line for her? She must love Hugo enough to overlook it, I reflected as I towel-dried my hair. It seemed strange but there’s no accounting for taste, is there? Even Piers Morgan is married.
Back in our room, a waiter had arrived with a trolley of breakfast. Plus two pots of coffee and a bottle of champagne. Patricia waved a glass at me when I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.
‘Drink, Florence, darling? I thought we should.’
‘Already?’ I glanced at my watch; it was 8.02.
‘It’s a celebration. Here,’ she said, pouring another glass. ‘Just a little one.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking it with the hand I wasn’t using to keep my towel up. ‘What’s with the turban?’
‘Deep conditioning treatment. Oh, this is such a happy day. A happy, happy day. Ruby, you’re very quiet. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Mum, stop fussing.’
‘Where’s Mia?’ I asked.
‘Having a bath with her coffee. Seems a bit nervous. Shall we put some music on? That might jolly everyone up.’
While Patricia fiddled with the television remote control, trying to find a radio station, I retrieved the seamless knickers I’d negotiated wearing with Mia, then knotted my pink dressing gown around my waist.
I threw myself back down on the bed next to Ruby. ‘You mentioned anything?’ I asked quietly while Patricia stood with her back to us. She’d knotted her pink dressing gown over the purple tracksuit. ‘Mother-of-the-bride’ was embroidered across it.
‘No, obviously not,’ Ruby muttered.
A few minutes later, there was another buzz on the door as Jaz, Dunc and Mel the make-up artist arrived.
Patricia opened the door. ‘Morning,’ she said, before pirouetting for them, her champagne glass in hand. ‘I’m the mother of the bride. Do come in.’
She stepped aside as Jaz and Mel wheeled in their suitcases of work tools and Dunc traipsed behind them.
‘Hiya, babe,’ she said, as I jumped up to hug her. ‘How we doing?’
‘All right, I think.’
‘Bridal party ready?’ she said, looking expectantly at each of us as Mia appeared from her room after her bath. She looked clean and pink-cheeked, not remotely like a bride who’d just watched a video of her groom ejaculate into another woman’s mouth. I briefly closed my eyes at the thought.
‘We’re ready,’ Mia said smoothly. ‘Can I get either of you a coffee? Or tea? Croissant? Champagne?’
‘Better not get started on the bottle yet otherwise you’ll look very odd going down the aisle,’ said Jaz. ‘But I’d love a coffee, thanks. Mel?’
She was laying out brushes and bottles of foundation on a side table. ‘Mmm, coffee, please.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Mia. ‘Flo, why don’t you get going with your hair? Let’s do make-up in here and hair next door.’
‘Sure,’ I said, leading Jaz through to Mia’s room. ‘Dunc, do you want to come and watch cartoons next door?’
He nodded and ran after us, jumping on the bed.
‘I don’t think so. Shoes off please,’ Jaz told him before turning back to me. ‘So, how’s it all been?’ she asked, before unzipping her bag. Out of it came round brushes, straight brushes, combs, hairdryers, tongs, straighteners, bottles, tubes and long cans of hairspray. I sat on Mia’s bed and quietly explained that morning’s revelations while she laid them out on the dressing table.
‘Fuck me, it’s like a wedding off Corrie,’ she said, once I’d finished.
‘Yeah. Little bit.’
She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘But Mia seems fine?’
I shrugged. ‘The show must go on.’
‘And you’re all right?’ she asked, unravelling a hairdryer cord.
‘Yeah, weirdly I really am. It’s like the thing I was most dreading isn’t that bad at all. I feel quite free.’
Jaz squinted at me from the corners of her eyes. ‘Really?’
I nodded. ‘Promise. I keep waiting to feel sad, for it to hit me. But maybe it won’t?’
‘Well, hallelujah!’ she said, reaching her arms into the air, the hairdryer cord dangling from one hand. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he was nice to look at. But he wasn’t the one for you. Why did he dress like that? And speak like that?’ Jaz looked down her nose and mimicked him with a snooty voice. ‘Oh hello, my name’s Rory and I’m much better than you. Don’t you know I’m going to be prime minister one day?’
‘How come you never told me this?’ I said, laughing and throwing a pillow at her.
‘Because you were so obsessed with him, and that list of yours.’ She made a moving mouth with her hand, snapping her fingers down against her thumb. ‘The list this and the list that.’ She