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‘It comes in white, ivory or champagne,’ Megan said, unable to take a hint. ‘I’m thinking champagne. Yes?’
‘Whatever you think, darling. Have you set the table?’
‘Beth’s doing it.’ Megan sauntered out of the kitchen, her eyes glued to the dress in the magazine.
‘Don’t leave empty-handed!’ she called after her. ‘Take the plates with you!’
No response.
Typical.
The water on the carrots boiled over. The oven continued to beep.
She swung around to find Alex leaning against the centre island, still staring at his phone. ‘Alex! Potatoes!’
He looked startled. ‘I don’t know where the oven gloves are.’
Heaven give her strength. ‘Then look for them. Or ask. Don’t just stand there doing nothing.’
‘Okay, stop stressing.’ He pushed away from the island, his worn T-shirt and jeans hanging loose from his lithe frame. ‘I can’t see them.’
Connie drummed her fingers on the countertop. ‘Hanging next to the oven. Now can you please check the ruddy potatoes and see if they’re done?’
She switched off the gas, resisting the urge to inhale the fumes and end her suffering there and then.
She drained the carrots and shoved the Brussels in the microwave.
Alex opened the oven door, recoiling when the steam hit him straight in the face. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, was he?
Picking up the plates, she marched into the dining room.
Beth was laying the table. Megan was snapping at her sister’s heels, trying to show her various wedding dress designs as Beth moved around the table, positioning cutlery.
Her eldest daughter looked about as enthused picking out a wedding dress as Alex had been about checking the potatoes. ‘I have no idea why you’re asking me, Megan. I have no taste in clothes, remember?’
‘That’s not what I said. I said, you have no taste in fashion,’ Megan replied, undeterred. ‘That’s an entirely different thing. Wedding dresses aren’t about fashion – they need to be timeless. I don’t want the photos to date. I need something that isn’t fashionable. That’s why I’m asking you.’
Beth pinned her sister with a look. ‘Well, thanks. Flattered, I’m sure.’
‘You know what I mean. You’re all…’ Megan waved her hand, gesturing to her sister’s conservative appearance. Hair up. Discreet make-up. No jewellery.
‘All… what?’ Beth’s hand went to her hip.
Megan turned to her mother. ‘Help me out here! You know what I mean.’
Connie shook her head. ‘You can dig yourself out of this one.’ She wasn’t about to get drawn into a debate about her daughters’ differing fashion sense.
It wasn’t just that they dressed differently, they were polar opposites in character, too. Beth was studious, cautious and serious by nature. Megan was a firecracker. Funny, lively and hyper. Their opinions had always differed. Thankfully, it never seemed to stop them getting on.
‘What about this one?’ The magazine was once again shoved under Beth’s nose for her to admire. ‘You have to like this one.’
Beth ducked away from the magazine. ‘I thought your friend Lily was making your dress?’
‘She is, but I need to give her some ideas to work from – the wedding’s only two months away.’
Beth rolled her eyes. ‘Something I’m painfully aware of.’
Connie decided to rescue her eldest daughter and handed Megan the plates. ‘Help your sister set the table.’
