Page 66 of The Silent Bride
‘Of course. Your father was such a handsome, charismatic man. He still is.’
I grin at Mum. ‘You really love him, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. I know he can be a bit ... demanding ...’
I roll my eyes at the understatement and she gives me a chiding look.
‘But he loves all of us with a passion. And he wants the best for you girls.’
I nod, but I know that Mum is often blinded by her love for Dad. I sometimes think she puts his well-being ahead of ours. The thought makes me clench my jaw. I need to change my train of thought. I think Mum senses this too.
I swallow. ‘You ... you do like Seth, don’t you? You and Dad.’
‘We do,’ she replies with a smile. ‘Even Elizabeth gave her seal of approval.’
‘Okay, good.’ I let out a breath and feel relieved that they’re still happy about the marriage. Our families finally met just after the hen weekend when Seth’s parents came to stay in Brook Cottage. My parents invited them and Seth to dinner, and everyone seemed to get on well. But that was a while ago, and it was the one and only time they met. I still couldn’t pin Seth down to meet my friends, so they’ll all be seeing one another for the first time today.
‘Can I make you some toast?’ Mum asks, smoothing my hair away from my eyes.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll get up in a minute.’ I take a sip of tea. Mum is the only person who makes my tea exactly how I like it – strong with the smallest dash of milk. ‘Is Dad here?’
‘In the lounge,’ she replies. ‘And Elizabeth’s on her way over. Can I put this somewhere?’ She holds out the garment carrier.
‘There’s a hook on the back of the door.’
‘Great.’ She hangs up her mother-of-the-bride dress carefully. ‘Can I do anything else for you?’
‘No, go sit with Dad. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Is Daisy up yet?’
‘Yes, she let us in half an hour ago. I’ll leave you to it. Don’t take too long, it’s almost eight thirty.’ Mum leaves my bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was excited, but I’m also nervous and my stomach feels weak and watery. Like Mum said, I guess that’s normal for a bride on her wedding morning. I close my eyes and draw in a long deep breath through my nose, then blow it out slowly through my mouth. I should probably do a few of these breaths, but I’m too antsy to concentrate. I open my eyes and take another sip of tea instead.
There’s so much to do – shower, breakfast, hair, make-up, wedding dress. It all feels quite overwhelming. I almost wish I could sink back under the covers and do nothing all day. I give myself a shake. Come on, Alice, move your arse. You’re getting married today!
I put my tea back down, fling back the covers and get up, my feet sinking luxuriously into the white fluffy rug by my bed. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that my special day is stretched out ahead of me like a row of polished diamonds. I need to savour every glittering moment.
By the time I’ve showered and thrown on a robe, Elizabeth, Miriam and Fran have arrived too, and, as I leave the bathroom, I’m met with squeals and hugs from all of them, including Daisy. Dad has been keeping out of the way in the living room, his nose buried in the newspaper he brought along, a mug of coffee by his side. Mum is gliding around the kitchen, making drinks for everyone and doing time-checks to make sure we’re on schedule.
The morning is spent beautifying ourselves. Elizabeth is great at make-up, so she does mine, and I marvel at her light touch that has transformed me. Miriam jokes that we should have got Charlotte in to do my hair in one of her elaborate chignon-knot-braid thingies. I’m actually wearing my hair loose, with just a few of the front strands caught back off my face with diamanté clips.
Part of me feels a bit mean that I didn’t ask Charlotte to be a bridesmaid too. But I don’t think I could have borne her constant one-upmanship, even though I know it comes from a place of insecurity. I just need calm, positive people around me today.
My bridesmaids are stunning in their chiffon burgundy dresses, all tailored and styled individually to suit each of them. Mum looks glamorous in a dove-grey fitted dress with a short-sleeved lace bodice and matching short lace jacket. Satin court shoes and an elegant mesh fascinator finish off her outfit.
Finally, Mum and Elizabeth help me into the wedding gown of my dreams, its beaded lace bodice clinging to my curves and then flaring out into a floor-length silk organza skirt floating over layers of tulle.
‘You look absolutely beautiful, darling.’ Mum’s eyes are bright with emotion, and I dig my thumbnails into my fingertips to stop my own tears.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I manage to reply. ‘You look stunning too.’
She takes my hand and squeezes it. ‘You girls all look gorgeous.’
We have a group hug, careful not to crease dresses, smudge make-up or ruin hairstyles.
‘Let’s take photos in the lounge!’ Daisy declares.
I notice my father’s eyes widen slightly as Mum enters the living room. He puts down his newspaper and gets to his feet. He’s also changed into his wedding attire – a charcoal suit and burgundy silk tie that makes him seem even more imposing than usual.
