Mother of the Bride. Kate Lawson
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or three months. Trouble is, I’m used to my own space.’
‘Well the offer’s open. I’ll get the laptop.’
When Molly got back from her office Jess had refilled their glasses and had found some nachos in a cupboard. As Molly slipped back into her seat she noticed a little blue notebook on top of the pile of magazines and was about to pick it up when something about the expression on Jess’s face stopped her.
‘You want me to make notes in this?’ Molly asked casually. And then she looked closer and realised that it was an old exercise book. Written on the front in a rounded childish script it said, Jessica Alice Foster. Medthorpe High School. English Composition.
‘You’ve had that a long time,’ said Molly.
‘First year at High School. It’s my wedding book,’ Jess said in a funny, self-conscious little voice.
‘Your wedding book?’
Jess nodded. ‘The very same.’
‘Can I look?’ said Molly.
‘You promise not to laugh?’
‘At your wedding book? Of course I won’t laugh.’
Jess picked it up and thumbed through it. Molly watched, catching a glimpse of the round, young handwriting as the pages flickered by and wondered wistfully where all those years in between had gone. ‘It’s not just my wedding book, obviously,’ said Jess. ‘We had to write about our hopes for our future, for homework. I really liked my teacher and once I got going it was hard to stop. I wrote about wanting to have a dog of my own and learning to scuba dive and getting this amazing job as a designer and flying all over the world, and having my hair dyed purple.’
‘And getting married?’
‘Yes, but not just that. Anyway, when it came to handing it in I didn’t want anyone else to read it. I’d said too much – you know what I mean? There was too much of me showing in it. And I was afraid my teacher might read it out. So I wrote something else and handed that in instead.’ Jess opened the book again, this time to the place where she’d left a slip of paper. ‘Here,’ she said, flattening the pages out with her hand, and sliding it across the table. ‘My wedding, by Jessica Alice Foster.’
Molly leaned closer. On one page was a pencil drawing of a girl with plaits in a long cloak, holding hands with a tall, dark-haired man. It had all been very carefully coloured in. The happy couple stood under a stone arch festooned with creepers.
Touched, Molly looked up. ‘Oh, Jess. It looks just like you. How come I’ve never seen this before?’
Jess laughed. ‘It was way too secret and embarrassing. I’ve hidden it for years, in the bottom of the shoebox along with my plaits. Remember when I made you take me to have them cut off? I wanted to look grown-up and sophisticated, but you know, I never regretted anything so much in my life.’ She ran a carefully manicured finger over the face of the girl. The little picture captured the naïve charm of an eleven-year-old with all of her life ahead of her. ‘You think it looks like Max?’ said Jess, peering at the man.
‘A bit, although I’m not sure about the wooden leg and the patch.’
Jess laughed. ‘I was going through a pirate phase. And no, before you ask, I wasn’t planning to have a pirate-themed wedding.’
Molly grinned. ‘Shame really. Nick would look great with a cutlass and a parrot. So what else does it say about your wedding?’ She was anxious not to pry into the book that Jess had kept hidden for so long.
‘Well, I want something romantic – I was thinking maybe medieval-looking – a romantic heroine, with a cloak rather than a train.’
‘And a hood?’ Molly pointed to the drawing.
Jess nodded. If there was anyone who could carry off the romantic heroine it was her; she was tiny with creamy white skin, huge blue eyes and a cascade of dark brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair shot through here and there with copper. She looked as if she had walked straight out of the pages of a Daphne du Maurier novel.
‘I’m going to ring Helen.’
‘Helen, you mean Helen you were at college with?’
Jess nodded. ‘Uh-huh. She’s based in London now but she’s been working with a repertory company. Helen does all their costumes, and so I was going to ask her to be my bridesmaid and make our dresses. We can look around as well but she’s really good and they’d be extra special if she makes them.’
‘So maybe we should go with the pirate theme after all – you know, something a bit romantic hero for Max –’
‘Frock coat and knee britches, like a highwayman. And me in a scarlet velvet cloak trimmed with white fur.’
They giggled, the champagne playing havoc as it bubbled through Molly’s bloodstream. She glanced across at Jess and smiled; even as a little girl her daughter had always liked dressing up.
‘Oh, talking about frock coats and highwaymen, I’ve found this fantastic place in Scotland,’ Jess said, tapping out a web address on Molly’s laptop. The image of a fairytale castle on the edge of a loch appeared through some computergenerated mist.
‘Sleeps Fourteen,’ said Molly, reading the blurb.
‘Oh, bugger. Does it? Maybe we could find somewhere else for the rest of the guests,’ said Jess, scanning down the rest of the screen.
‘The way this reads it sounds as if it’s way out in the back of beyond. I don’t want to be a killjoy but how are people going to get there? I suppose you could just have close family and friends and then have a big party when we get home.
‘No, Max wants everyone there.’ Jess pulled a face and tapped in another address. ‘I’ve found this fab place in Norway – you get to be taken to the chapel in a sleigh pulled by reindeer. I was thinking about the ice hotel but apparently it’s below zero all the time in all the rooms. I mean how sexy are chilblains?’
By lunchtime, Molly and Jess had a mass of pages bookmarked on the computer and dozens of post-it notes stuck on magazines, and definite plans were emerging. Although it was fun looking at different styles, places and prices, Molly could see that she could very soon die of boredom, whereas Jess looked as if she could go on for ever.
Nick came through to help them sort out lunch. ‘How’s it coming along?’
‘Good,’ said Jess.
‘We need to talk to Jonathon and Max,’ said Molly, clearing away the champagne glasses.
‘Even though I love him dearly, trying to plan all this I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m marrying a man I know nothing about,’ Jess hiccupped. ‘I don’t even know what religion he is.’
‘In that case he is most probably Church of England,’ said Nick, sliding a plate piled high with buttered slices of freshly baked bread onto the table. ‘Otherwise you’d probably have heard something about his Jewish roots, his Catholic guilt or his minority oppression. Here, you should eat some of this and soak up some of the alcohol.’
Jess nodded. ‘I’ve only had a couple of glasses. Maybe I should ring him and ask him? After all, it is lunchtime. Surely even Max stops for lunch?’
‘Maybe it’s not a good time, not if he’s at work,’ said Molly.
‘Oh no, he’ll be fine, he won’t mind,’ said Jess, waving the words away. ‘Besides, I want to tell him that I love him and I ought to let him know how we’re getting on. And anyway he said it was all very casual today, all hands to the pumps, installing this new system, everyone mucking in. I’m sure he won’t mind. Really.’ She pulled her mobile out of her bag.
While Molly set about helping with lunch Jess and Bassa went outside for a bit of privacy and a better signal.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Nick,