A Beautiful Day for a Wedding: This year’s Bridget Jones!. Charlotte Butterfield

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       Chapter 6

      Becca had offered to give the dress to a colleague of hers that made her own clothes, but Eve refused. How difficult could it be to do a bit of darning? She’d spent years watching her mum work her way through a massive basket of mending in no time at all, and this was one small dress. Too small, but that was neither here nor there.

      ‘Would a glass of wine make this easier?’ Becca asked, standing in the doorway, looking at her friend’s bent head and expression of concentration with undisguised pity. Eve resolutely shook her head. She was already unpicking the stitches she’d done the night before over one glass of wine too many. Repeating that tonight was not an option.

      ‘I’ll have one afterwards to reward myself for my brilliance. You can stick the kettle on though.’

      It didn’t look too bad, Eve thought, holding the dress away from her and squinting through one eye and then the other. In a flash of what she could only describe as pure genius, she’d cut out a panel from the back of the dress, in the mermaid tail bit to replace the soup panel that was centre stage at the front, and then the new fabric that she’d picked up at the market, which wasn’t an exact colour match but was close enough, could then go on the back.

      ‘So, talk me through the logic again of cutting out two parts of the dress when you only needed to do one.’

      Eve proudly explained her inspired reasoning, ending with, ‘…so if it’s on the back, no one will really see it.’

      ‘That is indeed a mastermind move, Eve. Except, of course, being a bridesmaid, you’ll be walking up the aisle behind the bride, so everyone will be able to see it.’

      Eve’s sudden crestfallen expression prompted Becca to uncharacte‌ristically take control. ‘I think at this point we just need to do some damage limitation. Make sure that you always hold your flowers over the front of your dress. And I’ll stand really close behind you at all times so no one can see the back of you.’

      ‘For ten hours?’

      ‘Well, as soon as people start getting drunk no one will care anyway, so I reckon three hours tops, and then you’ll have got away with it.’

      Eve’s eyes brightened with hope. ‘Do you think so?’

      ‘Definitely.’

      In a bid to have a different sort of wedding that didn’t include the words ‘country’ and ‘hotel’, Tanya and Luke were tying the knot in a warehouse. Not one of those cavernous, atmospheric warehouses that screamed potential – this was a disused, quite probably defective, former paint factory that would have building surveyors rocking back and forth in a dark corner holding their hard-hatted heads in their hands. But Tanya had A Vision. And it was up to Eve to turn the hundreds of pinterest pins that Tanya kept bombarding her with into reality, starting with the metres upon metres of newly-hemmed fabric she was busy pulling out of the back of a taxi. The plan was to hang the swathes of white chiffon from the high pipes that ran the length of the factory, creating a ‘billowing, dreamlike atmosphere’ – Tanya’s words, not Eve’s. Eve had other words in mind that she was trying very hard not to say out loud.

      Tanya had also depleted every hardware store, supermarket and most of the internet of fairy lights which were going to be stapled to every surface, be they vertical or horizontal. Thankfully this task was out of Eve’s remit, and a few of Luke’s friends were already up numerous ladders, trails of lights knotting themselves around the floor, steps and men’s legs.

      ‘Morning all!’ Eve shrilled as she stumbled in through the factory doors, arms full with fabric. You could just about see her eyes over the mountain of chiffon. ‘Where shall I put this?’

      ‘What is it?’ One of Luke’s friends asked from up a ladder.

      ‘It’s the stuff for the dreamlike atmosphere,’ Eve replied. ‘We need to hang it from the rafters.’ Or what’s left of them, she thought, looking upwards and seeing a family of birds wiggle through one of the many holes in the roof.

      ‘I’ll take them off you,’ said a deep voice to her side. Eve froze. She hadn’t heard that voice in the four years since he’d left. ‘How are you, Red?’

      She’d had plenty of time to think about this moment, to plan a profound, deeply intelligent reply that would convey an overwhelming insight into how she felt. She opened her mouth to speak and all that came out was, ‘Ben.’ As greetings went, it wasn’t great.

      ‘You haven’t changed at all.’

      ‘Maybe not on the outside.’ Doing better Eve, doing better. Ben seemed momentarily chastened by her reply and didn’t know how to answer.

      ‘So, do you want some help or not?’

      ‘Not.’ She added, ‘Thank you though’ as an afterthought. Manners never cost anything.

      ‘Suit yourself.’ Ben turned and walked over to a pile of nearby fairy lights and started unravelling them. Bugger. She really did need help, just not from him. Her arms were starting to hurt from the weight of the fabric and she had no idea how she was supposed to single-handedly hang them all up. She could hardly ask someone else for assistance now that she’d rebuffed Ben’s offer.

      ‘Ok fine,’ she huffed. ‘You can help.’

      Ben shrugged and walked back towards her, holding his arms out for her to share the load. ‘Where are they going?’

      ‘Up there.’ Eve nodded to the ceiling and piled all the fabric into his outstretched arms. ‘I’m not sure how. But that’s your problem now. I’m off.’

      She could still hear him shouting after her as the heavy door to the factory swung shut behind her. It turned out she was right; she had changed.

      Swishing out with such a dramatic exit, while insanely gratifying, did pose something of a dilemma though. She was meant to be whizzing round the factory with an electric polisher round about now. A large part of her wanted to say ‘stuff it’, pour a large gin and tonic and sit on her balcony for the rest of the day basking in the sun, but she had the wedding rehearsal later that afternoon, and forty years of grime to remove from the floors before tomorrow. As much as Tanya was incredibly irritating in her demands, Eve couldn’t ruin her day with sticky floors.

      ‘I need back up,’ Eve said as soon as Becca answered her phone. ‘I’m at the warehouse which, СКАЧАТЬ