I woke up on Tuesday morning to my first island rainstorm. I’d been vaguely planning on doing something touristy, like cycling to the smaller village, Lithin, or booking a slot on a boat that did whale-spotting tours. Instead, I spent the morning helping Lily assemble shelving units for the guest living room while Malcolm uploaded pictures of the completed lilac bedroom to the website and across their social media.
Either side of picking the children up from nursery and school, we peeled, chopped and sautéed enough parsnips for twenty pasties (just about every parsnip on the island, given the season) and prepared the rest of the vegetarian ingredients ready for the Stilton delivery on Wednesday. Lily was in almost constant contact with her sisters about the wedding. They were arranging the church service, entertainment and the other details as if they had all the time in the world and none of it really mattered anyway.
‘Oh!’ Lily exclaimed, after reading a message about borrowing wine glasses. ‘We forgot a hen do. Or, what do you call it? A bridal shower! Which one would be best, do you think?’
I looked up from stirring a giant pan. ‘I don’t know the difference. To be honest, I’ve never been to either.’
Lily looked to the other mainlander in the room, who beetled his eyebrows in thought.
‘The amount of alcohol involved, mainly. Alcohol, tacky props and the likelihood of a stripper turning up.’
‘Which one is that?’
‘A hen night.’
‘Right, let’s go for a bridal shower.’ Lily nodded vigorously before going blank again. ‘So not much booze, no props and no stripper. Whatdoesit have?’
‘Depends on the bride in question.’ Malcolm shrugged. ‘I think the only essential ingredient is cake.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘But really, the chief bridesmaid should be sorting all this out.’
Lily called Celine, who created a group chat,Bridal Parteeeee, and by the time we were washing up, ten women had accepted an invitation to meet at Lily’s old café, the Copper Pot, at seven that evening for drinks and desserts.
‘Violet says we need an activity,’ Lily read out. ‘But Celine is working until six so won’t have time to sort anything.’
‘We could do something crafty,’ I offered. ‘Make bunting for the barn, and the other decorations? It saves us trying to do them all.’
‘That’s perfect.’ Lily beamed. ‘You’re a wedding genius, Emmie. I’ll ask everyone to contribute fabric for the bunting. We’ve got that ribbon from the market, and plenty of sewing machines between us. We just need to make sure Fern has a different job, like serving the cake, because she can’t sew a straight line.’
‘What about bringing some fabric that reminds them of Iris, or will remind Iris of them?’
‘Oh, that’s even better! An old dress or something.’ She glanced at the pile of pots and vegetable peelings that used to be the kitchen. ‘We’d better get moving with all this if we’re going to be ready for seven, though.’
‘I don’t mind finishing it while you’re there.’
‘I’m going to pretend the brains behind this whole thing didn’t just suggest she might not be coming.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t know how Celine would feel about that.’
And I didn’t want to find a hair in my cake, or gob of spit in my wine glass. Even worse, I was paranoid about what nastiness I might discover when I got back here.
‘How Celine feels is irrelevant. This wedding is only happening because of you. And don’t worry.’ She patted my arm. ‘She knows I know what she’s up to. I’ll make sure she behaves herself.’
22
We arrived at the Copper Pot half an hour early, Lily retrieving the key from an ornamental kettle hanging by the door. By the time the others started to arrive, we’d pushed a load of the wooden tables together to form a craft station, and I was arranging cakes onto platters while Lily set out various drinks.
Celine was the first through the door, carrying a sewing machine as well as a full carrier bag dangling from each forearm.
‘Hey, Lily!’ She beamed, before hesitating when she saw me. ‘Oh, Emmie. No one told me you’d been roped in as waitress. That’s so kind of you to help out. Means us island gals can have a real proper catch-up.’
‘Emmie’s here as a guest,’ Lily said, in a no-nonsense, mum voice.
‘Oh?’ Celine said, sounding distracted as she started setting up her sewing machine next to Lily’s. ‘I thought we agreed that, with it being so last minute, we’d stick to family and close friends only.’
‘Family, close friends and the woman who saved the day by giving up her holiday to cater the whole damn thing with fourdays’ notice,’ Violet said, who’d appeared in the doorway as Celine was speaking.
