“I suppose. There’s just so much pressure for it to be perfect.”
And crucially concluding with:laughter.“It will be. Even if the DJ is shit because no one’s available and we end up having to hire Uncle Fred to play the first dance on that bloody tin whistle.”
She burst into giggles. “Oh, my God, do you remember the Christmas he got that?”
“How could I forget? I’ll never forgive my mum. She thought it would be a lovely token from her trip to Dublin.”
“It was just the worst. I don’t think my ears have ever recovered.”
“Yeah, well, it was also around then that Granny went deaf. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Dad may have hidden the tin whistle after the second Christmas he tried to play it for us all. Poor Uncle Fred never found it.”
“And here I was panicking about insignificant details like lilies when I should have been working out how we can track down a new tin whistle in time for Uncle Fred to perform a solo during the signing of the register!” She chuckled and let out a long sigh. “Sophie,thank you.I needed a laugh. And you’re right about everything, as usual. It’ll be fine. I think I just got a bit overwhelmed.”
“Anyone would! There’s nothing to thank me for. Tomorrow we’ll get this show on the road. It’ll be perfect, you’ll see. Go and get some sleep.”
“You really are the best. Hey, you know what, Sophie?” she said, yawning. “You should do this as a job.”
“Take late-night phone calls? That seems… creepy.”
“No! Being a bridesmaid. You’ve been to, like, a billion weddings and you know your stuff. And you love them, so you’d be doing something you’re passionate about. Seriously, I feel sorryfor the people who don’t have you in their bridal party. It could be a full-time career. You could be a professional bridesmaid.”
“What? That’s not a thing.”
“It could be.”
I snorted. “OK, sure, Cara. I’ll just become a professional bridesmaid.”
“Why not? It’s like what you’re doing now, but instead of having corporate bosses, you become, like, a PA to brides.”
“Your lack of sleep’s caused you to become delirious. That already exists! Ever heard of wedding planners?”
“Yeah, but people don’t always want to hire a planner because they like to put together their own weddings. I wouldn’t hire a wedding planner, even though I desperately need the help! A professional bridesmaid, however, would be there to support the bride and help her plan without losing her mind along the way. Much cooler. Anyway, you should think about it.”
“OK, crazy lady. Get some sleep, please.”
“Night, Sophie. Andthank you.”
I hung up and nestled back into my pillows, ready to get a few more hours’ sleep before I had to be up for work. But the next day I was unable to get the idea out of my head.A professional bridesmaid?It was ridiculous. Completely absurd.
Wasn’t it?
The Monday morning after Michelle and Harrison’s wedding, I stroll into my office (OK, it’s not really an office, it’s a tiny cupboard room in my South London flat with a desk in it, but whatever) and turn on my laptop to find 534 unread emails waiting for me since I checked last night.
This isn’t unusual. I’m not just in touch with the bride and groom for each wedding, but also various family members, suppliers, and venues.
Still. I’m going to need another coffee.
I wander back from my office (OK,fine,cupboard) into the kitchen and put the kettle on. While I wait for it to boil, I smooth the pink blouse I’m wearing for work today. Even though I’m self-employed, I always prepare for work just as I did when I worked as a personal assistant in the City. I get up at six, shower, do my makeup, and pick an office-appropriate outfit.
Cara always makes fun of me for doing this—“Just work from home in your pajamas like a normal person”—but I never know when I’ll have to rush out for emergency meetings. For example, the other day I was in the middle of trying to book a quaint cottage in the countryside for a client’s hen do when I got an urgent call from a bride asking if I could come straightaway to speak to her father, who had fallen out with her over the guest list. I had to rush out of the flat and get there before all hell broke loose. I’ve witnessedhugefamily fallouts over the guest list, and it was crucial I arrived before anyone said something they regretted.
Luckily, I got there just in time to calm the situation and encourage a compromise: the guest listwouldinclude Nick and Sarah, the father of the bride’s neighbors, whom the bride had never met, but wecouldn’textend the invitation to his entire Friday Wine Club. The members would, however, be invited to the Sunday BBQ.
Father and bride are, happily, still talking to each other.
But they might not have been if I’d arrived a few minutes later, having had to change out of my pajamas before leaving.
Cara is the only person who knows my real job, aside from my parents and, of course, the clients. To everyone else, I’m a PA for some finance office in the City. I can’t risk anyone else finding out because it would ruin one of my biggest selling points: no one needs to know I’ve been hired to be there. This is strangely appealing to a lot of brides and their families—theydon’t want anyone thinking they can’t handle organizing their big day.
