The Wedding Diary (Choc Lit) (27 page)

It could not have been a lovelier day.

The last few golden, russet, purple leaves were falling softly from the trees. The sky was a deep, fathomless cerulean. The sun was almost hot. Melbury Court itself looked glorious, an enchanted castle in a children’s fairy tale.

After an early morning frost, the air was crisp and energising, and the ground was steaming as the autumn sun beat down.

At noon, thought Adam, it should be more than warm enough for photographs outside. The wedding was being filmed, of course, for the final episode of the television series. But he wanted all the aunts and uncles to get their snaps as well.

Gwennie’s phone was working overtime. She was frantically tweeting all her movie star-struck mates.

I’m in Daisy Denham’s lovely house!

I’ve had a tinkle in her bathroom!

I’m in her garden and I’m walking in her honeysuckle bower!

I’ve seen the studio pix of her and Ewan Fraser – wow – totally last word in gorge and glam!

I’ve died and gone to heaven!

Adam hoped she wouldn’t try to steal a souvenir, but was afraid she might, if she could prise a little something small and inconspicuous loose and slip it in her clutch.

He got quite anxious when he saw her sidle slowly up the Grinling Gibbons staircase. He was terrified she’d try to break a bit of carving off and get them all arrested or at least thrown out.

‘Damn, forgot the cuffs,’ said Jules, grinning like a gargoyle as he read Adam’s mind.

‘She’s late,’ said Gwennie, fussing with Adam’s tie again and clucking like an anxious mother hen who’s lost one of her chicks.

‘No, she’s not,’ said Jules, whose hired trousers were that bit too tight and who was tugging crossly at his crotch. In the course of helping Adam celebrate his last weekend of freedom – a weekend which spilled over into the following week and made for perfect daytime television – he’d put on lots of weight. ‘Anyway, she can’t be late, you muppet, not when she’s already here. Omigod, look out, here’s Grendel’s mother, and she’s bearing down on you.’

Adam turned and there were Fanny and her greyhound stalking through the crowd of wedding guests, Fanny being charming as she parted wives from husbands, being beyond gracious as she waited for a couple in her way to realise this and stand aside.

She smiled and nodded, her antennae picking up a mass of fascinating signals, sharp ears listening hard, blue eyes darting here and there – looking for her next exciting project, probably.

One thing was certain – she wouldn’t miss a thing.

‘Hello, Fanny.’ Adam bent to kiss her on the cheek. ‘You and Caspar look – what can I say – astonishing.’

‘Thank you, darling, so we should. It’s all Balenciaga, even Caspar’s collar. You don’t look too bad yourself, considering your clothes are hired.’ She flicked a piece of non-existent lint off Adam’s shoulder. ‘Your lovely little bride’s a lucky girl.’

‘When did you last see Cat?’

‘Only a minute or two ago, so don’t you fret, my angel, she hasn’t run away. Rosie’s lacing her into her gown – I must say Lulu has excelled herself – and Tex and Bess are busy doing something with her veil. She would insist on having real white roses in her hair, instead of a tiara, but the roses haven’t been wired, and so we had to ask the hotel housekeeper for pins.’

‘It’s Bex and Tess,’ said Adam.

‘Whatever.’ Fanny waved one white, bejewelled hand. ‘The bridesmaids are in green, you know. I wouldn’t have chosen green for bridesmaids. I think green’s unlucky. But in a way it suits them, I suppose. They look like fairies in a forest glade.’

Bex shook out the wedding veil and Tess fixed it on Cat’s head.

‘I can’t believe we’re here at last,’ said Cat, as she gazed into the huge gilt mirror which adorned the bridal suite.

‘Yeah, it’s been a long, hard slog,’ said Tess.

‘She certainly made sure that you and Adam earned your money,’ added Rosie.

‘You two must feel like you’ve run a marathon,’ said Bex.

‘More like half a dozen of them,’ said Cat, because the past few months had been a nightmare of fatigue, confusion and bewilderment while they’d done promotion stuff for Fanny, earning the deposit on a house and trying to do their real jobs as well. It had been exhausting, and Cat knew she would never criticise a hunted, harassed, put-upon celebrity again.

She couldn’t wait to have her real life back.

It had taken Bex and Tess a while to come to terms with all the luxury and splendour of the Melbury Court Hotel.

On the night they’d first arrived, they’d both run round it squealing like a couple of excited piglets, exploring and exclaiming and experimenting, anxious to leave nothing out.

They were both delighted by the hotel’s harem-style health club, which came complete with houris in white tunics, ready to do their bidding, and grant their every health and beauty wish.

But there were no eunuchs. It was health and safety, Cat supposed – no one was prepared to risk the dangerous operation just to get an industry award.

They booked themselves a range of treatments, and by the actual wedding day all three of them had been so waxed and groomed, so peeled and buffed, so tanned and glossed that they looked like goddesses, my loves, as Fanny Gregory put it when she saw them, but with a sarcastic little twinkle in her eyes.

When she had arrived at Melbury Court, Cat had been sad to see the marble fountain in the forecourt was still swathed in sacking and blue plastic and girded with a mile or two of tape.

But the house itself was perfect and the health club was fantastic.

The housekeeper and staff were warm and welcoming and couldn’t do enough for them.

The food was wonderful.

She was content.

‘She’s coming,’ someone whispered.

‘God, she looks ace – fantastic,’ murmured Jules, who’d sneaked a glance behind him. ‘Mate, you’re a lucky man.’

‘I know,’ said Adam, thinking with a little shudder how he’d nearly blown it, how his male ineptitude had almost lost him Cat, who he knew he loved more than his life – who made his life complete.

It was very strange how fate and destiny worked out, how people you’d have crossed a continent – or at least a country – to avoid were the ones who made your dreams come true.

If it hadn’t been for Fanny Gregory, who he admitted to himself he’d sometimes – no, come on, be honest, make that often – like to strangle, this would not be happening.

As he stood there waiting for his bride, he heard a little chuckle on his right. He knew it must be Fanny. He wondered what she’d planned today, if she was going to conjure up a pumpkin, wave her magic wand and turn the pumpkin into a golden carriage, in which they could go off on honeymoon.

The cable people would love that.

As Cat arrived at Adam’s side, he smiled. She saw the pride and happiness in his eyes and almost started crying.

‘No, don’t you dare, you numpty,’ muttered Tess, when she saw Cat’s shoulders start to shake. ‘You’re on television and you’ll ruin your mascara.’

The music died away. Amy Winehouse, Lady Gaga, Coldplay wouldn’t have been right, thought Cat, as Gwennie finished playing something lovely and romantic on the grand piano and everybody sighed contentedly.

The registrar picked up her book and welcomed everybody to the wedding. The mothers started sniffing and the ceremony began.

Then everything went sort of blurred. Adam and Cat got married. Or Cat was almost sure they did. She couldn’t remember making any vows. Rick the boy photographer took a hundred thousand snaps. Tess caught the bride’s bouquet, neatly fouling Bex, who lunged for it and missed.

So it all went well, decided Cat, even though she couldn’t have told a judge and jury very much about it. Bits came back to her in trailers, flashes, little windows of acute perception followed by great blanks. But the guests and television people had all been filming hard, and she was prepared to bet nothing had been left out.

The mothers wore revolting hats and comfortable shoes and lots of polyester and – as mothers were supposed to do – they sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

Cat’s father looked relieved, and Cat supposed it was because his only daughter hadn’t married the scoundrel, after all?

Fanny had got sponsors to cover lots of costs, but he had paid the rest without complaining. Or without too much complaining, even though he’d wondered several times why bridal flowers cost so much. They could have had chrysanthemums from his greenhouse. ‘You’d have only had to ask,’ he said. ‘Mrs Fink next door would have been pleased to bunch them up for you.’

Cat couldn’t take her eyes off Adam, couldn’t quite believe she’d married such a lovely man. Or that she’d met him by the purest chance. What if she hadn’t been in Barry’s yard that afternoon? What if she hadn’t come to Dorset back in May? What if he hadn’t needed any chimneys, spindles?

Fanny had organised the wedding banquet, from the wild mushroom, pecorino and sweet chilli starter to the last artisan and fairly-traded chocolate heart. Cat had to admit she’d done it well. After the final speeches, she had gone to find her fairy godmother, to give her a big hug.

But, as she went to look for Fanny, who she thought was probably the centre of attention among that crowd of husbands, upsetting all their wives, Adam caught her hand and told her Fan would have to wait.

‘Come outside,’ he whispered.

‘But it’s dark and cold,’ she whispered back.

‘You’d better wrap up warm, then.’

‘Adam, are we going somewhere?’ she asked softly as he draped the lovely emerald velvet cloak which had been one of Fanny’s wedding gifts around her shoulders.

‘It’s just a little way.’

‘But what—’

‘Come on,’ he added urgently. ‘I don’t want those television people following us.’

Soon they were in the hotel lobby, and a moment later they were both outside.

‘My wedding present to you,’ said Adam.

‘But where is it?’

Adam glanced behind him and nodded to a man who Cat had noticed lurking in the lobby. She had assumed he was a hotel porter. Why did she need a porter?

She peered into the murk.

When they’d first come outside, the forecourt had been dark as pitch.

But suddenly it was illuminated.

It became as bright as day.

There was an almighty whoosh, and then a thunder of cascading water, as jets and columns of it shot into the air and rained down on the mermaids, gods and goddesses below.

‘Oh, Adam, it’s amazing!’

Cat gazed enraptured as the fountain played and as the perfectly restored white Venus in its marble heart smiled her wedding blessing down on them.

Margaret James
was born and brought up in Hereford. She studied English at London University, and has written many short stories, articles and serials for magazines. She is the author of sixteen published novels.

Margaret is a long-standing contributor to
Writing Magazine
for which she writes the Fiction Focus column and an author interview for each issue. She’s also a creative writing tutor for the London School of Journalism and wrote two of its distance-learning courses. She is the co-author with Cathie Hartigan of
The Creative Writing Student’s Handbook
.

An active member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, she contributed to the 50th anniversary anthology
Loves Me, Loves Me Not
.

For more information on Margaret visit:
www.margaretjamesblog.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/majanovelist
and
www.facebook.com/margaret.james.5268

From Margaret James

The Silver Locket

Winner of 2010 Reviewers’ Choice Award for Single Titles

If life is cheap, how much is love worth?

It’s 1914 and young Rose Courtenay has a decision to make. Please her wealthy parents by marrying the man of their choice – or play her part in the war effort?

The chance to escape proves irresistible and Rose becomes a nurse. Working in France, she meets Lieutenant Alex Denham, a dark figure from her past. He’s the last man in the world she’d get involved with – especially now he’s married.

But in wartime nothing is as it seems. Alex’s marriage is a sham and Rose is the only woman he’s ever wanted. As he recovers from his wounds, he sets out to win her trust. His gift of a silver locket is a far cry from the luxuries she’s left behind.

What value will she put on his love?

First novel in the trilogy.

Visit
www.choc-lit.com
for more details including the first two chapters and reviews.

Find out more and purchase in the kindle store (http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Silver-Locket-ebook/dp/B004D4ZYTQ)