I feel a sudden wave of emotion. I remember looking over at Alex and him giving me this sweet, helpless little shrug. He didn’t want to be here, any more than me, yet somehow we ended up being the last to leave.
Familiar hands encircle my waist and I spin in his arms, unable to believe what I’m seeing. Alex smiles down at me as our friends whoop and cheer.
‘Did you know they were doing this?’ I’m amazed.
He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘It took quite a lot for them to drag me in here.’
‘Me too!’ We start laughing and don’t stop until our eyes are wet with tears, and then our friends are passing out shots and we’re knocking them back, the alcohol going straight to our heads.
‘Red, Red Wine’ by UB40 comes on. Alex and I look at each other, incredulous.
This was the song we sexy-danced to, all those years ago. He doesn’t say a word as he leads me across the lit-up dance floor and takes me in his arms.
A flash goes off and I look over to see Rachel winking at me, holding her camera aloft. She’s coming tomorrow, doing the photos as a favour. I keep saying it’s not a big deal, but no one is getting the message.
Maria has insisted on doing my make-up; Polly dragged me off to the shops, telling me I was mad to pass up the excuse to buy a pretty frock; and Ed organised an after-party in the upstairs room of a cosy pub in central London, just around the corner from the register office where we’re getting married. Bridget, who has awesome taste in music, has sorted out the playlist.
I slide my hands up and over Alex’s shoulders, smiling at him as his thumbs brush my hipbones. He bends down to kiss me, pulling me closer until we’re flush to each other’s bodies. He holds me tightly, and then we’re both barely moving, barely breathing, just here, in this moment, together.
Until a man dressed up as Michael J. Fox fromTeen Wolfcrashes into us. Alex grabs me to steady me and glares after the werewolf-wannabe, and then we both meet each other’s eyes and crack up laughing.
I stay in a hotel near the register office and share a room with Bridget, who, despite her reluctance to be without Charlie and April onherhen night, convinced me it’d be fun to have a sleepover – for old times’ sake.
She, Charlie and April are spending the festive period with her dad in north London after deciding to have one last Christmas in the house where Bridget grew up. In the New Year, her dad is putting his home on the market and moving down to Cornwall, ready to embrace the next stage in his life.
On the morning of my wedding day – MY WEDDING DAY – I wake up to Bridget playing ‘I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do’ by Abba on her tiny but loud portable B&O speaker. She follows this up with ‘White Wedding’ by Billy Idol and ‘Going to the Chapel’ by the Dixie Cups, while we sit there and giggle and eat flaky pastries on the bed that she picked up from the bakery next door.
Maria turns up after a while to do my make-up, but I’m styling my own hair in my trademark fishtail plait. Then I get into my dress, a pretty, long-sleeved, lace, knee-length number that’s the colour of crème caramel. I team it with brown cowboy boots.
Bridget shakes her head at me and starts to cry.
‘Oh myGod!’ I exclaim, laughing. ‘I can’t believe you’recrying!’
‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ she blubs.
‘Me neither,’ I say, shaking my head.
And I really can’t. It feels very surreal. I know I want to be with Alex for the rest of my life, but I can’t actually get my head around the fact that I’m marrying him today.
I’mmarryinghim.
Nope. Still won’t sink in.
We head to the venue in a black cab after Maria has retouched Bridget’s make-up. Rachel joins us to snap some pics, bringing with her tiny bottles of chilled Prosecco for the journey. We all still feel a bit rough after last night, but manage to knock them back anyway.
And then I climb out of the cab to see Alex standing on the steps outside the cream-coloured building.
I freeze, only very vaguely aware of Rachel and Maria clicking off shots. He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a very dark-blue, fitted suit with a pale-blue tie.
Finallyit hits me.
My legs feel like jelly as I come out of my daze. He jogs down the steps and takes my hand.
‘Don’t freak out,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘Visa, remember?’
‘Yes, visa,’ I repeat aloud. He casts me a sideways grin and squeezes my hand as we walk up the steps together.
‘You look incredible,’ he says seriously, and then he leads me inside the venue and down a corridor to two wooden doors at the end. Bridget, Maria and Rachel go in ahead, but, as the doors swing shut behind them, I catch a glimpse inside and breathe in sharply.
