An Enormously English Monsoon Wedding (11 page)

Clever old Nalisha … Erin sighed again and flicked a glanced through the rear-view mirror. Ever since they’d left Nook Green Bella had been singing Nalisha’s praises. Sophie, on the back seat, was apparently singing along to Jethro Tull, and fortunately so far hadn’t joined in the Nalisha fan-fest.

‘And –’ Bella frowned ‘– what the heck are you playing?’

‘Jethro Tull,’ Erin said, turning up the volume.

‘Jesus,’ Bella groaned. ‘Never heard of him.’

Sophie leaned forwards between the seats. ‘He invented the seed drill, I think. Don’t you remember Miss
Forbes saying so in history?’

Erin and Bella shook their heads.

Bella frowned. ‘He should have stuck to inventing and not bothered with the singing then. He doesn’t sound very happy.’

‘He’s a they, and it’s one of Uncle Doug’s CDs. He must have left it in here.’ Squinting into the relentless afternoon sun, Erin overtook a dawdling smart car and pulled back into the left-hand lane. ‘I quite like it.’

Bella shook her head.

Erin concentrated on driving and tried not to think about Nalisha. The previous evening she, Jay and Nalisha had gone to the Merry Cobbler for an alfresco pub meal in the sunset, and the entire evening had been filled with Nalisha’s elaborate stories of family weddings and parties, and each story, it seemed to Erin, had been carefully chosen to show just how much Erin was letting the Keskar side down by being an outsider.

As soon as Jay had disappeared into the pub for refills, Nalisha, dressed in skinny white jeans and a gorgeous coral-pink top, had leaned across to Erin.

‘So, are you getting nervous about the wedding?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘I’d be terrified by now,’ Nalisha had laughed, looking as if she’d never been terrified of anything in her life. ‘But of course, as it’s a fusion wedding, at least you won’t have to endure the hours and hours of full-on Indian ceremonies. Although it clearly isn’t what Deena wants.’

Erin had sipped her cider and tried to stay calm. ‘No, it isn’t.’

Understatement.

Nalisha had delicately nibbled an olive, then laughed. ‘And of course, as you’re not even wearing a ceremonial sari …’

‘No, I’m not,’ Erin had said quickly. ‘And please don’t think you can persuade me because –’

‘God, I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Nalisha had wriggled the top a little lower. All the men in the beer garden watched. ‘A girl’s wedding dress has to be her choice and hers alone. After all, it’s the most wonderful outfit you’ll ever wear, isn’t it?’

Erin had nodded, still not trusting Nalisha an
inch.

Nalisha had laughed. ‘Poor Deena will be so disappointed. She loves everyone to be dressed in full ceremonial splendour. I remember at Jay’s twenty-first …’

Erin had sat back, taking sips of now lukewarm cider, listening to story after story of Jay’s parties, celebrations and family festivities – all of which had included Nalisha – feeling her confidence draining away with each one.

‘… and then, when he graduated, well, that was simply spectacular.’ Nalisha had stirred the remains of her G&T. ‘Deena and Tavish were so proud. Well, we all were of course. So they hired the function room at the football ground – Premiership, of course – and we had a party for thousands. Oh, but you must have seen the photographs …’

Erin had nodded. She had. She just hadn’t realised that Nalisha had been there, or just how massive the celebration had been. How massive any of the celebrations had been.

Jay’s parties had clearly always been hugely flamboyant affairs.

So, she’d wondered miserably, did Jay secretly want a massive Indian wedding? Was he only going along with the fusion idea to please her? If he’d been marrying Nalisha, the full-on poojas and parties would have happened as a matter
of course, wouldn’t they?

And everyone – including Deena and Tavish – would have been delighted.

In fact, if Jay had been marrying the sumptuous, fragrant, corporate lawyer Nalisha, then Deena and Tavish would be far happier than they were right now, wouldn’t they?

How desperately disappointed must Deena and Tavish really have been when Jay had announced his engagement to a comprehensive-school-educated village girl who worked in a junk shop?

Erin had groaned inwardly. She’d never had any doubts before, but now …

‘Sorry to have been so long.’ Jay had emerged from the pub at that moment. ‘I got caught up in a conversation with Gina – are you two getting to know one another?’

And Erin had nodded miserably and taken another mouthful of cider.

‘And I noticed you didn’t come back to Jay’s last night,’ Bella said now, raising her voice above Jethro Tull.

‘Uh?’ Erin jerked herself back to the present. ‘Sorry?’

‘You didn’t spend the night at Jay’s.’

‘How do you know that?’ Erin was shocked. ‘Were you checking up on us?’

‘Nah, not really. I was last-minute checking on Tulisa and the puppies and Mr Duncan’s Smurfy who’s in for fasting blood tests – you know what Mr Duncan’s like for sharing his fry-ups which is why Smurfy is possibly diabetic – and I heard Jay and Nalisha come home – alone.’

And disappearing into separate bedrooms, please God, Erin thought – as she’d thought nearly all of her sleepless night.

‘Checking up on us, as I said.’

‘Well –’ Bella grinned ‘– maybe just a little bit.’

‘Actually,’ Erin said haughtily, ‘Jay and I’d decided earlier – even before we knew that she, er, Nalisha was coming to stay – that we’d give the overnights a miss until after the wedding. It seemed sort of romantic, you know, because we’ll be spending our wedding night at the Swan, then going straight off on honeymoon, and then, when we’re back, I’ll be living at the cottage and it’ll be like a fresh start for
both of us.’

‘As born-again virgins? Yeah right,’ Bella chuckled. ‘You and Jay can’t keep your hands off each other. You won’t last five minutes. Not that you’ll have much choice now she’s in the cottage. Those bedrooms are way too close together for any sort of privacy. Shame – Nalisha’s not only sodded up your love life good and proper, but also Nook Green’s early morning entertainment.’

‘Sorry?’ Erin frowned, concentrating on the unbroken line of shimmering vehicles ahead of her.

‘Oh, you know, you scampering home across the green in the pearly dawn in nothing but your knickers.’

‘I never did!’

‘Gotcha!’ Bella laughed. ‘But you did – once.’

Erin blushed, remembering. ‘That was in the early days and it was a mistake.’

‘Mr Lumley at the Post Office Stores still talks about it when he brings his guinea pigs in for their toenail clipping. Says it gave him a whole new lease of life.’

Despite her misgivings, Erin giggled. Fortunately, a white van man tailgating the hatchback took up the next few minutes of her concentration and her early-in-love misdemeanours were instantly forgotten.

‘Why doesn’t he back off? There’s nowhere to go – we’re all nose to tail in both lanes. He’s flashing his lights now – oh, and waving … God, is there something wrong with the car?’

‘Nope.’ Sophie leaned forwards. ‘I just waved at him. He’s quite cute. And now he’s realised it’s a car full of women and he’s giving us the full benefit of his testosterone.’

Erin snapped Jethro Tull into silence
mid flute solo and glared at Sophie in the mirror. ‘Don’t encourage him – or anyone else – please. It’s tricky enough driving in this traffic. I’m practically suffocating in this heat, and the sun’s blinding me. I really don’t need you behaving like a teenager on a school trip.’

‘Oooh, who’s a grumpy guts, then?’ Sophie smirked. ‘Who’s just a teensy-weensy bit tense and jealous?’

‘Grow up!’

Sophie and Bella giggled.

The white van man leered and gesticulated. Erin, thoroughly hot and bothered and wishing for the umpteenth time she had a car with air con, gesticulated back.

Tense? Jealous? Her? Of course she wasn’t – was she?

Oh, only another five miles to go … Only another five miles …

‘OK.’ Linda, the co-owner of Elle-Cee Bridalwear, nodded happily at Erin. ‘Have you got your wedding shoes with you?’

‘No. Sorry. I never thought about them.’

‘Not a problem. Just stand on
the box then, it should bring you up to the right level, while Carol fetches the frock. I think you’ll find that those last-minute tweaks to the lacing at the back and the slight rearranging of the net have worked brilliantly to make it fit like a glove.’

Erin, having discarded her cut-off jeans and vest and luxuriating in Elle-Cee Bridalwear’s ice-cold air conditioning, stepped obediently and bare-footed on to the red plush covered box in front of the bank of wall-to-wall mirrors, and felt a wave of dizzy euphoria.

Not even Nalisha could spoil this moment.

The vast fitting room at the back of the shop was glitzy and glamorous, with the mirrors reflecting a zillion lights like a conglomeration of constellations, and had several velvet sofas and little glass-fronted cabinets displaying glittering tiaras and chokers and earrings. While the dresses all frilled, frothed and flounced in gauzy perfection in the front showroom, the fitting room was a sanctum of serenity.

‘You don’t look as though you’ve put on any weight, or lost any,’ Linda said cheerfully, casting a professional eye over Erin in her bra and knickers. ‘Always a good sign. Although we can make alterations up to the eleventh
hour. And are these the undies you’ll be wearing on the day?’

Functional lilac cotton covered in small grinning Garfields? Hardly.

Erin shook her head. ‘No – why, does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters – well, not the pants so much because your frock isn’t slim-fitting, but the bra certainly. And your dress is strapless so you’ll need some good support.’

‘I’ve bought a basque.’

‘Lovely – bring it with you when we do the final fitting then. You’d be amazed at the ladies I’ve seen who don’t even think about the undies until the last minute.’ Linda threw a tape measure round her neck like a stole, and reached for a pincushion, which she slid on to her wrist. ‘I’m not anticipating we’ll need to make any other changes today, but you never know. Do you want your bridesmaids in to watch?’

‘Not at the moment,’ Erin said, suddenly aware of the lights showing up cellulite on her thighs where she was sure there hadn’t been any before. Damn it. ‘When I’m in the dress and laced up, then yes. Are they OK out there in the shop?’

Linda nodded. ‘We’ve got theirs ready to try on once you’re done. Ah, now no tears – here’s Carol with your dress.’

Carol, as tall and slim and dark as Linda was tiny and rotund and blonde, hauled a huge cotton-swathed armful into the fitting room.

‘Afternoon, Erin. All ready for this?’

Erin gave a little jiggle of excitement. The dress – an Ian Stuart design – was the most astonishingly beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It would blow any ceremonial sari out of the water and she just knew Jay would be speechless when he saw her
floating down the aisle on their wedding day; and she, for once, would feel delicate and feminine and exactly like the fairy-tale princess she’d always dreamed of being.

‘Are you wearing you hair up or down on the day?’ Linda asked, as Carol manhandled the acres of glorious ivory taffeta and lace frothed with silvery pearl tulle, dancing with a million tiny shimmering diamanté stars and floating on a never-ending mass of net underskirts, from its cover.

‘Down,’ Erin whispered, as always completely overcome when she saw the dress. ‘And we’re not wearing tiaras or anything. We’re just having tiny flowers in our hair.’

‘Lovely.’ Linda nodded briskly. ‘Then I think perhaps a choker – possibly really thin strands of silver and grey pearls on invisible wire. Delicate and beautiful, and not too much, but just filling in the gap between your hair and your cleavage. Same for the bridesmaids. We can sort out all those last-minute things when you come for your last appointment. OK, stand still and we’ll pop this over your head. Close your eyes. We’ll tell you when to look.’

After a few minutes of being smothered in the most fabulous dress in creation, Erin’s head emerged from the layers and Linda and Carol fussed round, pulling it down, easing it up, froufrouing it out, lacing laces and securing hooks.

‘There, all done,’ Carol said. ‘You can look now.’

Erin opened her eyes. ‘Oh … oh …’

‘Succinct,’ Linda chuckled. ‘Is that “oh” in a good way?’

‘That,’ Erin whispered, gazing at herself in the multiple
mirrors, ‘is “oh” in a stunned, incredible and “oh my God is that really me?” way. It’s totally, totally fabulous – it fits perfectly – and even without proper make-up or my hair done it’s simply amazing. Oh, now I’m really going to cry – you’ve transformed me from a scruff into a princess.’

‘Ian Stuart always manages to do that,’ Linda said, kneeling down and rearranging a few more layers of glimmering net. ‘And this one could have been created for you.’

‘You cry away, Erin,’ Carol said cheerfully. ‘You look absolutely stunning. And I honestly don’t think we’ll need any further alterations, do you?’

Erin, gently stroking the froth of billowing layers, almost afraid to touch the exquisite fabrics, gazed at herself again, teary-eyed and still unable to quite take in what she was seeing. ‘No. It’s just so amazing. You don’t need to change a thing.’

‘You do look gorgeous, love.’ Linda stood up again and surveyed Erin with motherly pride. ‘Breath-taking. The dress is a dream. And we see masses of brides, obviously, and not all of them make me feel like this.’ She reached for a tissue. ‘Oh, sorry.’

Carol sniffed. ‘Shall we all have a good cry and get it out of the way? And if you’re happy with it, shall I call the girls in to have a look and try their dresses on now?’

‘Yes, please.’ Erin sighed blissfully, and had a little careful twirl on the box. ‘Whoo – it’s gloriously heavy. Oooh – whoops … Nearly went then. Mind you, I’ve got a feeling this dress would act as a cushion long before I hit the floor.’

‘Don’t even think about falling over,’ Carol said sternly, heading for the door. ‘Not now, and especially not on the Big Day. It’d take an entire army of bridesmaids to dig you out of those skirts. OK – here come the girls.’