outraged and keeps apologizing to Scott. Scott just smiles and assures her he’s seen much worse in his pool. Thankfully, he doesn’t feel the need to elaborate.
Scott’s family are indistinguishable from mine. That shouldn’t surprise me, he’s told me all about his ordinary beginnings, but somehow I was expecting them to be in some way more extraordinary; after all, his mum gave birth to him. His mum is fussing with my mum about kids running around with bare feet and his brother is talking websites and journey lengths with my big brother. If it wasn’t for the pool, the staff and endless buckets of chilled bottles of champagne I could think we were all in Mum and Dad’s back garden having a barbecue. I ought to add that just because his mum is normal doesn’t mean meeting her has been any less terrifying. Quite the reverse. As a normal mum she’s exercised her right to treat me with polite distance and a certain amount of suspicion; after all, I am about to marry her amazing son, after the most brief of whirlwind romances – of course she’s suspicious. No matter, I’m sure we’ll become far more comfortable with one another. I’ll have to get Ben to let slip that I signed a pre-nup; that ought to allay some of her fears. I want her to know that the gold I’m digging for is commitment and a happily ever after; a grown-up life with a husband and kids. All the things Adam wouldn’t give me.
Adam? Why is he in my head? Even as an unfavourable comparison he’s unwelcome. I blame Jess for insisting on bringing him to the wedding as her guest; it’s pretty difficult to ignore his existence under those circumstances. I’ve been dreading seeing him ever since Jess asked if she could bring him here. The very thought of us meeting up fills me with cold terror, I’ve hardly been able to swallow a bite all day and yet I find myself constantly searching for even the briefest of glances of him. So far there’s been no sign.
I drift through the gentle din of polite laughter and clinking glasses and breathe in the heady perfume of fat, waxy lilies and creamy roses. I’d wanted to arrange the flowers for the party myself, especially since it was agreed that I couldn’t manage the ones for the actual wedding (I’ll be too busy), but in the end Saadi’s third assistant hired someone else to do them. It was decided that I shouldn’t run the risk of scratching my hands on rose thorns before the ceremony. The magazine that’s got the exclusive to cover the wedding specifically asked for shots of our rings (hands clasped). Colleen said that they wouldn’t like it if my hands were grazed. I can hardly complain – the florist has done a fantastic job, as good as anything I could have done. It’s silly of me to want to be so controlling; I should let go more.
The entire party looks amazing. There are über-fit waiters, dressed in surfer shorts, carrying trays of mojitos and Alabama slammers. There are dozens of all-weather pink and purple light bulbs strung in every tree; it’s still too early and warm for them to be anything more than pretty and eye-catching, but they are most definitely that. There are ice sculptures and chocolate fountains dotted between the loungers and enormous scatter cushions. Someone has removed the cream loungers and replaced them with cerise ones. There are giant scarlet inflatable ducks floating in the pool. The place screams excitement and fun.
It’s a joy to turn and see familiar faces everywhere. My friends and family beam at me as I float between them to ask if they have everything they need. As it’s my party it’s frustrating that I don’t manage to actually talk talk to anyone. We settle for pithy and pertinent exchanges; a variation on the theme.
‘Bloody hell, Fern, you are such a lucky cow’ (said with a beam – a few of which are unconditional – most are tinged with envy or disbelief).
I smile back (careful not to gloat or boast). ‘Aren’t I? Now can I get you a drink? Something to eat?’
Most of my friends are happy to get blathered on cocktails and munch the tasty treats provided; a couple of the cheekier types test the reach of my dream world by asking for Cristal champagne or caviar and oysters, although I seriously doubt they have a real fondness for