away and at six thirty Colleen raps on my bedroom door and bursts in. My personal trainer is with her too.
‘You look terrible,’ says Colleen. ‘I don’t suppose you got any sleep last night – too excited, huh?’
‘Something like that,’ I mutter.
‘Well, don’t worry. The wedding isn’t until eleven, we can fix everything by then.’ I doubt it, but can’t bring myself to squash her enthusiasm. ‘Let’s forget the three-kilometre run, you can have a massage instead. I’ll call Linda and Natalie. Then a bath, exfoliation, a power shower, manicure, pedicure…’ She consults her clipboard. She has a plan that is timed to the nearest thirty seconds and accounts for the next four and a half hours. I’m grateful to be swept along by her momentum.
My room is like Piccadilly Circus at rush hour; even though the place is enormous it’s soon jam-packed, there’s little room to breathe out. Hot on the heels of Colleen and my personal trainer, Saadi and her assistants arrive. Saadi discreetly calls Lisa to update her on my decision to go ahead. She asks her to inform my family and to urge everyone to attend as planned. ‘It’s important for the press,’ she says. The assistants are quickly despatched to complete various essential tasks – such as checking the beading on the napkin rings, measuring the distance between the tealights on the stairwells and ensuring that cones of lavender buds have been placed on the back of each and every seat in the reception room. Linda, Natalie, Joy and a hair stylist arrive to give me a massage and do my makeup and hair; between them they carry enough boxes of hair product and cosmetics to open a chain of salons. I dip my fingers into buttery creams and slosh velvet lotions on to my limbs. It’s somewhat soothing. Two people from Jenny Packham’s studios arrive to help me into the dress. They hang the gown from the top of the wardrobe and everyone pauses for a moment to sigh in reverence. It’s exquisite. Swathes of oyster-hued silk overlaid with vintage organza swish in a relaxed and feminine bias cut. The dress is made unfeasibly glam due to the addition of intricate beading and crystals, hand-embroidered around the hem and neckline. It’s so beautiful I want to cry. Mark pops by and gives me a rare hug. The florists, vicar and jeweller squeeze into my room too – to deliver my bouquet, advice and the two million dollars’ worth of jewellery I’m borrowing for the day.
It’s not until nearly ten that Jess and Lisa finally arrive; I was wondering whether they’d decided to stay away. They look pale and fraught but they dutifully start their own preparations for the wedding. I’d wanted them to get dressed with me. I’d imagined the scenario for ages; I’d thought we’d elegantly sip champagne through solid silver straws and chatter excitedly as we scrambled into our dresses. In fact they both desperately glug from bottles and huge silences stretch awkwardly between us, like unsuppressed yawns at a recital. I’m glad the jeweller insists he has to stick around until my hair is finished so he can examine the drop of the stones in relation to the curve of my neck; it makes it impossible for my friends to speak their minds openly. Instead they have to confine themselves to hissed, panicked whispers.
‘You cannot be going ahead with this wedding,’ says Jess.
From the look of disbelief and horror on her face I know Lisa has filled her in on the gory details.
‘Yes, I am.’ I keep my eyes on my own reflection and pretend to be totally absorbed in what Joy is doing with my makeup. Quite brilliantly, she’s managed to hide the black shadows around my eyes. I make a mental note of what cosmetics she’s using, it might be useful to know for the future.
‘You must really love Scott,’ murmurs Lisa. I doubt she means this, she probably thinks I’m marrying him for his money, but as it’s my wedding day she’s too polite to say so.
Colleen continually runs through a checklist of the details of the day; she’s clearly suffering some sort of verbal incontinence. She yells, ‘Has anyone seen the crates of customized silver foil white chocolate coins? They’re monogrammed! I said heart-shaped marshmallows, these are more oval. The candelabras are all wrong. The ribbons and crystal butterflies should create a sweeping effect, this is more of a swooning effect!’