‘My present for you hasn’t arrived yet,’ I say to Jess as I resume my seat. ‘But it’s … er … potatoes. A great big sack. I know how much you like them. And you can use the sack afterwards as organic recycled luggage.’
‘Oh.’ Jess looks a bit taken aback. ‘Thanks, Becky.’ She takes a sip of tea. ‘So, how are preparations going for the christening?’
‘Brilliantly, thanks.’ I seize on the change of subject with relief. ‘The theme is Russian. We’re going to have blinis with caviar and vodka shots, and I’ve got the most gorgeous dress for Minnie to wear—’
‘Have you decided about middle names yet?’ Mum chimes in. ‘Because Reverend Parker was on the phone yesterday, asking. You really have to come to a decision, love.’
‘I will!’ I say defensively. ‘It’s just really hard!’
We couldn’t quite choose Minnie’s middle names when we went to register her birth. (OK, the truth is, we had a slight argument. Luke was totally unreasonable about Dior. And Temperley. And no way was I agreeing to Gertrude, even if it is from Shakespeare.) So we just put her down as Minnie Brandon and decided we’d finalize the other names at the christening. The trouble is, the more time goes by the harder it gets. And Luke just laughs whenever he reads my choices and says, ‘Why does she need any middle names, anyway?’ which is really unhelpful.
‘So, do you have any news, Tom?’ Janice blurts out in sudden desperation. ‘Has anything happened? Anything to tell? Big, small … anything? Anything at all?’ She’s leaning forward on her chair like a seal ready to catch a fish.
‘Well, yes.’ Tom gives the tiniest of grins. ‘As it happens, we do.’ And for the first time, he and Jess exchange one of those ‘Shall we tell them?’ looks.
Oh my God.
They really are! They’re engaged!
Mum and Janice have both stiffened on the sofa; in fact, Janice looks like she’s about to implode. Suze winks at me and I grin back happily. We’ll have such fun! We can start buying Brides and I’ll help Jess choose her wedding dress, and she’s not wearing some dreary old recycled hemp thing, even if it is greener—
‘Jess and I would like to announce …’ Tom looks happily around the room. ‘We’re married.’
FOUR
Everyone’s still in a state of shock. I mean, obviously it’s great that Tom and Jess are married. It’s fab. It’s just we all feel like we’ve missed a step.
Did they have to do it in Chile in some tiny registry office with only two witnesses and not even let us watch on Skype? We could have had a party. We could have toasted them. Jess says they didn’t even have any champagne. They drank some local beer, apparently.
Beer.
There are some things I don’t understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only single thing she got out of her wedding was a husband.
(I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)
And poor old Janice! As they announced the news, her face rose and fell like a rollercoaster. You could tell she was trying desperately to look happy and supportive, as if a distant wedding in Chile that she wasn’t even invited to was exactly what she’d hoped for all along. Except that a tiny tear in the corner of her eye gave her away. Especially after Jess said they didn’t want a reception at the golf club, or a wedding list at John Lewis, and refused point-blank to dress up in a hired wedding dress and pose for photos with Janice and Martin in the garden.
Janice looked so miserable, I nearly volunteered to instead. It sounded quite fun, actually, and I saw some amazing wedding dresses in the window of Liberty the other day …
Anyway, I suppose that wouldn’t exactly have been the point.
I finish doing my lipgloss and stand back to survey my reflection. I just hope Janice is more cheerful today. It’s supposed to be a celebration, after all.
I smooth my outfit down and do a little twirl in front of the mirror. I’m wearing this amazing deep-blue dress with a fake-fur hem, long button boots and a fake-fur muff. Plus I’ve got a long coat edged with braid, and a huge fake-fur hat.
Minnie’s sitting on my bed trying on all my hats, which is her favourite occupation. She’s in a little fur-trimmed dress, too, and white boots that make her look like a skater. I am so into this Russian theme – in fact, I’m toying with getting Reverend Parker to christen her Minska.
Minska Katinka Karenina Brodsky Brandon.
