The Wedding that Changed Everything: a gorgeously uplifting romantic comedy

‘No.’

‘No?’ Alice frowns. ‘That’s it? Just no?’

‘He was wearing a cravat.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Emily.’ Alice comes to an abrupt stop, thumping her hands down on her hips. ‘You’re going to dismiss a potential love match because he’s wearing a cravat?’

‘First of all, he is not a potential love match. The L word is forbidden during this week, unless it’s in reference to lunch, limoncello or Lion Bars, okay? Second of all, he looks like a right wanker.’

‘Because of the cravat?’

‘Not just because of that.’

Alice raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘Just look at him, Alice.’ We turn to look at Mr Cravat, who’s still scrutinising the paintings, practically nose-to-canvas.

‘What? Maybe he’s interested in the history of the castle?’ Alice flashes me a smug look, as though I’ll suddenly realise that yes, he is the perfect match. A history nerd like me! How could I not see it before? Let’s make this a double wedding so I can become Mrs Cravat!

‘Or maybe he’s looking for a bit of nipple-out-of-bodice slippage? Or a full-on nude?’

‘Oh, Emily.’ Alice sighs heavily and links her arm through mine, guiding me out of the entrance hall and along one of the many corridors. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

‘Leave me alone to my own devices?’

‘Nope. Not part of the deal, missus.’ Alice marches along at quite a pace on her little pins. ‘You’ve been single for far too long, lady. We agreed to find you your Prince Charming and that’s what we’re going to do. Stop making gagging noises.’

I snatch my fingers away from my mouth, where I’ve been pretending to stick them down my throat. ‘Sorry.’

Instead of leaving the castle through the main entrance, we follow the corridor and emerge through a door into a large courtyard surrounded by the castle’s walls. A gravel path leads to a large fountain in the centre, with perfectly trimmed lawns either side.

‘What did Francelia mean earlier?’ I ask as we wander along the path. ‘About keeping your fingers to yourself?’

Alice shrugs. ‘No idea. She’s a batty old cow. Just ignore her.’ She points ahead suddenly and picks up her pace. ‘I fell into that fountain when I was little. I used to walk along its edge, but I lost my balance that day and nearly drowned. Grandpa had to fish me out. I was coughing up dirty water and everything.’ Alice shudders. ‘Nearly dying in fishy water was worth it for the hot chocolate Granny made me drink afterwards though.’

‘I bet you never got up there again,’ I say.

Alice looks at me and makes a pfft sound. ‘Are you freaking kidding me? I was up there the next day.’ She unlinks her arm from mine and takes hold of my hand instead. ‘Come on. It’s fun.’ She’s pulling me quickly towards the fountain before I can even open my mouth to remind her we’re only a stone’s throw away from thirty (and an underarm rather than overarm throw at that). We are not children any more. We are grown women who…

Ah, sod it. Why should children get to have all the fun?

We break into a run, both determined to reach the fountain first. Alice is fast, but I have longer legs, so it ends up being a tie. We’re breathless and giggly when we reach the fountain, but we don’t waste any time in clambering up onto the wall, arms outstretched for balance as we totter along the curved edge.

‘Why can’t life be like this all the time?’ Alice asks as she takes tiny, sideways steps. ‘Being a kid was so much easier than trying to be an adult.’

‘Speak for yourself. I wouldn’t go back to my childhood for anything.’

‘Oh, honey.’ Alice’s feet pause, and she reaches out for my hand, which is a big mistake because, as soon as contact is made, we both start to wobble. Still, Alice clings on and we manage to steady ourselves. ‘Me and my big mouth. I wasn’t thinking. That was such a stupid thing to say.’

‘Don’t be daft. Not everybody has a dark cloud looming over their youth. Besides, it wasn’t as though you had an idyllic childhood yourself. I’m glad you can enjoy the memories of good times.’

Alice was very young when her mum died, so she can’t really remember the trauma of a parent being there one minute and gone the next, but she remembers the day Francelia swept into her life and everything seemed to change all at once. Her life became unbalanced as they got used to the new dynamics at home, as she became part of a whole new family unit. And just as she was adjusting, her life was turned on its head once again when she was sent away to boarding school. Of course there were the school holidays, but she mostly spent them at the castle, with only brief visits from her father when he could tear himself away from work and his new wife. Alice once told me that when her father married Francelia, she gained a stepmother and lost a father.

‘I always felt safe here,’ Alice says. ‘The place is huge, but every nook and cranny was familiar.’

‘It must feel weird, being back here and it being a business venue rather than your grandparents’ home.’

‘I suppose it is.’ We’ve started to move again, making almost synchronised fairy steps along the fountain’s wall. ‘It’s still familiar, but there are lots of changes – all of them improving the castle for its paying guests, but it’s lost a bit of its charm.’

Alice loses her footing and we both have a major, arms-flailing wobble, our hands losing their grip on each other in the process. My heart is racing, picturing one of us taking a dip in the fishy water. This time there will be no grandfather to do a bit of human fishing. Somehow, however, we both find our balance.

‘Hey, do you know what this is like?’ Alice asks.

‘What?’

Alice stretches her arms out, one in front of her, the other behind, and bends her knees slightly. With the forward-facing hand, she beckons me with her finger.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I’m frowning but giggling at the same time. ‘You look ridiculous.’ Alice flips the beckoning finger and points down at the fountain’s wall at her feet, and it clicks what she’s up to. I splutter and shake my head. ‘Oh my God, you’re doing the Dirty Dancing on a log thing, aren’t you? No. No way.’ I shake my head. ‘I am not making a tit of myself and dancing with you up here.’

‘Come on.’ Alice pouts. ‘Carolyn and I used to do this all time when we were kids.’

‘I don’t care if you did this with Patrick Swayze himself.’ Alice and I both sigh dreamily. We wore our Dirty Dancing DVD out when we were at uni and too poor to go out on a Friday night. ‘I am not dancing with you, you little weirdo.’

Alice starts to sing the song that plays in that particular scene, moving backwards and forwards along the wall, even giving a little twirl of her foot à la Baby. I am in no doubt that this is something she has done a lot over the years.

‘Hey!’ a voice cries out, the sudden noise almost making me nose-dive into the water. I manage to keep dry only by hopping down onto the path. ‘I can’t believe you’re dirty dancing without me!’

Alice squeals and hops down off the wall too before tearing towards her sister, who is grinning at us despite the spectacle she’s just witnessed. The sisters throw their arms around each other, both babbling over the other.

I’ve met Carolyn only a handful of times over the years, first when she spent the weekend with us during our third year at uni (but I was juggling a waitressing job, a super-brief, super-hot fling with a fellow historian, and my studies at the time so our paths barely crossed), and again during graduation. Shortly after, Carolyn moved to Denmark and when she returned home to visit family, it was usually during the Christmas period, which I’d felt obligated to spend with Mum and Great Aunt Dorothy, even though I knew it would be the longest, most miserable few days for all involved. But I know Alice and Carolyn are close, despite not always residing in the same country.

Alice and Carolyn are very similar in looks. Both are petite with long, strawberry-blonde hair and pale freckles across their cheeks, and they have the exact same shade of green eyes, but Carolyn is a few inches taller than Alice, her face more rounded.

‘You remember my friend, Emily, don’t you?’ Alice says as I approach, and Carolyn smiles in a spookily familiar way.

‘Of course. Thank you for coming, Emily. I hope you’ll enjoy the week I have planned. It’s going to be so much fun, I promise.’

‘I’m sure I’ll love it,’ I say, almost convincing myself with the fib. If Alice has her way, I’ll hate almost every second of it as we hunt out my ‘Prince Charming’. I want to gag at the mere thought.

‘Have you seen her?’ Carolyn asks Alice, lowering her voice.

Alice frowns. ‘Who?’

Carolyn takes a furtive look around us and lowers her voice even further. ‘Francelia.’

Alice pulls a face. ‘Unfortunately. She showed us to our room.’

Carolyn frowns. ‘Room? You’re sharing?’ Alice nods, and Carolyn throws her hands up in the air. ‘Bloody Francelia! Sorry, I had no idea. Francelia put herself in charge of allocating the rooms. I could try to rearrange something…’