Twenty-one

Twenty

New York, NY 10005

Wall Street

SECOND UNION BANK

Devon

North Fullerton

Ridgeway

Ridge House

MR. JAMES BRANDON

2 June 2002

Dear Becky,

We were a little bewildered by your phone call. Despite your assurances that all will be clear when you have explained it to us, and that we must trust you, we do not really understand what is going on.

However, James and I have talked long and hard and have at last decided to do as you ask. We have canceled our flights to New York and alerted the rest of the family.

Becky dear, I do hope this all works out.

With very best wishes, and with all our love to Luke—

Annabel

June 10, 2002

Miss Rebecca Bloomwood

Apt. B251 W. 11th Street

New York, NY 10014

Dear Miss Bloomwood:

Thank you very much for your wedding invitation addressed to Walt Pitman.

After some discussion we have decided to take you into our confidence. Walt Pitman does not in fact exist. It is a generic name, used to represent all our customer care operatives.

The name “Walt Pitman” was chosen after extensive focus group research to suggest an approachable yet competent figure. Customer feedback has shown that the continual presence of Walt in our customers’ lives has increased confidence and loyalty by over 50 percent.

We would be grateful if you would keep this fact to yourself. If you would still like a representative from Second Union Bank at your wedding, I would be glad to attend. My birthday is March 5th and my favorite color is blue.

Yours sincerely,

Bernard Lieberman

Senior Vice-President

OK. DON’T PANIC. This is going to work. If I just keep my head and remain calm, it’ll work.

“It’ll never work,” says Suze’s voice in my ear.

“Shut up!” I say crossly.

“It’ll never work in a million years. I’m just warning you.”

“You’re not supposed to be warning me! You’re supposed to be encouraging me!” I lower my voice. “And as long as everyone does what they’re supposed to, it will work. It has to.”

I’m standing at the window of a twelfth-floor suite at the Plaza, staring at Plaza Square below. Outside, it’s a hot sunny day. People are milling around in Tshirts and shorts, doing normal things like hiring horse carriages to go round the park and tossing coins into the fountain.

And here am I, dressed in a towel, with my hair teased beyond recognition into a Sleeping Beauty style, and makeup an inch thick, walking around in the highest white satin shoes I’ve ever come across in my life. (Christian Louboutin, from Barneys. I get a discount.)

“What are you doing now?” comes Suze’s voice again.

“I’m looking out the window.”

“What are you doing that for?”

“I don’t know.” I watch a woman with denim shorts sit down on a bench and snap open a can of Coke, completely unaware she’s being watched. “To try to get a grip on normality, I suppose.”

“Normality?” I hear Suze splutter down the phone. “Bex, it’s a bit late for normality!”

“That’s not fair!”

“If normality is planet earth, do you know where you are right now?”

“Er… the moon?” I hazard.

“You’re fifty million light-years away. You’re… in another galaxy. A long long time ago.”

“I do feel a bit like I’m in a different world,” I admit, and turn to survey the palatial suite behind me.

The atmosphere is hushed and heavy with scent and hairspray and expectation. Everywhere I look there are lavish flower arrangements, baskets of fruit and chocolates, and bottles of champagne on ice. Over by the dressing table the hairdresser and makeup girl are chatting to one another while they work on Erin. Meanwhile the reportage photographer is changing his film, his assistant is watching Madonna on MTV, and a room-service waiter is clearing away yet another round of cups and glasses.

It’s all so glamorous, so expensive. But at the same time, what I’m reminded of most of all is getting ready for the summer school play. The windows would be covered in black material, and we’d all crowd round a mirror getting all overexcited, and out the front we’d hear the parents filing in, but we wouldn’t be allowed to peek out and see them…

“What are you doing now?” comes Suze’s voice again.

“Still looking out the window.”

“Well, stop looking out the window! You’ve got less than an hour to go!”

“Suze, relax.”

“How can I relax?”

“It’s all fine. It’s under control.”

“And you haven’t told anyone,” she says for the millionth time. “You haven’t told Danny.”

“Of course not! I’m not that stupid!” I edge casually into a corner where no one can hear me. “Only Michael knows. And Laurel. That’s it.”

“And no one suspects anything?”

“Not a thing,” I say, just as Robyn comes into the room. “Hi, Robyn! Suze, I’ll talk to you later, OK—”

I put the phone down and smile at Robyn, who’s wearing a bright pink suit and a headset and carrying a walkie-talkie.

“OK, Becky,” she says in a serious, businesslike way. “Stage one is complete. Stage two is under way. But we have a problem.”

“Really?” I swallow. “What’s that?”

“None of Luke’s family have arrived yet. His father, his stepmother, some cousins who are on the list… You told me they’d spoken to you?”

“Yes, they did.” I clear my throat. “Actually… they just called again. I’m afraid there’s a problem with their plane. They said to seat other people in their places.”

“Really?” Robyn’s face falls. “This is too bad! I’ve never known a wedding to have so many last-minute alterations! A new maid of honor… a new best man… a new officiant… it seems like everything’s changed!”

“I know,” I say apologetically. “I’m really sorry, and I know it’s meant a lot of work.” I cross my fingers behind my back. “It just suddenly seemed so obvious that Michael should marry us, rather than some stranger. I mean, since he’s such an old friend and he’s qualified to do it and everything. So then Luke had to have a new best man…”

“But to change your minds three weeks before the wedding! And you know, Father Simon was quite upset to be rejected. He wondered if it was something to do with his hair.”

“No! Of course not! It’s nothing to do with him, honestly—”

“And then your parents both catching the measles. I mean, what kind of odds is that?”

“I know!” I pull a rueful face. “Sheer bad luck.”

There’s a crackle from the walkie-talkie and Robyn turns away.

“Yes,” she says. “What’s that? No! I said radiant yellow light! Not blue! OK, I’m coming…” As she reaches the door she looks back.

“Becky, I have to go. I just needed to say, it’s been so hectic, what with all the changes, there are a couple of tiny additional details we didn’t have time to discuss. So I just went ahead with them. OK?”

“Whatever,” I say. “I trust your judgment. Thanks, Robyn.”

As Robyn leaves, there’s a tapping on the door and in comes Christina, looking absolutely amazing in pale gold Issey Miyake and holding a champagne glass.

“How’s the bride?” she says with a smile. “Feeling nervous?”

“Not really!” I say.

Which is kind of true.

In fact, it’s completely true. I’m beyond nervous. Either everything goes to plan and this all works out. Or it doesn’t and it’s a complete disaster. There’s not much I can do about it.

“I just spoke to Laurel,” she says, taking a sip of champagne. “I didn’t know she was so involved with the wedding.”

“Oh, she’s not really,” I say. “There’s just this tiny little favor she’s doing for me—”

“So I understand.” Christina eyes me over her glass, and I suddenly wonder how much Laurel has said to her.

“Did she tell you… what the favor was?” I say casually.

“She gave me the gist. Becky, if you pull this off…” says Christina. She shakes her head. “If you pull this off, you deserve the Nobel Prize for chutzpah.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to you. And good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Christina!” We both look round to see Erin coming toward us. She’s already in her long violet maid-of-honor dress, her hair up in a medieval knot, eyes lit up with excitement. “Isn’t this Sleeping Beauty theme cool? Have you seen Becky’s wedding dress yet? I can’t believe I’m the maid of honor! I was never a maid of honor before!”

I think Erin’s a tad excited about her promotion. When I told her my best friend, Suze, couldn’t make it, and would she like to be maid of honor, she actually burst into tears.

“I haven’t seen Becky’s wedding dress yet,” says Christina. “I hardly dare to.”

“It’s really nice!” I protest. “Come and look.”

I lead her into the sumptuous dressing area, where Danny’s dress is hanging up.

“It’s all in one piece,” observes Christina laconically. “That’s a good start.”

“Christina,” I say. “This isn’t like the Tshirts. This is in a different league. Take a look!”

I just can’t believe what a fantastic job Danny has done. Although I’d never admit it to Christina, I wasn’t exactly counting on wearing his dress. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I was having secret Vera Wang fittings right up until a week ago.

But then one night Danny knocked on the door, his whole face lit up with excitement. He dragged me upstairs to his apartment, pulled me down the corridor, and flung open the door to his room. And I was speechless.

From a distance it looks like a traditional white wedding dress, with a tight bodice, full, romantic skirt, and long train. But the closer you get, you more you start spotting the fantastic customized details everywhere. The white denim ruffles at the back. The trademark Danny little pleats and gatherings at the waistline. The white sequins and diamante and glitter scattered all over the train, like someone’s emptied a candy box over it.

I’ve never seen a wedding dress like it. It’s a work of art.

“Well,” says Christina. “I’ll be honest. When you told me you were wearing a creation by young Mr. Kovitz, I was a little worried. But this…” She touches a tiny bead. “I’m impressed. Assuming the train doesn’t fall off as you walk down the aisle.”

“It won’t,” I assure her. “I walked around our apartment in it for half an hour. Not even one sequin fell off!”

“You’re going to look amazing,” says Erin dreamily. “Just like a princess. And in that room…”

“The room is spectacular,” says Christina. “I think a lot of jaws are going to be dropping.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” I say. “Robyn didn’t want me going in.”

“Oh, you should take a look,” says Erin. “Just have a peek. Before it gets filled up with people.”

“I can’t! What if someone sees me?”

“Go on,” says Erin. “Put on a scarf. No one’ll know it’s you.”

I creep downstairs in a borrowed hooded jacket, averting my face when I pass anyone, feeling ridiculously naughty. I’ve seen the designer’s plans, and as I push open the double doors to the Terrace Room, I think I know roughly what I’m expecting to see. Something spectacular. Something theatrical.

Nothing could have prepared me for walking into that room.

It’s like walking into another land.

A silvery, sparkling, magical forest. Branches are arching high above me as I look up. Flowers seem to be growing out of clumps of earth. There are vines and fruits and an apple tree covered with silver apples, and a spider’s web covered with dewdrops… and are those real birds flying around up there?

Colored lights are dappling the branches and falling on the rows of chairs. A pair of women are methodically brushing lint off every upholstered seat. A man in jeans is taping a cable to the carpet. A man on a lighting rig is adjusting a silvery branch. A violinist is playing little runs and trills, and there’s the dull thud of timpani being tuned up.

This is like being backstage at a Broadway show.

I stand at the side, staring around, trying to take in every detail. I have never seen anything like this in my life before, and I don’t think I ever will again.

Suddenly I see Robyn entering the room at the far end, talking into her headpiece. Her eyes scan the room, and I shrink into my hooded jacket. Before she can spot me, I back out of the Terrace Room and get into the lift to go up to the Grand Ballroom.

As the doors are about to close, a couple of elderly women in dark skirts and white shirts get in.

“Did you see the cake?” says one of them. “Three thousand dollars minimum.”

“Who’s the family?”

“Sherman,” says the first woman. “Elinor Sherman.”

“Oh, this is the Elinor Sherman wedding.”

The doors open and they walk out.

“Bloomwood,” I say, too late. “I think the bride’s name is Becky…”

They weren’t listening, anyway.

I cautiously follow them into the Grand Ballroom. The enormous white and gold room where Luke and I will lead the dancing.

Oh my God. It’s even huger than I remember. It’s even more gilded and grandiose. Spotlights are circling the room, lighting up the balconies and chandeliers. They suddenly switch to strobe effects, then flashing disco lights, playing on the faces of waiters putting finishing touches to the tables. Every circular table has an ornate centerpiece of cascading white flowers. The ceiling has been tented with muslin, festooned with fairy lights like strings of pearls. The dance floor is vast and polished. Up on the stage, a ten-piece band is doing a sound check. I look round dazedly and see two assistants from Antoine’s cake studio balancing on chairs, sticking the last few sugar tulips into the eight-foot cake. Everywhere is the smell of flowers and candle wax and anticipation.

“Excuse me.” I jump aside as a waiter wheels a cart past.

“Can I help you?” says a woman with a Plaza badge on her lapel.

“I was just, er… looking around…” I say.

“Looking around?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Yes! In case I ever… er… want to get married.” I back away before she can ask any more. I’ve seen enough, anyway.

I’m not sure how to get back to the suite from here, and this place is so huge I’m bound to get lost, so I head back down to the ground floor and walk as inconspicuously as I can past the Palm Court to the elevators.

As I pass an alcove containing a sofa, I stop. There’s a familiar dark head. A familiar hand, holding what looks like a gin and tonic.

“Luke?” He turns round and peers at me blankly — and I suddenly realize my face is half hidden. “It’s me!” I hiss.

“Becky?” he says incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see it all. Isn’t it amazing?” I look around to see if I’m being observed, then slide into the chair opposite him. “You look great.”

He looks more than great. He’s looking completely gorgeous, in an immaculate dinner jacket and crisp white dress shirt. His dark hair is glossy under the lights, and I can just smell the familiar scent of his aftershave. As he meets my eyes, I feel something release inside me, like a coil unwinding. Whatever happens today — whether I pull this off or not — the two of us are together. The two of us will be all right.

“We shouldn’t be talking to each other, you know,” he says with a little smile. “It’s bad luck.”

“I know,” I say, and take a sip of his gin and tonic. “But to be honest, I think we’re beyond superstition by now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh… nothing.” I count to five, psyching myself up, then say, “Did you hear about your parents being delayed?”

“Yes, I was told.” Luke frowns. “Did you speak to them? Do you know when they’ll get here?”

“Oh, soon, I expect,” I say vaguely. “Don’t worry, they said they would definitely be there to see you walk down the aisle.”

Which is true. In its way.

Luke doesn’t know anything of my plans. He’s had enough to deal with as it is. For once, I’m the one in charge.

I feel like I’ve seen a completely different Luke over the last few weeks. A younger, more vulnerable Luke, whom the rest of the world doesn’t know anything about. After he had that meeting with Elinor, he was very quiet for a while. There was no huge emotional outburst, no dramatic scene. In some ways, he simply went back to normal. But he was still fragile, still exhausted. Still nowhere near being able to go to work. For about two weeks, he just slept and slept, fourteen or fifteen hours a day. It was as though ten years of driving himself too hard were finally catching up with him.

Now he’s gradually becoming his usual self. He’s getting back that veneer of confidence. That blank expression when he doesn’t want people to know what he’s feeling. That abrupt, businesslike manner. He’s been into the office during the past week, and it’s been like old times.

Although not quite. Because although the veneer’s back, the point is, I’ve seen underneath it. I’ve seen the way Luke works. The way he thinks and what he’s scared of and what he really wants out of life. Before all this happened, we’d been together for over two years. We’d lived together, we were a successful couple. But now I feel I know him in a way I never did before.

“I keep thinking back to that conversation I had with my mother,” he says, frowning into his drink. “Up in the Rainbow Room.”

“Really?” I say warily. “What exactly—”

“I still find it confusing.”

“Confusing?” I say after a pause. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve never heard her speak that way before. It didn’t seem real.” He looks up. “I don’t know whether I should believe her.”

I lean forward and take his hand. “Luke, just because she’s never said those things to you before, it doesn’t mean they aren’t true.”

This is what I’ve said to him nearly every day since he had the meeting with Elinor. I want to stop him picking away at it. I want him to accept what she said, and be happy. But he’s too intelligent for that. He’s silent for a few moments, and I know he’s replaying the conversation in his mind.

“Some of the things she said seemed so true, and others, so false.”

“Which bits sounded false?” I say lightly. “Out of interest?”

“When she told me that she was proud of everything I’d done, from the founding of my company to choosing you as a wife. It just didn’t quite… I don’t know…” He shakes his head.

“I thought that was rather good!” I retort before I can stop myself. “I mean… you know… quite a likely thing for her to say—”

“But then she said something else. She said there wasn’t a single day since I was born that she hadn’t thought about me.” He hesitates. “And the way she said it… I really believed her.”

“She said that?” I say, taken aback.

There was nothing about that on the piece of paper I gave Elinor. I reach for Luke’s gin and tonic and take a sip, thinking hard.

“I really do think she meant what she said,” I say at last. “In fact… I know it. The point is, she wanted to tell you she loved you. Even if everything she said didn’t sound completely natural, that’s what she wanted you to know.”

“I suppose so.” He meets my eyes. “But still. I can’t feel the same way about her. I can’t go back to where I was.”

“No,” I say after a short silence. “Well… I think that’s probably a good thing.”

The spell’s been lifted. Luke has finally woken up.

I lean over and kiss him, then take another sip of his drink. “I should go and put my frock on.”

“You’re not wearing that fetching anorak?” says Luke with a grin.

“Well, I was going to. But now you’ve seen it, I’ll just have to find something else, I suppose…” I get up to go — then hesitate. “Listen, Luke. If things seem a bit strange today, just… go with it, OK?”

“OK,” says Luke in surprise.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He gives me a sideways look. “Becky, is there anything I should know?”

“Er… no,” I say innocently. “No, I don’t think so. See you in there.”

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’VE made it to this moment. I honestly can’t believe it’s really happening.

I’m wearing a wedding dress and a sparkly tiara in my hair.

I’m a bride.

As I’m led by Robyn down the empty, silent Plaza corridors, I feel a bit like the president in a Hollywood movie. “The Beauty is on the move,” she’s muttering into her headset as we walk along the plushy red carpet. “The Beauty is approaching.”

We turn a corner and I catch a glimpse of myself in a huge antique mirror, and feel a dart of shock. Of course I know what I look like. I’ve just spent half an hour staring at myself in the suite upstairs, for goodness’ sake. But still, catching myself unawares, I can’t quite believe that girl in the veil is me. It’s me.

I’m about to walk up the aisle at the Plaza. Four hundred people watching every move. Oh God.

Oh God. What am I thinking?

As I see the doors of the Terrace Room, I start to panic, and my fingers tighten around my bouquet. This is never going to work. I must be mad. I can’t do it. I want to run away.

But there’s nowhere to run. There’s nothing else to do but go forward.

Erin and the other bridesmaids are waiting, and as we draw near, they all begin to coo over my dress. I’ve no idea what their names are. They’re daughters of Elinor’s friends. After today I’ll probably never see them again.

“String orchestra. Stand by for Beauty,” Robyn is saying into her headset.

“Becky!” I look up, and thank God, it’s Danny, wearing a brocade frock coat over leather trousers, and carrying a taupe and bronze Ceremony Program. “You look amazing.”

“Really? Do I look OK?”

“Spectacular,” says Danny firmly. He adjusts the train, stands back for a look, then takes out a pair of scissors and snips at a piece of ribbon.

“Ready?” says Robyn.

“I guess,” I say, feeling slightly sick.

The double doors swing open, and I hear the rustle of four hundred people turning in their seats. The string orchestra starts to play the theme from Sleeping Beauty, and the bridesmaids begin to walk up the aisle.

And suddenly I’m walking forward. I’m walking into the enchanted forest, carried on the swell of the music. Little lights are twinkling overhead. Pine needles are giving off their scent under my feet. There’s the smell of fresh earth and the sound of birds chirruping, and the trickle of a tiny waterfall. Flowers are magically blooming as I take each step, and leaves are unfurling, and people are gasping as they look up. And there’s Luke up ahead, my handsome prince, waiting for me.

Finally, I start to relax. To savor it.

As I take each step, I feel as though I’m a prima ballerina doing the perfect arabesque at Covent Garden. Or a movie star arriving at the Oscars. Music playing, everyone looking at me, jewels in my hair and the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn. I know I will never experience anything like this again in my life. Never. As I reach the top of the aisle, I slow my pace right down, breathing in the atmosphere, taking in the trees and the flowers and the wonderful scent. Trying to impress every detail on my mind. Relishing every magical second.

I reach Luke’s side and hand my bouquet to Erin. I smile warmly at Gary, Luke’s new best man — then take Luke’s hand. He gives a little squeeze, and I squeeze it back.

And here’s Michael stepping forward, wearing a dark, vaguely clerical-looking suit.

He gives me a tiny, conspiratorial smile, then takes a deep breath and addresses the congregation.

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here together to witness the love between two people. We are here to watch them pledging their love for each other. And to join with them in celebrating the joy of their sharing of that love. God blesses all who love, and God will certainly bless Luke and Becky today as they exchange their vows.”

He turns to me, and I can hear the rustling behind me as people try to get a good view.

“Do you, Rebecca, love Luke?” he says. “Do you pledge yourself to him for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health? Do you put your trust in him now and forever?”

“I do,” I say, unable to stop a tiny tremor in my voice.

“Do you, Luke, love Rebecca? Do you pledge yourself to her for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health? Do you put your trust in her now and forever?”

“Yes,” says Luke firmly. “I do.”

“May God bless Luke and Becky and may they have happiness always.” Michael pauses and looks around the room, as though daring anyone to argue with him, and my fingers tighten around Luke’s. “May they know the joy of a shared understanding, the delight of a growing love, and the warmth of an everlasting friendship. Now let us applaud the happy couple.” He smiles at Luke. “You may kiss the bride.”

As Luke bends to kiss me, Michael determinedly begins to clap. There’s a slightly uncertain pause… then a smattering of people join in, and soon the whole room is applauding.

Gary is murmuring something in Luke’s ear, and he turns to me, looking puzzled.

“What about the ring?”

“Don’t mention the ring,” I say through a fixed smile.

My heart is beating so hard, I can barely breathe. I keep waiting for someone to stand up. For someone to say, “Hang on a minute…”

But no one does. No one says anything.

It’s worked.

I meet Michael’s eye for an instant — then look away before anyone notices. I can’t relax yet. Not quite yet.

The photographer comes forward and I take Luke’s arm firmly in mine, and Erin gives me my bouquet, wiping away her tears as she does so.

“That was such a beautiful ceremony!” she says. “The bit about the warmth of an everlasting friendship really got to me. You know, because that’s all I want.” She clasps my bouquet to her chest. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Well, you know, I’m sure you’ll find it,” I say, and give her a hug. “I know you will.”

“Excuse me, miss?” says the photographer. “If I could just get the bride and groom…”

Erin gives me my flowers and ducks out of the way, and I adopt my most radiant, newlywed expression.

“But, Becky,” Luke says. “Gary says—”

“Take the ring from Gary,” I say without moving my head. “Say you’re really embarrassed that it got left out, and we’ll do it later.”

Some guests have come forward to take photographs, and I rest my head on Luke’s shoulder and smile happily at them.

“Something else is wrong,” Luke is saying. “Michael didn’t proclaim us husband and wife. And don’t we have to sign something?”

“Sssshh!” There’s a bright flash, and we both blink.

“Becky, what’s going on?” He pulls me round to face him. “Are we married?”

“That’s a good shot!” says the photographer. “Stay like that.”

“Are we married?” Luke’s eyes scan my face intently.

“Well… OK,” I say reluctantly. “As it happens, we’re not.”

There’s another blinding flash. When my eyes focus again, Luke’s gazing at me incredulously. “We’re not married?”

“Look, just trust me, OK?”

“Trust you?”

“Yes! Like you just promised to do five seconds ago! Remember?”

“I promised to do that when I thought we were getting married!”

Suddenly the string orchestra launches into the “Bridal March,” and a team of minders usher away the guests with their cameras.

“Go,” says a crackling, disembodied voice. “Start walking.”

Where on earth is it coming from? Are my flowers talking to me?

Suddenly my eyes zoom in on a tiny speaker, attached to a rose-bud. Robyn’s planted a speaker in my bouquet?

“Bride and groom! Walk!”

“OK!” I say to the flowers. “We’re going!”

I grab Luke’s arm tight and begin to walk down the aisle, back through the enchanted forest.

“We’re not married,” Luke is saying disbelievingly. “A whole bloody forest, four hundred people, a big white dress, and we’re not married.”

“Sssh!” I say crossly. “Don’t tell everybody! Look, you promised if things were a bit strange you’d go with it. Well, go with it!”

As we walk along arm in arm, rays of sunlight are piercing the branches of the forest, dappling the floor. Suddenly there’s a whirring noise, and to my astonishment the branches creakily begin to retreat, to reveal rainbows playing on the ceiling. A heavenly chorus breaks into song, and a fluffy cloud descends from the sky, on which a pair of fat pink doves are reposing.

Oh God. I’ve got the giggles. This is too much. Are these the tiny additional details Robyn was talking about?

I look up at Luke, and his mouth is twitching suspiciously too.

“What do you think of the forest?” I say brightly. “It’s cool, isn’t it? They flew the birch trees over from Switzerland especially.”

“Really?” says Luke. “Where did they fly the doves over from?” He peers up at them. “Those are too big to be doves. They must be turkeys.”

“They’re not turkeys!”

“Love turkeys.”

“Luke, shut up,” I mutter, trying desperately not to giggle. “They’re doves.”

We’re passing row after row of smartly dressed guests, all smiling warmly at us except the girls, who are giving me the Manhattan Onceover.

“Who the hell are all these people?” says Luke, surveying the rows of smiling strangers.

“I have no idea.” I shrug. “I thought you might know some of them.”

We reach the back of the room for a final session of photographs, and Luke looks at me quizzically. “Becky, my parents aren’t here. And neither are yours.”

“Er… no. They’re not.”

“No family. No ring. And we’re not married.” He pauses. “Call me crazy — but this isn’t quite how I expected our wedding to be.”

“This isn’t our wedding,” I say, and kiss him for the cameras.

I can’t quite believe we’re getting away with it. No one’s said anything. No one’s questioned a thing. A couple of people have asked to see the ring, and I’ve just flashed them the band of my engagement ring, turned round.

We’ve eaten sushi and caviar. We’ve had an amazing four-course dinner. We’ve drunk toasts. It’s all gone according to plan. We cut the cake with a huge silver sword and everybody cheered, and then the band started to play “The Way You Look Tonight” and Luke led me onto the dance floor and we started dancing. That was one of those moments I’ll keep in my scrapbook forever. A whirl of white and gold and glitter and music, and Luke’s arms around me, and my head giddy from champagne, and the knowledge that this was it, this was the high, and soon it would be over.

And now the party’s in full swing. The band’s playing a jazzy number I don’t recognize, and the dance floor’s full. Amid the throng of well-dressed strangers, I can pick out a few familiar faces. Christina’s dancing with her date, and Erin is chatting to one of the groomsmen. And there’s Laurel, dancing very energetically with… Michael!

Well now. That’s a thought.

“So. Guess how many people have asked for my card?” says a voice in my ear. I turn round, to see Danny looking triumphant, a glass of champagne in each hand and a cigarette in his mouth. “Twenty! At least! One wanted me to take her measurements, right then and there. They all think the dress is to die for. And when I told them I’d worked with John Galliano…”

“Danny, you’ve never worked with John Galliano!”

“I passed him a cup of coffee once,” he says defensively. “And he thanked me. That was, in its way, an artistic communication…”

“If you say so.” I grin at him happily. “I’m so pleased for you.”

“So are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course!”

“Your mother-in-law is in her element.”

We both turn to survey Elinor, who is sitting at a nearby table, surrounded by smart ladies. There’s a slight glow to her cheek and she looks about as animated as I’ve ever seen her. She’s wearing a long sweeping pale green dress and huge quantities of diamonds, and looks like the belle of the ball. Which, in a way, she is. These are her friends. This is really her party, not Luke’s or mine. It’s a wonderful spectacle. It’s a wonderful occasion to be a guest at.

And that’s kind of what I feel I am.

A group of women go by, chattering loudly, and I hear snatches of conversation.

“Spectacular…”

“So imaginative…”

They smile at me and Danny, and I smile back. But my mouth is feeling a bit stiff. I’m tired of smiling at people I don’t know.

“It’s a great wedding,” says Danny, looking around the glittering room. “Really spectacular. Although it’s less you than I would have thought.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

“I’m not saying it’s not fantastic. It’s very slick, very lavish. It’s just… not like I imagined you’d have your wedding. But I was wrong,” he adds hastily as he sees my expression. “Obviously.”

I look at his wiry, comical, unsuspecting face. Oh God. I have to tell him. I can’t not tell Danny.

“Danny, there’s something you should know,” I say in an undertone.

“What?”

“About this wedding—”

“Hi, kids!”

I break off guiltily and turn around — but it’s only Laurel, all flushed and happy from dancing.

“Great party, Becky,” she says. “Great band. Christ, I’d forgotten how much I love to dance.”

I survey her appearance in slight dismay.

“Laurel,” I say. “You don’t roll up the sleeves of a thousand-dollar Yves St. Laurent dress.”

“I was hot,” she says with a cheerful shrug. “Now, Becky, I hate to tell you.” She lowers her voice. “But you’re going to have to get going pretty soon.”

“Already?” I look instinctively at my wrist, but I’m not wearing a watch.

“The car’s waiting outside,” says Laurel. “The driver has all the details. He’ll take you to Teterboro Airport and show you where to go. It’s a different procedure for private planes, but it should be straightforward. Any problems, you call me.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, and I glance at Danny, who’s pretending not to be listening. “You should be in England in plenty of time. I really hope it all works out.”

I reach out and hug her tightly. “Laurel… you’re a star,” I mutter. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Becky, believe me. This is nothing. After what you did for me, you could have had ten planes.” She hugs me back, then looks at her watch. “You’d better find Luke. I’ll see you in a bit.”

After she’s gone there’s a short, interested silence.

“Becky, did I just catch the words private plane?” says Danny.

“Er… yes. Yes, you did.”

“You’re flying on a private plane?”

“Yes.” I try to sound nonchalant. “We are. It’s Laurel’s wedding present to us.”

“She snapped up the private jet?” Danny shakes his head. “Damn. You know, I was planning to get you that myself. It was between that and the eggbeater…”

“Idiot! She’s president of a plane company.”

“Jesus. A private plane. So… where are you heading? Or is it still a big secret?” I watch as he takes a drag from his cigarette, and feel a sudden huge wave of affection for him.

I don’t just want to tell Danny what’s going on.

I want him to be part of this.

“Danny,” I say. “How do you feel about going on a little trip?”

It takes me a while to find Luke. He’s been trapped in a corner by two corporate financiers, and leaps up gratefully as soon as I appear. We go around the huge crowded room, saying good-bye and thank you for coming to all the guests we know. To be honest, it doesn’t take that long.

Last of all, we approach the top table and interrupt Elinor as discreetly as we can.

“Mother, we’re going now,” says Luke.

“Now?” Elinor frowns. “It’s too early.”

“Well… we’re going.”

“Thank you for a wonderful wedding,” I say sincerely. “It was really amazing. Everyone’s been saying how wonderful it is.” I bend to kiss her. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Becky,” she says in that formal way of hers. “Good-bye, Luke.”

“Good-bye, Mother.”

They gaze at each other — and for a moment I think Elinor’s going to say something else. But instead she leans forward rather stiffly and kisses Luke on the cheek.

“Becky!” I feel someone poking me on the shoulder. “Becky, you’re not going yet!” I turn round to see Robyn looking perturbed.

“Er… yes. We’re off. Thank you so much for everything you’ve—”

“You can’t go yet!”

“No one’ll notice,” I say, glancing around the party.

“They have to notice! We have an exit planned, remember? The rose petals? The music?”

“Well… maybe we could forget the exit—”

“Forget the exit?” Robyn stares at me. “Are you joking? Orchestra!” she says urgently into her headpiece. “Segue to ‘Some Day.’ Do you copy? Segue to ‘Some Day.’ ” She lifts the walkie-talkie. “Lighting crew, stand by with rose petals.”

“Robyn,” I say helplessly. “Honestly, we just wanted to slip away quietly…”

“My brides do not slip away quietly! Cue fanfare,” she mutters into her headpiece. “Lighting crew, prepare exit spotlight.”

There’s a sudden loud fanfare of trumpets, and the guests on the dance floor all jump. The lighting changes from disco beat to a radiant pink glow, and the band starts to play “Some Day My Prince Will Come.”

“Go, Beauty and Prince,” says Robyn, giving me a little shove. “Go! One two three, one two three…”

Exchanging looks, Luke and I make it onto the dance floor, where the guests part to let us through. The music is all around us, a spotlight is following our path, and all of a sudden, rose petals start falling gently from the ceiling.

This is rather lovely, actually. Everyone’s beaming benevolently, and I can hear some “Aahs” as we go by. The glow of pink light is like being inside a rainbow, and the rose petals smell wonderful as they land on our heads and arms and drift to the floor. Luke and I are smiling at each other, and there’s a petal in his hair—

“Stop!”

As I hear the voice, I feel a sudden chill, right to the marrow of my bones.

The double doors have opened, and there she is, standing in the doorway. Wearing a black suit and the highest, pointiest black boots I’ve ever seen.

Everyone turns to look, and the orchestra peters out uncertainly.

“Oh, look!” I hear someone saying in delight. “That’s so cute, they even thought of a witch!”

“Alicia?” says Luke in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“Having a good wedding, Luke?” she says sweetly, and takes a few steps into the room.

“Come in,” I say quickly. “Come on in and join the party. We would have invited you…”

“I know what you’re doing, Becky.”

“We’re getting married!” I say, trying to sound lighthearted. “No prizes for guessing that!”

“I know exactly what you’re doing.” She meets my eye. “I’ve got friends in Surrey, and they’ve been checking things out.”

No.

Please, no.

“I think you have a teeny little secret you’re not sharing with the rest of your guests.” Alicia pulls a mock-concerned face. “That’s not very polite, is it?”

I need my fairy godmothers, quick. I need someone to zap her with twinkle dust.

Laurel shoots me a horrified look.

Christina puts down her champagne glass.

“Code red, Code red,” I hear Robyn’s voice crackling from the bouquet. “Urgent. Code red.”

Now Alicia’s walking around the dance floor, taking her time, relishing the attention.

“The truth is,” she says pleasantly, “this is all a bit of a sham. Isn’t it, Becky?”

My eye flickers behind her. Two burly minders in tuxedos are approaching the dance floor. But they’re not going to get there in time. It’s all going to be ruined.

“It all looks so lovely. It all looks so romantic.” Her voice suddenly hardens. “But what people might like to know is that this so-called perfect Plaza wedding is actually a complete and utter… arrrgh!” Her voice rises to a scream. “Put me down!”

I don’t believe it. It’s Luke.

He’s calmly walked up to her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder. And now he’s carrying her out, like a naughty toddler.

“Put me down!” she cries. “Someone bloody well help me!”

But the guests are starting to laugh. She starts kicking Luke with her pointy boots, and he raises his eyebrows but doesn’t stop striding.

“It’s a fake!” she shrieks as they reach the door. “It’s a fake! They’re not really—”

The door slams, cutting her off, and there’s a silent, shocked moment. No one moves, not even Robyn. Then, slowly, the door opens again, and Luke reappears, brushing his hands.

“I don’t like gate-crashers,” he says dryly.

“Bravo!” shouts a woman I don’t recognize. Luke gives a little bow, and there’s a huge, relieved laugh, and soon the whole room is applauding.

My heart is thumping so hard I’m not sure I can keep standing. As Luke rejoins me, I reach for his hand and he squeezes mine hard. I just want to go now. I want to get away.

Now there’s an interested babble around the room, and I can hear people murmuring things like “deranged” and “must be jealous.” A woman in head-to-toe Prada is even saying brightly, “You know, exactly the same thing happened at our wedding—”

Oh God, and now here come Elinor and Robyn, side by side like the two queens in Alice in Wonderland.

“I’m so sorry!” says Robyn as soon as she gets near. “Don’t let it upset you, sweetheart. She’s just a sad girl with a grudge.”

“Who was that?” says Elinor with a frown. “Did you know her?”

“A disgruntled ex-client,” says Robyn. “Some of these girls become very bitter. I’ve no idea what happens to them! One minute they’re sweet young things, the next minute they’re throwing lawsuits around! Don’t worry, Becky. We’ll do the exit again. Attention, orchestra,” she says urgently. “Reprise ‘Some Day’ at the signal. Lighting crew, stand by with emergency rose petals.”

“You have emergency rose petals?” I say in disbelief.

“Sweetheart, I have every eventuality covered.” She twinkles at me. “This is why you hire a wedding planner!”

“Robyn,” I say honestly, “I think you’re worth every penny.” I put an arm round her and give her a kiss. “Bye. And bye again, Elinor.”

The music swells through the air again, we start walking again, and more rose petals start cascading from the ceiling. I really have to hand it to Robyn. People are crowding around and applauding — and is it my imagination, or do they look a bit friendlier, following the Alicia incident? At the end of the line I spot Erin leaning eagerly forward, and I toss my bouquet into her outstretched hands.

And then we’re out.

The heavy double doors close behind us and we’re in the silent, plushy corridor, empty but for the two bouncers, who stare studiously ahead.

“We did it,” I say, half laughing in relief; in exhilaration. “Luke, we did it!”

“So I gather,” says Luke, nodding. “Well done, us. Now, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

Дата добавления: 2014-11-26