How To Marry Your Husband (7 page)

She will have to discuss the list with Kieran again. It’s strange how the things she assumes will be simple about getting married can suddenly become clouded with unseen problems. She sighs and takes another gulp of tea. Her mother smiles.

“Look, darling,” she says as she pats Olivia’s hand. “I’m not saying you and Kieran shouldn’t be the people you are, because that’s a wonderful thing. I’m sorry if I was negative about your list. I’ve just spent the whole morning shopping for a Mother of the Bride outfit and there’s nothing in town I like. It’s frustrating, but I think I’ll wait for the new season clothes to be in. Still, that’s nothing to do with the list – it’s a good list, but you need to put more basic items on it so the guests can have a range to choose from. Anyway, you won’t want ten hedgehog scrapers, will you?”

Olivia laughs. “No, I suppose not, although all those hedgehogs might well discourage the postman from bringing me any more council tax bills so it wouldn’t be all bad. Look, Mum, I know you’re right, and I’ll chat it through with Kieran tonight and make it a list to die for, don’t you worry. I’m sorry about the shopping though. Tell you what – why don’t we go together and make a day of it one weekend? It will be fun, and I can buy you cake as well. What’s not to like?”

“Sounds wonderful,” her mother replies. “But my plan is to surprise you with my outfit, just as you’re surprising me with yours, so you’ll have to wait until your big day, I’m afraid.”

“Fair enough. But if you get desperate, don’t forget I’m here and I can kick ass with tricky shop assistants if I have to now. At least that’s one thing wedding shopping has taught me.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, darling,” her mother replies.

Chapter Eight: Bridesmaids

Olivia isn’t sure how she feels about bridesmaids. They are the kind of wedding accessory every bride should have – at least this is what all the bridal magazines tell her – but so far in her preparations, she’s not given it any thought. She’s been a bridesmaid three times in her life and none of it has won her over.

The first time, she’d been fifteen years old, when her brother’s fiancé – now his ex-wife, thank goodness – asked her if she’d like to be the chief bridesmaid. Olivia’s mother had been delighted and had almost at once gone into a kind of lacy frenzy of joy which she’d not recovered from until the wedding and all its paraphernalia had been long forgotten. Much like she’d done for Olivia herself then.

Back then, Olivia had been pleased and surprised – her sister-in-law-to-be was girliness personified, almost to the point where Olivia would have been happy to take the wretched woman and smother her with her own lace dress. Still, the thought of being a bridesmaid was exciting, and she’d happily accepted. Not that there had been any chance of refusal – not with her mother going full pelt for making the event into the Wedding of the Year for the county.

The reality had been very different. Gina – her new sister-in-law – had dressed Olivia in a bright pink satin flouncy dress which brought out her late teenage spots, clashed with her ginger hair and made her look like a Michelin Woman who’d had a bad day. Olivia never knew whether Gina had done this terrible act deliberately, suspecting how much Olivia secretly disliked her, or whether she was just so girly that she’d imagined bridesmaids should only ever be dressed in shiny pink meringues.

Either way, Olivia’s wedding smile was glued to her face, and it was lucky Gina survived the wedding at all. Five years later, when the divorce came through for the unhappy couple, Olivia had to admit to relief. However, she’d been impressed how Gina had in fact run off with the counsellor who was trying to save her marriage – it showed an unexpected class and if Olivia had known back on the wedding day in question how her brother’s marriage was going to turn out, her false grin might well have been a little more natural. She’d never been a fan of either of her brothers, who were much older than she was and – of course – far less lovable.

Anyway, when her middle brother got married, a couple of years later, Olivia had been a bridesmaid at that one too. Her new sister-in-law then hadn’t been too bad and the dresses she and her fellow bridesmaid had worn were quite pretty. At least Vikki had some idea of style and hadn’t insisted on her own vision of what they should wear, come what may.

Still, no matter how elegant everyone looked in the wedding photos, it didn’t stop the marriage disintegrating eight years afterwards, when Vikki ran off with the scoutmaster. Really, it’s astonishing Olivia has agreed to marry Kieran at all – as a family they don’t have much luck with marriage. Or maybe it’s the bridesmaids issue that puts the kibosh on it?

Olivia wants to marry the man she loves with her heart and soul, not to mention all her bodily parts. However, the thought of running around worrying about which bridesmaids she should choose and which of her friends won’t be upset if she doesn’t choose them is way beyond her. Not to mention the hassle of working out what everyone should wear and what her colour themes should be once the bridesmaids were in the bag – Olivia has enough to worry about for herself and Kieran without adding other people into the mix.

Then, of course, there’s the whole question of Kieran’s best man. She has no idea who he may ask, as he isn’t particularly close to his family, though he has one or two work friends he may approach. Like her – at heart – her fiancé is a bit of a loner and doesn’t like getting too close to the people around him. In fact, in the early days of the two of them going out together – though they’d been friends in their church group for longer – he’d once told her how alike he thought they were.

When Olivia laughed, he explained the truth was he himself said nothing to anyone to avoid giving away anything personal, whereas she said lots and lots of things for exactly the same reason. There was depth and wisdom in what he’d said and she’s never forgotten it.

Maybe they should look at doing things differently then, just as they’ve always done? Olivia makes a mental note to raise the issue of bridesmaids and best men with Kieran at the earliest opportunity. She could well have made an actual note too, but by now she’s feeling suffocated by lists, and can take no more of them.

Her opportunity comes at the end of the week when she and Kieran meet up at their usual mid-town winebar before heading home. Usually she would steer clear of wedding subjects as she thinks of winebar time as “their time” but Kieran asks her how everything is going and whether there are things he can helpfully do.

She smiles at him as she takes another swig of the chardonnay – she isn’t the kind of woman who sips at anything – and then remembers her earlier mental note.

“Darling,” she begins and at once Kieran looks at her as if she’s suddenly turned in to his worst nightmare. She can’t help laughing. “What’s that look? What have I done now?”

“Nothing,” Kieran shrugs. “But I’ve learnt over the time we’ve been together that when you start a sentence with ‘darling’, it tends to mean I’ve done something horribly wrong or – worse – I’m about to.”

Olivia assumes an expression of innocence and raises her eyebrows at him as if this is news to her. Of course it isn’t.

“Harsh but fair,” she says. “But this time it’s different. I’ve been wondering about bridesmaids and best men.”

“I see. Are we for them or against them?”

“Both or neither at the moment. You see, I’m thinking about not having any bridesmaids at all, but it depends on whether you’d thought about a best man. I mean if you wanted one, and if so if you’d already got someone in mind. If you have, that’s fine, and I’ll pick a bridesmaid or two, but I wondered if none might be an option.”

At the end of this blur of words all bundled together, Olivia takes another swig of her wine, finds – how did that happen? – she’s finished it, and orders another one, plus a second beer for Kieran. Glasses in pubs must be getting smaller these days.

As she takes her change from the barman, Kieran nods. “It might be radical, but it would be very much us. Then again, what would your mother think?”

Olivia ponders his question. “She probably wouldn’t mind at all. Just as long as she can be there to see her only daughter get married, and get to wear a hugely extravagant hat, she’ll be happy.”

“In that case,” Kieran says, finishing his first beer and starting to pour the second into his empty glass. “In that case, why not have the wedding without them? Though, won’t it look odd if I stand at the front of my church on my own? And, anyway, who will you walk down the aisle with? Your mother? Your stepfather? Both?”

Olivia hasn’t thought about that issue in any depth either, but she supposes she has to walk down the aisle with someone, especially if there are no bridesmaids. And maybe it’s mean to get Kieran to stand on his own in church, waiting for her to arrive. The last thing she wants to do is to make him feel awkward. Weddings are weird enough as it is.

Suddenly it comes to her – must be that second glass of Chardonnay, which always does the trick.

“Why don’t we walk down the aisle together?” she asks him, laying her hand on his arm. “There surely isn’t a law against it, and I can’t think of anything more wonderful than walking down the aisle on the way to get married with the man I love and want to spend the rest of my life with.”

He stares at her for a moment and then leans forward and kisses her. “That sounds wonderful, and likewise to what you just said. If your mother and stepfather are happy, then that’s exactly what we’ll do. I love you.”

Chapter Nine: The Cake

Olivia is sure she doesn’t want a white wedding cake. She’s not having a white dress, not as such, so why have a white cake? More than that, she really hates fruit cake and has no idea why anyone would want to eat such a thing. She doesn’t even like Christmas cake (which apparently
everyone
likes), so tends to stick to the mince pies if allowed the choice. When she raises the question with Kieran, he gulps.

“I’ve not given it any thought. What sort of cake were you thinking of?”

Olivia purses her lips. “Our favourite cake is chocolate, so we could opt for that.”

“Mmm, chocolate, now you’re talking. Sounds good, but what about sending slices to people who can’t come or who won’t be there because we like small weddings? Work people, church people, and so on.”

This is a good point. Olivia collapses onto the sofa with a sigh and draws her legs up to her chin. “Back to the fruit cake then? Oh well.”

Kieran shakes his head as he seats himself next to her. “Not necessarily. What about two layers of chocolate and one of fruit? That way, we can keep the fruit one for sending away and eat the chocolate layers at the lunch.”

Olivia laughs. “I think we might need to share the chocolate cake with our guests, or Mum will have something to say about it.”

“Shame!”

Sorted then, at least in terms of the actual cake, but what about the icing and decoration? While Kieran starts reading the next chapter of his latest war book, Olivia flicks through her increasing pile of wedding magazines, hoping to gain inspiration.

All the cakes in the pictures, though funnily enough she can’t see that many, remained determinedly white. With the occasional pink flowers or mauve glitter here and there, but all in all: white.

“I don’t know, there’s nothing inspirational in any of these pictures,” she complains at last when she’s flicked through everything at least three times to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. She hasn’t.

Kieran puts down his book, marking his place with the tiny scrap of paper he always carries around with him for use as a bookmark. Olivia has no idea why he doesn’t use a real bookmark – she has hundreds of them lying around but when she’d offered him use of one of hers once, he’d been most offended at what he’d taken as criticism of his choices. Men can certainly be odd.

Right now, she can see he’s thinking, and hopes it’s something good. She doesn’t have to wait long.

“What about green?” he says.

Olivia blinks. “Green? A
green
cake?”

“Yes,” he says, warming to his theme. “The same colour as your eyes. You can decorate it with gold to go with your hair. It will be stunning.”

Privately, Olivia thinks her loved one may well be taking loyalty a step too far, but she can’t fault his enthusiasm. “What sort of decorations?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anything you like. Flowers? Stars? Stripes?”

Olivia laughs. “Stars and stripes are too American, and I’m not carrying flowers, so it will be odd to have them on the cake. Maybe we can have tiny statues of us, in gold?”

Kieran stares at her for a full minute with a look of absolute horror on his face before she cracks and bursts into laughter. “No! I’m teasing, really I am, but I had you going there for a moment, didn’t I?”

In retaliation, he lunches for her and tickles her until she begs for mercy. “No statues then?” she says when she can speak again.

“Absolutely not! No statues … of us anyway. But, actually, now you’ve mentioned it, maybe it will be nice to have figures that aren’t us? I mean you love Chaucer and all that Canterbury Tales stuff. What about having medieval people as decoration?”

“As long as it’s not the Wife of Bath!”

“Are you sure about that?...”

“Yes!” she gives him a mock-angry look and he subsides, but he’s still smiling. All in all, it’s not a bad idea though – she does love the medieval period and even though they’re not having a themed wedding (perish the thought), having a themed cake will certainly be a light-hearted touch.

“What about you though?” she muses. “We could put something on the cake which is important to you too. A camera?”

“With medieval figures? Not sure that would work. Anyway, you’ve already persuaded me at ‘chocolate’. I’ll be more than happy with that.”

Olivia cuddles up and gives him a big kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. You’re a truly lovely man. Now all we need to do is find a baker.”

This takes a lot longer than she’s anticipated. The first ten bakers she phones up are initially enthusiastic and then increasingly quiet and distant. One of them fades out entirely and Olivia eventually finds herself talking to the disconnect buzz. So annoying! But she’s determined to persevere and makes herself pick up the phone to call the eleventh company on her list.

This time it’s different. No, they don’t have anyone skilled enough to create such a cake, but the woman on the end of the line agrees with Olivia that it’s a lovely idea and has she thought of using an icing expert?

No, Olivia hasn’t thought of this but it makes sense, so she makes a note of the two or three names she’s given, thanks the very helpful woman and puts the phone down.

She ditches the baker list, and starts to ring the icing gurus instead. Ten minutes later, she and Kieran have an appointment with an ‘icing expert’ in a village half an hour’s drive away from her mother’s house the following Saturday, and she can’t wait for the weekend to arrive.

Emma the Icing Expert lives in a tiny cottage on the edge of a tiny village. Almost a hamlet really. When Olivia and Kieran park the car on the verge, the first things they notice are the hollyhocks. There are rows and rows of them lining the pathway up to the cottage, in every colour you can imagine: red and white, yellow, orange, and even a few dark blue ones – so blue they’re nearly black.

“Wow,” Olivia says. “They’re amazing.”

Kieran nods and she can see he’s itching to take a photograph or several but he’s not thought to bring his camera with him. Without warning, the front door is flung open and a small, dark-haired woman greets them with outstretched arms. She’s dressed in a glittering array of light blues and floaty greens, and her hair is tied up into a messy bun with a sparkling silver fabric band. Olivia likes her at once.

“Hello! You must be Kieran and Olivia. How lovely to see you. I’m Emma, of course. It was lovely to talk with you, Olivia, on the phone – I think your ideas sounds amazing. It’s wonderful to speak with a bride who wants something different on the cake. I was very excited by the concept – come in and have coffee and we can discuss it!”

By this time, Olivia and Kieran are already in the cottage’s bijou but welcoming living room, ensconced on a two seater sofa loaded with pink and purple cushions. Kieran is looking dazed but surprisingly not unhappy with the torrent of words coming their way. He’s too busy gazing round the room in wonder, and Olivia can’t blame him. Even though it’s tiny, the room is packed with fabric in the same colours as the hollyhocks in the garden: white and golden with here and there flashes of red. Somewhere all this jazziness doesn’t make the room seem smaller than it is but instead creates an atmosphere of comfort which Olivia, for one, thinks she would find hard to leave.

Emma makes them both coffee and lays an album of cake options in front of them. The coffee comes with chocolate Digestives, but no cake, and Olivia has to smile. The icing expert notices and smiles too.

“I know,” Emma says, with more than a little insight though presumably she has the same conversations with all new visitors. “I should offer cake, but actually I’m really hopeless at baking them. My friend in the next village along does that. I just do the decorating. But don’t worry, because I got her to whip up a sample or two of chocolate cake types to see if they suit you. Oh, and there’s some of her fruit cake too, though I know you weren’t so worried about that.”

At once, she rushes out of the room and then almost immediately rushes in again, carrying an enormous plate of different cakes. Olivia wonders if she’s actually in heaven right now, and Kieran must think the same, because he reaches out and takes the nearest slice of chocolate cake like a man starved of all food for a month.

Olivia laughs, and he has the grace to redden before offering her the slice.

“No, please! You go ahead. I can try my own.”

In companionable silence, they munch on cake while Emma flicks through her pictures of expertly iced and totally wild wedding cakes, and explains and makes suggestions for them. It’s all wonderful, but both Olivia and Kieran prefer the third of the chocolate samples, because it’s the richest and meltingly good. They can’t decide on the fruit layer, but in the end, Emma guides them to the slightly denser version on the grounds that it will be fun to have a chocolate/fruit/chocolate sandwich for the layers and it needs to hold the chocolate layer up.

Olivia and Kieran are more than happy with these decisions. They’re also very happy that after a good half-hour discussion, they and Emma come up with a more than decent cake decoration plan. The sketch Emma makes is exactly how Olivia has envisaged it, and Kieran nods his approval too.

So, they leave Emma the icing expert, pleasantly full of cake and comfort, and fired up with wedding cake enthusiasm. Olivia can’t wait to pick the eventual creation up, even though when she does a day before the wedding, it takes her triple the time to drive back to her mother’s home as she’s so terrified she might lose a piece.

She doesn’t, though she can’t help laughing with Kieran over the fact they’ve paid double the cost of the wedding dress for the wedding cake. Still, it’s worth every penny and who’s counting?