Paula padded over the carpet in her pyjamas, slipping onto the bed beside her daughter.
Florrie rubbed her hand across her mouth, hardly able to believe what she was about to say. ‘The Jolly’s flooded, Mum. Mandy says we can’t have the reception there.’ Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes swam with tears. ‘Honestly, it’s just been one thing after another, what with all the hassle from Ed’s mum, Dad ending up in hospital and now this.’
Paula slipped her arm around Florrie’s shoulders. ‘Oh, lovey, come here. Try not to fret, we’ll think of a solution. It’s only early, you’re not getting married till twelve and the reception wasn’t due to start until two; we’ve got time to get a plan in place.’ Paula sat quiet for a moment, and Florrie could almost hear the cogs of her mind whirring. ‘What about the tearoom? You could have your reception there. It’s the perfect solution,’ her mum said, brightening. With the staff being guests at the wedding, it made sense for the bookshop to close for the day, which meant the tearoom had to close, too.
‘But what would we do about food and drink? And how can we cook anything without electricity? More to the point, we haven’t got any food to cook even if the electricity was on. Everything for the roast dinner’s down at the Jolly and Mandy said the bottom prom’s not passable so we wouldn’t be able to go and collect it.’ The word ‘disaster’ was on the tip of her tongue, but she held back from saying it. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Dawn and Luella had jinxed this day.
‘Right then’ – Paula patted her hands on her thighs – ‘I reckon we should head downstairs, lovey, have a cup of teaand a good think about what to do. Don’t you worry, your dad and me will make sure you and Ed have the wedding day you’d hoped for. I just need to get my thinking cap on and work out what we can do about feeding everyone. And thank goodness you and Ed kept guest numbers low – it makes it easier to resolve.’
Florrie gave her mum a grateful smile, resting her head on her shoulder. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Nothing ever defeated Paula Appleton, she was a fixer through and through. And Florrie didn’t doubt her mum would come up with a solution, though she couldn’t begin to imagine what shape that would take right now.
At just gone eight forty-five, the electricity pinged on and a cheer could be heard running around the street where Florrie’s parents lived.
‘Oh, thank goodness for that,’ said Paula, clapping her hands to her face. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself in the shower now the electric’s back on, lovey? I’ll see what I can sort out about the food.’
Florrie went to protest and say that she wanted to help, but Paula was having none of it. ‘I’m on it, you go and have yourself a nice shower, leave the fretting to me. I reckon I’ll have a plan in place by the time you come back downstairs.’
‘Best not argue with your mother, lass, you know what she’s like when she’s on a mission,’ her dad said, giving her a knowing look.
‘Okay,’ she said reluctantly, feeling guilty leaving the pressure on her mum to come up with a solution.
Florrie had already spoken to Maggie, who had a bird’s-eye view of the bottom prom from Clifftop Cottage. On seeing the tide washing over the road, she’d called Florrie to reassure her they’d get Ed to the church on time and would drive the long way round. During the call, Florrie had declined the offer of having a quick chat with him, superstition kicking in and not wanting to tempt fate any further.
As she made her way downstairs, Florrie could hear her mum talking to someone in the kitchen, and from her tone, she guessed it wasn’t her dad. She walked into the room, catching her dad’s eye. He gave her a wink and a smile, igniting a small glimmer of hope inside her.
‘That’s brilliant, thanks so much, Mandy. And best of luck with everything. Bye, lovey.’ Paula ended the call and set her phone down on the countertop then turned around to Florrie, a wide smile on her face. ‘All sorted, lovey. Your reception’s going ahead and everyone’ll be getting their roast dinner.’
Relief spread through Florrie along with a surge of love for her mum. ‘How? I mean, where will it be? And how can we get a roast dinner sorted in time? All the food’s down at the Jolly.’
‘The venue is the bookshop tearoom and I’ve organised a last-minute shopping spree to grab the ingredients; we’re going to make sure there’ll still be a roast dinner and lovely pud for your wedding guests. I’ve been on to the butcher’s, told them what we need as far as joints of beef are concerned, and I’ve called the greengrocer’s, explained the situation to them and they’re putting veggies in boxes as we speak, ready for us to pick up – I spoke to Mandy at the Jolly and she told me all the quantities for everything which was really helpful. Jazz’s mum and dad and Stella’s mum and Rhys are meeting me in town to collect everything and drop it off at the bookshop. That call was just Mandy confirming she’s organised for the chef and staff who’d be working at the Jolly for your reception to be at the bookshop tearoom instead. I just need to ring round the guests and let them know the change of venue.’ Paula beamed a huge smile at her daughter. ‘Oh – how could I forget? – Jazz has come up trumps with the pudding. She’s taken a couple of trays of chocolate brownie out of the freezer so they can start defrosting. She says they can be served with custard, cream or ice cream, which I know there’s plenty of in the bookshop’s tearoom.’
‘Have you met your mother the tornado?’ Charlie asked, chuckling as he hugged his mug of tea.
Florrie felt her anxiety trickle away. ‘Mum, you’reamazing! Thank you!’ She rushed over to her and flung her arms around her neck, battling the tears that were now blurring her vision.
‘I knew we’d get it sorted, lovey. And no more tears now, you don’t want your eyes all puffy for your wedding day, do you?’ Paula stepped back and kissed her daughter on the cheek.
Florrie shook her head, emotion threatening to overwhelm her. ‘No, you’re right,’ she said in a wobbly voice.
‘And look, it’s stopped raining and the sky’s clearing. I think we might be treated to a bit of sunshine by the time you set off for church.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Florrie had decided against having someone come to the house to do her hair and make-up before the wedding; she’d much rather do it herself. She wasn’t one for much make-up anyway, preferring a flick of mascara, maybe a bit of blusher and a smear of lip gloss if she was going somewhere special. She’d bought a new one for today, in a shade she was told would just emphasise her natural lip colour. ‘I want to look like myself when I meet Ed at the altar,’ she’d said to the young woman on the make-up counter. Her one concession to having a fuss made over her, had been to let her mum straighten her hair for her. Mother and daughter had used the time to enjoy a trip down memory lane, reminiscing about Mr H and all his plotting to get Florrie and Ed together. ‘And here you are,’ Paula said fondly, smiling at her daughter in the dressing table mirror, straighteners in hand. ‘He’d be chuffed to bits.’
‘He would, and I can just imagine his happy chuckle and him clapping his hands together the way he used to when one of his plans had worked out.’ Florrie felt emotion squeeze in her chest. She took a calming breath and steadied herself.No more tears, Florrie.
With her mum heading off to get changed into her mother-of-the bride outfit, Florrie reached for her wedding dressthat had been removed from its cover and was hanging on the back of her bedroom door, nerves fluttering in her stomach.
The dress was in ivory raw silk and had a square neckline, three-quarter sleeves and finished just above the ankle. Like the dress on the mini Florrie in the window display it was empire line, though the real Florrie’s was trimmed with ivory braid and the bodice was embellished with hundreds of tiny freshwater pearls while a line of fabric-covered buttons ran down the back.
She eased it carefully off its padded hanger and slipped it over her head, the fabric cool against her skin – she’d need her mum to help with the buttons.
Florrie had swapped her usual plain, no-nonsense underwear for a matching set in ivory silk trimmed with a delicate matching lace. She’d teamed them with a pair of hold-up stockings with pretty lace tops. If you couldn’t wear fancy underwear on your wedding day, when could you? she’d thought when she was buying them.
Once she’d fastened her simple silver necklace with its small diamond-studded pendant that matched her earrings – they were her ‘something old’ and had belonged to Florrie’s maternal grandmother – Florrie slipped her feet into a pair of low-heeled Mary Janes in ivory leather, fastening the diamanté buckle. That done, she called her mum to give her a hand with the buttons of her dress and to fasten the clasp of the silver bracelet decorated with clear crystals Lark had given her for her ‘something new’. Her ‘something borrowed’ were two diamanté hair slides from Maggie to secure her veil in place, and her ‘something blue’ was a tiny blue money spider Lark had sewn into the hem of her wedding dress when she was altering it for her.
With her delicate tiara in place and her veil thrown back, Florrie made her way downstairs where her parents were waiting for her, her mum having hurried back downstairs so she could enjoy the sight of her daughter emerging from her bedroom.
