wavy – and not romantically, but in a crazy, standing-on-end way that made her look like she hadn’t touched a hairbrush.
‘You look great yourself.’
Amy always looked beautiful, and Jess noticed enviously her figure-tight black trousers worn with high-heeled fitted boots and a simple black top with a classic white shirt underneath.
‘We were crazy busy in the office all day, so I’ve just come straight from work. We are putting in a tender for a big new client account and Norah and I were working on it.’
They ordered wine and decided to share a plate of antipasti, both opting for a pasta main course. Jess was tempted by the rich creamy pasta and chicken special but, thinking of her new skirt and being a bridesmaid, opted for the lower-calorie tomato and basil tagliatelle served with a salad.
‘Did I tell you about the invitations that I am looking at?’ Amy asked, producing a few samples from her handbag and passing them to her. ‘The first three are the ones I like best. Which do you prefer?’
Jess studied the three cards. One was plain and simple, classic black and white on expensive gold-edged card. The second had a raised design with Amy and Dan’s initials entwined, and the last had a picture of a couple in silhouette, which was kind of different.
‘I like the last one.’ She smiled.
‘That’s my favourite, too.’ Amy beamed. ‘But what do you think of these font styles and sizes?’
She passed Jess a sheaf of pages with the same wedding invitation printed in a variety of ways: curly writing, Celtic style, looking like it was handwritten, Times New Roman.
‘I wouldn’t have a clue,’ Jess admitted, passing the samples back to Amy.
‘I’m torn between types five and eight,’ mused her friend, putting them back into her big handbag. ‘And I’m trying to decide on a colour scheme for the tables and whether we should put a touch of that on the invitations, too.’
Jess shrugged and took some Parma ham and asparagus. It was to die for.
‘Honestly, there is so much to do I can understand why some brides hire wedding planners to do it all for them,’ Amy murmured, taking a few olives.
Jess remembered her older sisters’ weddings, which seemed just to have happened. Deirdre’s had been a big bash held in the local hotel, with every cousin and auntie and uncle imaginable. She herself had been forced to wear an awful pale-pink dress with a big bow at the back. She’d looked like a marshmallow. Her Uncle Jim had got so drunk he had fallen and broken his ankle, and her Auntie Patsy had screamed at her husband Tony about being unfaithful for half an hour just before the bride and groom cut the cake. And then everyone had cried and laughed and sung and danced till all hours of the morning, and her mam had taken to her bed for four days once Deirdre and Shay had gone on their honeymoon.
Her sister Ava had got married only three years ago, and had opted for a wedding in Spain with about sixty guests in a hotel on the beach in Marbella. The photos had been amazing, and they had spent four days in the sun celebrating.
‘Are you listening, Jess?’ reminded Amy, dangling paper serviettes in front of her. ‘Which one?’
Over the next few hours all Amy talked about was the wedding!
The flowers . . .
The music . . .
The band . . .
The speeches . . .
Naming tables . . .
Table places . . .
Jess tried to pretend she was interested, but when Amy began to discuss the colours on the place name-cards she frantically tried to change the conversation. However, unrelenting, Amy kept on and on . . .
Jess ordered a carafe of wine. She needed another glass. How had her best friend become like this? she wondered.
Amy was rabbiting on, all stressed and obsessed with minute details instead of focusing on the fact that she was marrying Daniel. Gorgeous, kind, funny Daniel; if she was ever lucky enough to meet someone like Daniel Quinn herself and get engaged to him she wouldn’t give a crap what colour the place name-cards were or print-size the invitations came in!
‘How’s Dan?’ she asked.
‘Fine. But he wants us to take off and go surfing for Paddy’s weekend in Lahinch! It’s absolutely impossible when there are literally only a few weeks left to the wedding. There’s no way we can go! Then he’s got his stag night away with all the lads in Edinburgh, and then there’s my hen weekend.’
‘The hen is all in hand,’ teased Jess. ‘All I can say is that it is going to be great fun!’
Jess had told Amy they were going to a spa, but had secretly planned something completely different. It would be a hoot. The girls were all up for it, and she’d book two great restaurants, one for the Friday and one for the Saturday night.
‘I’m so looking forward to it,’ confessed Amy. ‘The spa and the hotel you booked sound brilliant. It should be so relaxing!’
‘Yes, it’s going to be really relaxing.’ Jess laughed, trying to keep a straight face.
Mustering her willpower she refused the temptation of gelato and pannacotta, sipping her wine instead and ordering a frothy cappuccino.
She watched as Amy tucked into a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. How was it Amy never put a pick of weight on despite eating so much?
‘For God’s sake, Jess, take a spoonful!’ urged Amy, offering her a delicious scoop.
Jess gallantly tried to change the conversation from boring wedding talk to the latest Colin Farrell film that was opening in the cinemas that weekend.
‘That guy Dermot who was in college with us directed it!’
‘That waste of space never turned up for lectures and smelled like a Moroccan bazaar!’
‘Yes. I saw his photo in the paper. He’s still got the hair and tatty jeans but he’s in Hollywood now, working on some new horror film. A few of the college crowd were thinking of going along to see it.’
‘Honestly, Jess, do you think that I have time to go to the cinema? I doubt I’ll see the inside of the multiplex until I get back from my honeymoon. But, talking of the college crowd, these are the ones I plan to invite.’
As they lingered over their coffees Amy went through all the mutual friends they had that she was planning to invite to the wedding.
‘Wow, it’s a big crowd you’re having!’
‘Of course.’ Amy laughed. ‘We both have lots of friends, and then there’s the family and relations and the parents’ friends, too. Do you think I should put Chloe and Orla on the same table, or am I asking for trouble?’ she mused.
Jess rattled her brain. She remembered the girls having a big bust-up about some guy in first-year Law they both went out with.
‘Chloe’s back with him, and I heard they’re talking engagement.’ Amy giggled. ‘But Orla adored him. He was her first love.’
‘Well, I don’t think they’ll fight at the wedding!’ Jess teased.
‘I know, but if Orla has a few glasses of wine she’s likely to fling herself at him!’
‘Separate them! Put them as far apart as possible, and put a nice guy on Orla’s table.’
‘Jess, do you realize that every single girl I know wants me to put her on a table with a great single guy?’ Amy sighed dramatically. ‘Daniel and I are planning a wedding, not a matchmaking service!’
Jess laughed. Her own hopes plummeted. She was dreading spending so much time around Liam bloody Flynn and was hoping to ask Amy to introduce her to someone else from Daniel’s work or old college crowd. People always seemed to meet other people at weddings! That’s how her mam and dad had met! And Deirdre and Shay had met at his cousin’s wedding. It was a well-known fact that a happy occasion like a wedding was the perfect venue to meet someone; better than a nightclub when you were both off your face drunk. What could be more romantic than a wedding!
‘Jess, are you listening? I was trying to decide if we should give favours at each place-setting. They do it at some weddings.’
‘Excuse my ignorance, but what the hell is a favour?’
‘It’s a little token gift for each wedding guest to show that they are special. It could be sweets, or biscuits, or a little toy, or a glass figurine. It’s really big in America.’
‘I don’t think people will be expecting it at an Irish wedding!’ Jess teased. ‘They’d far prefer a few drinks at the bar.’
‘I don’t want the wedding to turn into a drunken hooley like your sister’s wedding,’ Amy retorted hotly.
Jess muffled her disappointment. She’d been hoping the wedding would be just as much fun as Deirdre’s had been. They hadn’t got to bed till almost 6 a.m., and the chef in the hotel had been bribed by her dad to cook an early-morning fry-up for those who could stomach it before they went to bed. Deirdre and Shay, happy and bedraggled, had headed up the queue for sausages and rashers and fried eggs.
‘Jess, I want my wedding to be perfect. You understand, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ she reassured. Jess knew that getting married and having a big wedding with all the trimmings had always been Amy’s dream. She’d been talking about it since she was about eight, when they used to play Barbie weddings and dress themselves and their dolls up. That had been an age ago, and though Jess had firmly left those days behind, Amy was busy playing her own grown-up version of dress-up Barbie with her wedding plans.
‘Jess, I’m so lucky to have you as my chief bridesmaid, as you know what Ciara is like!’
‘I’m honoured.’ Jess laughed. ‘But Ciara’s a good kid. She’s just a bit different to you, that’s all. Mam says sisters are either like peas in a pod or chalk and cheese.’
‘Cheese, definitely, with that wild child! She has Mum and Dad worn out with her antics, and now she says that she is going to fail her exams.’
‘Thought she was a clever clogs.’
‘Yeah, when it suits her, but drama is her middle name. God knows what she’ll do on the wedding day!’
‘She’ll be your beautiful bridesmaid and sister,’ Jess reassured.
‘Jess, you’ve always been my rock, and such a friend and support. I know that I can trust you totally on my big day, while Ciara will probably act up like she usually does.’
Good old reliable me, thought Jess to herself. Third time being a bridesmaid with not a sign of a romance of my own! Up and down church aisles like a yo-yo. I’ve already got two godchildren, and no doubt when Amy has a baby I’ll be a godmother again!
She tried not to be a little jealous as she thought how life was all mapped out for Amy – engagement, wedding and babies – while she had not even got one foot on the relationship ladder yet, and maybe never would . . .
‘One more glass of wine and then we’ll get the bill,’ Amy called over to the young Polish waitress.
Forty minutes later, as they settled up and went to get their coats, Amy, almost as an afterthought, remembered to ask Jess about her life.
‘Jess, what have you been up to?’
‘Well, my class are making their First Communion in two weeks’ time,’ Jess smiled. ‘So it’s my job to turn twenty-seven little devils into angels so they won’t let us down!’
Amy yawned.
Jess flushed. Having the First Communion class was a big deal in St Brigid’s School. OK, her life might not be as exciting as Amy and Dan’s, but to her mind getting her class of eight-year-olds through the minefield of first confessions and rehearsals in their local parish church without incident would be a minor miracle. Then she was trying to teach them to sing a load of hymns, and had to get involved with the parents organizing the post-communion class party back in the school. To top it all, she still hadn’t found a suitable outfit to wear, given the fact that she was meant to look suitably stylish and professional on the day.
‘It’s a really nice thing to be involved in, but a lot of work.’
‘Mmmm, I’m sure it is,’ Amy said, putting her wallet back in her handbag. ‘Listen, Jess, I’ll give you a shout next week, as we have to get shoes for you and Ciara.’
Jess prayed that she wouldn’t be expected to wear killer high heels or the like for the wedding, but thinking of Ciara knew that Amy’s sister would point-blank refuse to put anything on her feet that didn’t suit her. She’d probably want to wear trainers.
‘Take care of yourself,’ Jess urged, as they both walked up to catch the late-night Luas tram. She had never seen Amy so uptight and distracted. ‘And remember to give my love to Dan.’