Page 38 of Great Sexpectations
‘That you did.’ It was for a foodbank charity, except he lost the green foliage to his head by the time he got to Tower Bridge so ended up looking like a big orange phallus. At least it was bang on theme for the family business.
‘So that’s for the ceremony? Are you going full matador for the party?’ I joke.
He elbows me. ‘You’re funny. You wait until you see what Ruby has in store for you.’
I pull a face, thinking about Ruby’s current style. There’s a very pastel, beige Yeezy vibe going on and her last red-carpet outfit at the National Soap Awards looked more like a colander than clothing. I’d not be able to do either. It’d be draughty for a start.
‘So, I have questions about the wedding. Ruby’s put them as a note on my phone… given that you’ve come organised today.’ He refers to the many folders I’ve brought along so we can stay on top of the day’s sartorial decisions. ‘First off, what’s your fee for all this wedding planning or are you doing this for free, like a gift?’ he asks sweetly, leaning further back into Mr Li’s velvet sofa.
I smile back because Sonny has that sort of doe-eyed grin that means I’ve been helping him out my whole life. I am doing this for free, but I do have my ulterior motives. Ever since Cameron’s appeared in my life, I’ve shoved all that nervous energy, guilt, confusion into the wedding. It’s a terrible trait of mine but a coping mechanism all the same and the positive is that someone will benefit from all that hard work – that person being my dear brother here.
‘I figured I was going to do it for free. The other gift idea was a ridiculously large and ornate gravy boat.’
‘Ooooh, but I like gravy,’ he says, weighing up the options. ‘Can I have both?’
‘Greedy. You celebs really are all the same.’
He shakes his head. ‘Well, it’s good to have you at the helm. The call at 6 a.m. last Tuesday about flowers was really appreciated.’
I was on the phone with a flower vendor in the Netherlands, I needed answers about shades of red. My brother complains, but he knows that my attention to detail will make this whole day sing. I’ll know to sit Nan away from the speakers, not have any soya in the vicinity as the bride is allergic and also have all those little things in place: a close-up magician, blister plasters in the bathroom, taxi numbers, a photo booth, a specially curated playlist so no one will be left sat twiddling their thumbs and saying that they don’t know these songs. Everyone knows Sister Sledge.
‘And the caterers in charge. They’ve sent the menus… Have you—’
‘I’d recommend the blade of beef, a vegan alternative. Don’t start with soup. Soup is messy when you have posh frocks on. Maybe a smoked fish/tartlet option. I’d go with something comforting for dessert. Sponge/tart and custard is old school but also helps soak up alcohol, as opposed to something like a sorbet.’
Sonny laughs. ‘Spoken like someone who might be in the catering industry,’ he says, cheekily.
I shift him a suspicious look. ‘Brett and Tina?’
Bastards. That night after the phone call from their restaurant, I was forced to spill the beans.You know the party? Remember that fella who I brought into the kitchen dressed as a Ghostbuster? The one who ate a fair few chicken wings? Yeah, he may call your restaurant and ask for me. Pretend I’m your boss.
‘They may have mentioned something. What’s his name?’ Sonny continues.
‘Cameron. He was at your party. Do you know him?’
‘God, I didn’t know half the people there. So what of Cameron? Tell me.’
‘He’s nice.’ I smile when I say that. The sort of uncontrollable grin that comes from talking about someone who excites you, that spreads through your face like wildfire, that you can feel creasing your eyes and warming your cheeks. That all-round glow makes Sonny smile back.
‘It’s nice to see you smiling for a change,’ he says.
‘I smile all the time.’
‘Not really. You’re quite serious and organised and—’
‘If you say uptight, I will kick you. In the unkilted bits.’
He pulls a face at me. ‘What I meant to say is that you’ve not smiled like that since Mike…’
I pout as he says that name.
‘Tell me more,’ Sonny enquires.
‘He likes guacamole, he’s twenty-six like me, he’s the youngest of four, he has a Superman tattoo on his back.’
‘Like a great big Superman face or the logo?’
‘It’s tiny, on his lower back, he got it done when he was drunk.’
