As Jess slips away, Immie’s starting to rant.
‘Do I look like I’m ready to be transformed into a trifle?’
To be fair, she’s a committed jeans and sweatshirt girl, so I’m not sure how this is going to go. The last time she wore a skirt out of school was probably when she was a carnival rosebud, thirty years ago. I don’t have to dig too deep to come up with the kind of bribe she’ll go for.
‘You try on the dress, Immie, and we’ll send Sera for another bottle of fizz.’
Sera grins at me and heads for the stairs.
Immie rolls her eyes, and sighs, but she gets up. As soon as she’s on her feet I shoulder her into the fitting room, shove the dress in with her, and whisk the curtain closed.
Cate and I take deep breaths as we retire to a safe distance.
Cate frowns and turns to me. ‘I’ve been thinking, you can’t struggle with a man as difficult as Rafe from now until September.’ She runs her fingers through her hair. ‘There must be something we can do to soften him up.’
I shrug. ‘He doesn’t respond to cake.’
Cate sniffs. ‘He probably needs a good roll in the hay, we’ll have to find him a woman.’
After Immie’s rundown on the history of his nonexistent love life, I grin. ‘Good luck with that one.’
‘There is one person he doesn’t object to.’ Cate’s lips are flickering. ‘Immie has him eating out of her hand. That has to mean something.’
I’m not sure I agree with Cate here. ‘It means she scares the bejesus out of him.’
‘But he spends a lot of time with Morgan,’ Cate observes.
She’s right about that. Morgan’s always dragging what I assume to be bits of broken tractor round the farmyard after Rafe.
‘Rafe wouldn’t take an interest in Morgan if he wasn’t interested in Immie, would he?’ Cate leans in, and she’s whispering. ‘In the interest of smoothing the way for my wedding …’ She says those two last words very close and very loudly. ‘I think you might need to sprinkle some cupid dust on Rafe and Immie, okay?’
I reel. Cate’s not usually this forceful. ‘Hold it there Bridezilla, how exactly am I supposed to do that?’
‘Organise a Daisy Hill Farm night out, and we’ll work on it together.’
‘Night out?’ I query, as I sink onto a stripy director’s chair. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Cocktails here in town might be good?’ Cate gives a satisfied nod, as if it’s already in the bag. ‘You’ll thank me for this. It’ll make the run up to the wedding easier for all of us.’
Cate’s wiggling her eyebrows excitedly. ‘We could start at Jaggers.’
‘You go to Jaggers too? So does Jess.’ If I hadn’t already sunk into a chair, I would do now.
‘We often call in there on Fridays, they do great mojitos, you should try them.’ She shakes her head at me. ‘You need to get out more, Poppy. Starting this week. I’ve been too easy on you, giving you the excuse of babysitting for me. I shouldn’t be taking advantage. You need a life too.’
And here’s me thinking that Cate and Liam barely get further than the village pub. Has the whole world gone mad while I’ve been hiding under my duvet?
‘Everything going okay here?’ Jess breezes through the doorway that leads to the shoe department, a pair of rhinestone stilettos balanced on each hand.
‘Immie’s currently trying the Miranda, in blush,’ I tell her. Every dress in the shop is allocated a different girls name, and that’s how we refer to them.
‘Well done, we don’t often get bridesmaids as reluctant as Immie,’ Jess raises her eyebrows. ‘There’s good news from downstairs too, Poppy.’
‘Celebrity gossip?’ Given the fall out after last week’s Josie Redman Twitter storm and Sera’s huge spike in popularity, I’m not sure I can cope with more.
‘No, no much closer to home … I think I’ve found your lost couple.’ Jess flashes a triumphant beam. ‘My six o’clock bride just mentioned she’s getting married at Daisy Hill Farm the week before Easter. I’ll give you her number later.’ Jess gazes doubtfully at the shoes in her hands. ‘I’m not sure these will mix with mud though. If you’re going to be putting on lots of weddings in fields we’ll need to order in some sparkly wellies.’
Before I have time to tell Jess that any weddings in fields will be strictly short term she’s sped off back to her bride, and Immie is pushing her way out of the fitting room, face like a stormy sea.
‘Great news, we’ve found our missing Easter bride.’ I say it brightly to take her mind off what she’s wearing.
Immie’s talking through gritted teeth. ‘Well my news is, I’d rather wear the curtains than this dress.’ She’s wading through waves of chiffon.
As Cate and I stand back to assess, I’m ready for the worst.
We both hold our breath.
‘It is a bit long,’ I say, ‘but actually you’ve got curves for the first time since … forever.’ It’s surprising to think Immie’s been hiding that hour glass figure under her baggy T-shirts. ‘You have to admit, you’re looking pretty sassy.’ Despite her cropped hair, the pretty dress suits her.
Immie’s holding her hand in front of her chest, screwing up her face. ‘You know I hate fitting rooms,’ she protests. ‘I refuse to look, it’s too humiliating.’
Cate bites her lip. ‘If you lose the anger, and have a yard chopped off the bottom, you’ll look amazing. Maybe with a little tiara too …’
Immie lets out a yowl. ‘I’m not wearing a fucking …’
Cate laughs. ‘Okay, no tiaras.’ She bites back a grin. ‘How about floral crowns made from daisies?’
‘Worse and worse.’ Immie’s pulling her vomit face again.
‘There’s no such thing as a happy bridesmaid,’ I say to Sera. Given she’s brought up three bottles of prosecco, I’d say she’s catching on fast.
‘Okay, my turn next.’ I grab a Miranda in cream, and head into the empty fitting room.
I’ve helped with enough bridesmaid fittings this last few months to know the majority of bridesmaids walk down the aisle in a dress they would prefer not to be wearing. But they all love their brides too much to argue. I’m already cringing at how the scoop back is going to show off my muffin tops. But that’s a minor worry when I think that next week I’m going to have to make contact with a bride and groom to plan their special day and admit I know nothing about it. And somehow I have to persuade the worst tempered guy in Cornwall to come out for cocktails. Cate might think throwing Immie and Rafe together is the recipe for true love and an easy year, but from what I know of both of them, tiaras or no tiaras, it’s more likely to cause World War Three.
In the office at Daisy Hill Farm: Monday blues and craggy trees
Things to do first thing Monday …
Chase up the missing Bride and Groom, who’ve had their phone off all weekend
Tackle Rafe about sharing office with chickens!!!!
Chase up Portaloo company
Organise work trip