Emmie doesn’t have any words when she takes her first sight of me in my dress. She just shakes her head in disbelief. After she struggles in vain for some words to say she just pulls me into an awkward hug as not to ruin our dresses. I’m so dazed it takes me a while to notice that she is not wearing the hideous bridesmaid dresses Cora picked out. The floor length emerald green dress she is wearing is actually stunning. She catches my questioning looks and then smiles.
“What? Do you think you were the only one wriggling out of the terrible dress situation?” she asks me with a smile. I chuckle as I admire the dress.
“It’s lovely. You look lovely,” I say.
“Yeah but look at you,” Emmie laughs while gesturing to my dress. I jokingly do a twirl for her trying my best not to get the foot of my heels getting trapped in my dress.
“I know it goes without saying, but I’m so happy for you,” she tells me as she grips hold of me before I have the chance to topple over.
“To think a little over a year ago I was a jobless nobody,” I giggle as the entire idea of how far I have come suddenly seems ridiculous. How on earth did all this happen to just one person?
“Izzie, you were never a nobody,” she says gently. That makes tears well up in my eyes. I feel like cursing because I promised myself that I wouldn’t become a hysterical bride.
“That’s strike one. You’re not allowed to cry,” Emmie warns me. I take a deep breath of air to calm myself which helps.
“Come on then, we’ve got to show everyone else,” Emmie says while grabbing my hand and leading me out the door.
The rustle of my dress as I carefully walk down the hall fills my stomach with a giddy glee. In the living room, waiting for me, are my other three bridesmaids, Mum, Dad and Ollie’s parents; all waiting to get their first sight of me in my wedding dress. With a nervous anticipation I edge open the door and listen as the previous chatter immediately stops. I can distinctly hear my Mum as she takes a sharp intake of breath. I’m slightly nervous but the excitement bubbling up and rising within me is too strong to bear. So I push open the door a little more and then walk into the middle of the room.
I can’t help but grin as all eyes are on me from the moment I step into the room. I look from face to face taking in everyone’s stares of amazement with a glow of pride. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this beautiful, ever felt this lucky or ever felt this indescribably happy. I look at Mum who immediately responds with a deep breath in the hope of halting the tears which are watering up in her eyes. The intense happiness shining inside me suddenly manifests itself in a desire to cry with pure joy but thankfully one of my bridesmaids is on the ball.
“No! No one is allowed to cry. Especially you Isabelle,” Mandy instructs. At this Kate leaps up off her chair and opens her handbag which seems to be able to hold an impossible amount of objects. After a few moments of rifling through what appears to be a survival kit stashed away in there she produces a packet of tissues and begins to bury my face in an assault of tissues.
“Okay, I’m not crying anymore,” I say with determination in order to stop Kate. It takes her a few more moments to believe me but eventually she puts the tissues away. I make a note to avoid crying at all costs. Although this seems like it will be a hard task to manage as when I look back around the room not only is my Mum crying but so is Ollie’s Mum and Emmie.
“Please stop you’re going to set me off,” I beg, keeping in mind Kate and her tissues.
“We’re just so happy it’s not the god-awful-you’ve-been-swallowed-by-a-marshmallow dress,” quips Mandy. I shoot her mock death glares and she sticks her tongue out of me.
“The cars are here,” Emmie announces as she spots them out the window.
“Are you ready?” Dad asks me while rising to his feet. I nod and so he places my arm in his. I need him for the support as my legs have begun to shake to such extent that I don’t think I could make it down the driveway on my own.
So this is where the perfect wedding descends into the hilarious disaster Cora has created for me. But to my surprise the transport she has arranged is normal. In fact it’s more than normal, it’s probably what I would have picked had I a say in my own wedding. Various cream coloured vintage cars, decorated with flowers and ribbon, wait for us on the driveway. With the help of absolutely everyone I am lowered into the car in extreme care as Mum takes charge of the careful process of folding my dress in after me.
“These cars are beautiful,” I mumble to no one in particular. It’s just me expressing the overwhelming thoughts floating around my head. I suppose Emmie must have heard me as once I am settled she lowers her head in.
“Another one of Ollie’s surprises,” Emmie whispers into my ear.
“Surprises? Plural?” I question dumbstruck. But Emmie just winks back at me as she closes the door. When Dad gets in beside me I turn to him with a questioning gaze.
“Is there something going on that I don’t know about here?” I ask him.
“What would make you think that?” he replies. I consider his expression for a while and find nothing of suspicion. So I tell my imagination to shut up.
“Nothing,” I say with a dismissive smile. I notice that my hands are shaking. I’m too excited to attempt to start polite conversation so we travel in silence. With nothing else to do I toy with my fingers in order to pass the time. I think my Dad mistakes this for nerves as he takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly.
Sitting in the car I’ve realised that ‘surprises’ is referring to the dress and the car: two things. That must be the plural ‘surprises’ Emmie was referring to. I can’t help but sigh as the car turns into the road leading to the converted factory where my wedding will be held. It’s my own stupid fault for letting myself believe, for even just a moment, that there would be a magic solution to this wedding. I keep telling myself to stop focusing on materialistic things and just focus on the making a wonderful commitment part of the day but at the same time it would be nice to look back on my wedding and not have to laugh about how hilariously bad it was. A smile spreads across my Dad’s face he obviously hasn’t noticed my unenthusiastic response to the venue. I fix my eyes on the looming factory hoping to god that suddenly something will click and I’ll realise this is in actual fact a really nice venue. No such luck I still hate it. Wait. The driver has missed the turn in, great. Just another thing to go wrong today. But I stop my thoughts there. I am determined to say positive. Cora can do whatever the hell she likes just as long as I leave this place with the title of Mrs. Daniels.
“Ah would you look at that the driver has taken a wrong turn! Or has he?” my Dad says cryptically. I shoot him a confused look but he is just smiling back at me. “I’ve been instructed to put this on you,” he explains while producing a blind fold and fastening it around my head.
“Dad what? Careful, watch the hair!” I exclaim.“What is going on? I knew something was going on.” But my Dad just chuckles as I am left in the dark. You can take that metaphorically and literally. This blind fold means that I can’t see a thing.
My attempts to squeeze some facts out of my Dad are useless. He just chuckles the more and more I get worked up and then shrugs off my questions with the same vague reply:“You’ll see.” When the car pulls to a slow I still have no idea what is going on and the delight that was previously rising in my chest has been replaced by panic. I had just about got my head around the whole ‘you’re going to hate your wedding now deal with it’ concept. But I really can’t cope with the ‘it’s your wedding day and you have no idea what’s going on or where you are’ new concept which I am currently facing.
“Are we here?” I ask.
“That question I can answer, yes we’re here.”
“Where are we?” I ask. “Let me guess ‘you’ll see,’” I add before my Dad can answer. That causes him to laugh again. Assuming I’m allowed to remove my blindfold I reach up my hand to take it off.
“Wait until you’re outside,” my Dad says as I feel his hand on mine, guiding it back down.
“Why?” I ask.
“Ollie’s instructions.” This explains a lot. I can tell that my panic is rising by the way my heart is thumping against my chest.
“Dad what has he done?” I question nervously. What is going on? I’m the one who does crazy irrational things. Ollie is calm, logical and controlled. My perfect opposite.
“Will you please explain to me what is happening?” I yelp.
“He sacked the wedding planner and with a bit of help organised you another wedding. A wedding he thought you deserved,” my Dad finally reveals the truth.
“HE DID WHAT? But a week ago Cora was… HE REORGANISED THE ENTIRE WEDDING WITH ONLY A WEEK TO GO?” By this point any hope of not sinking to the level of an hysterical bride has gone sailing out the window as I imagine all the chaos which could be going on just outside this car.
“Iz, it’s okay. He’s been working day and night and somehow he has pulled it off,” Dad silences me.
“Now come on it won’t be fair to leave him waiting,” he adds and then helps me out the car.
The second I pull myself upright I tear off the blind fold. When my eyes adjust back to the light I am staring at the Georgian stately home I mentioned months ago at a meeting with Cora. In seconds any anger and annoyance I felt at Ollie fades in moments to be replaced by hysterical sobs.
“Michael! I told you not to let her cry! And look at her hair,” my Mum exclaims in annoyance as she comes hurtling out from behind one of the hedges in the meticulously cared for garden.
“Izzie darling, what’s wrong? Do you not like the venue? Ollie seemed sure it was the right one,” Mum asks me on noticing the state of hysteria I have descended into. I have some wonderfully articulate sentences in my head about how this is the perfect place, how I’m sure that this wonderful man knows me better than I know myself and how lucky I am to be able to call him mine. In a little while I’ll be able to call him mine forever. But all that comes out of my mouth are a few whimpers about ‘perfect’ and ‘lucky’ and bizarrely ‘hmmnnggg’ that are so pathetic the almost sound inhuman.
“I don’t get it? Is she happy or upset?” Dad asks my Mum while looking at me as if I am some escaped lunatic. I suppose I am acting like an escaped lunatic at the moment.
“She’s happy… I think… you are happy aren’t you sweetie?” Mum asks me unsurely. I nod violently as I am unable to answer her in coherent English.
My Mum and Dad are forced to spend a few moments calming me back down again.
“I think the blindfold overwhelmed her,” Mum notes as she pats me comfortingly on the back.
“I don’t think it was the blindfold. It may have something more to do with the fact her whole wedding has been reorganised without her knowing,” Dad replies.
“But it was the shock, wasn’t it?” Mum asks me. I decide to answer quickly to avoid an argument.
“It was just the whole thing. I think I’m fine now,” I answer, they both seem satisfied with my rather vague answer which means disaster averted. At that moment my bridesmaids make an appearance and begin hurtling towards us.
“Uh-oh she’s gone hysterical,” Georgie says as she recoils in horror at my appearance. It seems a long way away from just a short while ago when she, along with everyone else, was staring at me as if the sun shone out of me. At Georgie’s words Kate produces her tissues but Mandy just laughs.
“I think she’s beyond tissues.” I lift my hand to my face and when I examine it, it’s covered in mascara. This is why I didn’t want to be a hysterical bride. I bet I look like a nightmare right now. I probably look like some desperate Miss. Havisham figure.
“Please tell me I don’t have to walk down the aisle like this,” I mutter as I wipe away the tears before they can drip mascara gloop down my dress.
“Don’t panic, the make up artist just arrived. We can do some damage control very quickly and then get you down that aisle,” Emmie instructs. “I’ll just go run and tell Ollie what is going on,” she adds.
“Have you got over the shock yet?” Kate asks me. I just laugh and then give her my reply.
“If you think about it, it makes sense. This is Isabelle Emerson you are talking to. Nothing in my life has ever been logical or straightforward. I’m marrying a film star for goodness sake. Why should my wedding day be any different?”