dropped her hand. ‘I couldn’t tell you before, could I? I had to wait for you to work it out.’
‘Well I have now.’
‘Not all of it, I’ll bet.’
I frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Never mind. Sit here, we need to get cracking.’ She nodded at a chair in front of her.
‘Did Mia send you references?’ I asked.
‘Only about a million of them. We’re doing it half pinned back, wavy, with a couple of roses tucked into it.’
‘Exactly.’
Jaz got going with the dryer. I wondered how Harry was getting on with his babysitter. Eugene keeps a very tidy flat in Stockwell where you had to use a coaster if he made you a cup of tea, but I’d persuaded him to look after Harry for the weekend by asking him to be the kitten’s ‘godfather’.
Eugene’s entire head had turned maroon at this.
‘Me? Really?’ he’d asked, placing a hand on his chest.
‘Yes, you, absolutely. I know you’ll do it brilliantly.’
I’d carried Harry over in his basket the previous evening and Eugene opened the door waggling a knitted fish toy that he’d bought from the pet shop. I hoped the novelty of a fluffy ginger godson hadn’t worn off yet.
My thoughts slid to Zach and I looked at my watch – 8.48. He’d be in the air now, in an uncomfortable seat eating a frozen bread roll on his way to Buenos Aires. The idea of him travelling further and further away from London every second made me feel a pang of regret. We hadn’t communicated since the Christmas party. No call, no message from either of us to say goodbye. And knowing that he was now gone, that I wouldn’t see him on Monday or be able to shout at him for putting a mug on a book, made me feel bleak. I could ring him in Patagonia and apologize, say he’d been right about Rory, but perhaps that was too needy? I’d be all right on my own again. Always had been. Buck up, Florence Fairfax, moping after a man never helped anyone.
I was distracted from thoughts of Zach by the sharp pain of a rose stem stabbing my scalp.
‘Sorry,’ said Jaz, as I shrank my head into my shoulders. ‘But that’s you done. Will you send Ruby in?’
Ruby and I swapped places: she sat in front of Jaz, I held my face up to Mel in the other bedroom. Mia was having her photo taken by Pierre, the society photographer. Patricia was into her second bottle of champagne.
The average Briton takes forty-seven minutes to get ready in the morning, although I can be up and out of the door in my sensible shoes in fifteen. But oh, the long, torturous agony of a wedding morning. Nothing is done in a hurry. It took an hour for Mel to plaster my face with orange paint and coats of mascara so heavy that my eyelashes felt like butterfly wings.
Next up was Patricia. While Ruby and I lay on one bed watching The World’s Wildest Animals with Dunc, she bossed Mel about for an hour, then Jaz.
Meanwhile, Pierre took snaps of our shoes, of our bouquets, of our dresses in their hangers, of Patricia in curlers. He even photographed a tray of smoked salmon sandwiches that arrived as an early lunch. I tried to imagine who would care about this. Would one of Mia’s descendants look back on the salmon with interest? ‘Look! Here are the sandwiches that your great-great grandmother ate on her wedding morning!’ It seemed unlikely.
Several hours on, we slithered into our dresses, and helped Mia into hers while Patricia stood and shouted at us. She was wearing a pale blue dress and jacket from Catherine Walker because that was where her idol, Carole Middleton, had bought her mother-of-the-bride outfit.
‘CAREFUL! You’re going to get foundation on the neckline. Florence, pay more attention, help her with her arm. No, not that arm, the other one.’
‘You all right, Mia?’ asked Ruby, crouching at her feet as she fanned the folds of the dress out.
‘I’m perfect,’ she replied, smiling in the mirror. She wasn’t being immodest; she looked exquisite. The dress was made from a floral lace, with a tight bodice that fell into a wide skirt and trailed behind her. Tiny silk buttons ran up her back and its long sleeves. Jaz’s hands fluttered around her face as she made sure the veil, made from the same ivory lace, was secured. Mia stood quite still and continued to gaze at herself in the mirror