‘All finished,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’ And he threaded his arm inside hers and walked her forward, almost lifting her in the air as he did so. And
though she made huffs of protestation, she didn’t resist him physically. She thought she had disliked his ridiculously flirty attentions, but to be stonewalled by him was worse.
The first cabin door they came to was open as one of the interior designers was steaming the curtains.
‘They’re all more or less the same, give or take little touches. They’re just getting this ready for Violet and Pav.’ He addressed the lady inside. ‘Okay to come
in?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Eve stepping through the doorway. ‘How have they managed to do all this in such a short time?’ The cabin was a snuggery of sofas and carpets. There
was a tiny wood-burning stove in a large inglenook fireplace, just the thing for a couple to cuddle up in front of; a short run of kitchen units and a bathroom beyond, with a very roomy bath and
shower – obviously meant for more than one and no more than two. An open staircase led to a room with a very bouncy-looking bed taking up most of it.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ said Jacques. ‘The designers are all widows of soldiers and set up in business together.’
The military again, thought Eve. It kept cropping up in one form or another.
‘How did Aunt Evelyn find all these people?’ said Eve.
‘She just did,’ shrugged Jacques.
‘I’m presuming all the elves she found weren’t on active duty in Toytown?’
Jacques laughed. It was the first time in ages she had heard him laugh and it was a ridiculously welcome sound to her ears.
‘I think they might have been,’ he said, turning his eyes onto her and studying her with a tender intensity, which she found uncomfortable. She turned around and looked at one of the
watercolour pictures of a snow scene on the wall.
‘Everyone has done such a great job,’ she said, preparing to admit more. ‘I’m not sure the people I would have set on would have done as well.’
‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ he said. ‘They’ve done a perfect job – right from the big rug in front of the fire to the big bouncy bed upstairs.’
And she waited for him to make some crack about testing out the big bed upstairs, but he didn’t. And she felt herself bristle more that he didn’t, than if he had.
‘Pav didn’t twig that I knew,’ said Eve.
‘Good,’ said Jacques. ‘We don’t have to hang onto the secret for much longer. They’re a lovely couple.’
‘Right then, back to the grindstone,’ said Eve, clapping her hands together and heading for the door. She didn’t notice – but Jacques did – that she walked off in
the direction of the Portakabin with a spring in her step.
The night before her big day, Violet tried not to bubble over with excitement. Pav cooked tea – her favourite, his spicy polish dumplings – which she usually wolfed
down, but she was too full of nervous excitement to have much of an appetite.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her, trying to coax her into eating another. ‘You never usually leave any.’
‘I had a big slice of cake with Eve earlier on,’ Violet lied.
Pav did a rubbish act of an exaggerated yawn. It was on par with her mother’s acting skills.
‘I’m so tired. I think tonight, I will have an early night,’ he said. He leaned over and stroked her cheek. ‘You look happier these past few days. I have been worried
about you, my love.’
‘Oh, don’t be,’ Violet smiled. ‘I was panicking that we wouldn’t be able to run both parlours. I got myself into a pickle about it.’
‘You should have told me,’ he said, and wrapped his big arms around her and squashed her into his strong chest. ‘You shouldn’t keep things from me.’
Violet wanted to giggle. That was rich.
‘I’ll have a quick bath and then join you,’ she said. ‘Warm the bed up for me.’
In the bath, Violet tried to shave her legs, exfoliate and super-condition her hair as quickly as possible. As she went into the bedroom she noticed that the big suitcase, which was usually on
top of the wardrobe, wasn’t there. And when she opened her underwear drawer, a few of her best knickers had vanished as well. Oh God. He must have packed them a case to go away. She was a
little horrified that he had gone through her underwear. Still, she had to keep schtum. Pav had obviously put so much work into the wedding that she couldn’t and didn’t want to spoil
any of it for him.
She went to bed and pretended to fall asleep with his arm looped around her. The last thing she remembered thinking was that she would never drift off, then the alarm clock was waking her up and
she felt Pav spring out of bed as if he had an ejector seat hidden in his part of the mattress. He might have been composed up to this point, but he was twittery now.
‘Are you okay?’ said Violet, rubbing her eyes. ‘It usually takes you ages to get up. At least three snoozes.’ She wanted to giggle very badly.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said, disappearing off to the shower. She smiled as she thought about the day to come. That someone loved her enough to surprise her like this was magical.
Many people wouldn’t have liked not to know that by the end of the day they would be married, but Violet wasn’t one of them. She had gone down the traditional, heavily planned route
with her last fiancé and this – wonderfully – was about as far away from that as she could get. She had underestimated how much he wanted her to marry him. She had been stupid to
think that true love would be put off by a piddly little barrier of nine years.
‘I think I’ll have a shower to warm me up,’ said Violet, pretending to shiver as Pav walked into the bedroom beautifully naked. He had such a gorgeous body. It wasn’t
marred at all by the long scar on his chest which the dark hair worked to cover. ‘It’s a chilly one today.’
This is the last shower I’ll have as a ‘miss’, she said to herself, as the water cascaded down onto her body.
Pav had made her a coffee and some toast, as he always did. He was chewing on it but he didn’t look hungry, he looked nervous, and Violet really had to pretend she didn’t notice
anything. This is the last piece of toast I’ll have as a ‘miss’, she said to herself.
Then Pav’s mobile rang. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Yes, this is Pav.’
Oh God, more Susan Flockton/Meryl Streep acting, thought Violet.
‘Yes, Jacques, of course I can pick this up for you. No problems.’ He turned to Violet whilst clicking the phone shut. ‘I have to pick up a box of something for Jacques before
work.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Violet asked mischievously.
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ he said hurriedly. ‘You go to Winterworld and I will see you very soon.’
‘How will you get there if I’ve got the car?’ asked Violet.
‘Ah. I’ll take the car and I will order a taxi for you. You wait until it arrives.’
‘Okay,’ said Violet. ‘I’ll just go and clean my teeth and see you later.’
Upstairs in the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and looked at herself in her Nan’s old wall mirror. This is the last time I’ll see my face in this mirror as Miss Violet Flockton, she
said to herself, and blew a kiss upwards to her nan. She felt so happy, she was in danger of bursting like a balloon, one which would spray the world with tiny little love hearts and
snowflakes.
Eve applied an arc of dark-pink lipstick and pressed her lips together. The day, despite looking very chilly and dull, carried a very thrilling buzz about it. Her cousin was
getting married to probably the most considerate, thoughtful man in the world. She doubted even Jonathan would have gone to those measures. Or would he? She had found out recently that she
didn’t know as much as she thought she did about her Aunt Evelyn, her cousin, even herself. So how much did she really know about a man she had been with for only nine months? On the fringe
of her memory teased something she had read about Henry VIII and Jane Seymour at Alison’s house, but it wouldn’t be pinned down and then vanished.
She had replaced the candle the previous night. The flame was long and steadily burning without any flicker. Violet was getting married to a man, and she was wedded to a candle. It would be
funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous.
She slipped on her green coat which matched her dress and shoes. A Christmas colour for Christmas lovers, she decided. She had put a cheque in an envelope for the happy couple and hoped they
would spend it on something frivolous and flighty. Tonight they were staying in one of the log cabins. Champagne was on ice, bowls of chocolate and fruit arranged for them and at six o’clock
precisely, a dinner of lobster and all the trimmings would be delivered.
Eve drove round to pick up her Auntie Susan, who was wearing a red dress and jacket. Big Patrick the butcher had a matching red tie on and a red handkerchief tucked in the top pocket of his grey
suit. He held out his arm for Susan to take after she locked the door as she looked less than steady on her new high heels.
‘I’m sick with nerves,’ said Susan as she got into the car. ‘I hope it goes all right.’
Patrick looked upwards at the clouds. ‘I wish the weather had been better for her. It’s like night-time.’
‘The forecast is dry but bloody freezing,’ said Susan. ‘I don’t mind freezing, but I do mind wet. I don’t want it to rain for her.’
‘I’m sure Pav has fixed the weather too,’ chuckled Eve. ‘He seems to have done everything else.’
‘I wonder what Violet’s doing now,’ said Susan, her voice all trembly. ‘I haven’t dared ring. I’ve tried to play the game and pretend I don’t
know.’
Eve noticed that Patrick was holding her hand tightly. They looked like teenagers in the back of one of their parents’ cars. Love made everyone feel sixteen. Eve wished she could
experience that smiling inner tickle of joy again. But she knew she never would. Her life was mapped out – work, work and more work, and watching other people holding hands and getting
married in her own chapel.
The service road went down the side of the park, past the paddocks, and met with a car park out of sight behind the grotto. They parked up next to a silver Mercedes. Standing next to that car
were Violet’s friends Max and Bel and their partners. Eve and Susan waved at them.
‘Wotcher,’ said Max, when they all got out of the car and came over for hugs. ‘This is a bit of an unusual one, isn’t it?’
‘Says her.’ Bel thumbed at Max. ‘The master of outlandish weddings.’
‘Well, wait until you see my next one,’ winked Max.
‘Where’s Pav?’ asked Eve.
‘Shitting himself in the chapel by now, probably,’ said Bel. ‘I thought it was one of the snowmen when I first saw him; all the colour has drained out of his face. He told us
not to follow him in until ten to.’
‘It’s nearly ten to now. Shall we go in?’ said Max. ‘I’m bloody frozen.’
‘I can’t walk far in these heels,’ said Susan. ‘I knew I should have brought some flatties with me.’
‘It’s not far, Auntie Susan,’ said Eve. ‘Just around this corner.’
‘Aye, come on, my watch says ten to eleven exactly,’ said Patrick, and threaded his arm through hers. ‘Shall I carry you in?’
‘If you think I’m nursing you whilst you’re on traction for months, you can think again,’ huffed Susan. ‘I’ll walk, thank you.’
The small wedding party started to walk towards the chapel. As they turned the corner, a beautiful sight met them – hundreds of red and green coloured lanterns hanging from trees and poles
painted in candy-cane stripes, bringing their own magic to the dull December day. And light snowflakes began to fall from a secretly placed snow machine.
‘Oh my, isn’t this just lovely,’ gasped Susan. ‘I feel like I’m walking in a Christmas card.’ There was more to come.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Bel, as they set foot into the chapel. Which more or less summed up what everyone else was thinking. The tiny chapel was covered in displays of holly and
mistletoe, and large swooping ribbons of red and green. Then one of the elf-people, in full elf regalia, started playing on the organ at the front left of the church. It was a portable instrument,
but fake pipes had been adhered to the walls to make it look like a grand church organ. Her feet were nowhere near the forte and piano pedals so there was some sort of wire contraption travelling
between them and her shoes to allow her to work them. She was playing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ note perfect.
‘It’s like something out of a story book,’ said Max, mouth open in wonder as she sat on a pew. ‘Can I smell gingerbread or am I hallucinating?’
Just as Susan was about to ask Eve where Pav was, he emerged from the door on the right of the tiny altar. He was wearing a black suit with tails, a high white collar and a green cravat, and
there was a sprig of holly and the tiniest red poinsettia in his buttonhole. He was flanked by the mighty figures of Santa with his white beard and red cloak, and Jacques, also in a black coat with
tails, cravat and holly sprig. Eve gulped. She had never seen him in anything but big puffy coats and jeans. She didn’t like that her eyes were appraising him so much. He waved and everyone
except Eve waved back, because she was still trying to absorb the figure of him in a suit so obviously made to his exact measurements whilst equating him to the clumsy buffoon she was accustomed
to. This man with the straight back and gorgeous threads made George Clooney look like Columbo. She watched him reassuring Pav, checking they had the rings, patting his back. Then he waved over at
Eve, beckoning her forward.
‘You need to sit with me as the second witness,’ he said. ‘You’re very red, are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Eve snapped defensively, taking her seat at the side of him on the pew.
Violet was also sitting down. Two women were giving her a manicure, one was faffing with her hair and another was waiting to put some make-up on her. The taxi which Pav was
going to order for her never arrived, funnily enough. Instead, a team of smiling women rang her bell and when she opened it, one of them said, ‘Hello. We’re here for a Miss Violet
Flockton, courtesy of Mr Pawel Novak.’ So Violet, with trembling hands, went through the charade of ringing Pav to ask who these women on her doorstep were.