A Wedding at Sandy Cove: Part 1

Bella Osborne

• Publisher: Avon
• eBook ISBN:
  9780008464967
• Year: 2022

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a bride in search of the perfect dress must be a total pain in the bum.

‘I want to be a princess,’ screamed the diminutive blonde. Ella had seen similar meltdowns many times before at Frills, Frocks and Fairy Tales but usually the culprits were bigger. This one was seven years old and accompanying her stressed-out mother to her first wedding dress appointment.

‘But you are a princess, Angel,’ said her mother as she snatched dresses off the rails and the child ran around the shop like a Tasmanian devil on Red Bull, trampling Ella’s toes and almost knocking over a vase. Ella caught it just in time. Her heart thumped away with the stress of it all. Angel – was that her name or an ironic term of endearment? Ella didn’t like to ask.

‘I want a tiara.’ The little girl was on tiptoes and reaching for the sparkly headgear which was thankfully out of reach.

‘Can she have one?’ asked the mother. She leant in conspiratorially and whispered, ‘To play with.’

‘They start at a hundred and twenty pounds and if she were to break it then—’

‘Okay. I get it. Come here, Angel, and help Mummy choose a pretty dress.’

The child gave Ella a parting glare and she disappeared between two dresses. Ella hoped her hands were clean. Wanda would have a fit if she found sticky marks on any of the gowns. Wanda owned Frills, Frocks and Fairy Tales; but she was late in this morning because her grandmother was unwell. This happened quite regularly and Ella was certain that Wanda had forgotten telling her that all her grandparents were dead. Clearly this ailing grandma was fictional. But then it was Wanda’s shop so it wasn’t for Ella to scrutinise her excuses. Wanda paid Ella to be the dedicated seamstress for the store and it was a job that Ella loved. Sales was Wanda’s territory; finding the right gown for a bride really wasn’t her forte – she was far better suited to being behind the scenes. She also had a lot of work to be getting on with, she needed to hurry Flora, the bride-to-be, along.

‘What sort of dress did you have in mind?’ she asked.

Flora did something akin to jazz hands before pulling a tatty-looking notebook from her bag. ‘I started this when I was a kid. And I’ve cut out articles and pictures over the years and popped them in. It’s my wedding scrapbook.’

She opened it up and handed it to Ella. ‘I like this neckline and this skirt style or that one, or this look but with that sort of bodice but more sparkly.’ She pointed at so many different things it almost sent Ella cross-eyed. ‘Although not exactly the same as that one because it’s a bit tacky. I also like this, and this and that if it were less shiny. Oh, and a puddle train.’ She looked very pleased with her requirements. To Ella it was like Frankenstein was creating a wedding dress. Ella wasn’t sure how to tell her that she’d not seen anything quite like that and there was probably a good reason why. ‘I guess everyone has one of these. Don’t they?’ said Flora proudly thumbing the scruffy book.

‘Er. I’ve not seen one quite like this,’ said Ella diplomatically. ‘Do you have a budget in mind?’ She knew Wanda would be appalled that she’d asked this question as her aim was to sell the most expensive dress possible.

Flora turned a few pages in the scrap book. Ella caught sight of some peephole bras. ‘Wedding night lingerie,’ Flora explained, hastily turning the page. She tapped her finger near some workings out. Her budget was at the lower end of the store’s stock but they did have some beautiful dresses she could afford.

‘Let me choose a few styles for you to try on and then you’ll start to get a feel for how they look on your shape.’

‘I want to try on a dress too!’ said the little girl, her face appearing between two dresses not unlike Jack Nicholson in The Shining, only scarier.

‘Are you a bridesmaid or a flower girl perhaps?’ asked Ella.

The mother’s expression hardened. ‘She’s an attendant. We don’t like gender stereotypes.’

‘Right. Sorry,’ said Ella, feeling chastened. The bride gave a tight smile. ‘Does she need an outfit?’ asked Ella deliberately avoiding the word ‘dress’.

‘She wants a suit like her daddy.’

‘That’s cool,’ said Ella, selecting a couple of dresses for Flora to try.

‘No! Now I want a dress,’ yelled the child. ‘This dress.’ She grabbed hold of the one Ella had just selected and clung on.

Ella handed the gowns to the bride with the child still attached. ‘If you’d like to go into the fitting room.’ She pointed the way. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

Ella escaped to her little workroom. It was barely more than a cupboard but it suited her. She opened a drawer and pulled out a tin that she kept for these sorts of occasions. She returned to the fitting room. ‘How are you getting on?’ she asked.

Flora pulled back the curtain to show that she had a dress half on and her child was hugging her legs stopping it going any higher.

‘Would you like to play with these?’ Ella put the open tin on the floor. It was full of cotton reels. The little girl looked at them and then at Ella with a pitying expression.

‘Why?’

‘Because you can build things and roll them?’ They usually kept toddlers amused, perhaps at seven she was too old. Ella didn’t know. She didn’t have children and as an only child she had no nieces or nephews either.

‘It’s okay,’ said Flora, sporting the same pitying expression. She addressed the child. ‘You can be good, can’t you Angel?’

‘What do I get for being good?’

Flora tilted her head and couldn’t have looked more yummy mummy if she tried. ‘My love and affection,’ she said.

Angel started to cry. ‘But I don’t want that!’

‘Okay, okay. If you’re very good. I’ll get you a new phone,’ she said. Ella couldn’t help the jump her eyebrows made.

The little girl seemed to consider this for a moment before skulking out of the fitting room and sitting on the floor nearby. Peace reigned for a few minutes and Ella was able to help Flora try on a few dresses until the woman’s mobile pinged and she felt compelled to check it. She gasped. ‘Ohmylife! I don’t believe it.’

‘Is something wrong?’ asked Ella, although the bride was dragging her palm over her face which didn’t bode well.

‘My chief bridesmaid has just posted that she’s having her head shaved for charity.’

‘That’s brave,’ said Ella. ‘Well done her.’ The icy glare from the bride told her she’d said the wrong thing.

‘The date is a week before my wedding. I will have a bald bridesmaid! How selfish is that?’ She was turning a strange colour as rage crept into her words.

‘Maybe she can postpone the head shaving,’ suggested Ella, scrunching up her shoulders in preparation for a backlash.

‘She’s got a big event with press planned, a donation page and her insta post has been liked by Davina McCall!’

Ella found she was blinking at the ferocity of the words. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to say in this situation. Generally she worried about saying the wrong thing. About upsetting people. But this was her worst nightmare. She was so far outside her comfort zone she could send it a postcard. Did people still send postcards, she wondered. It had been so long since she’d been on holiday she didn’t know.

‘What do I do?’ demanded the bride, her eyes alarmingly wide.

Ella didn’t get to answer because the child was whooping with delight and both Ella and Flora realised at the same time that she was no longer near the fitting room. They dashed out into the shop to see the little girl flinging fistfuls of sequins into the air like sparkly confetti.

Of course Wanda chose that precise moment to show up. ‘What on earth?’ She glared at Ella as if it were her decorating the shop carpet in sequins. As usual Ella’s stomach muscles tensed – something she struggled to do in yoga class but could achieve without thinking thanks to one look from Wanda. ‘Stop!’ she bellowed. The child halted mid hurl and stared at Wanda. Angel’s bottom lip started to wobble. ‘You can clean this up right away.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll sort it out,’ said Ella, instantly feeling bad.

‘I meant you, Ella,’ said Wanda, with a dismissive shake of her head. She turned to the bride. ‘I am so sorry, let me find you the perfect dress.’

‘Darling, leave those now,’ said Flora to her daughter. Wanda escorted Flora back into the fitting room and Ella watched as the child defiantly tipped up the bag and emptied the remaining sequins onto the carpet before following her mother.

‘Mummy, what happens if you put a phone in the toilet?’

‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ replied Angel, giving Ella a look any Bond villain would have been proud of.

CHAPTER TWO

It wasn’t every day you had a unicorn dancing in your kitchen. Ella was quite enjoying the elaborate dance moves which included the running man and something crossed between ‘Staying Alive’ and ‘Gangnam Style’.

‘Please tell me you’re not planning on wearing that to Brittany’s wedding,’ said Ella.

After a brief but intense tugging match Lucy removed the unicorn head and plonked it on the kitchen table. ‘I thought it might be fun for the hen night but now you mention it who wouldn’t want a unicorn as a bridesmaid?’

‘Brittany?’ suggested Ella, flicking the switch on the kettle. It was May and Brittany was due to get married in a little under eight weeks at a particularly special venue – Sandy Cove. Not only did the Sandy Cove Hotel have a top reputation, the setting was picture perfect. As they were her two best friends both Ella and Lucy were bridesmaids. ‘Coffee?’

‘Good idea. But we’ll probably need alcohol once we’ve seen these blooming bridesmaids’ dresses.’ Lucy flopped down on a nearby kitchen chair. ‘Has she given you any clue as to what they look like?’ Lucy looked concerned.

‘No, but this is Brittany. Reliable, traditional, conservative Brittany. I’m sure we don’t need to worry.’

Lucy’s expression said different. ‘Ten pounds says they’re hideous.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be lovely.’

‘Ella, you’re too nice. I bet if the Gruffalo turned up in the bridal shop you’d still tell them they looked like Angelina Jolie.’

‘Everyone looks fabulous in a bridal gown,’ said Ella, making the coffees. ‘And personally, I think the Gruffalo would look magnificent in a tiara.’

‘Everybody looks good in a tiara,’ conceded Lucy. They both nodded earnestly. ‘But not everyone looks good as a bridesmaid. I can’t believe I agreed to this.’ Lucy took her drink. ‘Is this your fifth time as a bridesmaid?’

‘Eighth,’ said Ella with a small wince.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Lucy. ‘Don’t you get some sort of prize for that? I’ll get Guinness World Records on the line.’ Lucy pretended to get her phone out.

‘I did quite a few when I was little,’ said Ella, trying desperately to justify the record number of times she’d been called upon to undertake the task.

‘It’s because you’re gorgeous,’ said Lucy, giving Ella a once-over. ‘You’d look amazing in a sack. Which might actually be what Brittany wants us to wear. Tall, gorgeous, chestnut-haired people like you can pull off anything. Me on the other hand who is not blessed in the height department and has—’

‘Beautiful raven hair and porcelain skin,’ cut in Ella, who had always envied Lucy’s complexion.

Lucy twisted her lips. ‘Lank goth hair and skin like a ghost with the exception of the army of freckles which I actually think are breeding.’ Lucy leant forward so Ella could get a better look.

‘Classic Irish colouring,’ stated Ella.

‘Whatever you call it I will most likely look like Morticia Addams has been shrunk in the wash. And I’ll be wearing a sack. I’m not looking forward to it.’

‘You’re really worried, aren’t you?’ Ella was surprised. Lucy was feisty and fearless and, in all the years she’d known her, had never shied away from a challenge. And yet here she was clearly bothered about being a bridesmaid.

‘Not worried exactly.’ Lucy nibbled at the edge of a fingernail. ‘More apprehensive.’

‘There’s nothing to it,’ said Ella. ‘It’s primarily about making sure the bride’s day is perfect.’

‘Yep. That’s precisely what’s worrying me.’

The doorbell chimed and Ella went to answer it. A harassed-looking Brittany barged past her holding aloft two long dress carriers. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. Roadworks coming out of Norwich were hellish. Then I realised I had nothing in for tea so I had to divert to Sainsbury’s. There I bumped into my heinous cousin who still pronounces my name Britney as in Spears rather than Brittany as in ferries. And I swear she was pitching to be a bridesmaid.’ They were in the kitchen before Brittany took a breath.

‘It’s fine. We have plenty of time to do the dress fittings,’ said Ella.

Brittany looked questioningly at the unicorn mask. ‘Do I want to know why there’s the severed head of a mythical creature on the table or not?’ asked Brittany.

‘I thought The Godfather needed updating,’ said Lucy.

Ella hung the dress carriers over the living room door and resisted the temptation to have a sneak peek inside. She remembered her mum taking her to a haberdashery as a small child and feeling like she’d e...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Part One
• Keep Reading …
• About the Author
• Also by Bella Osborne
• About the Publisher