As for Nic disappearing so suddenly, I’m missing him and his reluctance to engage with anything wedding related about as much as a hole in the head. Better still, him being away has given me a chance to move up a gear with other things. We’ve got our first fair coming up. My pieces about the shop are generating loads of traffic on the Brides Go West blog and even though the posts about the Cornish venues are outside our usual area, they’ve been really popular too. So there’s really no reason why I should be feeling as flat as I am.
I do admit that the for the first couple of weeks after Nic left, every time I heard footsteps on the stairs my heart did stop momentarily, thinking maybe he’d come back early. If I unzipped the suit cover of his tux to see if there were any lingering traces of his scent – there weren’t – it was only now and again. But now he’s been away three days short of three weeks without so much as a text, I’ve pretty much given up on him altogether. I’ll be surprised if he even comes back at all.
If Nic ever does come back, this time around I need to be fully prepared and super-slick. So with that in mind, this afternoon I’ve asked Holly to show me pictures of weddings she’s shot at places I haven’t visited yet to give me a fast-forward view of what else is out there. And Ivy’s coming to grab the opportunity to get to know the venues too.
There would have been acres more space in Holly’s studio or the basement, but as Poppy’s baking today we decided to squash in upstairs and be on hand for her samples. And Merwyn’s here as well, lying at our feet on the rug. When he’s snuffling around in his latest Fair Isle jumper, everything feels so much homelier.
Holly’s next to Ivy on one sofa, flicking through pictures on her laptop as Poppy drops a tray of drinks and cake on the end of the coffee table. She flops down next to me on the other sofa with a muffin in her hand.
‘These are apple with roasted almond topping. See what you think.’ As we all reach out and sink our teeth into the warm sponge, she’s leaning forward peering at the pictures I’ve been sorting through on my screen. ‘So those are the famous treehouses you visited?’ As she runs a wedding venue, she’s always interested in what else is out there.
I nod. ‘It’s a great place for a green wedding if the numbers aren’t too big. At least, that’s what I said in my blog piece.’
Poppy’s giving me that hard stare she does. ‘I hope you aren’t throwing all your Cornish pieces away on the Brides Go West readers.’ The twitch of her nose shows she doesn’t approve. ‘I just hate to see you always doing the work while all Phoebe does is sit back and count the clicks.’
I’m holding back my smile. ‘I’ve actually decided to do a new blog, all of my own, for this area. I’ve got loads of material, but I wanted to ask you about names.’
Poppy pulls me into a hug. ‘Genius, Milla, you have to do it! So, for names, think what’s unique about Cornwall?’
Ivy flicks her dark bob behind her ear, crosses her fabulously long legs, and counts on her red polished fingertips. ‘As someone who’s just arrived, I’d say the wild windy shores, the surfers, the sunshine, the inky night skies, the stars, the castles …’
Holly nudges her. ‘Says the girl who lives in one …’
I feel as if I’m about to burst. ‘I’ve got it! Brides Go West is classy and upmarket. Meet her carefree, bohemian, salty-haired sister, Brides Go Wild!’
Holly’s smiling as she tries out the words. ‘Brides Go Wild? That’s brill. It’s similar enough to link the two, but they each have their own really strong identity.’
Poppy’s laughing. ‘They’re actually like you and Phoebe personified. She’s all urban and smart, while you’re the relaxed beachy one.’ She gives a rueful grimace. ‘Or at least you were before she remade you as a total clone of herself.’ That’s the thing with old friends – they know you so well there’s no pretending.
I’m smoothing my pencil skirt over my knees. ‘Don’t knock it, Pops. Getting me into a tweed suit and Pringle twinset was one of Phoebe’s greatest achievements for our brand.’
Holly’s cheeks are flushed with enthusiasm. ‘I can’t wait to see the Brides Go Wild version of Milla.’ She retwists her haystack hair into a messy topknot. ‘How about borrowing some of Sera’s ripped shorts?’
Ivy’s studying me through half closed eyes. ‘Or maybe somewhere between. I think a nice denim midi, and some brown suede boots would work a treat with your light hair.’
Poppy’s pulling me into a hug. ‘That’s your new blog and personal style decided then. Anything else before we move on to Holly’s pictures?’
Ivy’s waving a sheaf of papers. ‘I’ve brought some flyers for our new made-to-measure wellbeing weekends at the castle. We’re offering massage and beauty treatments, beach walks, shell collecting, star gazing, yoga and meditation, as well as the famous hot tub.’
I let out a sigh as I catch a glimpse of the twinkly turquoise sea through the little porthole window. ‘You had me at treatments, that’s so my kind of weekend.’ I laugh, because I have to be honest. ‘So long as there wasn’t too much walking or exercise obviously. And I’d probably skip the yoga.’
Poppy’s grin is indulgent. ‘I love that you never change, Milla.’
I’m remembering why we’re up here in the first place. ‘If Nic ever comes back, we could definitely look at those for his hens.’
There’s a loud cough and a tap on the door and as we hear the low growl of a husky male laugh we all sit up straight.
‘Why might I not be coming back? I’m here aren’t I?’
However many times I’ve seen Nic’s face in my head over the last three weeks, the real thing appearing round the door of my living room makes me breathe in so hard I almost swallow my tongue.
‘Nic, what the hell?’ There’s a dragonfly swarm beating in my chest, and my stomach feels like a washing machine that just kicked onto fast spin. And the only rational explanation is that now his wedding is careering towards me again at a hundred miles an hour, my adrenalin circuits are rebooting.
He’s got the kind of laid-back air of someone just back from holiday who’s still on slow-mo. ‘I said three weeks and here I am, three days early.’ He gives one of those shrugs he does. ‘Jess sent me up. She said you were looking at venue photos, I hope that’s okay?’
I definitely need to ask Jess to warn me before she springs him on us again. What’s less okay is how extra-hot he looks. ‘I take it you found the sun you were looking for?’
He rolls his eyes at me. ‘Lovely to see you too, Milla. It’s a wind tan, one of the hazards of Mediterranean sailing.’
