The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea

‘I’m sorry Pops, but someone had to do it.’ She dumps the box by the stairs. ‘Come on, the car won’t unload itself.’ Before I can open my mouth to protest, she grabs my arm, and the next thing I know we’re shuttling up and down the cobbled mews behind the shop, with bags and boxes.

By five when Cate arrives, Immie and I are red and sweating, and my tiny top floor bedroom is piled high with bulging black sacks.

‘Packing up to move to the farm already?’ Cate takes off her Alice band and shakes out her hair. Then she slips off her mac, strides over a stray bag, and lays her coat on the bed.

‘No, this lot is on its way in, from a certain penthouse.’ Immie explains for Cate’s benefit. ‘I’m re-uniting Poppy with her festival wellies,’ She gives me one of her tough love stares. ‘It’s time to accept that you and Brett are over, Poppy.’

‘I see,’ Cate sounds doubtful. She’s left work early to do bridesmaid shopping not a house move. It’s Friday afternoon. After a hard week she’s looking forward to a glass of prosecco, and a cosy session in the shop downstairs.

I twiddle with the edge of a black bag. ‘I think leaving my things behind was a way of playing for time.’ With my things here, the break up suddenly feels very concrete and final. And it’s not about losing Brett, it’s more about accepting that from now on, I’m on my own. And that’s me on my own forever, because I’m done with relationships. ‘It’s hard to think I might never be part of a couple again. Or a family.’

Cate’s arm lands round my shoulder. ‘Move to the farm, and be nearer Immie and me. We’re your family.’

Immie nods in agreement.

The thought of leaving my cosy attic in the heart of St Aidan is bad enough, but anywhere near Rafe Barker would be my worst nightmare at the moment. ‘What? And live next door to the boss from hell?’

Cate scours my face for clues. ‘You and Rafe aren’t getting on?’

Immie laughs. ‘Understatement of the decade. The good news is our meek mouse Poppy has finally found her inner lioness.’

‘I’m so sorry, Pops, it’s all my fault you’re in this situation.’ Then suddenly a beam spreads across Cate’s face. ‘But the lion bit sounds good, what happened?’

‘Anyone like a cupcake?’ I try to distract them. ‘There’s fizz in the fridge too.’

They don’t move. When were they not bribed by the promise of prosecco?

‘Come through, and I’ll tell you while I open the bottle?’ My last attempt works, and we all cram into the tiny kitchen as I pop the cork. I wait until the girls have wine in hand and mouths full of cake, so they can’t interrupt too much, because between you and me, I’ve been asking myself the exact same question. Why am I jumping down Rafe’s throat all of a sudden, when I can barely say boo to a goose?

‘I’m winging it here,’ I begin, not quite knowing what to say. I’ve inadvertently taken a bite of bun, and as I talk through my cake, the crumbs falling down my front remind me of Rafe picking me up about crumbs on the desk. And suddenly I know. ‘I always bit my tongue with Brett because I didn’t want him to dump me. I never told him what I thought, because I was scared I’d lose him.’

‘So you concede you were a bit of a doormat then?’ Immie is grinning. I’m not sure if it’s the sugar, or the first wine of the day going to her head.

Immie’s glass is already empty, so I top her up, ignoring the doormat bit. ‘Brett acted like he was the boss, and that was fine because he was better than me.’ I ignore Cate and Immie’s matching appalled looks and blown out cheeks, and carry on. ‘I gave up a good job to live with him, but once we were together here, he was the one with the big salary, the flat, the fast car. All I did was bake a few cakes.’

‘I’ll let that amazing piece of self-dismissal go …’ Immie is shaking her head. ‘But how come you tell Rafe exactly what you think?’

‘Ha, that’s easy.’ I don’t hesitate. ‘To start with I was really angry that he nearly robbed you of your wedding, Cate. And fighting your corner is way easier than doing it for myself.’

‘Go Poppy!’ Cate cheers. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘The wedding side is in complete chaos.’ I have to be careful here, because I don’t want to alarm Cate. If she knew there was no trace of her booking she might just lose it. ‘In confidence,’ I meet eyes with Cate, ‘to give you an idea, there’s a wedding booked for a month’s time, but I’ve got no clue at all who made the booking, and no way of getting in touch with them.’

Cate’s eyes go wide. ‘Oh crap …’

I go on. ‘But then Rafe’s not even apologetic, and he’s so so rude all the time, and so damned annoying.’ Even as I think about him the back of my neck begins to prickle. ‘He’s got it all – looks, a rich family, a great place to live. All that, and he can’t even be bothered to be civil. So for the first time in years I didn’t hold back when he pissed me off, I said exactly what I thought.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Immie sounds impressed.

Cate waves her glass in the air. ‘Yay Poppy!’

I slosh out more wine all round. At this rate it’ll be taxis home.

‘And although we’re having all-out war, for the first time in years I feel like I’m being true to myself.’ I slug back my own wine so fast, the bubbles sting my nose. ‘And you know what, I like saying what I think.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Sorry to rush you, but we’d better head down to the shop. Jess will be waiting. Take your glasses, I’ll grab another bottle or two to take down with us.’

‘It’s nice to have our feisty Poppy back.’ Cate grabs a last cupcake as she heads off down the white painted stairs. ‘I’m going to need all the strength I can get if you’re both saying it like it is. Have you got any hard hats in those bags of yours, because I have a feeling we might need them? Bridesmaid wars here we come.’

10 (#ulink_c50ee254-783e-5b0e-a42f-801f5788dbb7)

The Bridesmaids’ Beach Hut, at Brides by the Sea: Counting on fingers

The Bridesmaids’ Beach Hut is the upstairs shop area dedicated to bridesmaids, but you probably guessed that already. Jess recently gave it a beachy make-over, hence the name, and as we troop in across the artfully scuffed floorboards she’s straightening the pink striped fitting room curtains.

‘Wow.’ Cate’s eyes light up when she sees the love seat decked with fairy lights. But when she spots the long rail of dresses beyond, her beam stretches the width of the bay.

‘Cate, Immie, come on in,’ Jess purrs. ‘You both know Sera don’t you?’

Sera, her back jammed against the rough planks of the fitting room wall as she sketches, leans into view and gives a wave. ‘I’m working on some designs for bridesmaids dresses now, so I hope it’s okay if I give you guys a hand? Get a feel for what bridesmaids want?’

‘Of course,’ Cate flashes a momentary smile at Sera, then looks straight back to the dresses she’s hovering next to. As she skims past the bright colours and comes to a halt next to the pastel, extra-floaty dresses, Immie groans and makes a silent throat cutting sign behind Cate’s back.

Ignoring Immie, I grab some glasses from the tray on the pale pink dressing table, and pour Sera and Jess some wine. In my hurry to get this started, I’ve come down in my Uggs and jeans rather than the black pumps, black trousers and black top that Jess likes us assistants to wear when we’re helping out in the shop. But given we’re all friends, I doubt she’ll mind this once. When I was at my worst after the break up, slurping about in my pyjamas all day, Jess thoughtfully provided me with a black pair, so I could wander round the shop without the customers realising I wasn’t really dressed.

‘So, make yourselves comfy.’ Jess waves Cate and Immie to a couple of Louis XIV chairs with ice blue linen cushions and white rope tassels. ‘I’ll let Poppy show you the different dresses, and then you can decide which you’d like to try.’

‘Great.’ I tentatively flick through the dresses, wondering where to begin. ‘So, we’ve got a selection of styles here, but all the dresses can be ordered in lots of different colour ways.’ I’m trying to keep to the simple styles, given Cate’s buying for eight here. As my hand comes to rest on a short plain silk one, Immie gives it the thumbs up by waving her wine so hard it sloshes onto her jeans.

‘Definitely not.’ Cate mops Immie with a tissue, and vetoes the dress with one determined head shake. ‘In fact I can see the one I want from here.’ She gets up and reaches towards the floaty chiffon.

‘These are at the expensive end,’ I say, turning to Jess for back up.

‘We sell a lot more of these,’ Jess says diplomatically, whisking out an almost identical, much cheaper dress. ‘How about this one?’

‘No way.’ Immie gasps under her breath, and slumps down in her seat.

‘The first one’s definitely the one I want.’ Cate sounds decided.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. We bridesmaids had mentioned paying for our own dresses, but we couldn’t afford these. She’s picked the most expensive bridesmaid dress in the shop. ‘Those are £595 each.’ That’s after the friends and family discount I’ve negotiated, too. ‘Times eight,’ I say, desperately trying to do the maths.

Jess holds up yet another dress, offering her an out. ‘Here, this one’s similar, but half the price. Not that I’m supposed to say it, but other dresses are just as well made for a lot less than the make you’ve picked out.’

‘Nooo, I’ll look like a pregnant fairy in all of these,’ wails Immie.

‘We’ll try the first one,’ Cate insists. ‘I’m only doing this once, I’m damn well doing it with bridesmaids looking how I want them.’ She reaches out, and smiles as she runs her hand over the fabric. ‘Dreamy isn’t it? I haven’t finally decided if I want them in cream or nude. It’ll depend which wedding dress I finally go for.’

Which reminds me, we haven’t even started on Cate’s dress, but that’s a whole other story. I pretend not to notice that Immie’s miming being sick over the arm of her chair.

Jess turns to Sera, who’s blinking at what she’s witnessing, and whispers, ‘Brides with firm ideas are a dream to work with, Sera. When you try to please all the bridesmaids everyone ends up compromising. It’s fabulous when a bride decides to please herself.’