Page 7 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

‘Um, I don’t have one. I just need something for me to hold, not too big, and buttonholes for two men,’ I say, and Gita tuts before she begins to flick through the pages.

‘And will you have flowers in your hair?’ he asks, waving his hands in windmill motions. I have no idea what he’s trying to suggest with the gesture, but it becomes clear when he pulls out some photos from the back of the book. The images are of young brides, hair tousled and hanging long with flowers threaded in among the locks. I suddenly feel every one of my seventy years and a bit foolish. Am I too old to be a bride? The whole thing is beginning to feel faintly ridiculous.

‘I shall have my hair plaited and coiled round I expect; simple and neat. I think flowers might make it appear like a bird’s nest and even though these women all look gorgeous, really I’m a bit old for that look.’

Both Gita and the florist look up at my bun, which is already slipping, and I feel as if everyone is conspiring about my hair.

The next half an hour is a blur of flowers and ribbons, decisions on colours, and shapes: cascade, or hand-tied, crescent or round. My ears pricked up at the words single stem, but Gita dismissed the idea as too simple.

Somehow, by the end, I have a small bouquet of Peach Avalanche roses, Memory Lane roses, Bouvardia and Limonium. I’m truly none the wiser, but happy to be able to tell Leo what I’ve achieved.

We leave the shop, walk to the Pavilion Gardens Café and find a table with an umbrella. I order coffees and chocolate brownies, then we sit and look out over the park while we eat.

Sunbathers populate the grass with their picnic rugs and deckchairs. Some brave souls are full in the sun while others have, more sensibly, brought parasols to shade them. I look up to the Royal Pavilion and the domes and minarets along the roofline, glowing white in the sun. Sometimes I just want to be on the road and at other times, I adore living in this vibrant and beautiful town.

‘So, is it just disorganisation with this wedding or something more?’ Gita asks, licking her finger and dabbing up every last crumb from her plate. ‘It’s just that I’m not sensing any excitement at all.’

I take a long sip of my latte and contemplate the best way to answer.

‘It’s not that I’m not excited, I’m just not terribly organised that’s all.’

‘Is that really all it is, Connie?’

I don’t often have personal conversations with Gita, in truth I tend to steer clear of personal conversations full stop. Once you give people a little information about yourself they start to dig deeper, ask more questions. I’m not proud of some things I’ve done in my life, and there are other situations I’ve been in that I would rather no one knew about. How could I even begin to tell someone about the worst thing that ever happened to me, especially when it resulted in the best thing that ever happened to me? If I wasn’t going to tell Simon the truth about his conception I certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone else. I prefer to keep myself to myself generally, but recently, since I accepted Leo’s proposal, I’ve been wondering if I ought to open up a bit more. How many secrets is it okay to keep from your husband? Right now, I have a sudden urge to let go a little of what’s been rolling around my head.

‘You and Farin are soulmates, yes?’

‘I like to think so, but you have to remember that we met and married straight from uni. There’s never been anyone else for me.’

‘Well, there was someone else for me and I messed it up. Now I’m an old woman about to be married for the first time in my life and I’m still dwelling on what happened all those years ago.’

‘You never forget your first love; that’s what they say don’t they. It doesn’t mean you can’t have many others. And, you know, being alone isn’t easy as you get older. My mum will attest to that. Plus you’ll have someone to do the bins, mow the lawn, reach those tins from the top shelves.’ She’s smiling now and I’m grateful to her for lightening the mood.

‘God, ignore me! I’m being ridiculous. Leo is wonderful, and I’m lucky to have met him at this time in my life. I’m going to be a grandmother at the end of the year, too, and what could be better than sharing babysitting duties with my new husband. My son looks up to Leo like a father figure, so, when you really think about it, it’s perfect, isn’t it?’

‘Only you can answer that, Connie, but it does sound lovely. Farin and I can’t wait to be grandparents, but our lot don’t seem to be bothered at the moment.’

I suddenly wish I hadn’t said anything to Gita. It feels hugely disloyal to Leo, and also it rather proves my point that keeping myself to myself is the best way.

‘Wedding jitters that’s all. Thank you for helping me with the flowers. I’ve the wine and food to sort next.’

‘Where are you having the reception?’

‘It’s an intimate register office service and then a meal with close friends and family in a restaurant. They have a function room at the back so we can have some dancing after. It’s not a lot of razzmatazz; we’re just keeping it simple.’

‘Sounds perfect. What are you wearing?’

‘I haven’t bought anything yet,’ I say avoiding Gita’s eye.

‘Better get on with that then – you’ve got quite the list.’

‘I know, I know, I’m actually going shopping this afternoon. Thought I might get the train into London.’

‘Perfect, wish I could come with you, but I’ve got to take my cat to the vet for his jabs. In fact I really ought to go.’ She drains her coffee and pushes her chair back. ‘So, will I see you in the job centre?’ she says with a grim smile, and I pull a face.

‘Depressing isn’t it, getting pushed from a job as a volunteer.’

‘Yes, it is, and I’m furious with Sharon.’