Thirteen Weddings (11 page)

‘The vicar said no photographs,’ I whisper urgently.

Her face falls. ‘None at all?’ she checks with me.

‘We can capture her entrance, but that’s it until after the service.’

‘Shit,’ she mutters, her shoulders slumping. ‘I asked Veronica to double-check with him but she didn’t, obviously.’

Veronica looks weary but beautiful as she climbs out of the classic car under the shelter of the driver’s large, black umbrella. She’s wearing a long cream-coloured gown with
three-quarter-length lace sleeves and lace skirt overlay. Her dark blonde hair is half tied back and curled into loose waves and she has pearl earrings. She’s not wearing a veil and the dress
has no train, coming to an inch above the ground. Her cream shoes peek out from beneath the hem.

‘Let me break it to her,’ Rachel whispers.

I nod and plaster a smile on my face as I look at Veronica.

‘You look stunning,’ I tell her. She returns my smile, but hers is shaky, too.

Mary lifts Cassie out of the other side of the car. The toddler is clutching a ratty pink blanket and sucking miserably on a blue dummy with a cartoon picture of a yellow duck on the front. Not
the usual accessories for a flower girl. She whinges to be put down and wriggles out of her grandmother’s grasp, running to her mother and clutching her leg. Veronica looks exhausted and I
feel a wave of pity for her. Her pre-wedding experience has been a far cry from Suzie’s. She’s not a bride; she’s a mother in a white dress.

I crouch down on the ground. ‘You look like a fairy princess,’ I tell Cassie, who regards me with misery. I grin and poke my tongue out at her, clicking off a couple of shots, just
as she begins to smile. Hopefully her mother will also smile in the future when she sees these pictures, even if today has been anything but perfect.

My yawning starts the moment I’m buckled into the passenger seat of Rachel’s car. She laughs at me as she starts the ignition.

‘That was a tough one,’ she says, pulling away from the kerb.

‘It was great.’ I smile sleepily, surprised at the truth of the statement.

‘You enjoyed yourself?’ she asks with genuine curiosity.

‘Yeah, I did,’ I reply. ‘I think Veronica and Matthew had a good day in the end.’ Even if I think marriage is pointless, they seem like a nice couple and they deserve to
be happy. ‘Okay, the stuff at the church was hard,’ I qualify. ‘That vicar was a nightmare.’

‘Urgh, wasn’t he?’

‘I hope we don’t come across another one like him again,’ I say without thinking. Sally will be back for the next wedding so there’s no ‘we’ about it. The
thought makes my heart sink.

‘Without a shadow of a doubt, we will,’ Rachel replies, not appearing to notice my slip-up.

‘Good morning,’ Alex’s warm voice cuts into my thoughts first thing on Monday morning when I’m in the kitchen.

‘Hi,’ I reply. He was chatting to Tim when I walked past and I’m sure he must’ve seen me come this way.

‘How was your weekend?’ he asks cheerfully.

‘Great. I went to another wedding,’ I tell him with a smile, relieved to see that he’s clearly comfortable around me now.

‘Did you?’ He looks confused. ‘I thought that was a one-off?’

‘It was supposed to be, but Rachel’s assistant called in sick at the last minute, so I helped out.’

‘That’s cool. How was it?’

‘Amazing. Well, actually, it was a total nightmare at first. The bride and groom have a toddler and she was sick, so that made things difficult, and then the vicar was a total arse and
wouldn’t let us take pictures of the service.’

‘No way?’

‘Yeah. Really mean. The bride was in tears. And it poured down and was so windy, everyone got soaked.’

‘It does sound like a nightmare!’ He leans back against the wall and folds his arms.

‘It was, but it was amazing too. Rachel is just
so good
at what she does. She got this fantastic shot of the pair of them later, in the rain under an umbrella. So stylish.’ I
saw the teaser shot yesterday. It’s beautiful.

He grins. ‘How was camera shake?’

I smile. ‘I think I’m getting a bit better.’

‘And no need to borrow Auntie’s eyes from another shot?’ he asks teasingly.

I laugh and shake my head. ‘I don’t think so. Although, actually, I did shoot the bride and groom after the ceremony and in some pictures the flowers look like they’re
sprouting out of the bride’s head. Rachel said she’ll have to fix those ones in Photoshop.’

He looks amused and a familiar skittish sensation swamps my stomach. This is not good. And now my tea has stewed. ‘Whoops.’ I fish out the teabags. ‘Nicky hates it
strong.’

‘Maybe she should make her own, then,’ he says drily.

‘Mmm.’

He flashes me a conspiratorial look, intensifying the edgy feelings.

‘So what did you get up to?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

‘Not a lot. Pottered around at home, went out with some mates for a few drinks on Saturday night.’

‘Your girlfriend was away, right? I mean, fiancée,’ I correct myself.

‘Yeah, she was in New York for work.’

‘What does she do?’

‘She works in advertising,’ he says in a monotone.

‘Oh right. Cool.’

He shrugs. ‘She likes it.’

‘That’s the important thing.’

Okay, so we’re not entirely past the awkward stage. I make a move to pick up my mugs.

‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Do you reckon you’ll be doing any more wedding photography?’

‘I’d love the extra work. I could certainly do with the extra cash.’ My lips turn down. ‘But Rachel’s assistant is back now. Maybe I’ll see if I can hook up
with another photographer.’

‘That’d be good.’ A thought seems to come to him. ‘Zara and I still haven’t sorted out a photographer for our wedding in December.’

He’s not asking me to do it, is he? That would be taking this new-found familiarity a bit far.

‘Do you really recommend Rachel, then?’ he asks.

My face breaks into a smile. Phew. ‘Yes, definitely. She’s incredible. Do you want me to get you her contact details?’

He grins. ‘That’d be great. Thanks.’

We walk back into the office together.

‘Ah, the new issue is here,’ he says as I put my mugs down on my desk.

He grabs a Stanley knife and slices through the plastic vacuum-packed wrapping, studying the front cover while I go back over to him and pick up a copy for myself.

‘It looks great,’ he says, glancing at me.

‘Bronte! Can you bring one to me?’ I hear Nicky call.

‘And me!’ Helen adds.

I do as they ask and then settle down to read the latest issue of
Hebe.
Drinking tea and reading the current issue is probably my favourite part of a Monday morning – we all do
it.

‘How are you getting on with those skinny celeb pictures?’ Nicky cuts into my thoughts.

‘Fine,’ I reply, glancing up at her.

‘I’m sending Helen on the
Dragons’ Den
shoot this morning, so I’ll need you to get on with the mark-up.’

The mark-up is one of those super-dull accounting jobs which involves trawling through every page of the magazine, marking down which picture came from which agency and how much each one cost.
It’s so we know our picture expenditure for each month and it’s very, very boring, but it ensures we don’t overpay anyone. It’s usually the assistant’s job, not the
picture editor’s, and it’s by no means urgent. But judging by Nicky’s face, it’s not up for discussion.

I put down my magazine and get on with my work.

I’m lonely that following weekend. Rachel is doing a wedding with Sally, and Bridget has gone to a leaving party in Cambridgeshire with her friend Marty. She invited me
to go with them, but I don’t know the people who are leaving: a friend of hers who nearly died last autumn when she was hit by a car, and her American-Cuban boyfriend who’s apparently
keen to take her back to Key West where they met. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable gate-crashing, even though Bridget said the boyfriend had to be seen to be believed. She really needs to get
herself a man.

As for me, I haven’t been with anyone since... Well, I haven’t had a boyfriend since Jason, but I haven’t
been
with anyone since Alex.

He’s been thoroughly pleasant to me this week and I’m starting to think we could be friends, even though my heart still hurts a little sometimes when I look at him. I’ll get
over it. He came for a quick drink on Friday night, but left early to go for dinner with Zara. I wonder what she’s like.

I passed on Rachel’s details and they’re meeting up this week. I hope it works out for both of them. I thought a lot about Rachel on Saturday. Sally had better not be taking her job
for granted.

‘When are you meeting Rachel?’ I ask Alex on Monday morning.

‘Tomorrow lunchtime. She’s coming into town.’

‘Is it just you going?’ I don’t know why I asked that.

‘No, Zara’s coming to meet us.’

‘Cool. Rachel always likes to meet the bride and groom together. Get ready to dazzle her with your proposal story.’ I try to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. I don’t feel
enthusiastic. ‘She’ll want to hear all the gushy details.’

‘Oh. It’s not very exciting. We just decided to get married.’

‘What?’ I exclaim. ‘You didn’t give your girlfriend of almost a decade a proper proposal?’

He frowns and then gives me a quizzical look. ‘You remember how long we’ve been together?’

I shrug. ‘Yeah. I wasn’t that drunk,’ I add and my face heats up under his amused gaze.

The truth is, I remember everything about that night – the fact that he and his girlfriend have been together since university is just one detail of many. That’s not to say I
wasn’t surprised myself when he remembered I didn’t like weddings.

‘Back to it, then,’ I say, rather than taking the conversation further.

Late on Tuesday afternoon, Clare comes into the office. ‘Can we gather?’ Simon calls to everyone, so we get up from our desks and congregate in the middle of the
room.

‘I have some sales information,’ he says, and from the look on his face, it’s good.

It turns out, last week’s Joseph Strike baby bump issue saw our sales shoot up by over 50 per cent. Everyone gasps and bursts into spontaneous applause at the news.

‘Thank you to everyone who worked on the article,’ Simon continues. ‘But special thanks to Bronte for acquiring those stunning pictures
and
the interview.’ I try
to contain my blush as everyone looks at me. ‘If you don’t already know, Bronte’s friend works at the conservation park where these shots were taken. In fact, her friend took the
pictures herself. She could have sold them to anyone, but she sold them to us. So thank you, Bronte.’

‘Well done, Bronte,’ Clare chips in.

My colour deepens as everyone claps again – some more enthusiastically than others. I notice Nicky roll her eyes at Helen, who smirks, but even that doesn’t bother me. Warmth washes
away my embarrassment as the sweet, eager editorial assistant, Sarah, appears with four bottles of champagne and everyone cheers. She pops one of the corks and starts to pour champagne into plastic
disposable glasses, handing the first glass to me. ‘Here you go, honey,’ she says with a smile.

‘Thanks.’ I started out as an editorial assistant, too, so I have a lot of respect for her, knowing how much work goes into keeping an office as large as
Hebe
running
smoothly.

‘Cheers, B.’ Russ appears at my side.

‘Cheers.’ I grin at him.

Nicky and Helen and a few others return to their desks with their glasses, and Russ gives me a significant look. Lisa, Tim and Zach huddle round us. It’s nearly home time.

‘Cheers,’ Alex says, joining the group. ‘Well done.’ He nudges me good-naturedly.

‘Thanks.’ My treacherous face heats up again. ‘How did your meeting with Rachel go?’ I ask him, winking comically at Sarah as she pulls out her iPhone and starts to snap
off a few photos.

‘Really good.’ He nods.

‘Did she show you any of her work?’

‘Yeah, she brought in a couple of her books.’ He shakes his head, impressed. ‘They’re fantastic. I love her documentary style. I think it’s the way we should
go.’

‘It’s so much better than the old way, isn’t it?’ I say.

‘Definitely. Much more natural. I hate posed crap.’

‘Me too,’ I agree. ‘What did Zara think?’

He cocks his head to one side. ‘I think she liked it. She’s quite traditional, although you’d never know it. I’m going to have a chat with her tonight. We should get
Rachel booked in as soon as possible.’

I am so curious to know what Zara’s like. I wonder if I’ll resist the temptation of asking Rachel next time I see her.

Fat chance.

‘Does she have anyone else lined up for December?’ I ask.

‘Not yet, but you never know. I’m sure there are others out there who have left it as late as us to book a photographer.’

‘You’re lucky. She only left her job quite recently so I don’t think this year is too crazy busy for her. She’s already got dozens booked in for next year.’

‘I’m not surprised. Thanks again for her details.’

‘No worries.’

Easter comes and goes and I fall into an easy routine at work and outside of it. Nicky seems to have moved on after her grudge and while I don’t think the tension will
ever truly be gone, she, Helen and I function fairly well.

Bridget returns to cover for the recently departed features editor on
Let’s Go!
so I catch up with her regularly for lunch, and she joins our Friday nights at the pub. Alex usually
comes for a couple, but always heads off earlier than the rest of us. He’s booked Rachel now for his wedding, and I’m pleased it all worked out.

One Friday night at the beginning of May, I go out for a girls’ night with Bridget, Maria and Bridget’s friend Marty. We bar-hop and end up at a club, where we dance the night away.
Later, Maria and I sit on a bench seat and giggle as we try to ignore Bridget and Marty getting cosy with two random boys on either side of us. We’re all single, and if there were more
good-looking boys in the vicinity, I’d be making the most of it, too. As it is, I’m happy just hanging out with my friends.