“What?” Suze stares at me as though I’ve gone mad. “You’re not having a ring cushion, are you? Please don’t tell me you’ve turned into an American.”
“Well, then… the tiaras. I might have one of those!”
“Bex, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” I say brightly. “I just thought you might want to… oh, hi, Robyn!” As she approaches, I force myself to give her a friendly smile.
“Becky!” says Robyn, clasping her hands. “Isn’t that gown beautiful? Don’t you look adorable? Is that the one, do you think?”
“I’m not sure yet.” My smile is so fixed, it’s hurting. “So, Robyn, how on earth did you know I’d be here? You must be telepathic!”
“Cynthia told me you’d be coming in. She’s an old friend.” Robyn turns to Suze. “And is this your chum from England?”
“Oh… yes. Suze, Robyn, Robyn, Suze.”
“Suze? The maid of honor herself? Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Suze! You’ll look simply wonderful in—” She stops abruptly as her gaze takes in Suze’s stomach. “Dear, are you expecting?”
“I’ll have had the baby by then,” Suze assures her.
“Good!” Robyn’s face relaxes. “As I say, you’ll look wonderful in violet!”
“Violet?” Suze looks puzzled. “I thought I was wearing blue.”
“No, definitely violet!”
“Bex, I’m sure your mum said—”
“Well, anyway!” I interrupt hurriedly. “Robyn, I’m a bit tied up here—”
“I know, and I don’t want to get in your way. But since I’m here, there’s just a couple of things… Two seconds, I promise!” She reaches into her bag and pulls out her notebook. “First of all, the New York Philharmonic will unfortunately be on tour at the time of the wedding, but I’m working on an alternative. Now, what else…” She consults her notebook.
“Great!” I dart a quick glance at Suze, who’s staring at Robyn with a puzzled frown on her face. “You know, maybe you should just give me a call sometime, and we can talk about all this…”
“It won’t take long! So the other thing was… we’ve scheduled in a tasting at the Plaza on the 23rd in the chef’s dining room. I passed on your views on monkfish, so they’re having a rethink on that…” Robyn flips a page. “Oh, and I still really need that guest list from you!” She looks up and wags her finger in mock reproof. “We’ll be needing to think about invitations before we know it! Especially for the overseas guests!”
“OK. I’ll… I’ll get into it,” I mumble.
I don’t dare look at Suze.
“Great! And I’m meeting you at Antoine’s on Monday, ten o’clock. Those cakes… you are going to swoon. Now I have to run.” She closes her notebook and smiles at Suze. “Nice to meet you, Suze. See you at the wedding!”
“See you there!” says Suze in a too-cheerful voice. “Absolutely.”
The door closes behind Robyn and I swallow hard, my face tingling.
“So, ahm… I might as well get changed.”
I head to the fitting room without meeting Suze’s eye. A moment later, she’s in there with me.
“Who was that?” she says lightly as I unzip the dress.
“That was… Robyn! She’s nice, isn’t she?”
“And what was she talking about?”
“Just… wedding chitchat… you know… Can you help me out of this corset?”
“Why does she think you’re getting married at the Plaza?”
“I… um… I don’t know!”
“Yes you do! And that woman at the party!” Suddenly Suze’s voice is as severe as she can manage. “Bex, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
Suze grabs my shoulder. “Bex, stop it! You’re not getting married at the Plaza. Are you?”
I stare at her, feeling my face grow hotter and hotter.
“It’s… an option,” I say at last.
“What do you mean, it’s an option?” Suze stares at me, her grip on me loosening. “How can it be an option?”
I adjust the dress on the hanger, playing for time, trying to stifle the guilt rising inside me. If I behave as though this is a completely normal situation, then maybe it will be.
“It’s just that… well, Elinor’s offered to throw this really spectacular wedding for me and Luke. And I haven’t quite decided whether or not to take her up.” I see Suze’s expression. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what?’ ” expostulates Suze. “What about (a) your mum’s already organizing your wedding? What about (b) Elinor is a complete cow? What about (c) you’ve gone off your head? Why on earth would you want to get married at the Plaza?”
“Because… because…” I close my eyes briefly. “Suze, you have to see it. We’re going to have a great big string orchestra, and caviar, and an oyster bar… and Tiffany frames for everyone on the tables… and Cristal champagne… and the whole place will be this magical enchanted forest, and we’re going to have real birch trees and songbirds…”
“Real birch trees?” Suze pulls a face. “What do you want those for?”
“It’s going to be like Sleeping Beauty! And I’m going to be the princess, and Luke’s going to be the…” I tail off feebly to see Suze staring at me reproachfully.
“What about your mum?”
There’s silence, and I pretend to be preoccupied unhooking my basque. I don’t want to have to think about Mum right at the moment.
“Bex! What about your mum?”
“I’ll just have to… talk her round,” I say at last.
“Talk her round?”
“She said herself I shouldn’t do the wedding by halves!” I say defensively. “If she came and saw the Plaza, and saw all the plans—”
“But she’s done such a lot of preparation already! When we were there she could talk about nothing else. Her and — what’s your neighbor called?”
“Janice.”
“That’s right. They’re calling your kitchen the control center. There’s about six pin boards up, and lists, and bits of material everywhere… And they’re so happy doing it.” Suze stares at me earnestly. “Becky, you can’t just tell them it’s all off. You can’t.”
“Elinor would fly them over!” There’s a guilty edge to my voice, which I pretend I can’t hear. “I mean, they’d have a fantastic time! It would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them too! They could stay in the Plaza, and dance all night, and see New York… They’d have the most fabulous holiday ever!”
I’m trying desperately to paint a picture that, deep down, I know isn’t true. As I meet Suze’s eyes I can feel shame pouring over me, and I quickly look away.
“Have you said this to your mum?”
“No. I… I haven’t told her anything about it. Not yet. Not until I’m 100 percent sure.” There’s a pause while Suze’s eyes narrow.
“Bex, you are going to do something about this, aren’t you?” she says suddenly. “Promise me you’re not just going to bury your head in the sand and pretend it isn’t happening.”
“Honestly! I wouldn’t do that!” I say indignantly.
“This is me, remember!” retorts Suze. “I know what you’re like! You used to throw all your bank statements into the trash and hope a complete stranger would pay off your bills!”
This is what happens. You tell your friends your most personal secrets, and they use them against you.
“I’ve grown up a lot since then,” I say, trying to sound dignified. “And I will sort it out. I just need to… to think it through.”
There’s a long silence. Outside, I can hear Cynthia saying “Here at Dream Dress, our motto is, you don’t
