Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘Here,' Sarah said now, 'I'll climb on the loo next door, you hand all that you can of it up to me so we can drape it over the partition.’

Elsa, carrying the bulk of it, squeezed in beside Ashlyn and between them they hauled the spangled train up the side of one cubicle wall and Sarah supported it as it came over the other side.

'If I'd known my creations would suffer these indignities…' Elsa began.

‘What?' said the others. Sarah was about to avert her gaze and Ashlyn was about to pull down her thong. They both stopped to look at Elsa.

‘I don't know! I just never think of them having to be peed in. Or squashed into ancient sports cars.’

Ashlyn giggled. 'Did Laurence bring you in his Morgan? It's fun, isn't it? And Laurence is nice. Not dashing but jolly dependable. Now look away, girls, I don't think shutting the door is an option.'

‘I think you could-' began Sarah.

‘Too late,' said Ashlyn. 'Oh, that feels better.'

‘I did warn you against the champagne,' said Sarah, keeping her gaze averted.

‘It wasn't the champagne,' said Ashlyn, pulling up her thong with a snap. 'It was the water you made me drink afterwards to stop me getting a hangover. Anyway, all's well now. Let's get back to the party.'

‘Er, hang on!' said Elsa. 'I need to go too and my train's nearly as long. Now that we've mastered the technique… I promise to shut the door,' she added.

As Elsa sat at the top table a couple of hours later, she began to stop feeling like a fraud. She'd already confessed to Laurence, the best man, the bride's parents knew already, and the groom's parents didn't much care. The speeches were nearly over and her tension was beginning to ease.

‘That was a brilliant speech,' she said when Laurence had sat down again. 'You didn't seem nervous at all.'

‘Well, you get used to people looking at you after the first few weddings,' he said, filling her glass. For someone who didn't drink, he was very prompt with the wine bottle.

Elsa considered this. 'Do you? I don't think I ever would, although my mother tells me being shy is an affectation, an assumption that people are looking at me when, of course, they aren't.’

He laughed gently. 'She hadn't ever been a bridesmaid and sat at the top table, then?’

Elsa shook her head. 'Don't think so. I'll ask her next time she says it.'

‘Do you see her often?’

Elsa nodded. 'Quite often. I live in a corner of my workshop, and if I need a bit more comfort, or a garden to lie in, I go home. They also feed me up occasionally. They're only a few minutes away.' She frowned, wondering if this made her seem pathetic, constantly running home to mummy and daddy.

‘There's nothing to be embarrassed about.’

She turned to him, about to deny being any such thing but thought better of it. She sighed. 'It does seem a bit sad, a woman of my age going home to play in the garden.'

‘You're not exactly ancient! What, twenty-three?’

‘Twenty-six, actually,' she said with dignity.

He seemed surprised. 'Oh. It's just that fringe makes you look much younger.' Then, possibly seeing Elsa blush, he went on, 'So tell me about living on the job.’

Elsa relaxed a bit. 'Well, I couldn't afford to rent two places, so my dad helped me convert a corner of this warehouse – well a floor of one – into a little bedroom, kitchen and sitting room. There's a teeny shower room, too.'

‘Does it feel cramped?'

‘Not really. I can open the sitting room out on to the workroom if I want to. My parents say it would be a great place for a party.'

‘Have you ever had one?’

'No. I'm not really a party girl. I think maybe it's because I'm an only child and got used to my own company.’

‘Were you lonely?’

She considered. 'I don't think so. I don't ever remember being bored. But it means that now I don't like trying to talk to people in big echoey spaces – more than just a couple of people, anyway.'

‘I know what you mean. I'd always prefer to talk to just a few people than a whole braying crowd.'

‘So you're not keen on large donkey sanctuaries then?' He laughed and gave his head a little shake. 'No. Like you, I prefer one donkey at a time.’

Elsa sipped her wine. She liked Laurence, she decided. He got her jokes and didn't interrogate her – well, not too much. He was fun and she found him very easy to talk to.

Then he said, 'Did you know that guests who don't know the people on their table, or who aren't getting on with them, make up stories about the people on the top table?'

‘That's a bit horrifying! But how do you know that? I thought you were always the best man at weddings?’

He laughed. 'Not absolutely every time. This is only my third appearance as the groom's right-hand man.' •

‘Always the best man, never the groom, eh?’

Elsa said this as a throwaway line – she hadn't expected a little sigh before he said, 'Yes.’

She felt instantly remorseful. She put her hand on his sleeve. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to step on your toes – it was just a sort of joke.’

Gallantly, he laughed. 'Stepping on my toes comes later, when we dance. But the last wedding where I was best man the bride was my ex.' He looked down at her, smiling ruefully. 'I told you it was the brides who chose me as best man, didn't I?’

Elsa's heart was touched. 'God, that's awful! How utterly tactless. How could she do that to you? And how could you do it?’

He shrugged. 'It did hurt, obviously, as I was still in love with her at the time, but that was why I did it. She asked me to.’

Elsa felt her throat constrict with tears of sympathy. 'That's so sweet.' She knew if she wasn't careful she'd actually cry. She was either over-tired or had had too much to drink.

Laurence said briskly, 'No need to get sentimental, I'm pretty much over her now.'

‘I'm so glad!' His eyebrow went up a little and his mouth twitched. Trying to backtrack she said, 'I mean, I'm glad for you. I don't care personally.' She paused and sipped some water.

‘It's all right,' he said, still gently amused by her discomfiture. 'I know exactly what you mean.' He paused. 'So, what about you? Is this your first time? Or have you followed lots of your girlfriends down the aisle?’

She shook her head and found that her fringe went into her eyes. She flicked it away. 'No. I've never been a bridesmaid before and they didn't give me long to learn my part.'

‘So you don't really know Ashlyn, then?'

‘Well, I do, actually. We got to know each other quite well when we were doing fittings, choosing fabrics and things.'

‘So you're here because the bride begged you to be,' said Laurence firmly. 'And quite right and proper too. Now, can you dance?'

‘Dance? What do you mean?' She was horrified. Did he want her to dance a rapid quickstep, backwards and in heels, like Ginger Rogers? Somehow she didn't think he meant disco dancing.

'Sorry, I didn't realise that was a hard question. I'm asking you if you can waltz at all. I'm not talking proper ballroom here, but when Ashlyn and Bobby have had their first romantic number, we have to join them. Now, if you can waltz, I can too. If not, you can just hang on and I'll steer.'

‘That doesn't sound very romantic.'

‘It's not supposed to sound romantic. I'm the prosaic best man being frank.'

‘I thought you said your name was Laurence?' She smiled.

He frowned and shook his head. 'I must have given you too much to drink.'

‘Well, you did but don't worry about it. I was only being flippant and everyone says I take life far too seriously, so it's probably a good thing.' Elsa sighed, wishing she could be bright and outgoing without having to be slightly drunk.

‘They say that about me too.’