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‘I know. I just want us living our best lives as quickly as possible.’
‘Can we please just focus on today for today? Leaving here is a big deal for me.’
George put his arms around me and I leant into him. The stress of packing up and going was really hitting me hard.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I’ll put some clothes on and get us some coffees from the corner. I know how much you love their cappuccinos.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ I groaned. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘I’m pretty sure they’ll have cappuccino in Surrey, Hols. You’re not going to be tied up in a field. It’ll be like living here, but better.’
Will it? Of course it will. I was being silly. Basil must have overheard us saying it was moving day, as I caught the wisp of his tail as he disappeared through the cat flap for one last London prowl.
Five
The wedding. 9th September
This was it then. My big day. Well,ourbig day. I didn’t feel old enough to be getting married. Twenty-seven on the outside and twelve on the inside. I’d been with George for such a long time that I couldn’t remember life before him. BG. Before our Leeds University days, where we’d shared everything. Our textbooks and opinions, cheese toasties and cans of cider for dinner, and that ridiculously small futon that passed as a double bed.
Eight happy years of Holly and George and today, our lives would be officially entwined together forever. I’d change from Holly Roberts to Holly Ballinger and become a Mrs. George’s other half, the old ball and chain. I sat up in bed and looked over at my wedding dress sparkling in the sunlight, throwing dancing rainbows across the wall. I’d opted for a super-simple shape, full-length with a slash-neck, long sleeves and a beautiful train at the back. The top was covered in tiny crystals that twinkled as I moved, and the skirt was ivory silk and slid on like a dream. Perfectly fitted and elegant. I couldn’t wait to wear it.
I got out of bed and stretched up to the ceiling, elongating my fingers as much as physically possible, then folded my body down and touched the floor. The Pilates classes were finally starting to pay off; I felt full of energy and nervously excited for the day ahead.
‘Alexa, play a soothing meditation,’ I instructed as my phone pinged.
Margot:Good morning bride-to-be. We are beautifying the bistro for you. Can’t wait to see you. Bonne chance xx
The wedding was a local affair. We were getting married at Marylebone church and Margot had gifted us the bistro at cost for the reception. I’d sourced the wine from a starter vineyard in Italy and the Champagne was a gift from the local butcher. Dad’s mate Jeff was wrapping his Volvo in white ribbon and donning a chauffeur’s cap and the Mums were going head-to-head on the flowers havingdone a coursetogether a few weeks back.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and Abi poked her head in with a big smile, carrying two flutes of Champagne.
‘Good morninnnnng Mrs Ballinger-To-Be,’ she sang. ‘Feeling excited?’
‘Acknowledge your thoughts and let them go. You have nothing to do right now,’ the meditation gently lilted in the background.
I smiled and nodded, as she handed me a glass.
‘Excited to see you,’ I said, giving my best friend a hug, ‘and terrified about the wedding part.’
Mum burst into the bedroom brandishing a perfect red rose, looking fraught.
‘Holly, Lillian is insisting we put hydrangeas in every vase which I really must disagree with. My view on this – and I’m sure you’ll agree – is that we stick to the classic autumnal wedding flowers of roses, dahlias, and sea thistle?’ Her eyes glared with the question.
‘Annabel, I don’t know why you’re bothering Holly with this; it’s very obvious that the hydrangeas should be treated as a feature flower,’ George’s mum said, skidding in behind her. ‘Don’t you remember what Mrs Dingle said when I won the “arrangement of the week” competition?’
‘Lilian, we have been over this several times: the hydrangea is a domineering flower and needs to be kept entirely separate from the more delicate flowers.’
‘I think you’ll find Mrs Dingle said…’ Lilian started.
‘Everything is in flow. You cannot control those around you,’ the meditation continued.
‘Alexa, off,’ I said sharply.
‘What doyouthink, darling?’ Mum asked, eyebrows off the charts with stress.
‘Erm… well, it would be good to use all the flowers.’
‘Exactly,’ both mums said at the same time, eyeballing each other.
