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wretched pulpit has to stay where it is.” Lucinda descends into a chair in a leggy,
Joseph-trousered sprawl, and the mood boards slide out of her grasp and all over the floor. “I just
don’t know why people can’t be more helpful. I mean, what are we going to do now? And I
haven’t heard back from the caterer … ”
I can barely concentrate on what she’s saying. I’m suddenly wishing I’d arranged to meet
Magnus first, on my own, to tell him about the ring. Then we could have faced his parents
together. Is it too late? Could I quickly text him on the way?
“ … and I still haven’t got a trumpeter.” Lucinda exhales sharply, two lacquered nails to
her forehead. “There’s so much to do. It’s insane. Insane. It would have helped if Clemency had
typed out the order of service properly,” she adds, a little savagely.
Poor Clemency flushes beet-red and I shoot her a sympathetic smile. It’s not her fault
she’s severely dyslexic and put hymen instead of hymn and the whole thing had to be redone.
“We’ll get there!” I say encouragingly. “Don’t worry!”
“I’m telling you, after this is over I’m going to need a week in a spa. Have you seen my
hands?” Lucinda pushes them toward me. “That’s stress!”
I have no idea what she’s talking about—her hands look perfectly normal to me. But I
stare at them obediently.
“You see? Wrecked. All for your wedding, Poppy! Clemency, order me a G&T.”
“Right. Absolutely.” Clemency leaps eagerly to her feet.
I try to ignore a tiny rub of irritation. Lucinda’s always throwing little references like that
into the conversation: “All for your wedding.” “Just to make you happy, Poppy!” “The bride’s
always right!”
She can sound quite pointed sometimes, which I find disconcerting. I mean, I didn’t ask
her to be a wedding pla
want to say anything, because she’s Magnus’s old friend and everything.
“Lucinda, I was wondering, have we sorted out the cars yet?” I say tentatively.
There’s an ominous silence. I can tell that a wave of fury is rising inside Lucinda, from
the way her nose starts to twitch. At last it erupts, just as poor Clemency arrives back.
“Oh, bloody hell. Oh fucking … Clemency!” She turns her wrath on the trembling girl.
“Why didn’t you remind me about the cars? They need cars! We need to hire them!”
“I … ” Clemency looks helplessly at me. “Um … I didn’t know … ”
“There’s always something!” Lucinda is almost talking to herself. “Always something
else to think about. It’s endless. However much I run myself into the ground, it goes on and on
and on—>”
“Look, shall I do the cars?” I say hastily. “I’m sure I can sort them.”
“Would you?” Lucinda seems to wake up. “Could you do that? It’s just, there’s only one
of me, you know, and I have spent the entire week working on details, all for your wedding,
Poppy.”
She looks so stressed out, I feel a pang of guilt.
“Yes! No problem. I’ll go on yellow pages or something.”
“How’s your hair coming along, Poppy?” Lucinda suddenly focuses on my head, and I
silently will my hair to grow another centimeter, very quickly.
“Not bad! I’m sure it will go in the chignon. Definitely.” I try to sound more positive than
I feel.
Lucinda has told me about a hundred times how shortsighted and foolish it was to cut my
hair to above the shoulder when I was about to become engaged.33 She also told me at the
wedding-dress shop that with my pale skin,34 a white dress would never work and I should wear
lime green. For my wedding. Luckily the wedding-dress-shop owner chimed in and said Lucinda
was speaking nonsense: My dark hair and eyes would set off the white beautifully. So I chose to
believe her instead.
The G&T arrives and Lucinda takes a deep slug. I take another sip of tepid black tea.
Poor old Clemency hasn’t got anything, but she looks like she’s trying to blend into her chair and
not attract any attention at all.
“And … you were going to find out about confetti?” I add cautiously. “But I can do that
too,” I backtrack quickly at Lucinda’s expression. “I’ll phone the vicar.”
“Great!” Lucinda breathes out sharply. “I’d appreciate that! Because there is only one of
me and I can only be in one place at once—” She breaks off abruptly as her gaze alights on my
hand. “Where’s your ring, Poppy? Oh my God, haven’t you found it yet?”
As she lifts her eyes, she looks so thunderstruck, I start to feel sick again.
“Not yet. But it’ll turn up soon. I’m sure it will. The hotel staff are all looking—”
“And you haven’t told Magnus?”
“I will!” I swallow hard. “Soon.”
“But isn’t it a really important family piece?” Lucinda’s hazel eyes are wide. “Won’t they
be livid?”
Is she trying to give me a nervous breakdown?
My phone buzzes and I grab it, grateful for the distraction. Magnus has just sent me a text
which dashes my secret hope that his parents would suddenly catch gastric flu and have to
cancel:
Di
“Is that your new phone?” Lucinda frowns critically at it. “Did you get my forwarded
texts?”
“Yes, thanks.” I nod. Only about thirty-five of them, all clogging up my in-box. When
she heard I’d lost my phone, Lucinda insisted on forwarding all her recent texts to me, just so I
didn’t “drop the ball.” To be fair, it was quite a good idea. I got Magnus to forward all his most
recent messages too, and the girls at work.
Ned Murdoch, whoever he is, has also finally contacted Sam. I’ve been looking out for
that email all day. I glance at it distractedly, but it doesn’t seem particularly earth-shattering to
me. Re: Ellerton’s bid. Sam, hi. A few points. You’ll see from the attachment, blah blah blah.
Anyway, I’d better send it on straightaway. I press forward and make sure it’s gone
through. Then I type a quick reply to Magnus, my fingers fumbling with nerves.
Great! Can’t wait to see your parents!!!! So exciting!!!!PS: Could we meet outside
first? Something I want to talk about. Just a really tiny thing. Xxxxxxxxx
22 OK, it wasn’t a couple of texts. It was about seven. But I only pressed send on five of
them.
23 Poirot would probably have worked it out already.
24 There are only three of us, and we’ve known each other for yonks. So occasionally we
lurch off onto other areas like our boyfriends and the Zara sale.
25 Or, rather, her dad did. He already owns a string of photocopy shops.
26 She also completely ignores all the poor women with twisted ankles. If you’re a girl,
never do the marathon with A
27 It was an emergency, in my defense. Natasha had split up with her boyfriend. And it’s
not like the patient could see what I was doing. But, yes, I know it was wrong.
28 I know girls say that and what they really mean is, “I gave him an ultimatum and then
let him think he’d come up with the idea himself, and six weeks later, bingo.” But it wasn’t like
that. I honestly had no idea. Well, you wouldn’t, would you, after a month?
29 Which I bet she did not do in her lunch hour. She should be the one getting the