Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,122
is for the entrance music. I’m also saying a silent thank you to my mum reclining on her fluffy cloud above the castle roof for getting it right this time. I’m lining myself up to hold the wheelchair handles, bracing myself to push, to keep in step with Pixie’s dad, when there’s a lurch, and suddenly the chair in front of me is empty. As my heart drops I let out a cry. ‘Pixie, are you okay?’
For a moment I close my eyes really tight and don’t dare to open them. Brides faint, brides fall. Pixie sliding out of her chair would be exactly the kind of calamity I’m expecting here. So when I finally force myself to open them I’m expecting to see her crumpled in a white lacy heap on the floor. But instead she’s hanging onto her dad’s arm, and – what the eff! She’s flaming well standing up!
She shoots me a glance. ‘Follow close behind with the chair, Milla, I need you there in case I don’t make it all the way.’
I’m screwing my face up because I don’t believe what I’m seeing. ‘You’re walking down the aisle?’
Her eyes are shining. ‘That’s the idea. I’m not sure how far I’m going to get. It suddenly looks a very long way.’ Her forehead’s already shining with the exertion. ‘I’ll be sitting down again the second we reach Ewan, so don’t hang around, make sure the chair’s there ready.’
And then she goes. One faltering step after another. Her dad leaning in to support her. Pixie looking slender enough to break, but there’s so much strength of will in that spine. She’s gritting her teeth and I’m following straight behind her, getting the same view she is. All the faces turning to see the bride in her chair, and instead they’re seeing Pixie putting one tentative, wobbly foot in front of the other. Walking. Yes, walking. For the first time in four years. And as the realisation hits, the guests start to clap, then gradually the clapping rises to a cheer, and in the end the noise is so loud that All you need is love, love, love is all you need is totally drowned out under the stamping and the whooping and the roar.
And we’re going towards Ewan at the front, his face turned towards us, looking so proud and happy and in love. And he’s holding his arms open to catch his bride. But beside him, Nic is standing, tears streaming down his face as he watches Pixie making her faltering way down the aisle.
And then it’s over, Ewan sweeps Pixie into his arms, and her dad steps aside. The roar of voices and applause is so loud my ears are hurting. But then it gradually subsides, someone fades the music and in the silence Pixie’s turning to me. ‘That’s enough showing off for one day. Pass me my chair, Milla, before I expire.’
And as Pixie sinks down into the chair again and smooths her dress over her knees, the registrar smiles at her. ‘All ready to begin?’
Pixie frowns up at her. ‘Hell no! I’m not getting married wearing trainers. Milla’s going to put my Jimmy Choos on for me first.’ She gives me a prod. ‘Aren’t you Milla? Then we’ll do the marrying bit after that.’
I jump to my senses, drop to my knees, undo her trainers and whip them away. Then I take out each spangly sandal in turn, push them onto her feet, and do up the straps. Then I inexpertly place her feet on the foot rests, and, more expertly, rearrange the lace folds of her dress edge so the diamond straps are just visible. Then I grab her trainers and the bag, scramble to my feet, and I’m just about to make a run down the aisle to safety when Pixie’s hand lands on my arm.
‘Sit next to Nic.’
She must sense me pulling away, because her grip tightens but her face breaks into a grin. ‘Bride’s orders, okay?’
As I shuffle around to stand next to Nic, he bends and breathes into my ear. ‘Great dresses – you and Pixie.’
Somehow I’m forgetting my floaty skirt with the sprigs and the handkerchief hem, because I’m still catching up with what just happened. ‘She walked. Did you see that? Pixie just walked …’
Nic lets out a low laugh. ‘Ewan said Pixie was going to surprise us, and she has.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘It’s barely begun, and it’s already the best day.’ His arm comes