The Winter Wedding (17 page)

‘Cleaning the oven again? Have things got that bad?’ Amber asked.

‘Yes. I think they have.’

‘Wedding planning?’

‘Sort of. Not sure if I’ll even have one to plan for at this rate.’

‘Oh dear,’ Amber said. ‘Stop that for a minute and come and sit down. Give me an update.’

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, then filled Amber in on what had been happening.

‘I’m worried about them, but I’m also worried about me,’ I admitted. ‘I was counting on this wedding working out, not least so that I could start to build up a
portfolio to show potential clients. My Dad’s invested in me, and I’m about to be unemployed. I can’t afford for this to fall through, Amber.’

She gave me a hug. ‘It’ll work out. I’m sure of it.’

‘I really hope so – because I don’t have a Plan B.’

‘All set?’ Josh asked, at work the next day.

I nodded, and Josh and I walked out of the office building. I was in the final week of my notice period, and nerve-wracking as it was, I was ready to leave Twenty-One for good. There were
certain things I’d miss. But now that I was leaving, I realised I wouldn’t miss the work that much. It had fascinated me at the start, but as time had gone on I’d started to
disengage, and it felt a little like I imagine it must feel leaving someone you’ve fallen out of love with. There was only one person I was really sorry to be losing daily contact with
– and that was Josh. Whether we were at the office or out on location, a smile from him had brightened my day on so many occasions. I knew what it was like, when you left. I didn’t want
us to be those colleagues who had drifted in and would drift out of each other’s lives. Which was why I was so happy he’d suggested we duck out for a while.

‘Seeing as it’s such a nice day, shall we get take-out coffees, and go across to the park?’ he suggested.

‘Sounds good.’

We found a bench by the bandstand partly shaded by a large oak tree. A group of men and women were practising Tai Chi a few metres from us, casting geometric shadows on the lawn, a scattering of
brown and gold leaves surrounding them.

‘I feel like I’m bunking school,’ I said, taking a sip of my coffee – strong with plenty of frothy milk and a trace of cinnamon, just how I liked it.

Josh laughed. ‘I know what you mean. We should do this more often.’

Josh leaned back on the bench, closing his eyes for a minute and soaking up the sun rays on his face. I noticed the flash of collarbone showing through above his shirt.

I looked away, focusing my attention on the Tai Chi brigade.

‘I’ll miss you, when you go,’ Josh said.

‘Awww, thank you,’ I said. A flush of warmth came to my chest. ‘I won’t be leaving town. I’ll still be here. We can still hang out.’

‘You’ll be free,’ Josh said, playfully. ‘You won’t want to be reminded of this place.’

I will, I thought. Some parts of it.

‘We can meet for lunch. I’ll tell you about the triumphs and disasters of going it alone in the wedding planning business.’

‘I know you’re going to make a great success of it. I hope you’ll continue to design sets, alongside it . . . you’re too talented to give that up.’

I thought of the miniature sets tucked away in my closet. I would never stop working on them. They were the twin tracks my life ran on, parallel worlds where everything went smoothly.

‘Anyway, Hazel,’ Josh said, a directness in his voice as he sat up straight again. ‘There was something I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes. You know the last few weeks, when we’ve been talking . . .’

I nodded.

‘The truth is, when I was asking you about everything you’re doing, outside of work, I mean – it’s because I’m genuinely interested.’

He paused, and glanced down. ‘The thing is, I know already, from the work that we’ve done together, that you’re talented – you have a great artistic eye, and I
don’t know . . . you just seem to pull the strings on the generally dysfunctional marionette that is the art department and make it all perform very well.’

I laughed. ‘No one’s ever described me like that before.’

‘You’re great at what you do. Everyone thinks so.’

‘Thanks. Well, except Emma, perhaps,’ I said, with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. ‘The only person Emma thinks is great is Emma. Although of course, I never said that.’

‘And of course I never nodded in agreement,’ I said, nodding.

‘Hazel,’ he said. ‘Something a bit crazy happened last night. Or rather it’s about to happen.’ He stumbled over the words, rubbing the space between his
eyebrows.

I waited for him to continue and started to wonder where this conversation was going.

‘Sarah was outside my bedroom window last night. Stereo blaring out a song we used to listen to when we first met, carrying a rose,’ he smiled. ‘And she proposed to
me.’

My breath caught. ‘And you said . . .’

‘I said yes,’ he said.

‘Congratulations,’ I managed. It was harder to get the word out than I’d expected. I shouldn’t care like this. I really, really shouldn’t care that Josh was getting
married. I kept my smile in place and hoped it looked more convincing than it felt.

‘Sarah was right. We do need to change something. And maybe this is it. I guess there’s no point waiting. She wants to get married by the end of this year, and it’s September
already. This morning I woke up panicking about how we’re going to fit everything in.’

So
this
was where it was going.

‘We could really use some help. Sarah loved the sound of your sister’s wedding, and obviously I already know you’re a creative genius,’ he said, with a smile.
‘Please say you’ll agree to be our wedding planner?’

The words hung there in the air for a moment, while I gathered my thoughts. What I’d felt, what I thought I’d felt, worried I’d felt, in the days before Lila’s wedding
– it hadn’t been anything real. Just a stupid, fleeting – crush, I suppose – if that. Josh and I had a connection, yes, we always had. But as friends, nothing more.

I didn’t want to do this. No part of me wanted to agree. But I fought back the feeling. I’d get used to it. I had to think of the business. Especially now the one wedding I’d
been commissioned to plan, Gemma and Eliot’s, was hanging in the balance.

Josh had a look of wide-eyed anticipation on his face, and I realised I’d left him hanging.

‘Of course,’ I said. The words didn’t come easily, or steadily though. ‘Thanks for thinking of me. It would be a pleasure.’

At the end of the week, I packed my personal belongings into a box, and prepared myself to walk out of the Twenty-One offices for the final time. When I glanced behind me, I
saw Amber watching me, concern in her eyes.

‘You OK?’ Amber mouthed.

‘Oh, fine,’ I mouthed back, nodding. She looked unconvinced.

All I have to do is do this without getting upset
, I told myself.

Then I saw Josh coming over to my desk, with a giant card and a hamper. ‘We couldn’t let you go without saying a proper goodbye,’ he said, handing them over.

I opened the card and saw dozens of notes wishing me well, and each familiar name made me smile. When I looked up, a crowd of my colleagues had formed around my desk. A lump came to my
throat.

‘You’re very kind,’ I said, looking down at the overflowing food and drink hamper. ‘I’m going to miss working here.’

‘We’re very sorry to see you go,’ Aaron said. ‘You are one of the best. The door will always be open.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. A flicker of doubt crept into my mind. I was leaving all this – people I liked and job security, and heading into . . . Well, I didn’t know what.

Amber seemed to pick up on it and whispered in my ear. ‘Don’t worry,’ she reassured me. ‘You’re going on to bigger and better things.’

People said their goodbyes and headed back to their desks. I went to get my coat, and Emma called me over. She hadn’t been there earlier, and after what had happened, I’d wondered if
she’d even say goodbye.

I readied myself for a brusque farewell, but instead, her voice was soft.

‘I’m sorry you’re leaving, Hazel,’ she said, simply. ‘And I’m sorrier that it’s my fault.’

Now this – this I hadn’t been expecting.

‘I know I’ve been a nightmare to work for these past few months. There are no excuses. All I can say is this – you leaving, you, one of the most talented people at this company
– and knowing that I’m at least partly responsible for that, has been a real wake-up call for me. I need to pull myself together and make a new start.’

‘Right,’ I said, feeling startled. ‘Well, I appreciate that.’

‘And while I can’t undo what I’ve done, I want to make sure you have the best possible new start too. So you’ll get a glowing reference from me, don’t worry about
that. And while I’m not the greatest believer in marriage,’ she said, a jaded look returning to her eyes, ‘it seems a great many of my friends are hurtling headlong into it. I
might even be able to pass a few clients your way.’

She smiled, and I thought, for a moment, that I saw a glimmer of humanity there.

On the journey home, I thought about how the morning had gone. I appreciated the kind goodbyes, but now that I was out of the office I felt surer than ever that I was heading
in the right direction. I had just got home when my phone rang: Eliot.

He said he needed to talk, and sounded desperate. I arranged to meet him by the canal and headed down there right away.

I caught sight of him, down by the boats, in jeans and a sweater, his face unshaven.

‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘I already know it. I’m an idiot.’

‘Well, yes,’ I said. ‘You are a bit. What happened to you? Where did you go? Gemma’s absolutely devastated. What’s more she hasn’t got any idea at all
what’s going through your mind.’

Eliot shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away all of the bad feeling caused by unpicking the joyful things in his life, and the future he had planned.

‘Is this to do with losing your job?’

‘Sort of. Yes. No. I just know it’s a mess,’ Eliot said. ‘This isn’t how I wanted things to be when we got married.’

I led him over to a bench, and we sat down. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak again. I had to stay objective – even if seeing Gemma looking so broken made that a challenge.

‘Now – just to be clear,’ I said. ‘If you allow Gemma to help you, you’d still be able to afford the wedding you both planned, right?’

‘Yes,’ he said, bashfully. ‘Gemma has savings that could cover everything she wants to happen.’

‘But you won’t let her.’

He shook his head. ‘No. It would be official then – everyone would know I’d failed her, let her down.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘And no one needs to know. It’s nobody’s business but yours. Stop being so self-centred.’

It seemed to jolt him out of his self-pity. ‘What?’

‘You’re going to throw away the love of a wonderful, beautiful and talented woman, rather than let her know you’re short on funds? I bet Gemma wouldn’t care less if you
got married in the local registry office and went to Pizza Express afterwards.’

Eliot raised an eyebrow.

‘OK – maybe I got carried away,’ I said, biting my lip. Gemma in a Top Shop white dress tucking into a Sloppy Giuseppe on the day of her nuptials was a little hard to picture.
‘Yes, she’s going to want the big wedding you’ve planned, but you’ve already suggested there might be other ways to finance that. If you’re willing to put your pride
to one side.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s not just the money . . . it’s . . . she’ll see me differently, us differently.’

‘Don’t you think she already does – sitting there in her flat with your things half-packed up, thinking that you’re having an affair or God knows what else?’

‘Oh no . . . she doesn’t think that, does she?’ Eliot said, looking even more heartbroken.

‘Go and talk to her, Eliot. You need to fix this, and fast.’

That Friday night, I met with Sarah and Josh at the pub for our first discussion about their wedding.

Josh pulled out a chair for Sarah, and we all sat down. I was going to be strictly professional – Josh might be a friend, but he and Sarah were now clients who I had to strive to impress,
just like any other.

‘ We don’t want a Christmassy thing – not at all,’ Sarah said.

‘I mean, I had thought about having it in our local church back home, the one where Mum and Dad got married . . .’ Josh’s eyes brightened as he spoke about it.

‘It’s not right for us,’ Sarah said, briskly. ‘Far too conventional.’

‘So, yes,’ Josh said. ‘ We thought it would be better to get married abroad.’

I could see the disappointment in Josh’s eyes as he resigned himself to the compromise. I wondered if I should step in, urge them to discuss it again before dismissing the idea of a
wedding in the UK. Sarah’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

‘Christmas is a good time for people to travel,’ Sarah said brightly. ‘Take some proper holiday. And that’s the plan – a big beach party. It’s just so me and
Josh, you see. We’re not the church bells type. Not at all.’

‘Actually my family are – sort of. But I’m sure they’ll come round to the idea when we tell them the plans.’

‘OK, great,’ I said. ‘ We can really have some fun with this one, I think. Did you have any particular locations in mind?’

‘Somewhere hot,’ Josh said. ‘That’s as far as we’ve got really, isn’t it, Sarah?’

‘I’d love to go to India . . . somewhere like that.’

Josh raised an eyebrow.

‘I
know
,’ she said to him. ‘Don’t worry, I’m over it now. Josh’s family would never come round to that idea.’

‘What are your main criteria,’ I said. ‘You mentioned a beach?’

‘Yes,’ Josh said. ‘A beach, somewhere with good food, that’s going to be hot. We’d need some nice accommodation nearby too. My grandmother’s going to be there
and unfortunately she’s not able to walk that far, so we’d need you to bear that in mind when it came to the venue.’

Sarah got out a scrapbook and put it on my desk. ‘Here were some ideas I had.’

I opened it to see a magazine collage of beach scenes and people juggling fire. Orange lilies and pools of koi carp with little wooden bridges over them.