She shoots me a glance. ‘Follow close behind with the chair, Milla, I need you there in case I don’t make it all the way.’
I’m screwing my face up because I don’t believe what I’m seeing. ‘You’re walking down the aisle?’
Her eyes are shining. ‘That’s the idea. I’m not sure how far I’m going to get. It suddenly looks a very long way.’ Her forehead’s already shining with the exertion. ‘I’ll be sitting down again the second we reach Ewan, so don’t hang around, make sure the chair’s there ready.’
And then she goes. One faltering step after another. Her dad leaning in to support her. Pixie looking slender enough to break, but there’s so much strength of will in that spine. She’s gritting her teeth and I’m following straight behind her, getting the same view she is. All the faces turning to see the bride in her chair, and instead they’re seeing Pixie putting one tentative, wobbly foot in front of the other. Walking. Yes, walking. For the first time in four years. And as the realisation hits, the guests start to clap, then gradually the clapping rises to a cheer, and in the end the noise is so loud thatAll you need is love, love, love is all you needis totally drowned out under the stamping and the whooping and the roar.
And we’re going towards Ewan at the front, his face turned towards us, looking so proud and happy and in love. And he’s holding his arms open to catch his bride. But beside him, Nic is standing, tears streaming down his face as he watches Pixie making her faltering way down the aisle.
And then it’s over, Ewan sweeps Pixie into his arms, and her dad steps aside. The roar of voices and applause is so loud my ears are hurting. But then it gradually subsides, someone fades the music and in the silence Pixie’s turning to me. ‘That’s enough showing off for one day. Pass me my chair, Milla, before I expire.’
And as Pixie sinks down into the chair again and smooths her dress over her knees, the registrar smiles at her. ‘All ready to begin?’
Pixie frowns up at her. ‘Hell no! I’m not getting married wearing trainers. Milla’s going to put my Jimmy Choos on for me first.’ She gives me a prod. ‘Aren’t you Milla? Then we’ll do the marrying bit after that.’
I jump to my senses, drop to my knees, undo her trainers and whip them away. Then I take out each spangly sandal in turn, push them onto her feet, and do up the straps. Then I inexpertly place her feet on the foot rests, and, more expertly, rearrange the lace folds of her dress edge so the diamond straps are just visible. Then I grab her trainers and the bag, scramble to my feet, and I’m just about to make a run down the aisle to safety when Pixie’s hand lands on my arm.
‘Sit next to Nic.’
She must sense me pulling away, because her grip tightens but her face breaks into a grin. ‘Bride’s orders, okay?’
As I shuffle around to stand next to Nic, he bends and breathes into my ear. ‘Great dresses – you and Pixie.’
Somehow I’m forgetting my floaty skirt with the sprigs and the handkerchief hem, because I’m still catching up with what just happened. ‘She walked. Did you see that? Pixie just walked …’
Nic lets out a low laugh. ‘Ewan said Pixie was going to surprise us, and she has.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘It’s barely begun, and it’s already the best day.’ His arm comes around me and he squeezes me into a hug, his chin is in my hair again, and his low laugh resonates in my ear. ‘Promise you’ll dance with me later? And let’s keep the chocolate puddings in the bag this time?’
And as the registrar finally looks over her glasses and coughs to get everyone’s attention, my head’s spinning from the heady scent of Nic mixed with a double dose of swoon due to how meltingly hot his tux is against the stubble shadows on his chin and the hollows of his cheeks. And for the next half hour, as the ceremony takes place, I’m metaphorically waving at my mum, knowing she’ll be up above me looking down. But I’m also reclining on my own little cloud of happiness, because it’s one of those moments when it feels that life is so perfect nothing can ever go wrong again.
Chapter 34
Later on Thursday.
In the reception room at Cockle Shell Castle.
Tops and tales.
‘Have you got a second, Milla?’
It’s Nic, and it’s funny he should say that. We’ve come out of the ceremony room now and all spread out in the sun patches in the lovely reception space at the other side of the castle to pick up the Mr & Mrs Three Kisses G&T’s while Holly carries on taking the photos of Pixie and Ewan with various groups of friends and family. The big open room is scattered with easy chairs and sofas for anyone who wants to sit down and decorated with similar cascades of cottage-garden flowers tumbling out of tall pots. But, rather than sipping my rhubarb and elderflower cordial watching the other guests knocking back their gin while nibbling on Clemmie’s delicious bite-size savoury snacks and thinking about Pixie and Ewan’s lovely, heartfelt wedding vows and how in love they are, ever since we got here I’ve been non-stop troubleshooting.
First there was a skirt with a small side-split that had accidentally ripped thigh high. Nic’s young-at-heart Great Auntie Di was very grateful for the sewing kit in the emergency basket I had tucked away in the downstairs cloakroom. A few stitches and some safety pin reinforcement was all it took to make her look like an on-trend seventy-nine-year-old again, rather than a teenager on the pull.
Next up was three-year-old Maisie who’d been given her first stick of bubblegum by an unsuspecting well-wisher, chewed it thoroughly during the ceremony, then promptly stuck it all over the top of her head. Let’s just say, Maisie won’t be having a pony-tail again any time soon.
As for the gluten-free vegan having a panic attack and trying to tear out her tongue after she failed to see the six-inch-high letters on the contains-meat-and-wheat-and-traces-of-nuts sign – as problems go, if I’m giving ratings, the sprinklers soaking the entire wedding fair were marginally easier to deal with.
As I lick the last of the spinach and goat’s cheese puff pastry parcel flakes off my fingers, I’m smiling up at Nic. ‘Right, I’m all yours.’ I wiggle my eyebrows at him wildly. ‘Just for today, obviously.’
I know it might sound way too much, but playing for laughs is the only way I can handle this. Not that I’m broadcasting it any further than a little sigh to Poppy, but I’m having a seriously hard time keeping my hands off the goods here. Nic turns my toes to syrup at the best of times. Trendell, the tux-clad version, is so smoking hot there have been times today standing next to him when I’ve felt like I’ve literally been about to vaporise. For this one last day, I’m not going to fight it – I’m just going to let those rainbow shivers zip up and down my spine, and let my skin tingle without beating myself up. And then after tomorrow, unless I ever take him up on that ongoing offer of those pancakes of his that he’s never managed to cook yet, we’ll be back to waving across the harbourside car park. It might wring my heart out for a while, but I have to be honest – giving this a positive spin, it could turn out to be a whole lot more comfortable and a lot less agonising than the last few months have been.
‘So?’ I meet his gaze, then as my stomach starts to disintegrate I wish I hadn’t.
‘One of the groomsmen’s just been out to the car park. He spotted a bit of a …’ He hesitates then coughs. ‘… A … situation … by the pergolas.’
This turns my wavering stomach back to rock again. ‘Go on?’
He lowers his voice. ‘One we need you to sort out rather than me, if you don’t mind hurrying …’
