Page 63 of The Wedding Cake Wish
‘Yes.’ I look up at him in astonishment. ‘The third girl isMarjery.’
‘You realise what this means?’
I gasp. ‘Oh, hell. Of course. Rory will be heading forBrambleberry Manor!’
Fen
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
I’m sitting in the big comfy chair by my bedroomwindow, staring out over the parkland and wondering what’s wrong with me.
I’ve got my final dress fitting later this week and I shouldbe bubbling over with happiness. I mean, The Dress is everything, isn’t it? Littlegirls when they’re growing up dream of looking like a princess for just onespecial day. At least,Idid.
But somehow, the reality hasn’t lived up to the dream.
Not that I had extravagant dreams. Far from it.
In my mind, when I thought of getting married, I’d alwayspictured the excitement of visiting bridal shops with Mum and trying on lots ofdresses – with perhaps a glass of champagne to make it even more special –until I found the gown that made us both smile and say, ‘That’s it. That’s theone.’
But the way it happened wasn’t like that at all.
Mum has a friend who designs high-end, exclusive bridalwear, so of course it was a given that we should take up her offer of a specialdiscount. And the wedding dresses, when we looked on her website, were amazing.They were all really striking – extravagant lace bodices with cinched in waistsand acres of flouncy organza, or film star glamour, all sleek and sexy withlong, dramatic trains.
In the end, I chose the simplest one I could find. Ireasoned that I could always have the dramatic cabbage rose at the waistremoved if I felt it would look better on me without it...
But however fabulous the dress, and however lovely it wasfor Mum’s friend, Rosa, to want to fit it for me herself, the fact remained: Itwasn’t my dream dress.
Rosa brought the dress round to the house for me to try onin my bedroom and she fitted it there and then. And Mum wasn’t even there. Shehad a meeting with the caterers to discuss a charity dinner she was planning.And by the time she got back, Rosa had already gone, taking the dress with her.So Mum hasn’t even seen me in it yet...
I get up and stand at the window, irritated at myself forbeing so sentimental.
My dress will look perfect. It has a fitted bodice adornedwith Chantilly lace and a full organza skirt. I love it. I do...
I think of Rob and my throat constricts.
It’s not really the dress that’s the problem at all.
I feel as if Rob and I haven’t spent any quality timetogether for ages. I know he’s distracted over Rory but it seems to me thatit’s more than that. He’s working from dawn till dusk every day and lately,I’ve been starting to think that maybe his work is an excuse, so he doesn’thave to spend time with me.
And that’s the most worrying thing of all. The thing that’skeeping me awake at night.
What if Rob has got cold feet about the wedding but hecan’t work out how to tell me?
I glance at the clock. It’s six-thirty. If Rob’s still athis workshop, maybe I can tempt him away by suggesting a meal at our favouriterestaurant? Then we can talk properly, about the wedding, Rory, and everything– just like we always used to...
I reach for my phone but I suddenly feel unsure.
What if he really doesn’t want to marry me now?
Sighing, I put my mobile on silent and drop it onto the bed.I’ll phone him later, when I’m feeling a bit better.
Mum and Dad are hosting the charity dinner in the ballroomtonight. The guests, most of whom are old friends from the Law Society, will bearriving in an hour and I wish I was anywhere but here right now. The thoughtof running into a guest on my way to the kitchen and having to make politeconversation actually makes me want to cry, the mood I’m in at the moment.
I just want to get away from everything, really...
I throw my phone into my bag and hurry out of my room anddownstairs. Leaving the house, I walk quickly across the lawn and through thetrees towards the lake, taking gulps of air to calm myself down. There’s apretty summerhouse by the lake and it’s the perfect hide-out for when I justwant to get away from it all.
As the first car heads up the driveway to the house – guestsheading for the charity dinner – I slip inside the summerhouse, dragging achair to the open doorway so I can just empty my mind andbreathe. Awayfrom everything to do with Mum and the wedding. And Rob.
