Summer at the Little Wedding Shop: The hottest new release of summer 2017 - perfect for the beach!
and nice restaurants.’ She sends me a playful wink. ‘For anyone interested, that is. Not necessarily meaning you, Lily.’
I’m gawping at how much background detail she’s crammed in there. ‘Thanks, but I’m all good here, Poppy.’ I grin vaguely in the direction of the bar without actually making eye contact. ‘But please say “Hi” back.’
‘Will do,’ Rafe nods at me. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but Poppy did promise to teach me to dance tonight.’ He holds out a hand to her.
Poppy sighs, then begins to wiggle out from behind the table. ‘Rafe dancing? Now that is a scary thought.’ A second later his arm slides around her waist.
They’re about to wander off when the best man jumps up on a chair, rattling a spoon against a pint glass. As Poppy and Rafe stop, Jess and I sit up expectantly, to listen.
‘Okay, ladies. It’s bouquet throwing time.’
Jess and I slump back again, and she points at my glass. ‘That’s us off the hook. Time for another cocktail?’
The best man goes on. ‘Sam wants every lady out in the garden, regardless of status. Single, married, divorced, you’ve all got to come.’ There’s an undertow of surprised mumbling as the women head for the door.
‘That’s a new one on me.’ I tug on my jacket, and wince as I stuff my appalled toes back into my shoes. ‘Looking at all the stilettos, it’s probably just the landlord trying a fast fix to get his grass aerated.’
Jess looks at me as she slips on her coat. ‘Remember the first ever bridesmaid’s bouquet you made for me at the shop?’ Jess isn’t big on nostalgia, but she often goes back to this one.
As if I could forget. I was so nervous, I was shaking too hard to cut the stems. And I wanted it to be perfect. I grin at her, the same way I do every time she hauls out this story. ‘A white and yellow posy. With freesias and daisies, and trailing ribbons. Took me four hours to make.’ I was bursting with excitement when I finished it.
She’s shaking her head, laughing. ‘The look on your face, when I told you we needed five more the same.’
I pull a face. ‘Rookie mistake. Lucky for me you went easy on beginners.’
Her smile is indulgent. ‘Not at all, I could see your potential, even that first day.’ Which is nice of her to say, and reminds me what an appreciative boss she was. As she helps Sam’s Granny Kernighan towards the garden, she strikes up a loud running commentary. ‘Whoever catches this bouquet is supposed to have romantic good fortune very soon. It goes back to the days when touching a bride brought good luck, and fragments of wedding dress fabric were like charms. Throwing the bouquet was a way of stopping the crowd tearing the bride’s dress off as she left.’
I shiver as the wind rushes in from outside. ‘That’s barbaric. I’m not sure I’m happy with the voyeurs either.’ I can’t help noticing a lot of the guys are coming out to watch. If they’re hoping for a girl fight, there are two here who won’t be joining in.
As I hold the door open, I catch Mrs K’s eye. ‘What are you going to do with Mr Kernighan if you catch the bouquet and find another man?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ she laughs back, pulling her collar up against the cold. ‘There are lovely white roses and blue anemones in that bunch, so I won’t mind if I do catch it.’ She gives my arm a prod. ‘From the smile that handsome young chap by the bar gave you as we passed, I’d say you’re in there, even without the flowers.’
As we move out across the floodlit herringbone brick paving, I send Jess an eye roll over the top of Mrs K’s head, but she’s too busy agreeing with Mrs K to notice. Eye rolls to that too.
Now we’re outside, I can see there’s been a makeover here too. We used to hang out here as teenagers on summer evenings, with our lemonade shandies and cream sodas, but the rough ground has given way to a neat lawn and timber edged borders.
I’m not wasting any time. ‘Okay, let’s talk avoidance tactics. How about we head for the trees?’ Newly planted, in the shadows at the far end.
‘Good thinking.’ Jess gently passes Mrs K onto one of the women already bouncing on the front line. Talk about pushy. Some of them have even tossed aside their heels. Whatever happened to spiking the grass?
I shudder as I see their toes gripping the mud. ‘What a nightmare. It’s like school PE class all over again.’ My least favourite lesson. Along with maths. And science. As for competitions, I’m the world’s most disinterested competitor. Although if there was a competition for that, obviously, I’d be completely true to myself, and wouldn’t bother to enter.
‘Jules, it’s great to see you, and just in time for the scrum.’ It’s Jess, greeting her tamest, most blue eyed, floppy haired photographer. It might be my imagination, but his trademark pricey aftershave cloud seems even stronger in the dark. Jess narrowly misses getting swiped round the face as he flicks back his multi-coloured scarf. Even though she must have seen him already today, she stretches up to give him a peck. This isn’t just an air kiss either, it’s a maximum effort, lips-to-cheek job. Given how hard she’ll have leaned on him to come up with a best moments wedding album for a tiny fee for the Sams, it’s the least she can do.
‘Happy catching. Watch out for the water.’ Jules gives me my own wave, and bounds off to where Sam is positioning herself, flowers in hand, back towards us, by the pub doorway.
‘Water?’ Jess laughs, and does a funny little purr. ‘That boy is such a tease.’
I’m rubbing my arms because they’re freezing. I mean whose idea was it to come out here in February, when we could easily have gone through the whole charade on the dance floor?
‘Okay, here we go. It’s happening.’ At last. Given we’re well to the right, and so far away we’re almost in the darkness, I reckon we’re entirely out of range. From what I remember from netball at school, Sam’s even weedier than me when it comes to throwing.
‘One two three … THROW!’ That’s Jules. Whatever the wedding situation, he can’t resist taking charge.
Sam swings her arms and there’s a grunt as she lets go of the flowers. Then the bouquet flies upwards towards the starry sky. In a split second it’s already soared way over Mrs K’s head. It’s a strange spectacle when you’re completely detached and disinterested. There’s a flurry of disappointed moans as out-stretched arms drop, and heads along the entire front row turn to watch. The bouquet rises, tracing an extraordinary arc through the air. If Sam had been a champion hammer thrower, it couldn’t be travelling any faster. It’s hurtling safely to our left, then at the last moment it veers off like some kind of guided missile. The next thing I know, there’s a thump in my solar plexus, and I’m looking down at a bloody bouquet in my stomach.
‘Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.’ Horrified doesn’t begin to cover it. I fend off the flowers, flapping my hands, as if I’m shooing away a dog. Bouncing them as if I’m playing beach volleyball. There’s the feeling that if I don’t actually grasp the bouquet, it doesn’t count. I stagger backwards, make a feeble two handed re-launch, and spin it to land on Jess’s chest.
‘For chrissakes, Lily …’ Jess snaps.
But it’s too late. She’s put two hands on it. So now it’s nothing to do with me – it’s hers.
Phew. For a moment, there I thought I might have to go through the whole damned wedding hell again. Talk about near misses.
‘There’s no denying, you did catch it.’ Jess is talking at me through gritted teeth. ‘Or more importantly, it chose you. It was really quite extraordinary the way it did that.’
‘Yeah right.’ I don’t give a damn, because she’s the one holding it now.
Her nostrils flare. ‘It’s only a bit of fun, Lily. It’s not real, you do know that?’