either. Whatever is requested can be found and in the end my guests tire of trying to catch me out. They grudgingly accept my life is perfection and simply try to scoop up a bit of it instead.
While the party was originally intended to be an intimate get-together for family and close friends, inevitably it has grown. I spot a number of people I’ve come to recognize as ‘the cool people’, who somehow always appear out of nowhere when there’s a gathering of any significance. Mark has invited all the cool people to our wedding. He insists their beauty lends an authenticity to a Hollywood party; without them it would just be a regular party – full of loved ones and mates having fun, which (he explained seriously) isn’t enough for a Hollywood party. Mostly the cool people in LA are actors in their twenties and sometimes thirties (although none of the women are in their thirties, no matter what their birth certificates say). I recognize everyone and am momentarily lulled into the belief that the party really is full of friends but then I realize I recognize them from the silver screen and, despite the fact that they are coming to my wedding and are currently eating and drinking in my home, they couldn’t pick me out in a police line-up. Still, it’s exciting having all these amazingly beautiful and talented people splashing in my pool. No one could think anything else. I don’t know why I have to keep reminding myself that this is the case.
Besides the actors, musicians and models are liberally scattered too. While the actors exude good health (muscled bodies, light tans, white teeth), the musicians and models are wan and pale. Generally nocturnal species, they look startled and ever so slightly nauseous in daylight. I also spot famous photographers, famous movie producers, famous record producers, famous chefs and famous dogs. I recognize nearly everyone from the briefing notes Saadi has thoughtfully supplied for the wedding. She’s provided a photo and three pertinent facts about every one of our influential guests. I’m supposed to have memorized the notes by tomorrow but to be frank I’m struggling. I find one multi-million-dollar deal merges into the next and it’s hard to stay focused on the specifics. I’ll wing it tomorrow; I’m assuming that on my wedding day most people will want to talk about my dress and shoes and I won’t be grilled too closely about how Guest A made his enormous fortune or what film Guest B most recently directed.
It’s odd, but in this rich blend of guests I’ve yet to spy Lisa or Jess. It’s not until around 2 p.m. that I finally spot Lisa, Charlie and the kids arriving. Touchingly, Lisa has brought a cake and Charlie is carrying what will no doubt be a very nice bottle of wine. I fling myself into her arms, almost causing her to let the cake go splat.
‘Hey you,’ she beams as she wraps me in a gawky, problematic one-arm hug. ‘We brought gifts.’
‘But what do you bring the girl who has everything?’ says Charlie as he takes a sweeping glance at the party scene stretched out in front of him. He whistles appreciatively.
‘Yourselves,’ I beam. ‘I’m so happy to see you. And cake is good too. I haven’t been allowed to touch anything the least bit sinful for weeks.’ I dip my finger into the gooey icing and cram it into my mouth.
‘So I hear,’ grins Charlie. Lisa nudges him but he can’t help himself, he starts to giggle; I guess that she’s told him about the chastity vow between me and Scott. It’s to be expected, they tell each other everything. He manages to compose himself enough to add, ‘Congratulations, Fern. This is amazing.’
The kids dash off towards the bouncy castle. I slip between Lisa and Charlie and link my arm through theirs; we follow the children at a more leisurely pace.
‘It’s so wonderful to have you both here,’ I gush. I stare at their oh-so-familiar faces and their radiant, delighted expressions douse me. It’s not until I’m with my friends that I realize just how much I’ve missed them.
Lisa, Charlie and I find seats and food and position ourselves close to the bouncy castle so that we can keep an eye on the kids.
As soon as we are all comfortable and sipping ice-cold cocktails I ask, ‘Have you seen Jess?’
‘Yes, she and Adam have the room next to ours,’ says Lisa carefully. She watches