‘So, do you have any news, Tom?’ Janice blurts out in sudden desperation. ‘Has anything happened? Anything to tell? Big, small … anything? Anything at all?’ She’s leaning forward on her chair like a seal ready to catch a fish.
‘Well, yes.’ Tom gives the tiniest of grins. ‘As it happens, we do.’ And for the first time, he and Jess exchange one of those ‘Shall we tell them?’ looks.
Oh my God.
They really are! They’re engaged!
Mum and Janice have both stiffened on the sofa; in fact, Janice looks like she’s about to implode. Suze winks at me and I grin back happily. We’ll have such fun! We can start buying Brides and I’ll help Jess choose her wedding dress, and she’s not wearing some dreary old recycled hemp thing, even if it is greener—
‘Jess and I would like to announce …’ Tom looks happily around the room. ‘We’re married.’
FOUR
Everyone’s still in a state of shock. I mean, obviously it’s great that Tom and Jess are married. It’s fab. It’s just we all feel like we’ve missed a step.
Did they have to do it in Chile in some tiny registry office with only two witnesses and not even let us watch on Skype? We could have had a party. We could have toasted them. Jess says they didn’t even have any champagne. They drank some local beer, apparently.
Beer.
There are some things I don’t understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only single thing she got out of her wedding was a husband.
(I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)
And poor old Janice! As they announced the news, her face rose and fell like a rollercoaster. You could tell she was trying desperately to look happy and supportive, as if a distant wedding in Chile that she wasn’t even invited to was exactly what she’d hoped for all along. Except that a tiny tear in the corner of her eye gave her away. Especially after Jess said they didn’t want a reception at the golf club, or a wedding list at John Lewis, and refused point-blank to dress up in a hired wedding dress and pose for photos with Janice and Martin in the garden.
Janice looked so miserable, I nearly volunteered to instead. It sounded quite fun, actually, and I saw some amazing wedding dresses in the window of Liberty the other day …
Anyway, I suppose that wouldn’t exactly have been the point.
I finish doing my lipgloss and stand back to survey my reflection. I just hope Janice is more cheerful today. It’s supposed to be a celebration, after all.
I smooth my outfit down and do a little twirl in front of the mirror. I’m wearing this amazing deep-blue dress with a fake-fur hem, long button boots and a fake-fur muff. Plus I’ve got a long coat edged with braid, and a huge fake-fur hat.
Minnie’s sitting on my bed trying on all my hats, which is her favourite occupation. She’s in a little fur-trimmed dress, too, and white boots that make her look like a skater. I am so into this Russian theme – in fact, I’m toying with getting Reverend Parker to christen her Minska.
Minska Katinka Karenina Brodsky Brandon.
‘Come on, Minska!’ I say experimentally. ‘Time to go and get christened! Take off that hat.’
‘Mine.’ She clings on to my red Phillip Treacy with the big feather. ‘Mine hat.’
She looks so cute, I can’t bring myself to drag it off her. Plus I might rip the feather. And does it really matter if she wears a hat?
‘OK, darling.’ I relent. ‘You can wear the hat. Now, let’s go.’ I hold out my hand.
‘Mine.’ She instantly clings on to the Balenciaga bag which was lying on the bed. ‘Mine. Miiiine.’
‘Minnie, that’s Mummy’s bag,’ I point out reasonably. ‘You’ve got your own little bag. Shall we find it?’
‘Miiiiine! Miiiiine bag!’ she cries furiously and backs away from me. She’s holding on to the Balenciaga bag like it’s the last lifebelt in the ocean and she’s not about to relinquish it to anybody.
‘Minnie …’ I sigh.
To be fair, she does have a point. The Balenciaga bag is way nicer than her own little toy bag. Put it this way, if I were being christened, I’d want a Balenciaga bag too.
‘Well, OK. You have it and I’ll take the Miu Miu. But just for today. Now give me those sunglasses …’
‘Miiiine! Miiiine!’
She clings on to the vintage Seventies shades which she swiped from my dressing table earlier. They’re pink hearts and keep slipping down her nose.
‘Minnie, you can’t go to your christening in sunglasses. Don’t be so silly!’ I try to sound severe.
Although actually, she’s rocking quite a good look, what with the hat, the pink shades and the Balenciaga bag.
‘Well … fine,’ I say at last. ‘Just don’t break them.’
As we stand in front of the mirror in our Russian dresses, I can’t help feeling a swell of pride. Minnie looks so gorgeous. Maybe Suze is right. Maybe today will change Luke’s mind. He’ll see her looking adorable and instantly soften and decide he wants a whole brood of ten.
(Actually, he’d better not. There’s no way I’m doing the birth thing ten times. Even twice is asking a lot and the only way I’ll get through it another time is by focusing on the matching pom-pom hats.)
Speaking of Luke, where is he? He popped into the office this morning, but he swore he’d be back by eleven. It’s quarter to, already.