Authors: Daisy James
Callie had quashed her initial uncharitable thought that the gift might have been a ploy by Jules to get a sample of his work on the TV. When she had seen the look on his face as he handed the box over to her, a suspicion of dampness on his lower lashes, she knew the hat was more than just something beautiful for Scarlet to wear on Lilac’s wedding day.
‘Thank you. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Help me put it on! Oh, thank you so much.’ Scarlet grabbed each girl in turn before standing still to allow Callie to affix the headpiece.
‘Don’t thank me. This was all Jules’s idea and hard work. I’m sure you’ll have the chance to thank him personally.’
‘Oh, I…’ Scarlet’s cheeks coloured.
Callie and Flora smiled. ‘You look stunning. Be careful not to overshadow the bride!’
‘Oh, you know there’s no chance of that. Lilac’s wedding gown is a true work of art. We are officially the royal trio of seed-pearl princesses!’
There was a knock on the door and Flora trotted across the suite to answer it.
‘Oh, hi. Come in.’
Callie heard the surprise in Flora’s voice. She twisted round from fixing Scarlet’s fascinator, hair pins sticking out from her mouth, to see who had interrupted them.
‘Hi, Craig.’
‘Just wanted to say “break a leg”, if that’s the correct saying for a wedding such as this? And would you mind if I get a few shots of you all getting ready to leave?’
‘Sure!’ cried Callie, gathering up the skirt of the silk summer dress in a delicate aquamarine that she had designed and embroidered herself for the wedding. Jules had also gone to town on the hat he had designed for her. She almost felt like she was the bride! Indeed, if she were really honest, she would have preferred to get married in
her
outfit, rather than the intricate gown Lilac had wanted, stunning piece of artistry though it was.
Callie, Scarlet and Flora grouped together and screamed ‘Cheese!’ whilst Craig ducked and dived and clicked away until the girls crumbled into hysterical giggles. It was the ideal way to dispel the rising tension. Callie suspected this had probably been the precise purpose of Craig’s mission – or maybe not, as she saw his eyes constantly seeking out Flora’s and the couple exchanging covert signals like a pair of forbidden lovers.
‘Fancy a drink later on when you get a break from all this?’
‘Love to.’ A grin split Flora’s face and her cheeks coloured with pleasure.
‘Got those photos I took of you at Harewood House. There are a couple I think you’ll love,’ he smirked. ‘Particularly the one with the naked guy as a backdrop.’
‘What naked guy?’ spluttered Scarlet.
‘Oh, I’ll introduce you later, Scar,’ Flora giggled, her expression radiant. ‘You’re going to love him, I promise!’
A snake of limousines, their windows tinted against the sun and prying camera lenses, coiled along the gravelled driveway waiting to transport the bride and her entourage the three miles to York Minster. Callie and Scarlet helped Lilac climb into the first car, along with her mother who was walking her down the aisle in the absence of her father whom, she had assured them, was with her in spirit on her wedding day. That was why the sun was bleaching down from a clear blue sky.
When the first limo had crunched off down the tree-lined avenue, the girls piled into the next one, urging the driver to make sure they arrived at the Minster first so they’d be on hand to straighten out the dress on Lilac’s arrival.
The bride’s journey down the aisle towards her handsome prince was a smooth glide of pure elegance and style. The floor-length veil could not disguise the glow of joy emanating from Lilac’s slender silhouette as she exposed her adoration for her soon-to-be-husband to the watching world. Her wedding gown was exquisite, regal even, under the soaring arches of the church; the perfect length, with a short train in ivory silk, the skirt split by a dart from waist to toe into which swathes of Swarovski crystals and seed pearls had been sewn, shaped like cascading flowers, which, when studied carefully, were miniature blossoms of lilac.
The neckline was demure, respectful of the place of majesty that would bless their union. Hidden beneath the veil was the most magnificent tiara Callie had laid eyes on, and she’d seen her share of celebrity weddings. No diamanté or paste in sight – these were real diamonds, edged in pale lilac amethysts, on loan from Tiffany’s. The tiara had its own security detail in addition to the strategically placed personal protection officers for Finn and Lilac.
As the last crystal-clear note of the angelic ballad drifted up to the vaulted ceiling high above the awestruck congregation, Callie stood on her tiptoes to watch Lilac and Finn Marchant beam for the wedding photographer and videographer whilst they signed the register. All of a sudden her mind was invaded by a sense of gratitude that, together, her little team had pulled off the most glorious feat in the fashion world that week, if not that month. Lilac looked every inch the film star she was. There were no creases or wardrobe panics that could have spoiled the day.
Callie smiled as she covertly surveilled the packed congregation, keen to commit every detail to her memory for future extraction over the promised bottle of chilled Prosecco with Nessa and Delia later that day. Everyone exuded an aura of joy and delight at the ceremony they had been honoured to witness in the most grandiose splendour, but mostly of happiness at the sheer bliss that blazed from the happy couple. It was clear to all how much they loved each other and Callie sent up a prayer to the director of their fates that the marriage would be blessed with longevity and good fortune. She added a postscript to her prayer to include her parents and her Aunt Hannah and swallowed down hard on her emotions. It wouldn’t do to cry so early on in the proceedings.
As she lowered her eyes from the soaring arches of the ceiling, her heart jolted sharply upwards into her mouth. There, standing a head taller than most of the wedding party, was Theo, looking spectacular in his immaculate grey morning suit and lilac cravat. The shock of seeing him spliced down through her chest, sending shock waves out to her fingertips.
Why hadn’t she realised he’d be here? He and Finn had been at uni together and, eight years later, they were still such firm friends that Finn had chosen him as an usher for his wedding. It made perfect sense, but it had still come as a complete shock.
She offered him a smile and he nodded an acknowledgement, his lips twitching to produce those familiar dimples she loved. Wow, he was gorgeous. She held his eyes and a moment of crystal-clear clarity struck. Having just watched Lilac and Finn declare their love to each other, and exchange their emotional vows in the presence of their closest family and friends, she realised she could never imagine standing at the altar of any church, large or small, with anyone else but Theo by her side.
Who was she kidding? She loved the guy, adored him. There had never been anyone else for her. She’d handed her heart to him a long time ago and he’d never given it back. And yet she was grateful for the three years they had spent apart. She had been able to use the time to apply herself single-mindedly to pursuing her dreams, to securing Callie-Louise Bridal’s future, to learning who she was and understanding her place in the world. She had neglected her relationship with Theo, underestimated the importance of spending quality time together in order to fan the flames of their partnership – was it any wonder he’d succumbed to the comfort of an embrace from a willing fan after a few bottles of champagne?
She looked away, her thoughts cascading through their joint history. She knew everything about Theo and he knew everything about her. Every childhood memory was in some way tied up with him – and his band The Razorclaws. Theo, Archie, Serge, Rick and Danny – she loved them all – but mostly she loved Theo and she had to tell him.
The church organist chose that moment to launch into an exuberant rendition of the wedding recessional. Callie tipped her head back to prevent her tears from falling, but also to say thank you directly to those who were absent from her life through no fault of her own.
She had to allow her heart to take centre stage for once. It was time to stop running from her feelings and embrace them instead.
‘Oh, my God, my feet are killing me,’ announced Scarlet, removing her Jimmy Choos and massaging her toes as they strolled round the manicured gardens of Harewood House to grab a breath of fresh air.
The reception was over and, as expected, the speeches had entertained the wedding party for over an hour, with howls of laughter and ahh’s of delight as the happy couple’s family and friends celebrated their union with crystal flutes of champagne and chorused their congratulations every five minutes.
Tom and a specially selected team of his friends from Betty’s had worked miracles with the food, slaving in the kitchens for the last week to produce an exquisite gastronomic feast with a Yorkshire twist that would have impressed the judges of
Masterchef
. Of course there had been Yorkshire puddings to accompany the heart-shaped Chateaubriand, but the guests were a little bemused by the tower of tiny cubes of parkin surrounded by a raspberry jus. However, as predicted by Lilac, the cupcake pyramids were sparkling masterpieces of culinary artistry that put the expensive five-tier wedding cake to the back of the class. It wasn’t just the children who were licking the icing and edible glitter from their lips and finger tips.
Callie plonked her aching bones onto a stone bench and allowed her shoulders to sag. ‘Did I tell you Tom and Marcia are officially an item?’
‘You didn’t have to – it’s obvious.’
Callie smiled as she recalled her brief visit to the kitchen to offer Tom her congratulations on pulling off the best wedding breakfast she’d ever had. Marcia had, of course, been there organising and directing operations with the assistance of her arch-lever file crammed with laminated recipe cards and lists of instructions and timings.
‘Tom’s arranged afternoon tea at Betty’s as a treat for helping out!’ Marcia had said, flushed with pleasure. ‘He’s promised the best table in the house for me, Mum and Delia. Oooo, I’ve always wanted to do a proper “afternoon tea”. I’m so pleased for him, Callie, and it’s all thanks to you. When he got that call from Tish, well, I think he’s still coming to terms with the shock, but he’s ecstatic – look at him, he’s in his element with all his friends around him again. He’s thinking of asking one of them to help him out at the bakery so he can go back to Betty’s part-time in a development role. He has so many ideas for new products – the creativity is bursting from him! I know he’ll be a small cog in a huge wheel there, but it’s what he’s dreamed of for years! Even his dad approves, he’s so proud of him being in charge of the catering for a celebrity wedding. He and all the residents of Heppleton Care Home promised to be glued to the TV today. Tom delivered one of his cupcake pyramids at five this morning.’
‘He deserves this opportunity, Marcia,’ Callie said. ‘He’s a talented chef.’
‘I’ve volunteered to lend a hand in the bakery, too. Not on the baking side, of course, but serving behind the counter so Tom can concentrate his afternoons on the experiments and designs. I’ve photographed every finalised cupcake gem on that pyramid with my iPhone. I intend to print it and file it with the recipe in a binder – that way his assistant can easily replicate the technique.’
Callie smiled – Marcia’s dedication to organisation knew no bounds.
‘My favourites are the mango and mint julep pyramids and the lavender-infused macaroons topped with a tiny lilac flower made from angelica.’ She paused, shot a glance to the other end of the kitchen where Tom was laughing with one of his chef friends looking relaxed and content, and lowered her voice. ‘Tom asked me to be with him when the fireworks start. He says he has something important to ask me.’
Happiness infused Callie’s heart at the burgeoning spirit and confidence exhibited by Marcia as well as her developing relationship with Tom, who, as far as Callie knew, was her first boyfriend. The first kindling of a new love was a joy to see. She was so pleased for them both.
Callie smiled at Scarlet who was still rubbing her toes, the spectacular fascinator Jules had made for her bobbling precariously on her head. She was relieved that her job here was now done. She had tried to convince Lilac that her assistance was not needed at the reception, but Lilac had insisted she wanted her gown to look fabulous in the photographs Craig was anxious to take in the opulently furnished rooms of the stately home. However, in return, Lilac had agreed that, if she didn’t want to stay for the evening reception, she had her blessing to leave after the speeches. Scarlet had looked scandalised at such a suggestion.
‘Come on, we’d better get back.’ Scarlet linked her arm firmly through Callie’s. ‘You’ll thank me later, but I’m not letting you leave. I can’t allow you to miss hearing Theo’s performance of the song written for Lilac and Finn’s wedding. It’s going to be something to tell your grandchildren about when you’re in your bath chair!’
Callie knew her objections would be wasted so she plastered a smile on her face and went willingly with Scarlet to the ballroom. The Razorclaws played to an ecstatic audience already sated by good food and vintage champagne. The roof was nearly raised from its rafters when Finn stepped onto the makeshift stage and joined Theo at the microphone to perform the ballad as a duet. Whilst Finn sang every heartfelt lyric to his new bride, Theo was looking in a different direction as he sang every word straight from his heart.
Immediately after the brief musical interlude, as the temperature rose to sweltering, the whole of the wedding party retired outside to await Lilac and Finn’s appearance on the carved stone balcony overlooking the formal gardens of Harewood House. They greeted the crowd of family and friends with waves and shared kisses as a storm of flashbulbs erupted from a coterie of amateur photographers jostling for the gift of
the
photograph that might possibly grace the front pages and glossy magazine covers for months to come.