Читать книгу The Wedding Planner - Eve Devon - Страница 12

Gloria

She was being punished.

That was what this was.

A bridesmaid???

Well, if that didn’t categorically prove Karma was a bitch.

She glanced to the stupid swear jar which was already a quarter full damn it – wait, ‘damn’ wasn’t a swear word was it? Crap. It was. She might as well write an IOU for a gazillion pounds and be done with it. Chewing on her bottom lip to stop more four letter words from forming, she rubbed at a spot on the already gleaming surface of the bar.

What on earth had possessed Emma to ask her?

What on earth had possessed her to agree?

Since when was she that person – the one who succumbed to peer pressure?

But as Emma, Juliet, and even Kate, had all turned to stare at her expectantly, she’d felt something inside of her, jumping up and down, waving its hands in the air screaming, ‘Ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me …’

Acceptance.

Something she’d wanted for the longest time.

The next thing she’d known she’d been uttering the words, ‘Oh, sod it, then,’ and awkwardly moving forward to hug Emma.

Pitiful, she thought with a shake of her head as she picked up the pitcher of milk and quietly moved across the back of Cocktails & Chai to put it down on the table where she’d set out coffee and tea for after the village meeting currently in session.

Mary, the school chaplain, was addressing the gathered residents but darned if Gloria could make out what it was about.

‘Speak up,’ she wanted to shout. Speak up and drown out this racing uncertainty Emma had only asked so that the token ‘bitchy bridesmaid’ role was filled, because not to get too technical, but the whole point of working so hard on herself lately was to be, you know, less bitchy.

Creeping back to her place behind the bar, she stowed the swear jar on a shelf behind her and sighed. Had it really only been eight hours ago that Fortuna was assuring her she’d be fine?

At the opposite end of the large room, against the backdrop of what she’d used to think of as calming eau-de-nil paint, but in her current state only made her feel bilious, Crispin Harlow, head of Whispers Woods’ Residents Association, finally cut Mary off with an impatient, ‘Yes, thank you Mary, I’m sure we’re all pleased the school’s pet goldfish will be getting new companions at the start of the school year. Let me know what the children decide to name them and I’ll announce it at the next meeting.’

Wow.

Gloria broke her village meeting rule with an exceptionally satisfying eye-roll. Seriously, the school’s goldfish getting friends to form a school of their own? Hardly, Hold the Front Page news, was it?

To combat the frustration of having to be present while this was discussed she imagined breaking into the school, stealing all the naming cards for the new goldfish and filling them all out with her own suggestions of: Dick and Fanny.

Thinking it through though she realised that to make the cards look authentic she’d have to write in lots of different handwriting styles, and use a lot of different pens … so much hard work. Not to mention making sure Persephone didn’t rumble her, and use that ‘disappointed’ expression like she had when Gloria had asked her teacher to write her an essay on why the urban dictionary was no substitute for an actual dictionary when it came to putting proper words on the children’s homework spelling list.

Reaching forward she turned a copy of the agenda towards her to see what other thrilling topics the village was going to discuss ad infinitum that evening.

As a way of disseminating gossip quicker than rural broadband speed, Crispin’s village meetings were unsurpassable. She’d even used the forum herself, she remembered, wincing at how she’d stood up in one of the meetings last summer and told everyone assembled just who newcomer Daniel Westlake had formerly associated himself with.

She was lucky Daniel had a forgiving nature.

These days, whenever it was her turn to be key-holder for the meeting, the first thing she did after turning the giant clock back ten minutes to ensure everyone arrived on time, was to swipe a stack of Post-it notes from Daniel’s desk in the co-working office space he ran from the top floor of the clock house and write her village meeting mantra: less speaking, more smiling and absolutely NO rolling of the eyes.

She looked under the bar now to the scribbled Post-its (other sticky notes are available at Hive @ The Clock House) and stifled the sigh.

As Crispin started rambling on, she tried to pay attention but within moments all she could think was how on earth was she going to pull off the role of bridesmaid? Didn’t they have to be supportive, and involved and, oh joy, wear one of those dresses in floaty pastel?

Of course the minute the deal had been sealed with the hugging, it had started … The first conversation of no doubt millions, in which she’d quickly realised, she was a) not supposed to want to escape, and b) expected to participate positively in.

‘When’s the date, then?’ Juliet had immediately wanted to know.

‘Yes,’ Kate had said. ‘Because we’ll have to close this place, or are you getting married at the Hall?’

‘Surely it will be at the Hall,’ Juliet had answered on Emma’s behalf. ‘There’s probably some sort of tradition or something?’

‘Or church,’ Kate had said, looking at Emma. ‘Are you thinking the whole big church wedding?’

Gloria had shuddered at the thought of having to step foot inside a church again. Nervously she’d glanced across to Emma, who looked how she felt, out of her depth and completely overwhelmed.

‘Um …’ Emma had trailed off and then bravely admitted, ‘we haven’t set the actual date yet. We’re waiting until we find the perfect one, where everyone’s free. Mum’s on another cruise and we don’t know when Jake’s oldest brother Marcus is planning to come back.’

‘But surely Seth is Jake’s best man,’ Gloria had squawked indignantly. After all, out of the six Knightleys, he was the only one here supporting Jake’s plans for the Hall.

Three pairs of intelligent, knowing eyes turned to her.

Bugger.

Why had she had to go and mention Seth like she was invested or something?

‘Jake’s asking Seth right now,’ Emma had assured. ‘But—’

‘Look, I know it must be like herding cats getting all the brothers and sisters in the same place at the same time, but isn’t it more important for you to get the date you two want?’ The words had tumbled out of Gloria’s mouth as she remembered receiving the list of suitable dates that Bob’s mother had issued for their wedding.

‘Or, if you don’t know the date yet,’ Kate had interrupted, ‘what season do you want? You could have a winter wedding. Ooh, I’ve always wanted a winter wedding.’

‘Winter?’ Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘I think I’m more—’

‘Absolutely,’ Juliet had instantly agreed, assessing Emma, ‘with your blonde hair, I’m thinking summer or autumn. That’s only a year away – will that give you enough time to plan?’

A year?

As in three hundred and sixty five days of wedding stuff?

Shoot me now, Gloria had thought, and announced, ‘I think you should do it as soon as possible.’

When they stared like she was the font of all wedding knowledge, it had occurred to her that, technically, she was. She was certainly the only one out of the four of them who had organised a wedding and been married.

The nausea had become more pronounced as she’d mumbled, ‘If you spend too much time planning, everything about the day gets blown out of proportion and you lose sight of the fact it’s to celebrate your union rather than pulling off the perfect party.’

There’d been shocked silence and then Kate had murmured, ‘Actually, she has a point.’

‘She has a name and thank you,’ Gloria had said, with a nod, the nausea abating somewhat.

‘To be honest for now I’m just happy to have organised the bridal party,’ Emma had said.

Gloria had looked at Emma’s dreamy expression that suggested a definite lack of feeling the need – the need for speed – and had asked herself how much she really want to be accepted by these women?

‘So let’s ask Gloria,’ Crispin’s voice suddenly boomed across the room.

At the sound of her name she shot up from behind the bar where she’d been quietly rummaging in her bag for those handy stress balls she’d taken from Fortuna’s office. ‘Huh?’ she responded, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes so that she could eye the agenda.

Tonight’s meeting was supposed to be about the infrastructure for the Beer Festival. Now that Whispers Wood had reactivated their summer fetes, this year the village had voted on moving it to autumn to tie-in with the local micro-brewery who’d won some sort of award.

She thought Kate had submitted The Clock House’s ideas when she’d realised the meeting conflicted with Thursday Night Dinner at her mum, Sheila’s. Emma was with Jake no doubt celebrating that they’d made one wedding decision and Juliet had been whisked out for dinner by Oscar after Gloria had snuck out to find him and mention he might want to spoil Juliet that evening.

It wasn’t butting in, she’d told herself. It was making sure two people she sort of liked made time to talk about what was going on because once the talking stopped it usually meant you were completely unpractised at it when the big stuff hit the fan.

‘So, how about it, Gloria,’ Crispin asked, ‘are you going to enlighten us?’

‘Pretzels,’ she said, looking around the room. At the blank stares she added a confident nod. ‘You all know we stock the micro-brewery’s Whispers Wrangler. We had a think about what goes with beer and came up with pretzels. Sheila’s going to cook up huge batches and presto: a Beer and Pretzels tent from The Clock House.’

‘Yes. I have you down for the pretzels but I was asking about the other thing?’ Crispin repeated.

There was another thing?

What other thing?

She certainly couldn’t tell him what she thought about the bridesmaid thing.

She couldn’t tell anyone.

Besides, it was going to be fine.

It had to be.

She could survive without imploding, or worse, exploding all over Emma and Jake’s Big Day.

‘Gloria?’

‘Wow—yes?’ Gloria blinked rapidly, tipping her head to the side on the off chance her own Big Day wedding montage would simply fall right out of her head. Just because Emma and Jake’s wedding was going to be the first wedding in Whispers Wood, since, well, hers … ‘What?’ she said grumpily.

Crispin gave her eye-rolling a run for its money and lifted his hand impatiently, ‘Can you shed some light onto the proceedings?’

‘The pretzel proceedings?’ She stood behind the safety of the bar, caught in the glare provided by some of the residents as they turned to stare at her. Unable to take it, she glanced upwards, straight into the large sparkly chandelier. The one with the ridiculous fairytale attached to it. The one responsible for making her think about Seth Knightley in a light which, if it ever got out and saw the light of day, she’d have to disavow all knowledge of, and leave Whispers Wood in the middle of the night, never to return.

‘You know Gloria,’ Crispin said, his voice exasperated, ‘after all that Whispers Wood has done for you I don’t think it’s too much to ask you to share your intel.’

Intel?

‘I know you’re in the know,’ Crispin declared.

‘The know?’

‘As if you wouldn’t be – what with being Emma’s bridesmaid.’

Gloria’s mouth dropped open. Everyone knew already? There would be no graceful backing-out? Not that Gloria had the first clue as to what constituted graceful. Should have studied ballet like that Arabella Jones.

Yanking up the agenda for the meeting, she pointed to it. ‘There’s nothing listed here about Emma and Jake and their wedding. How did you find out?’

‘Felix heard it from Sheila who I believe got it from Cheryl who told Mrs. Harlow when they met in Big Kev’s corner shop earlier this afternoon.’

General consensus noises could be heard throughout the room.

Unbelievable, except, if you lived in Whispers Wood, and had had first-hand experience of the village vine, completely believable. ‘What has my being one of Emma’s bridesmaids have to do with the beer festival?’

Crispin stared at her like she’d dropped twenty IQ points. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. I did ask both Jake and Emma to be here tonight so that we could address the,’ he brought up his hands to make speech marks, ‘matter openly.’

‘What,’ she brought her hands up to copy his speech marks, ‘matter? Are you asking me what beer they’ve chosen for the reception? Or whether they want to use the tents for the big day?’

‘I’m asking you to give us the date for their wedding.’

‘Are you worried it will clash with a golfing day?’

‘I’m worried it will clash with the beer festival.’

With a glance at her Village Meeting Mantra, she pasted on another smile and said, ‘Just pick a day and let them know. I’m sure they’ll be able to work around it.’

Crispin shook his head. ‘No can do. It needs to be the other way round so I can organise accordingly. These stall-holders aren’t going to wait indefinitely. If I don’t give them a date – a date that I’m certain won’t conflict—’

‘Oh, for—’ Do not swear. Do not swear. ‘Do you really think the whole of Whispers Wood is going to be invited to Emma and Jake’s wedding?’

Shocked gasps rung out and then everyone started speaking at once.

Oh … my … God … just as she thought she might have to suggest to Emma that they store riot gear on the premises, Crispin got to do his favourite thing and as his gavel rapped sharply against the lectern, and his shouts of ‘Order, order,’ rang out, the room quietened back down.

He looked confused as he asked, ‘Why ever wouldn’t we all be invited?’ And then suspicious as he added, ‘Do you know something we don’t?’

Fifty heads turned in her direction.

‘I know nothing.’ Shit. Her heart was pounding now and her mouth dry. ‘About anything,’ she added. Crikey, was that sweat breaking out on her upper lip?

‘You obviously do,’ Crispin pressed. ‘You’re being very mysterious about the whole thing.’

Telling herself she couldn’t afford to get arrested for clearing the bar in one tall leap, and braining Crispin with either a cocktail shaker or teapot, she tried to infuse her tone with patience. ‘I promise I’m not.’

‘There’s not trouble in paradise is there?’ Ted the mechanic, completely unhelpfully threw out, causing a worried, ‘oooh’ to go around the room.

‘Of course not,’ Gloria answered hurriedly. ‘They’re sickeningly in love. It’s foul.’ Wait, that hadn’t come out right at all. At this rate she was going to need those stress balls super-glued to her hands.

‘Then if there’s no hiccup with their relationship, what’s the issue? In-law trouble?’

Gloria stared at the rabble. They just kept coming. Like Walkers – of The Walking Dead variety, rather than the local ramblers’ society. ‘No. That’s not it, I’m sure.’

‘Then give us the date,’ Crispin pressed, folding his arms.

‘Yes, when’s the big day?’ Carole Jones piped up, probably hoping to get darling-daughter, Arabella, cast as a flower girl.

‘Look, they haven’t decided yet, okay?’ Gloria ground out.

‘Of course they have, they’ve gathered the wedding party,’ Trudie McTravers insisted. ‘You don’t gather the wedding party until you’ve decided on the date, everyone knows that.’

‘Come on, Gloria, dish the date,’ Ted’s wife said. ‘If I don’t get home soon, I’m going to miss the season finale of Merriweather Mysteries.’ Turning back to Crispin she said, ‘I don’t know why you scheduled the meeting for tonight, Crispin.’

‘Catch-up TV, maybe you’ve heard of it?’ Crispin replied.

‘Yes, but then I can’t tweet along during it and I have to turn off all my notifications so I don’t get spoilers before I get to see it.’

‘What’s to tweet? The most famous person is always the murderer,’ Gloria murmured and then reminded herself that the longer they were talking about this, the less time to talk about the other thing.

‘I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Merriweather Mysteries fan,’ Janet, one of the beauticians at the spa told Ted’s wife. ‘What do you think of the second series?’

‘It’s taken a bit of a delicious darker Dr Foster-esque turn, hasn’t it? Have you heard who they’re lining up for series three?’

‘Damn it, Janet,’ Crispin moaned, seemingly bemused at why people were now asking if Trudie could look into the next Whispers Wood production being The Rocky Horror Show. ‘Please everyone, we don’t have time for this. We need the wedding date so we can progress the beer festival. It’s in Emma and Jake’s best interests anyway. I can’t imagine their distress if it’s accidentally double-booked and residents have to decide whether to support them or the village.’

Frustrated and feeling the bilious-inducing green walls closing in, all Gloria could do was look around the room helplessly and repeat, ‘Come on, you can’t seriously imagine the whole of Whispers Wood is invited?’

‘Of course we’re invited. It’ll be up at the Hall, won’t it?’ Trudie insisted. ‘We’ll all get the chance to see the gardens and Cheryl’s probably going to be asked to provide some of her prize-winning dahlias for the arrangements. Who won’t want to see and support that?’

At this new barrage of wedding-date harassment all Gloria could think was if she didn’t shut this down, they’d be egging each other on from now until the Doomsday Clock hit midnight.

‘All right, all right,’ she shouted. ‘You want a date? You want me to, like, give you their actual booked and completely planned wedding date?’

The room erupted into one great big fat affirmative.

As her thought process leapfrogged all over her brain in panic she suddenly found herself opening her mouth and saying, ‘Fourth of October.’

Wait—What the what?

The fourth of October?

As in her wedding anniversary, the fourth of October?

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Blood pounded in her ears.

Her heart felt tachycardic and she gripped the edge of the bar as the ground shifted under her.