Thirteen Weddings (7 page)

She leans forward and I sit up straighter. ‘The service will take place around the corner from the bride’s parents’ house, so you can come with Maria and me for the bride
preparation shoot and hang out, see how I do things. Then, you’d need to go to the church ahead of time to take photographs of the little details. People rarely appreciate how much goes into
a wedding, but we do, and we need to capture it for posterity. So take photos of the flowers, the candles, the church...’

My heart jumps, but I force myself to listen carefully, wishing I’d brought a pen and paper. Actually... ‘Do you have a pen and paper?’ I ask.

‘Sure!’ Rachel looks pleased as she gets up from the table and hunts them out. Maria gives me the thumbs-up and I shift selfconsciously as Rachel sits back down.

For the next hour, I take notes as she fills me in. Eventually I say goodbye, realising the wine has done nothing to quash my steadily growing nerves. The fee she is paying me is substantially
more than I earn in a day at work, which is fantastic, but this feels like such a big responsibility. I really hope I don’t screw it up.

On Friday, I’m in the small kitchen adjoining the
Hebe
office making tea for Nicky and Helen, the deputy picture editor. Helen is a moody little cow and I keep
catching her giving me dirty looks, but I don’t know why.

I squeeze the tea out of Nicky’s teabag and dump it in the bin. I miss Sydney. Thank goodness for Bridget – I’d be lost without her to hang out with every night, watching
crappy TV and dissecting our days over wine and microwave meals. We’re going to the pub tonight after work for a few drinks – not many; I have to be up early. Tomorrow’s going to
be a long day.

‘Hey,’ I hear a voice say and turn around to see Russ coming into the kitchen.

‘Hi,’ I reply with a smile.

I like Russ,
Hebe
’s deputy features editor. He was cracking me up on Monday in the taxi back to the office, telling me all the judges’ dodgy secrets. He’s a bit of a
gossip, I think, but good fun. He’s tall at about six foot two, of medium build, with short ginger hair and a fair few freckles. He reminds me a little of Ed Sheeran – he’s pretty
cool.

‘You coming to the pub tonight?’ he asks as he moves past me to fill up the kettle.

‘I can’t. My flatmate wants me to go to the pub with her.’ I pass him the teabags.

‘Bring her along. The more the merrier,’ he says casually.

I lean against the worktop, in no rush to get back to my icy colleagues. ‘Who else is going?’

‘Pete and Lisa from news, Esther, the features editor, will probably come along for one. Zach from production and Tim on the art desk usually come. I don’t know about
Alex.’

The sound of his name makes me tense up.

‘What about Helen and Nicky?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

‘Nah, not likely. Nicky never socialises with us minions, and Helen spends every spare second up her boyfriend’s arse – not literally,’ he adds, flashing me a cheeky
grin.

I’m taken aback by his openness, but try not to show it.

‘How are you finding things on your desk?’

‘Er, it’s okay,’ I say weakly.

‘Helen being a bitch?’

He gives me a knowing look, not fazed by my surprise. ‘She went for your job,’ he reveals.

‘Oh?’

‘Simon didn’t think she had enough experience.’ He pauses before adding, ‘Although I’m not sure Nicky agreed...’ He lets his voice trail off, stopping short
of saying that Nicky wanted to promote Helen to picture editor instead of employing me.

‘I see.’ Now it all makes sense. I’m guessing Simon made the final call and that put my two most immediate colleagues’ noses out of joint. No wonder I’m feeling the
chill.

‘Don’t let them get to you,’ Russ says with more compassion than I’d expect from an almost total stranger, and a bloke at that. ‘Everyone knows how bitchy they are.
Well, everyone except for Simon.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Bitchiness is not on that guy’s radar.’

I’m still surprised he’s talking to me so openly, but I can’t say it’s not welcome after two weeks of feeling completely alone at work.

‘Come to the pub,’ he urges, picking up his mug.

‘Alright, I’ll see if Bridget fancies it.’

‘Not Bridget Reed?’ he checks as we walk out of the kitchen together.

‘Yeah, the very same.’

‘Oh, Bridget will definitely be up for the pub with us lot,’ he says with a grin.

‘You know her well?’

‘Not that well, but I’ve seen her play enough drinking games at various work dos to know that she’ll fit right in.’

I laugh as I pass him, completely forgetting that I’m right by Alex’s desk until his brilliant blue eyes lock with mine over the top of his computer. I quickly avert my gaze.

‘Cheers, Russ, see you later.’ I break off to go to my desk.

Russ is right of course: Bridget is not about to turn down a chance to be sociable.

Next week’s issue of
Hebe
has been put to bed by five p.m. so I join the crowd pulling on their coats and mingling by the door. Alex’s seat is empty – he’s over by
Simon’s desk, signing off the last of the page proofs. Helen and Nicky walk by together, completely ignoring the rest of us as they talk.

‘Have a nice weekend!’ Russ calls after them jovially and they both start with surprise.

‘You too,’ Nicky calls back uncomfortably.

Helen gives Nicky a look as she pushes the button for the lift. They both stand there in silence until the lift arrives.

I catch Russ’s eye. ‘Miserable cows,’ he says under his breath, flashing me a grin. I try to keep a straight face. ‘Bridget meeting us there?’ he checks with
me.

‘Yeah, they’re still going to press.’

Bridget is freelancing at monthly travel magazine
Let’s Go!
this week.

‘Bridget Reed?’ Lisa, the news editor, asks, having overheard.

‘The very same,’ I reply with a smile. Does
everyone
know Bridget?

‘There go my plans to have an easy one,’ she mutters.

‘I’m definitely having an easy one,’ I say firmly.

‘Good luck with that,’ Russ says wryly. ‘Tim, are you coming or what?’ he snaps suddenly.

Tim, the art editor, is hovering over his computer.

‘Yep,’ he replies shortly, glancing up at Russ. He’s rocking the geek chic look, with black-rimmed glasses and shaggy dark hair. ‘Done,’ he murmurs, grabbing the
coat hanging over the back of his chair. I glance at Alex in time to see him turn away from Simon, rustling A3-sized pages in his hands.

‘You coming for a drink?’ Tim calls to him.

‘Erm...’ he checks his watch. ‘Where are you going?’ His eyes flit towards mine.

‘Just to the pub across the road,’ Tim says.

‘I might meet you over there.’ My heart jumps and then plummets. I try to convince myself that I don’t care either way.

I fail spectacularly in my efforts, spending the next twenty minutes at the pub glancing at the door in case Alex walks in. I’m curious to see him in a social situation again – this
week at work has been strange.

‘Hey, guys!’ Bridget calls cheerfully as she arrives. ‘Who’s up for a drinking game?’

Everyone groans theatrically.

‘Bronte?’ she asks teasingly. ‘You want a shot?’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warn. ‘I’m fine with beer. I have to get up early tomorrow.’

‘What are you doing?’ Lisa, who’s a petite redhead, asks with interest, as Bridget gathers orders from the rest of the table and heads off to the bar.

‘I’m going to a wedding.’

‘Nice!’ she says.

‘Whose?’ Esther, the features editor, asks, overhearing. She’s striking and extremely tall at almost six foot, with shoulder-length dark brown hair.

‘I have no idea.’ I smile at the look on her and Lisa’s faces before explaining. ‘I’m assisting the wedding photographer.’

‘Wow. Have you done a lot of weddings?’ Lisa asks.

‘No, this is my first.’

‘How exciting!’ Esther nudges Pete. ‘You should get Bronte to do your wedding in July.’

‘Steady on.’ I hold my palms up. ‘I might not be any good at it. I’m absolutely shitting myself at the moment,’ I admit, making everyone laugh. Bridget comes back
over with our drinks, plonking a beer in front of me.

I’m sure she’ll be trying to get me to do shots before the night is out. I
will
resist!

‘Hey, here’s Alex,’ Tim says. I stopped watching the door once Bridget arrived.

‘Hi,’ he says, dropping his bag loudly beside the table. He freezes and I glance up at him to see that he’s noticed Bridget.

‘Howdy. I’m Bridget,’ she says smoothly, holding her hand out to him. ‘Who are you?’

‘Alex,’ he replies with a slight frown as he hesitantly shakes her hand. ‘Can I get anyone a drink?’

No one needs one so he heads to the bar. I give Bridget a WTF look over the table and she suppresses a grin. Alex seems to have recovered by the time he joins our table, pulling up a seat
between Lisa and Tim. I can’t see his face very well from here, which suits me just fine.

‘How’s your first week been?’ Lisa asks him.

‘Good. Just settling in, seeing how everything works,’ he replies in that warm, deep voice of his. Unfortunately I can hear him very well and I let out a small sigh at the sound. Why
has he put this distance between us? Fine if he doesn’t like me. Cool if he’s seeing someone else. But can’t we be friends? Why is he being so standoffish?

‘What are you up to this weekend?’ Lisa asks, and I realise her question is directed at him. I wonder if her job on the newsdesk helps her excel at small talk.

‘Er, just hanging out with my girlfriend,’ he replies.

A dark feeling washes over me. Not that I didn’t have my suspicions.

‘Well, fiancée,’ he clarifies.

The dark feeling violently intensifies.

‘How lovely! When are you getting married?’ Esther asks warmly.

‘December,’ Alex reveals, as I pick up my beer bottle and take a swig. I have to force myself to swallow. I can feel Bridget’s eyes on me, but I keep mine trained on the
table.

‘When did you get engaged?’ Lisa presses on while I inwardly cringe. Do we have to hear the gushy details?

‘Couple of months ago,’ he says, shifting in his seat. He doesn’t want to talk about this, either. Maybe it’s because I’m here; maybe it’s because he’s
quite a private person. I got that impression when we met, but really, I don’t know him at all. I’m a fool to think that I did.

‘Let’s play a drinking game!’ Bridget erupts and everyone groans again. ‘Come on, you
Hebe
s are so boring!’ She shoves against Russ and he moves aside to let
her out.

‘Bronte, come help me carry the shots.’

‘I am not doing shots,’ I reiterate.

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come and help me anyway.’

I cast my eyes wearily at the ceiling, but silently thank her for the distraction.

The next morning, I’m up and out of bed early. I have a headache, despite my attempts to remain sober, but it’s not too bad. Bridget, however, is decidedly worse
for wear.

‘Hey,’ I whisper, poking my head around her door.

A strangled moan comes from the bed.

‘I brought you pills,’ I tell her with a smirk.

She gingerly sits up in bed and reaches for the water, glugging some down with the headache tablets. ‘Why, oh why did you let me drink those shots?’

‘
What?
’ It’s an outrage!

She purses her lips. ‘I meant to tell you, there was a message on the landline from your mum.’

‘What did she say?’ I ask warily.

‘She said she was just touching base with you. Wanted to say hello.’

Nothing important, then.

‘Have a good day,’ she says. ‘Good luck with it.’

Anxiety surges through me and then the door buzzer goes and Bridget clamps her hands to her head. ‘Shut them up!’

‘I will.’ I laugh. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’ I’m going to need it.

‘How are you feeling?’ Maria asks the bride, Suzie, as she applies foundation to her pale complexion.

‘Nervous,’ Suzie admits.

I’d be nervous, too, if I was about to legally bind myself to another person for the rest of my life. Mind you, there’s always divorce if it doesn’t work out.

‘That’s a good sign,’ Maria says encouragingly. ‘I think nerves help you to feel more connected to the day.’

Is that what she reckons? Well, I’m nervous as hell. And I’m not sure I want to feel connected to this particular day.

‘You’re looking radiant,’ Rachel says gently, taking a photograph.

I’m sitting in the corner, just watching and trying to keep out of the way. Rachel moves over to the wedding dress, which is hanging behind the door. ‘Can you adjust the curtains to
soften the light?’ she asks me.

I get up and close the net curtains a little, as Rachel moves in to photograph lots of tiny, delicate lace flowers across the bodice. I’m looking forward to seeing how Suzie looks with it
on.

I watch as Rachel takes some shots of the bride’s shoes and her gran’s wedding ring sewn into her garter. Suzie’s mother comes in with cups of tea for us all. The atmosphere is
very relaxed, which is not what I was expecting.

The doorbell rings to announce the arrival of Suzie’s only bridesmaid and the energy levels ramp up a notch. She’s a sweet, friendly girl, but over the course of a short space of
time, the chilled atmosphere becomes charged with electricity as we draw closer to the big event.

‘Time for you to go,’ Rachel says to me quietly with a smile as Maria puts the finishing touches to the bride’s make-up.

My nerves return as she sees me to the door.

‘So don’t forget to get the details,’ she says. ‘The flowers, the candles, the organ...’

A little dart of fear zips through me.

‘The Order of Service, the stained-glass windows...’ she continues.

I recover quickly and shake my head. ‘I won’t forget.’

‘Try to get the groom arriving if he’s not already there, and as many of the other guests as you can. Don’t specifically ask guests to pose for shots, but do take any that they
ask you to.’