‘Good grief, Kate, you look like you’ve got the groom under there.’
She throws a hairbrush in my general direction. Still, at least she’s got somewhere to rest her flowers if she tires of carrying them.
Carol pulls out a hanger with another bridesmaid’s dress on it and thrusts it at me, ordering me to change at once. She’s getting bossier now that we’re almost sisters.
I quickly throw it on, grab a bouquet of bluebells from the windowsill and announce that I’m ready.
The others stand and we converge in the middle of the room for one last hug.
I kiss Carol. ‘I’m so glad you’re marrying Callum. Welcome to the family.’
Oh no, more mascara adjustments required all round.
As we finally move towards the door, Kate nudges me. ‘Cooper, I think you should remove the sunglasses now, you look like a bodyguard.’
I’d forgotten all about them. I take them off and chuck them behind me.
Kate takes another look at my face.
‘On second thoughts, maybe you looked better with them on,’ she laughs.
We make our way downstairs and pause at the doorway of the ballroom while someone runs to tell the organist to start the music. I look at the backs of two hundred heads. There’s Mum in the corner, wearing a hat that looks like a frisbee. The kids will be playing with that before the night is out. Who’s that sitting next to her? On her left is a blond hulk of a man with Slavic features. Ivan, I suspect. On her right is Sam, now changed into a tuxedo and easily tying with Callum for the award of ‘Best Looking Man in the Room’. Mum’s obviously beside herself, because her head is whirling from side to side. I think she’s overcome by the close proximity to that much testosterone.
I spot my dad. He’s easy to find because he’s the only one slumped at an angle on his chair. Obviously, his partner for the night is Jack Daniel’s. Luckily, Michael, looking gorgeous, is sitting on his left in what must be the best man’s seat, so at least he’s propping Dad up. I can’t wait to see what will happen when the music starts and Michael stands up.
Right on cue, the first bars of ‘Here Comes The Bride’ resound through the room. Michael jumps to his feet and a bewildered Dad lands in a heap on the floor, much to the amusement of the congregation and the disgust of my mum. No change there, then.
I’m just about to take the first step, when I hear Jess take a sharp intake of breath. I turn around to see her looking panic-stricken.
‘What’s up?’ I whisper.
‘I forgot to tell you, I found Tom McCallum. I invited him over ’cause I figured you’d want to see him. He’s here somewhere.’
My thumping heart drowns out the music. Where is he? As we walk up the aisle, I maniacally search the faces of the people in each row.
Oh, no. NO. What the hell is going on? There’s Joe Cain, sitting in the back row, looking pleadingly at me. And shit! In front of him is Doug Cook. This can’t be happening. I turn my head to the other side and the first thing I see is Phil Lowery’s smiling face. This is a conspiracy! My heart is now pumping so fast that blood is gushing through my body like a burst dam. This can’t be happening to me.
I can see Sam playing the worried fiancé, watching me with a face full of concern because it must be obvious that I’m about to have a heart attack. Then, just when I think it can’t possibly be any worse, life takes another nose dive. Nick Russo is sitting next to my gran. What the hell is he doing here? Somebody find a gun and shoot me, please.
Then I spot him. I think. It’s hard to tell; I hardly recognise him. Yes, it is him. Sitting two rows from the front, looking at least seventy pounds heavier than he was the last time I saw him, is Tom McCallum. We make eye contact and he grins warmly, and I hope he realises that my panicked expression isn’t down to him. It’s down to all of them.
So this is what it’s come to. What if… all my ex-boyfriends turned up at the same place, at the same time? What if… I made a sharp exit through the nearest window and hitch-hiked to Mongolia in a blue bridesmaid’s dress?
I’m sweating so much that I’m in danger of making damp patches on my dress. Luckily, it’s a dark colour, so it might not be too obvious. I could have bathed in Sure Extra Dry and I’d still be sweating.
The ceremony passes in a blur. All I can feel is six pairs of eyes boring into my back. Six pairs of eyes that belong to guys who either want to talk to me, kidnap me, marry me or kill me. I feel faint.
Please don’t let me pass out in the middle of Callum and Carol’s wedding. They’d never forgive me.
‘I, Carol Sweeney, take Callum Elvis Cooper (yes, I know it’s ridiculous, but he was apparently conceived during a rendition of ‘Love Me Tender’), to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, to the exclusion of all others, for as long as I live.’
She had her fingers crossed at the ‘poorer’ bit.
Callum repeats the vow, looking at Carol with such raw adoration that I suddenly have goosebumps. This is what it should be like. This is the kind of love that you need to spend the rest of your life with someone.
A jolt runs though me. What had I been thinking? If I
