The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea

Don’t ask me how, but I manage to grab more tissues with my spare hand, and ram them into his. But in the end it’s just easier to let him lean back and pull up his top, while I take the largest plaster in the box from Sera and stick it into place.

He lets his top drop again and passes me a piece of splintered stick. ‘You were firing with a broken arrow, no wonder you were six inches too low. If you’re aiming for my heart, you’ll have to try again.’

I’m smiling like a crazy person despite wishing I could crawl into a hole. ‘Maybe next year?’ Like I’ll be around – of course I damn well won’t.

It’s definitely not that he’s smouldering – that’s just the colour of his eyes. ‘I might have sailed off into the sunset by then.’ As he stands and squares up to me, I can’t be the only one to have noticed the width of his shoulders. His low-slung jeans. The bulge below that scuffed leather belt. ‘One last chance to take aim while I’m stationary … It’s a lot harder to hit a moving target.’

I snap my eyes shut to close out the view, then flash back at him. ‘And it’s even more impossible if I’m driving at top speed in the opposite direction.’ Hashtag, camper van in a hurry, me getting the hell out of here. Just saying.

Jess is beaming. ‘Except you might not be, Milla.’

‘Cupid’s honour, I will.’ That’s one thing I’m certain of.

She narrows one eye. ‘I’m pretty confident I may be changing your mind on that very soon.’

Windcheater guy chimes in too. ‘If you’re sticking around then keep the permit as long as you want.’

Jess spins round to windcheater guy. ‘So if you’re all plastered up, unless you’d like to propose to anyone here right now and get the bridal ball rolling, we’ll look forward to seeing you again when you’re back to claim your discount. Anything and everything to do with weddings, we take it on. Remember, no job too large or too small!’

He ignores her immediate challenge, but his lips twist again. ‘I’ll see you very soon then.’ He hesitates. ‘Unless I can tempt you to carry on at mine? It’s not my yacht, but it’s big enough for all of us. I can soon whip up some rum and banana pancakes with cream and toffee sauce. You’re very welcome to come aboard.’

I watch Jess weighing it up. Even though she’s with Bart, she’s never one to turn down offers from dreamboats, especially ones with their own sea-going transport.

She sounds a lot more decided than I expected. ‘We’re actually having a small private function here later, so sadly we’ll have to pass on that one.’

That’s Jess speaking for herself but using the royal “we”. In my head I’m already digging into a stack of pancakes with lashings of whipped cream. ‘Well maybe I could …’

Jess lets out a cry. ‘A private party with you as guest of honour, Milla.’ She lets out a husky laugh. ‘Be in the studio in half an hour’s time, I’ve a proposition for you.’

We all know that’s not a tone you argue with. And I’m bracing myself for what she’s going to hit me with. Because however much I dislike what she might suggest, I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to resist.

But on the plus side, I’ve got through tonight without too much wailing in public. I have slightly impaled a customer, but I’ve managed not to spill drinks on anyone. And even though I’m a crappy cupid, it’s probably better that my arrow didn’t score a direct hit on windcheater guy’s heart. I’m in enough trouble with that one as it is.

Chapter 3

Friday, Valentine’s Day.

The Studio, Brides by the Sea, St Aidan.

Bubbles and big bangs.

‘I’d love to be heading into our anniversary year with business looking up not down, Milla, but like everyone else, we’ve felt the squeeze lately.’

Poppy, Jess, and I have climbed the narrow winding stairs leading from the downstairs showroom to the studio, crossed the creaking waxed-wood floor, and now we’re peering out of the small square panes of the sash window at the far end of the room. Far below, the dark ripples of the water are giving way to pale lines of breakers as they slide backwards and forwards up the beach. And after the upbeat whoosh of free cocktails, the truth feels like a chilly wind. I know the fun has gone out of weddings for me for a totally different reason but where the industry was seriously overheating seven years ago, now it’s entering an ice age. I’m just surprised a rock-solid outfit like Jess’s is feeling the effects.

‘You’re surely not telling me Brides by the Sea is in trouble?’

Jess raises an eyebrow. ‘We never use the “t” word here, Milla. Even when a mother-of-the-groom chopped too much off the bottom of a beautiful bridal dress the night before the wedding, we called it an issue not a disaster.’

Poppy’s face crumples. ‘Truly, that must have been the worst night, but I missed it because I was in hospital with fake contractions.’ She turns to me. ‘Didn’t you do a blog piece about it afterwards?’

I’m nodding. ‘It did feature in my tips for taking care with dress alterations. It would be less of a problem now since the most forward-thinking Bristol brides are showing ankles.’

Poppy blows out a breath. ‘The point was, everyone pulled together and by morning they came through smiling.’

Jess nods. ‘Just as we will this time.’

As I look around the white-painted walls of the studio, the half-finished dresses hanging on rails are silky in the pools of light from hanging shades. There are fragments of lace scattered across the work area, and sketches and scraps of pictures covering the pinboard and I’m already thinking what a gift of a piece the studio will make for my Brides Go West wedding blog. It was Poppy who gave me a scoop introduction for a blog piece a few years ago when celebrity Josie Redman chose Sera, Jess’s main designer, to make her wedding dress. It’s always been one of my favourite bridal shops to visit.

Better still, the shop is the perfect inspiration for copy in winter when there are fewer real weddings to feature. I write all the Brides Go West social media content, so I’m always on the lookout for pretty things to photograph and new angles for pieces. By the time I’ve trawled every corner here I’ll have inspiration to keep our followers clicking through until more weddings start up again in the spring.

Jess may have put a flute of Prosecco in my hand, but we’re in the same business. She watches the bubbles rising in her glass and the bow on the low neck of her chiffon blouse heaves as she takes a breath. ‘It’s no secret – in a global economic slowdown, weddings are the first casualty.’

I usually leave conversations like this to Phoebe. Talking about anything global makes me feel like someone else is moving my mouth. ‘Most people just don’t have the cash to splash anymore.’

‘In a nutshell, Milla, that’s my point exactly.’ Jess taps a pale russet nail on the windowsill. ‘Weddings without limits took the shop to fabulous places but we have to face it – those heady days are over.’

I know exactly what she means. ‘Suppliers used to fight to get a place at our wedding fairs, but lately a lot of them can’t afford it. In the city now it’s more about budgets than blow-outs. And being kind to the planet, of course.’

Jess’s stare is intense. ‘This is why you’re invaluable, Milla. Whatever the cosmopolitan brides are embracing will be trending here next season.’

I smile. ‘Meghan certainly turned the bridal mindset upside down when she walked down the aisle in that classically simple dress of hers. And more and more brides are going for gowns like Ellie Goulding’s, with high necks and statement sleeves.’ Sensing Jess nodding, I’m throwing it all in. ‘But today’s couples think about every penny before they spend it. And when they do, vegan menus are big, silent discos are popping up everywhere, and some couples are even going alcohol-free.’

Poppy’s nodding in agreement. ‘That’s true. We had one of those over Christmas at Daisy Hill Farm. They had afternoon tea, then it was berry cordial all the way until home time.’

Jess has her disgusted-of-St-Aidan face on and her voice rises to a rant. ‘This is what we’re up against – pinching the pennies, lace-free and no booze! How bloody boring is that?’ She blows out a breath. ‘The good part is, people will always get married. We’ve always offered our brides amazing value and the most startlingly beautiful, exquisite products. If there are fewer brides per square mile, we’ll simply have to expand our reach.’ She pauses to give me a piercing stare ‘Which is where you and your alchemy come in, Milla.’

‘My what?’ Just when I’m giving myself silent cheers for keeping up, my patchy education comes back to haunt me. I’ve never quite got over being the only person in any room without a single exam under their belt. The thing is, back then, missing the exams happened without me noticing. But there are big gaps in my knowledge. It’s the strangest thing – when you do know something, it’s often no big deal; when you don’t, the chasm between you and everyone else is huge.

As a teenager, when Mum was ill, she never actually asked me to stay home. Her illness started as a tingle in her fingers and ended in total paralysis. At first, all we noticed was her stumbling. But as her condition got worse, she needed me there to look after her and I couldn’t do anything else. So long as my younger brothers went to school, that was all that mattered to me.

If it happened now, I’m sure there would be social workers chasing me down. But back then the teachers understood we were struggling and were kind enough not to cause us any more grief. I was a write-off. The important thing was that my mum saw my brothers come through with straight A’s before we lost her.

Looking after my mum certainly gave me a strong stomach for the grittier side of life. Her illness was always two jumps ahead of us; as she was able to do less and less, I always felt like I was failing. And when it was all over, everyone assumed it would be a relief. But the only way I can describe it is that it felt like someone had split my chest open with an axe, then wrenched my heart out.

Somehow I stumbled my way to Bristol, and when all I had to do was work forty-five hours a week, and I could sleep whenever I wasn’t clubbing, it felt like a part-time job. But gradually it dawned on me that there’s a lot more to life than being capable. Being able to balance a bed pan and a breakfast tray while sticking on morphine patches and sorting out hospital transport only takes you so far.

But that’s why it was so great for me when I accidentally hit on the wedding promotion business. My only claims to self-taught fame are knowing Photoshop inside out and being able to build a webpage in my sleep, and both of those were invaluable for the blog side of the work. With the wedding knowledge I’ve gathered along the way, I’ve somehow become an accidental expert in an area I adore. When it comes to weddings, I can hold my own with anyone, and I can’t tell you how great that feels. As for discussions like this one, I’d usually have Phoebe around for backup. We might have been in an equal partnership, but we both know she’s the one in charge. And that’s why, in spite of everything, a part of me is still wishing she were here now – simply because she’d smooth through a meeting like this standing on her head.

‘Hard times call for an inventive approach, Milla.’ Jess is tapping her nail on her glass. ‘This is why we’re desperate for your input with the Faceplant side.’

Poppy stifles a smile. ‘That’s Jess’s affectionate name for Facebook.’

I catch Poppy’s wink from behind a dressmaker’s dummy and take my chance to slide back into the conversation. ‘I can certainly do a lot with your social media.’ It’s barely there, so it won’t be hard.

Jess is nodding back. ‘And the anniversary wedding fairs you’re helping us organise will boost business too.’

‘Absolutely.’ That’s one of Phoebe’s favourite words; she says it all the time. It seems to be working for me here, even though I can’t quite make myself smooth through to the snorty bah she always does after it.

But doing the fairs for Jess is another of my comfort zones, thanks to my long lists of fabulous suppliers and exhibitors all over the south west, built up over the years since Phoebe got married. Messaging them and signing enough of them up for the shows shouldn’t be too difficult. Until I find a new career, I’m going all-out with the blog and adding in some fairs for Jess.

Jess is giving me a searching stare. ‘Poppy tells me Phoebe is usually the frontwoman for the fairs you do.’

I’m nodding. ‘And obviously you and the shop staff will be fronting these ones.’

Jess’s nostrils are flaring. ‘We’re very keen on professional development here. It’ll be good for you to try that role too.’ She obviously has no idea about my total inability to look impressive or tidy, or she wouldn’t be suggesting this.

I’m not actually sure I could stay straight-faced for an entire day either, but I’m too professional to mention that now. ‘Brill. Anything to do with weddings, I’m always up for a challenge.’ I’d never get a chance like that with Phoebe, that’s for sure. And if I think of it as a possible launchpad to a new career, I can put up with the pain.

As I glance at my phone, I see this has taken all of two minutes. Not that I’ve got any particular reason to go, because however many pictures of whipped cream and pancakes there are flashing through my head, I won’t be heading for the harbourside. But I might persuade Poppy to nip down to the Hungry Shark with me after all. ‘So if that’s everything …?’

Jess is laughing. ‘I’m sorry if you’re anxious to finish what you started with Nic Trendell, but I allocated us half an hour. That means there’s twenty-three minutes of talking left to do.’

I’m frowning. ‘I’m not sure I know anyone called Nic Trendell.’

As Jess flips a Polaroid photo out of her trouser pocket, I see Poppy and me laughing at the camera with windcheater guy jammed between us. I let out a shudder. Barely two hours ago I was pashing his face off; I could do without the everlasting reminder.

‘The man from the loveseat wearing the Jean Paul Gaultier spray, remember? Not many guys can carry off the extreme version. Did you hear he sailed the Atlantic too?’ Jess beams as she pushes the photo into my palm. ‘I snapped an extra in case you wanted your own copy.’

It seems rude to say I’d be more likely to want to eat my own head, so I wrinkle my nose at Poppy, try not to think about the way my heart was clattering earlier in the van, and drop it in my bag. Then, to show I’m grateful I down my Prosecco in one, so I’m ready to run when the moment’s right. Which wasn’t a great idea because before my flute hits the coaster on the cutting table, Jess has it fully topped up again.

‘So that’s one Nic I definitely won’t be getting to know.’ Along with every other one in the world.

Jess lets out a chortle. ‘I doubt you’d be too comfortable stowing away on his yacht. If it fits in the harbour here, it can’t be that luxurious.’ She turns to me again. ‘So if all Poppy’s cottages are full for half-term, where are you staying?’

Like a lot of other things, I’m glossing over this. As comfy accommodation goes, it’s a total disaster. ‘It’s called The Loft.’ The reviews from last July were dazzling, but I totally missed the ones saying that in February the gale howls through it so hard you’d get less windburn sleeping on the beach. I was there for all of five minutes earlier and that was nearly enough to give me frostbite.

Jess half closes one eye. ‘That’s the place with the draughts, isn’t it?’ Her nostrils flare again. ‘When I first came here, I’d just split from my ex and I slept on the floor of the flower store. It wasn’t great, but at least it means I recognise a person in need when I see one.’ Jess pats my hand. ‘When times are really tough, it usually means they’re about to get better.’

My mum used to say something very similar. Always believe something wonderful is about to happen, Milla. Then it will.

I’m just glad she isn’t here to see what a mess I’ve made of everything. But her voice is so real in my head it has me biting my lip and swallowing hard. I’m used to holding it together, but Jess being kind is making me crumble. I can’t possibly start to cry now when I’m trying so hard to look serious and capable.

Poppy’s smiling too, and she comes close enough to give my hand a little squeeze. ‘What Jess wants to say is that she’s happy to let you use the little attic flat here whenever you need it. Starting now.’

At least the shock stops my tears. ‘Not the one with the sloping ceilings and the little round windows?’ It’s where Poppy stayed a few years ago, and I’ve often called in since when she’s been doing her baking there.

Poppy’s laughing. ‘You’d have to promise to work as a cupcake taster too.’

‘But that would be brilliant. Thank you so much.’ My smile widens as I think of the next couple of weeks curled up snug on a sofa, the scent of Poppy’s chocolate muffins wafting through from the kitchen, instead of freezing my bum off in The Loft.

Jess nods. ‘Why not have it for the next few months?’

My stomach has dropped. Running the fairs for the shop will mean I’ll be visiting more this year, but when I planned my trip I was thinking ten days was a long time to be away from the city. Much as I love the thought of St Aidan as a bolthole, it’s pretty much the end of my world, not the centre.

Poppy’s nudging me. ‘It’s only until you get back on your feet again. Weren’t we saying earlier how great new starts can be?’ Thankfully she doesn’t catch my eye.

Jess is beaming and seems to have missed that my cheeks have flushed beetroot red. ‘If you had the attic as a base, you’d be on the spot for the other consultancy work I had in mind too.’

‘Consultancy?’ If I’m repeating it in a really high voice, it’s only because it sounds more suited to Phoebe than me.

Poppy’s laughing again. ‘No need to panic, Mills. It’s hard to find an actual job description for what Jess is thinking of.’ She sends me another wink.

Jess is purring. ‘Brides by the Sea is planning to offer a bespoke “go the extra mile” service to couples. And you’re our number one candidate for the work.’

I’m confused. ‘But what does it mean?’

Jess’s eyes are shining. ‘The whole point is that we’ll only know what’s needed when people actually ask. But it will be very exclusive, and it has the potential to super-charge our turnover.’

My insides are fluttering with the sudden uncertainty. ‘You mean exclusive as in … expensive?’

Jess nods. ‘Any service this tailored has to come at a price. Obviously we’ll take our cut, but you’ll be very well remunerated. And it’s supremely flexible too.’

Poppy’s nodding frantically now. ‘In other words, the pay will be fantastic, you’ll never be bored, and you can fit the jobs around your other commitments.’

When I think of being at the far end of Cornwall, hours from lovely, buzzing Bristol, light years from fabulous London, on a bit of land sticking out into the sea, there’s a shudder thudding down my spine – and not in a good way. But I’m also thinking about the money I borrowed from my brothers when we expanded Brides Go West. Even though they say they’re loaded and what does a few grand each matter anyway, it would be so great to pay that back. And even if it’s not where I’d ideally choose to be, if we’re talking about widening my wedding experience, this could be another huge opportunity. If I’m dreaming of flying away from weddings altogether, this could give me the wings I need. So long as I can stomach a double dose of weddings in the meantime, which I’m not sure I can.

Jess is holding my gaze. ‘As for upcoming jobs, they’re super-confidential – but we’ve got a bride whose best friends are across the world and unavailable. She simply wants a right-hand woman on the day.’

Poppy’s face is eager. ‘It’s like being head bridesmaid, but without the dress. You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’

I’m nodding. ‘Me being chief bridesmaid for Phoebe was the start of Brides Go West.’ It all grew from the blog I did called My Best Friend’s Wedding. We’d only met the year before at Costa, but by the time Phoebe said ‘I do’ we were both hooked on weddings. Growing the blog and running fairs was a great way to leave the coffee machines behind and do what we loved instead. Which is exactly the kind of lifestyle leap I’m looking for now. If I’ve done it once, it should be possible again.

Jess’s eyes are shining now. ‘How about you start there and we’ll take each new job as it comes after that?’

I’m thinking of that tiny kitchen in the sky with the bright blue cupboards. And the cash. But from somewhere else there’s a fantasy of a thought that if I take this offer, at some point down the line, I may never have to see Phoebe or Ben ever again. And if that’s the final clincher that pushes me over the edge, I’ll never know. But for some reason I’m hearing my own voice from a distance saying:

‘Great, I’ll take them both – the work, and the flat!’ Then my sensible self catches up. ‘At least until spring.’ A few weeks away from Bristol … even I should be able to manage that. As for the extra dose of all things bridal? Well, sometimes to get where you want, you have to suffer first. So long as I think of it like that, I can grit my teeth and put up with it.

‘So, welcome to Brides by the Sea, Milla. I promise you won’t regret this.’ Jess is sloshing more fizz into our glasses. ‘Didn’t I tell you you’d be leaving the bad times behind? And you know what else we need to work on? You feeling like you have to say yes to everyone, all the time!’

The irony isn’t lost on me. But as Sera appears to ask if we’re ready to join the party downstairs it feels like a done deal.

Chapter 4

Saturday, one week later.

The attic flat, Brides by the Sea.

Desert islands and muffin tops.

A whole week later, as I ease open my eyes and let in the pale light of another morning in the little attic flat, I’m listening to the cries of seagulls wheeling high above and the distant crash of waves on the shore below. If I’m missing the rumble of the traffic, it’s only what I expected. I left here for Bristol when I was twenty-one … when we lost Mum. It’s not a thing you ever get over, but after a few blurry years you learn how to hold yourself together every time you re-remember, instead of falling apart. The noise of the city and numbing my brain at the all-night dance clubs somehow helped me cope with the gaping chasm where Mum should have been; if I’d stayed around here, I might just have walked into the sea.

As I push back the duvet, kneel on the high bed under the low sloping ceiling, and lean towards the round porthole window, I shudder at the resounding emptiness of all that ocean. It’s no less desolate or uncomfortable than it was the first morning. There’s just such a jarring contrast compared to where I’ve come from, and the flat I’ve left behind forever.

The old place was clunky and Victorian. Not all the rooms were nicely decorated and some of the plaster was flaking, but at least they were ours. When we moved in, a part of me felt like it was so amazing it had to be too good to be true … which turned out to be pretty accurate, because in the end it was.

The things I liked most about that flat, other people couldn’t see. I adored the constant revving of the engines from the road outside, in the same way people here lap up the noise of the sea. Far from being a problem, the wail of sirens in the early hours was a reminder that I was surrounded by civilisation. I loved that there were twenty all-night takeaways within a few hundred steps of the door, that I never had to worry about going hungry or shopping ahead. Of only being around the corner from a major A&E department. Not that I ever used it myself. I suppose it’s a hangover from when my mum was ill, and we were at the hospital so often that I came to view it as the place that always sorted out our crises. As a healthy person, it’s always great to know if you break your leg or have a heart attack, you’re only ever two minutes away from being saved. You can’t underestimate how secure that made me feel.