The Vintage Teacup Club (36 page)

‘Here we go, one last trawl for the Vintage Teacup Club – and our honorary member,’ Alison said.

They’d met just outside the gates by the local car boot sale, where Alison had pulled up in Pete’s Volvo with Sophie in the passenger seat.

‘I’m pretty good at bargain hunting,’ Sophie said, once she’d got out of the car, looking down at the floor and pulling her sleeves down over her hands, then peeking up with a hesitant smile.

We were going to need all the help we could get. I’d spent a couple of hours looking online on Thursday, but while there were still plenty of teacups up there they were either out of our price range or delivery wouldn’t be possible until after the
weekend – and after our wedding. Jamie had found one at the hospice shop, but it was tatty and chipped.

‘OK, let’s get to it,’ I said. ‘We’ve got three more car boot sales to hit before one o’clock, so we’re going to have to be quick.’

‘Not a sausage,’ Alison said, disappointed, as the five of us reassembled by the gates twenty minutes later. ‘Gareth, the guy who sold us the original teaset, said they’d had a few cups out this morning, but they got snapped up really early.’

‘I couldn’t find any either. But this place is brilliant,’ Sophie said, holding up a 1980s framed Madonna print. ‘One pound fifty this cost. And he chucked in a CD too.’ She was beaming.

‘Sophie,’ Alison said, ‘aren’t we meant to be looking for crockery, not CDs?’ She opened the back door of the car.

‘I know,’ Sophie said, then reached into a plastic bag she had hooked over her arm. ‘And while I couldn’t find any cups, I did get these.’ She propped the framed poster up against the car and unwrapped one of the newspaper parcels she’d pulled from her bag. From the black and white newsprint she brought out an antique medicine bottle in pale green glass. The sunlight glinted off it. ‘I got twelve of them, all different colours and sizes. I thought we could use them to
put some of the flowers in on each of the tables at your wedding, Jenny.’ She looked uncertain as she waited for our reaction, hurriedly unwrapping another one to show us.

A smile spread across my face – the second bottle was even more beautiful, larger and a paler green with letters in raised glass spelling out the manufacturer’s name. They would add a pretty vintage touch to the tables. ‘They’re gorgeous, Sophie,’ I said, taking one from her for a closer look and touching her arm in thanks.

‘Anyway, onwards and upwards, ladies,’ Alison said, returning to her usual businesslike manner. ‘Jump in.’

We all piled into the car and strapped on our seatbelts. Sophie put her new CD in the stereo and we drove out of town singing along to ‘Borderline’. Sophie complained that she didn’t know Madonna’s early stuff, but we drowned her out with our off-key voices. Or rather me and Alison singing off-key and Maggie singing surprisingly well.

By lunchtime, though, when we’d stopped for sandwiches in a tea house on the outskirts of town, our spirits were beginning to sink. Our morning’s search had resulted in nothing but a little white sugar bowl with primroses on it.

‘It looks like we should have got up even earlier,’ Alison said. ‘A couple of the stall-holders said that they’d had things but they’d already been sold before
we arrived.’

‘We did what we could,’ I said, my heart heavy. ‘And I refuse to complain about it. I’m getting married tomorrow! Actually,’ I glanced down at my watch, ‘I’d better start getting the show on the road, Chloe’s coming around in an hour to pick up her bridesmaid’s dress.’

As Chloe buttoned up my wedding dress she looked over my shoulder into the mirror. Yes, it had been a stretch financially, but somehow Dan and I had made enough money to cover it and the dress had been worth every penny. Chloe smiled and as we both took in the full picture, I knew she was thinking the same thing. The dress fit me perfectly, the corset underneath nipping in my waist to fit the fifties silhouette, and the sweetheart neckline setting off the string of pearls Alison had lent me. I felt like a film star.

I’d found ivory silk shoes with pearl buckles to match and wore long vintage gloves. Chloe had practised styling my hair so that it fell in soft curls onto my shoulders, the way the hairdresser was going to do it tomorrow morning, and had added a sparkly clip of Grandma Jilly’s to pin back the front on one side.

I did a curtsey for Chloe, the petticoat rustling, and she whistled appreciately.

‘Not bad,’ she said, biting her lip as I saw her eyes start to well up. ‘Not at all bad, Jen.’

I turned to look at Chloe and wondered
again at the wisdom of picking such a totally hot bridesmaid. I think it probably makes me a bigger person, or something. We’d picked out a red dress for her together, with a full skirt to match mine and the same short sleeves, but without the lace overlay. The colour was gorgeous with her pale skin and there was a naughty flash of cleavage that upped the glamour element. I’d had a go at styling her hair but her ringlets had frizzed out, and the result was more Kate Bush on a bad day than sleek silver-screen actress. Together we’d decided that hair like hers was best left to the professionals.

‘Where’s Dan tonight?’ Chloe asked, looking around as if he might suddenly pop out of the bathroom even though I’d told her he was out.

‘He’s gone round to Chris’s. Chris had a couple of new ideas about tunes for his DJ set and wanted to run them by him first.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, fiddling with her silver bracelet. ‘Well it’s great to have a sneak preview of what you’re going to look like tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ I said as I gathered up the skirt of my dress and sat back on the sofa. ‘You’ve made me feel way better.’ Chloe took a seat opposite me. She furrowed her brow in concern.

I knew it was written all over my face that I wasn’t a hundred per cent glowing bride-to-be, no matter what I said. This morning’s failure to replace the cups had been
a real disappointment, and there was no hiding that. I was slowly facing up to the fact that my wedding was never going to be quite the day I’d hoped for.

‘It is all going to be all right, isn’t it, Chlo?’ I asked her, longing for her to tell me it was.

‘Of course,’ she said, taking my hands in hers and giving me a warm smile. ‘Look, let’s get out of these,’ she said, pointing to our dresses. ‘Ali and Maggie will be round in a minute.’ She was struggling to undo her zip and I got up to help her. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you set up the hall,’ Chloe said, ‘but I promised Chris I’d help him print out the table plan. The files he designed and sent me to print corrupted somehow so I said I’d take a look.’ Chloe said, as I slipped my jeans back on and she wrestled to get her hair back in control by tying it back.

‘What is it with my brother?’ I responded, wondering for a moment why she was looking increasingly panicked as her hair refused to lay flat. ‘He seems to be doing more for my wedding than I am. And you’re always round there,’ I laughed.

‘He just wants to make sure you both have a great day, that’s all,’ she said, doing up the buttons on her cardigan. Was I imagining it, or was she blushing?

My thoughts were interrupted by a car horn tooting in the road outside. Chloe and I opened my living-room window and leaned out, taking in the scene in the street. Maggie and Alison had the top down
on Maggie’s Beetle and it was draped in pastel-coloured cloth bunting. We whooped from the window and Maggie tooted back again.

‘Come on,’ Maggie called up from the car. ‘We’ve got a wedding hall to decorate!’

I was crammed onto the back seat of Maggie’s car, next to some of the boxes. ‘You all right back there?’ Alison asked, turning around to face me as we drove out of town. ‘Yes, fine,’ I said, rearranging some bunting that my foot had got tangled up in. As I sat back I looked at Alison and Maggie chatting in the front, talking loudly so that their voices carried over the music.

They both had their hair loose today and the wind had messed it up so that there were more untidy strands than neat ones. I’d noticed when they’d arrived that, like me, they were in jeans and trainers, ready to get down to work setting up. Alison was in one of Pete’s shirts, Maggie in a faded Blondie T-shirt. Laughing with each other now, they both looked more relaxed that I’d ever seen them.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Maggie said, turning to Alison. ‘Do you think Sophie would like a bit of work experience at the shop?’

Alison smiled, but furrowed her brows, questioning. ‘Of course she would. But are you sure you know what
you’d be letting yourself in for?’

Maggie laughed. ‘Yes, maybe. But I also think she could be great – she’s got a good eye, Ali. Anna’ll be covering the shop for me when I’m away in Italy and she could use another pair of hands. Might give Sophie something to keep her occupied during the holidays?’

‘I’m sure she’d love that,’ Alison said. ‘I’ll talk to her about it.’

As I watched Ali and Maggie talking, I thought back to the start of the summer and the moment we’d met, how little we’d known each other then. Step by step we’d let each other in, and now it was hard to imagine that we hadn’t always been there for each other. These women were both so strong, had bounced back from life’s knocks and come out better for it. But then I suppose, somehow, with their help, I had done the same.

The sky behind the old school house was streaked with pink, and as we approached it we all went quiet for a moment. It was as if the little Victorian building was suspended in time; the sunset cast it in a warm reddish light and the weathervane swung in the breeze. Fields lay all around, making it seem further away from town, and modern life, than it really was.

Maggie parked up just outside. ‘This place really is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Jen – you’ve got the key, haven’t you?’ she asked.

I felt for it in my pocket, ‘Yes.’ I’d asked the caretaker if I could borrow it so we could start
setting up early.

‘OK,’ Maggie continued. ‘Why don’t you open the place up, and Ali and I will unpack and bring the things in.’

‘Sure,’ I said, opening the car door. ‘See you in a sec.’

The lock in the big wooden door was a little stiff – not surprising really as it had been years since the building was used regularly. A better-equipped primary school had opened up in Easton, our neighbouring village, and the kids, including Alison’s daughter Holly, had been transferred over there. The school house was such a local landmark however, that the community had come together to insist it wasn’t sold off, and it had become a centre for plays, concerts and the occasional private party. It hadn’t been used for a wedding reception before though, and as a venue it was still pretty rough around the edges – there was nowhere proper to serve drinks (hence Dad’s handmade bar) and on our first visit we saw they’d even left a few freestanding chalk boards around. Alison had spotted and fallen in love with them; so one of our plans for tonight was to make big coloured chalk signposts to the cloakroom and toilets.

As the heavy wooden door creaked open, warm light spilled out from inside. Alison and Maggie were laughing together over at the car as they unpacked the boxes, but the school house itself was silent. Why was there light coming from inside? Had Dad come by earlier
with another key? Surely not, he’d promised me he’d wait until I called him to say we’d arrived, so that we could all set up together.

I opened the door all the way and looked inside. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they did I saw that each side of the room was lit with tealights, leading up to a central wooden table. The first surprise was seeing Dan, the second was registering that the table was laden with dozens of delicate, colourful teacups.

‘Dan, what the … How?’ I said, taking in the whole scene, from Dan’s beaming face to the cups and saucers that surrounded him, a smile spreading across my face.

‘Jen,’ Dan said, walking over to stand in front of me. I felt a rush of love for this man I was about to marry. ‘You’ve been working so hard organising everything; and I know I haven’t always done as much as I could. When the teacups got smashed I could see how upset you were, even though, in true Jen style, you tried to play it down. I wanted to help make everything perfect.’ He reached up to stroke my hair.

I could hear the school door opening behind us, and Alison and Maggie’s voices as they stepped inside. As I looked over my shoulder at them they fell silent, staring open-mouthed at the laden table. ‘Oh,’ said Dan. ‘And by the way, while I’m here taking all the glory, Owen and Pete actually did quite a lot to help,’ Dan motioned for the two men to step out of the
shadows, which they did, taking theatrical bows.

Maggie and Alison had already hurried over to the teacups to take a closer look, and Dan and I went to join them.

‘But where did you find them all?’ I asked, picking up just one of the tiny cups to hold it, checking that all this was real. Dan looked more gorgeous than ever today, a modest smile on his face and his eyes crinkling a little.

‘Dan had us all up at five this morning,’ Owen said, feigning a yawn and giving Maggie a little wink. ‘Trawling the car boot sales, charity shops, everywhere. Pete gave Adam a ring and he’d found quite a few in Brighton for us so we drove down to collect those too.’

‘It was
you
– you were the early birds,’ I said, putting two and two together.

‘After today, I tell you,’ Pete said, ‘we started to understand how you three ended up such close friends. We bonded a little ourselves. I guess you might call us the Teacup Widowers.’

I laughed, and hugged Dan close.

‘Dan, thank you,’ I whispered in his ear. He reached down to kiss me.

The hall filled with wolf whistles as he
swept me up into his arms.