His old engaging manner has returned in full force, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
“My hair hasn’t even been done yet,” I say, with a grudging smile. “The hairdresser’s on his way.”
“Well, don’t let him ruin it.” He gathers the ends together and kisses them. “I’ll get out of your way. See you at the church!”
“OK.” I stare after him, feeling a bit unsettled.
And I’m unsettled for the rest of the morning. It’s not exactly that I’m worried. It’s more that I don’t know if I
If Dad were alive, I could ask him.
But that’s a thought path I
Toby and Tom emerge from their cocoons just as the hairdresser arrives. They make monster cups of tea in mugs which they brought themselves,106 then instantly start bantering with the hairdresser and putting rollers in their hair and making me fall about with laughter. I wish for the zillionth time that I saw more of them. Then they disappear off to have breakfast at a cafe, and Ruby and Annalise arrive two hours early because they couldn’t wait, and the hairdresser announces he’s ready, and my aunt Trudy rings from her mobile, saying they’re nearly here and her tights have laddered, is there anywhere she can buy a new pair?107
And then we’re into a blur of hair dryers blasting, nails being painted, makeup being done, hair being put up, flowers arriving, dresses being put on, dresses being taken off to go to the loo, sandwiches being delivered, and a near spray-tan disaster (it was actually just a blotch of coffee on Annalise’s knee). Somehow, it’s two o’clock before I realize it, and the cars are here and I’m standing in front of the mirror in my dress and veil. Tom and Toby are standing on either side of me, so handsome in their morning coats that I have to blink away the tears again. Annalise and Ruby have already left for the church. This is it. My last few moments as a single girl.
“Mum and Dad would have been so proud of you,” says Toby gruffly. “Amazing dress.”
“Thanks.” I try to shrug nonchalantly.
I suppose I look OK, as brides go. My dress is really long and slim, with a low back and tiny bits of lace on the sleeves. My hair’s in a chignon.108 My veil is gossamer light, and I’ve got a beaded headdress and a gorgeous posy of lilies. But somehow, just like Magnus this morning, something seems amiss …
It’s my expression, I suddenly realize with dismay. It isn’t right. My eyes are tense and my mouth keeps twitching downward and I’m not radiant. I try baring my teeth at myself in a broad smile—but now I look freaky, like some kind of scary clown-bride.
“You OK?” Tom is watching me curiously.
“Fine!” I pull at my veil, trying to bunch it round my face more. The point is, it doesn’t matter what my expression is like. Everyone will be looking at my train.
“Hey, sis.” Toby glances at Tom as though for approval. “So you know, if you
“Four-thirty from St. Pancras.” Tom nods. “Gets you to Paris in time for dinner.”
“Do a getaway?” I stare at him in dismay. “What do you mean? Why would you plan a getaway? Don’t you like Magnus?”
“No! Waoh! Never said that.” Toby lifts his hands defensively. “Just … putting it out there. Giving you the option. We see it as our job.”
“Well,
“I got the papers when I was out, by the way,” adds Tom, proffering a stack of newspapers. “You want to have a read in the car?”
“No!” I recoil in horror. “Of course not! I’ll get newsprint on my dress!”
Only my little brother could suggest reading the newspaper on the way to my own wedding. As if, it’ll be so boring we’d better have some entertainment.
Having said that, I can’t help flicking through the
But less tightly than before. I’m sure of it.
The car is a black Rolls Royce limousine, which looks pretty amazing in my nondescript Balham street, and a small crowd of neighbors has gathered to watch as I come out. I do a little twirl and everyone claps as I get into the car. We set off, and I feel like a proper, glowing, radiant bride.
Except I can’t look
“What?”
“You look ill.”
“No, I don’t.” I scowl at him.
“You do,” says Toby, peering at me dubiously. “Kind of … green.”
“Yeah, green.” Tom’s face lights up. “That’s what I meant. Like you’re about to hurl.
That is so typical of brothers. Why couldn’t I have had sisters, who would tell me I looked beautiful and lend me their blusher?