Baby It's Cold Outside (13 page)

Instead we eventually got home, rosy-cheeked with the cold and icy-nosed, had a good natured argument – for the third or was it the fourth time – about what our first-dance song should be, then fell into bed and did what two nearly married people were supposed to do.

Monday

Chapter 17

I woke the next morning to a kiss from a showered and dressed Jamie.

‘I'm going to help Dad on his rounds,' he said, picking up his bag. ‘I'll see you later.'

I was a bit disappointed we weren't going to start the day the way we'd ended yesterday, but it was nice to have the bed to myself, I couldn't deny. I snuggled down under the crocheted blanket. Jamie may have had his faults (his taste in music being one. I was not having Metallica as the first dance at my wedding, no matter how persuasive he could be) but I couldn't fault his work ethic.

I was a bit of a workaholic myself, but at that moment my job seemed very far away. I stretched out in the bed and closed my eyes, drifting off into sleep…

And then there was a furious banging at the bedroom door. I sat up with a start, my heart pounding, and looked at the clock. Gosh it was nine-thirty. I'd not intended to sleep for so long.

I pulled on my dressing gown, and stumbled to the door, bleary eyed. Harry stood there. She was wearing black cigarette pants, with a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off her smooth, brown chest, and her hair pulled into a glossy top-knot. I stared at her. She was carrying her iPad, brandishing it like a clipboard.

‘Esme,' she barked. ‘Why aren't you dressed?'

‘Because until two seconds ago I was asleep,' I said. ‘Why are you dressed like someone from The Apprentice?'

Harry looked down at her outfit.

‘I'm your wedding planner,' she said. ‘I've dressed for the job.'

‘Oh no you're not,' I said. I turned and padded back to bed, pulling Suky's blanket over my legs.

Harry followed me into the bedroom. She perched on the side of the bed and prodded me with one neatly manicured finger.

‘Come on,' she said. ‘It'll be fun.'

‘No,' I said. I closed my eyes. Harry pulled the pillow out from under my head and hit me with it.

‘Harry,' I said, infuriated. ‘Leave me alone.'

‘I won't,' she said. ‘Come on. We've got loads to do. I've arranged to meet Millicent to talk about the food, and then we're going to Leona's to sort out your dress, and your mum said you've got an appointment with Kirsty about the ceremony.'

Reluctantly I sat up. Harry was right, I did have a lot to do. Sorting out a wedding in five days wasn't going to be easy.

‘Fine,' I said. ‘But you're not in charge.'

‘I am,' Harry said. I looked at her through narrowed eyes.

‘Okay, you're in charge,' she said. ‘But I'm still the co-ordinator.'

‘Whatever makes you happy, H,' I said, privately vowing not to let her co-ordinate anything.

Harry waggled her fingers at me and with a shower of silvery sparkles, a mug of tea and a plate of toast appeared on my bedside table.

‘No magic,' I warned.

She shrugged.

‘Tansy's gone for a walk with Parker,' she said, waggling her fingers again. My wardrobe doors swung open and out flew a pair of jeans and a jumper. They plopped onto the end of the bed.

‘Get up,' she said, picking up a slice of toast and taking a bite, then putting it back on the plate. I swatted her with my dressing gown belt.

‘Go away,' I said. ‘I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes and we can go to see Millicent.'

I hit the shower, pulled my own blonde curls into a much messier version of Harry's sleek bun, and put on a bit of make-up. Then I headed downstairs to find Harry.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, writing a list. She looked up as I came in.

‘Finally,' she said. ‘Let's go.'

I let her hustle me out of the front door, pausing just long enough to pull on my coat, and into her mum's new car – a chunky version of the new-look Mini. It had replaced the battered Beetle our mums had shared for twenty years that had finally died last winter.

Harry folded her legs into the driver's seat and we set off down the road. The snow showed no sign of thawing. It was still bitterly cold. I briefly wondered if it was too cold to snow or if that was a myth. It really was icy, though. And so still and quiet with no passing traffic.

Harry parked in the town square and meekly I followed her into the snowy street. Some teenagers – I assumed – had built a huge willy from snow in the middle of the square and two women I didn't recognise were busy knocking it down, chuckling to themselves as they did. Harry looked at me and rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was giggling too.

We went up the stairs that led to Millicent's B&B and rang the bell. She answered straightaway, as though she'd been standing behind the door, and pulled me into a hug.

‘Oh, Esme,' she said. ‘You've been so brave, saving those people. They're doing well by the way, I've been on to the hospital. And now you need our help and we're going to do whatever we can to make sure your wedding goes without a hitch.' She went off into peals of laughter. ‘A hitch,' she repeated, letting me go and standing back so we could enter. ‘Without a hitch.'

‘Hi Millicent,' I said, taking off my coat and hanging it on a hook in the shape of a stag. My coat looked slightly odd, hanging from one antler. ‘Thanks for offering to help.'

‘No problem at all,' she said, showing us into the lounge. It was a big room with high ceilings, stuffed full of furniture. Harry and I sat down on the red tartan sofa. Millicent was English – one of the many people who had escaped from the rat race and come to Claddach in search of a better life – but she really, really loved Scotland. She used Scottish phrases that had once sounded odd in her Surrey accent but now just sounded, well, like Millicent. She wore a lot of tartan and saw it as an interior design must-have; the whole B&B was decorated in various shades of deep red with accents of tartan and tweed and pictures of stags, castles and pipers on the walls. Needless to say, the tourists all adored her hotel and she was enormously successful. Harry and I both thought she was brilliant, though we hadn't always felt that way. And there was no doubt that if you needed something doing in Claddach, she was the person to ask.

Millicent had a pot of tea and a plate of homemade biscuits (shortbread, natch) ready for us.

‘Shall I be mother,' she said, pouring tea into three cups. ‘And Harry, you tell me what you need me to do…'

Chapter 18

I wasn't sure what we wanted Millicent to do. I looked at Harry for help. She gave me a brief, business-like nod and switched on her iPad.

‘I've drawn up some menus,' she said.

‘Have you?' I was surprised. Harry hadn't inherited our mums' talents in the kitchen.

‘Mum helped,' she admitted, obviously meaning Suky had done the whole thing for her.

‘I've got various combinations of dishes,' Harry went on. ‘I thought we could work out the best ideas, then see what ingredients we need to make them and get people to donate what they can.'

‘I don't want people going short just for my wedding,' I pointed out. Harry waved away my concerns with an elegant flick of her hand.

Millicent was making notes in a Cath Kidston notebook with a pen shaped like the Loch Ness monster.

Harry jabbed the screen of her iPad.

‘For instance,' she said briskly. ‘If we choose carrot soup as a starter, we'll need thirty pounds of carrots. We can ask people to give us whatever carrots they've got. Then I've got a team ready to do the cooking…'

She meant Mum, Suky and Eva.

‘And we'll need waiting staff,' Harry said. ‘I thought if Imogen was home she could take that on.'

Millicent beamed. She was very proud of her beautiful teenage twins Imogen and Bradley who were both now at university. I was fond of Imogen myself. She'd had a hard time when she was younger but she'd really come out of herself recently.

‘Immie just got back in time,' Millicent said, a shadow crossing her face. ‘But Brad got stuck on his way home. He's gone to stay with my in-laws in Glasgow.'

And he's probably loving every minute, I thought unfairly.

Harry started talking about mushroom soup and I zoned out, staring out of the window as they talked. Millicent's grey stone town house had a small square front garden full of rose bushes. There were no flowers now of course, and the bare plants bowed under the weight of the snow. Beyond the garden was the road, normally buzzing with traffic and passers-by, but today it was quiet and still. I loved Claddach's energy usually, its feeling of creativity and how it was unafraid to be different, but it was also very busy most of the time. In the summer months it was over-run with tourists and in winter there were more than enough writers' retreats, artists' colonies and poetry workshops to keep the hotels, restaurants and our café busy. It was nice, though, to see the streets quiet and still. It felt a bit like a breath, as though the whole town was waiting to see what happened next. I shivered. Waiting to see if the wedding goes ahead, I thought, over-dramatically.

‘We can set up collection points,' Harry was saying, as Millicent scribbled frantically, her Loch Ness monster wiggling.

I frowned. This was getting way too complicated.

‘Stop,' I said. ‘This is crazy. Why don't we just put the word out and ask everyone who's coming to bring something. It can be like a pot-luck wedding breakfast.'

‘You might end up with thirty lasagnes and nothing else,' Harry warned. I grinned at her.

‘Well, so what?' I said. ‘I like lasagne.'

Millicent looked up.

‘I can coordinate,' she said. ‘People are bound to ask me what they should bring. I'll just keep track of who's bringing sweet and who's bringing savoury. It'll be fine.'

‘Thank you, Millicent,' I said, grateful my wedding hadn't turned into a warped version of a harvest festival.

Harry looked relieved too. She shut her iPad case with a snap.

‘Oh thank god,' she said. ‘I'd confused myself with all those recipes for soup. Millicent, can you ask Immie if she and a couple of friends can help serve the food? Chris from the pub is doing the bar and he'd just had a delivery before the avalanche so we should be okay for drink.'

‘If anyone asks, I'll get them to bring a bottle of wine too,' Millicent said, a cheeky glint in her eye. We all stood up and Millicent put her arm around me.

‘Don't worry about a thing,' she said in what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but actually made me feel slightly nervous. ‘I'll take care of it all.'

‘So that's the food sorted out,' I said, as we emerged back out into the town square. ‘What's next?'

‘Dresses,' Harry said. I gave a little skip and clapped my hands. I'd been hoping she'd say that.

‘Leona's expecting us,' Harry said, guiding me towards the dress shop. ‘She says she's got some ideas.'

Leona definitely had ideas. She had dug out a couple of sample dresses and hung them up in the fitting room ready for me. My first wedding dress, the one I'd ordered when Jamie and I were engaged first time round (before I screwed it up) had been very Jane Austen inspired. It had a square neckline, little capped sleeves and an A-line skirt. This time round I'd found I couldn't even look at that dress. I'd sold it on eBay and Leona had helped me pick a different style. It was more modern, sleeveless with a deep V-neck, straight skirt, and all-over lace like Kate Middleton's. I loved it, but I knew it was quite detailed and I doubted Leona could recreate it in the few days we had left.

‘This is the sort of thing I think you should go for,' Leona said, pulling open the curtain to reveal the dresses she'd found.

I gasped in delight. They were both fifties-style with nipped-in waists and full skirts. One had sleeves and the other didn't, and one had a neat belt while the other had a sash made from ribbon.

‘They're simple and easy to alter,' Leona explained. ‘I've got accessories that will work with both of them, and I've got bridesmaids' dresses in a similar style.'

‘I love them,' I breathed. I reached for the one with the little belt and no sleeves. ‘This is the one I like best.'

‘Very Audrey Hepburn,' Harry said. ‘Try it on.'

She didn't have to tell me twice. I took off my jeans and my jumper, and Leona helped me into the dress.

‘It's not going to fit,' she warned. ‘It's a size ten and you're a twelve.'

She zipped up the back as far as it would go. I breathed in, but the zip wouldn't go up all the way.

‘Don't worry,' Leona said. ‘I can let out these seams no problem.'

I looked at myself in the mirror.

‘I like it,' I said. ‘I really like it.'

‘Some gloves,' Leona said, opening a drawer in one of the mirror cabinets round the edge of the room and finding a pair. ‘Try these ones first, then I'll dig you out a new pair on the day – we don't want them getting marked.'

I pulled them on, feeling like a Hollywood starlet. The dress fell to just below my knees. It had a full skirt and a narrow waist with a fitted bodice. The gloves covered my arms up to above my elbows. It wasn't how I'd ever imagined my wedding dress to look, but I loved it.

‘I'll go and find you some shoes so you can see it with heels,' Leona said. She disappeared into the back room of the shop.

‘And we can put your hair up,' Harry said. She stood behind me and twisted my curls up, holding them in one hand. I grinned at her in the mirror.

‘Thank you,' I said.

‘I've not found a hairdresser yet,' she said.

‘You know what I mean.'