The Importance of Being Married (41 page)

I bit my lip. “So you’re sure you can’t get out of it? The interview, I mean?”

Helen shook her head. “It’s a really good job. And you always say that work’s really important,” she said.

Giles frowned. “But…” He looked at me curiously. “Isn’t Helen your bridesmaid?”

Helen shook her head. “No. I mean…well, no, I’m not.”

“But Jess”—Giles’s voice was an octave higher than usual as he flicked through his book—“this isn’t right. You said you wanted a bouquet for…for…” His eye scanned the page in front of him. “Yes. Here. It says Helen.”

“It does?” Helen stared at me. “I was under the impression that you didn’t want me as a bridesmaid,” she said defensively. “I mean, I dropped enough hints and you never said anything…”

I met her eyes awkwardly. “I hadn’t…I mean…”

“Look, it’s no problem,” Helen said quickly. “I mean it’s no big deal. And I do have this interview anyway, so…”

“You have to come. Hel, I can’t do it if you’re not there.” My voice caught slightly.

“Of course you can,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “So, who’s going to be your bridesmaid? Just out of interest?”

“I’m not having one,” I said tightly.

“Not having one?” Giles’s eyes widened. “But why? We have flowers for a bridesmaid. It creates a symmetry. Without one, the design—it’s not going to work. It will be lopsided!”

“No bridesmaid,” I continued, biting my lip and looking at Helen tentatively. “I was going to ask you to…to…” I took a deep breath. “To give me away.”

“You want me to give you away?” Helen’s eyes opened in surprise.

I shrugged awkwardly.

“Seriously?” Helen was staring at me now. “You seriously want me to give you away?”

I nodded. “But it’s fine, if you can’t,” I said quickly. “I mean, if you’re busy…”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Helen gasped. “I thought you had Fenella now and you didn’t need me around anymore.”

I stared at her incredulously. “Fenella?”

Helen reddened slightly. “She’s all you talk about. Fenella this, Fenella that…I mean, you don’t need two bossy boots in your life, do you?”

I giggled. “You’re the only bossy boots I want,” I said, taking her hand. “Honestly, Hel, you have to be there.”

“Well, then, looks like I will,” Helen said, biting her lip. Then she punched me lightly on the arm. “I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you ask me before?”

“I should have,” I agreed. “I just kept forgetting, I’ve had so much on my mind…”

“I could have gone to a frigging job interview, you realize?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I sniffed. “You know this is all down to you. All of it.”

“No it isn’t. It’s down to you, Jess. You pulled this all together.”

“So you still need the bouquet?” Giles asked uncertainly.

“Definitely. A big one,” Helen said, her eyes shining. “The best you’ve got. I mean, you know, after Jess’s…”

Giles nodded and waved his hand to his eyes. “Well, girls, this is all getting a bit emotional for me. So much as I’d love to stay, I’ve got work to do,” he said, rolling his eyes indulgently. “Jess, I’ll be at the hotel on Saturday morning at six to get the flowers set up; after that I’ll do the reception flowers. It starts at eleven
AM
, right?”

I nodded.

“So that’s the day after tomorrow, right?” Helen said suddenly.

Giles and I both nodded.

“Right,” Helen said sagely. “It’s just that, as far as I know, you haven’t had a hen night. Have you?”

I squirmed slightly. “Hen night? Uh, no. And I don’t want one, thanks very much.”

“But you have to have a hen night,” Helen said immediately. “In two days’ time you’re going to be married. You’re going to be moving out.”

“I am?” My heart quickened. “I mean, yes, I am.” I didn’t know why the fact hit me like a bolt out of the blue; Anthony and I had already had the conversation. I’d be moving in with him after the wedding. Fenella had even offered to have his place redecorated. But it had all felt a bit surreal, like I was talking about someone else—about Mrs. Milton, not Jessica Wild.

“So this is our last night in the flat as…flatmates,” Helen continued, her voice cracking slightly.

“Um, yes. I guess it is.” My throat was constricting again.

“So then we need to have a party. Giles, can you be a girl for the night?”

Giles looked at her uncertainly then shrugged, grinning. “Sure. Who am I kidding. I
am
a big girl. I’m a florist, for God’s sake.”

“Jess? Any objections? Not that I’ll accept any, but do your best anyway.”

I looked at her for a few seconds, then grinned. “Fine. But I can’t get too drunk,” I said sternly. “And no strippers.”

“No strippers,” Helen said, seriously, then winked at Giles. “Giles,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I think we’re going to need more gin.”

We didn’t have strippers. We did have Ivana, though. And Sean. And lots more gin, Kylie Minogue, and dancing. Lots of dancing. At one point I was dancing in my wedding dress. Actually, I fell asleep in my wedding dress with Ivana next to me. We woke up at the same time, our eyes opening to find themselves gazing into each other’s, just an inch or two apart. Immediately we both pulled away and stared at each other warily; a second later we realized what had woken us up as the intercom buzzed again. Sleepily, I ran toward it and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Jess, it’s me,” a familiar voice said curtly. “In the car. Ready?”

I looked down at my watch in alarm. It was already the middle of the afternoon.

“Fenella! Hi! Um, give me a minute, okay?”

“A minute? Jess, we don’t have a minute. There are things to do, checklists to check…”

“Just wait there.” I put the intercom down and turned around. A sleepy-looking Helen was mooching toward me. “Who was that?” she asked, yawning.

“Fenella. It’s the rehearsal today. I’m meant to be ready.”

Helen looked me up and down. “You’re wearing your wedding dress,” she pointed out. “I don’t think you’re meant to wear that to the rehearsal.”

I looked at her levelly, then pulled a face. “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. And help me get out of it.”

Twenty minutes later, dress back in its bag, smelling, admittedly, slightly of gin, my clothes packed, me washed, and Ivana safely in the kitchen, I hugged Helen good-bye.

“You’re sure you can’t make the rehearsal?” I asked imploringly. Helen had managed to shift her job interview forward a day; she shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said sadly. “But I’ll be there first thing tomorrow. And you’ll be fine. Honestly you will.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Hel. For…for everything,” I said.

“Oh, don’t be silly. You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

“You can still come and live with us, you know. When we’re married.” My voice caught slightly, and Helen’s eyes widened.

“I keep forgetting you’re not going to be living here anymore,” she whispered, then bit her lip. “You’re going to be married. You’re going to be Mrs. Milton.”

We reluctantly disentangled ourselves and I made my way downstairs where Fenella was standing, her mobile phone clamped to her face. She looked up at me irritably, then forced a smile.

“Okay, time to go. Otherwise we’ll be late!” she said, her voice slightly shrill.

“Sorry. Just…you know, last-minute stuff,” I mumbled apologetically, putting my bag in the boot and jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“Jess!” I turned around to see Helen running toward me, her face white, her expression anxious. “Mr. Taylor’s on the phone,” she said, her voice barely audible. “He says it’s urgent.”

I gulped. “Mr. Taylor?”

She nodded.

“Tell him I’m out,” I whispered. “Tell him I’m going away for the weekend.”

“I did,” Helen said, her eyes wide. “But he just said it was really important that he got to talk to you today. He said I had to track you down. He mentioned the W-word.”

“
W
?” I asked, confused.

“Wedding!” Helen mouthed. I felt my heart beginning to pound in my chest, and I moved out of Fenella’s earshot. He knew. He knew everything.

“You have to do something,” I whispered desperately. “You have to keep him away. He could ruin everything.”

Helen nodded seriously. “Leave it with me,” she said. “I’ll…I’ll tell him the wedding’s in Manchester. That should keep him busy.”

“Manchester,” I said, grabbing her to give her one last hug. “Or, you know, Scotland. Scotland’s even farther away…”

Helen nodded. “Scotland it is,” she said forcefully. “Absolutely. You leave it to me. No problem at all.”

Chapter 29

PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 42

To do

1. Do not think about Max.

2. Do not talk to Max.

3. Or look at Max.

4. Actually, keep as far away from Max as possible.

The reception room was a hive of activity and looked utterly beautiful—table upon table covered in crisp white linen, with gold and red upholstered chairs surrounding them.

“Right, I need to find Anthony,” Fenella said as soon as we arrived. “There are some problems with some invoices I need to clear up.”