Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year!. Fiona Collins
other details. I’m so sorry, everyone. Is there no way we can swap to the other package?’
She looked hopefully at Heidi. They all did. How could this be happening? They were supposed to be spending the next two days padding round in fluffy white dressing gowns while their nails dried, not sitting on a bloody raft!
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Heidi cheerfully. ‘All packages are fully booked this weekend. There’s absolutely no room for manoeuvre.’ She smiled genially and tapped a well-manicured hand on the desk. She’s getting impatient with us, thought JoJo. She wants us checked in and moved along.
‘What about the party?’ asked Wendy quietly. ‘The party at the lake house? On Sunday night.’
JoJo felt sick again. The party! The party had been the element of the weekend Wendy had been looking forward to the most. It sounded amazing. They’d talked about it on the train, had discussed their outfits and had reminisced about parties they’d been to in years gone by. They hadn’t gone to a party together for centuries.
‘I’m afraid you won’t be attending the party,’ said Heidi. ‘Wrong package.’
They all looked so disappointed and JoJo couldn’t have felt more terrible. She never took her eye off the ball – never! And doing so had cost them a weekend of glamorous pampering and a party in a lake house . . . and had gained them physical torture including an assault course and a hideous rowing exercise, plus a miserable and bizarre-sounding afternoon putting their minds in the gym.
‘It’s fine,’ Wendy said, after rather a long pause, and gently placed a hand on JoJo’s arm. ‘It’s all absolutely fine. Look where we are!’ She swept her arm round the luxurious, gardenia-scented lobby they were standing in, with its marble and its pillars, its enormous fireplace and its gleaming, polished floor. Through the double doors to outside they could spy the fountain and the flowers and the cute little stone path to that luxurious swimming pool. ‘So we miss a party, so what? It doesn’t matter. And, as for the activities we have to do, surely nothing too bad can happen here, at this gorgeous place! All we have to do is a little physical exercise and sail on a raft for an hour or two! It’s fine. It might even be fun! Don’t be sorry, JoJo – I’m sure it’s going to be absolutely brilliant.’
‘Yes,’ said Rose hopefully. ‘It’ll be fine. There will be other parties . . . in life. Occasionally. And we know how to make the best of things, don’t we? Remember when we turned up for that Pyjama and Pomagne night at the Students’ Union but we’d got the date wrong and it was actually a heavy metal concert? We just mucked in. We got in that mosh pit and headbanged with the best of them. Robert Plant positively appreciated our nighties and our Mr Blobby slippers! And lots of other people have obviously gone for this package, if it’s fully booked – it must be really good.’
‘Unless they’re masochists,’ said Sal. ‘I’m kidding,’ she added. ‘Honestly. JoJo – so you ticked the wrong box, so what? We’ve all done that once in a while – I know I have.’ She winked; they all knew what she meant. ‘Let’s go with it and have a laugh. It’ll be fine.’
JoJo was thankful for their efforts at unconcerned cheerfulness, but she still felt gutted and really rather embarrassed. She never ticked the wrong box. She never slipped up.
‘OK,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll go with it.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ said Sal, ‘come on, group hug!’ She flung open her arms and they all nestled into each other laughing and grinning. Well, JoJo was giggling slightly and raising a small smile – it would take her a while to get over making such a colossal mistake.
‘Excuse me,’ said a voice behind them. ‘I just need to get to the desk.’
The group dispersed to see a very tall, wiry woman, with gym-honed arms and wearing vertiginous heels, struggling with an enormous black suitcase.
‘Sorry,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll get out of your way.’ They stepped back and let the woman past and then Wendy’s face suddenly broke into a huge smile of recognition.
‘Tamsin! It’s you, isn’t it? It is you! Oh, it’s so fabulous to meet you at last!’
Tamsin! JoJo felt shame again. She’d forgotten all about her! Because they weren’t meeting her until they got here (Tamsin was driving down from Islington, she’d told her by text message in the week) and they’d been having such a giggle on the train, JoJo had completely forgotten to message her and confirm their ETA. She really was slipping, she thought. This was not like her at all! Poor Tamsin, what must she think of them?
‘Wendy?’ queried the woman. She sounded very posh, thought JoJo. From the little she’d said, JoJo could tell her accent was old school Received Pronunciation, with bells on. Actually, Frederick’s had been, too, although his was much friendlier. His face was, too. Although it was remarkable how similar Frederick and Tamsin looked, really. Wendy had said Tamsin was a couple of years younger, but both were blonde, both had strong, handsome features . . . both were tall and rangy.
‘Oh, I recognise you from your photo,’ said Tamsin, without too much of a smile, and Wendy self-consciously grabbed the L-plates dangling from her neck and twizzled them round her body until they were shoved way behind her back. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you.’
Something was beeping from somewhere and Tamsin began reaching in the small, quilted handbag slung over her shoulder at the exact moment Wendy decided to launch herself at her future sister-in-law for an enthusiastic hug. Tamsin managed to get her phone free of her bag as Wendy’s arms flung round her, and held it aloft as Wendy subjected her to an almighty squeeze.
‘Sorry,’ she said, into the phone, ‘I’ve been on the road. Yes, yes, absolutely. By nine o’clock, yes. Absolutely no problem.’
Wendy clung on, undeterred, finally releasing Tamsin after a few seconds, but not before her victim appeared to think better of herself and patted Wendy’s back with the kind of absent-minded affection you’d give to a neighbour’s friendly dog.
‘You look so much like Frederick!’ Wendy exclaimed, the hug complete and those L-plates jangling at the back of her as though she were a slightly obscure one-man band. ‘I feel we are going to be the very best of friends!’
Tamsin looked unmoved. ‘I’m delighted you’re marrying my brother,’ she said, distractedly – she was giving her phone another quick glance before she slipped in back into her bag. ‘Have you all checked in?’
‘Yes,’ said Wendy, her face momentarily falling but then lifting again to a plastered-on smile. ‘I’m afraid we’re not on the Glamour Package any more, as mentioned in the invitation. We’ve been upgraded to something else,’ she said, throwing a wink in JoJo’s direction which her friend caught gratefully.
‘Fine, not a problem,’ said Tamsin stoically and she marched towards the reception desk, dragging her enormous suitcase behind her.
‘Well, she seems nice,’ said Wendy uncertainly.
‘Really?’ questioned Sal.
‘Yes!’ said Wendy.
‘She seemed a bit distant,’ offered Rose. ‘And possibly a bit uptight?’
‘We’ll reserve judgement,’ said Sal. ‘Thank God you’re not marrying her, though, that’s all I can say,’ she added. ‘Come on, let’s ask Miss Heidi for our room keys and then we can dump our bags and go exploring.’
*
Their rooms were absolutely gorgeous and did assuage JoJo’s guilt somewhat about booking the wrong package. Across the corridor from each other – with JoJo and Wendy in one room, Sal and Rose in another – they were more like suites than rooms: each had a bedroom, bathroom, dressing room and sitting room. They were heavenly, but not too over the top. There were no four-poster beds or overzealous drapery, just comfy, bounce-able beds layered with Egyptian cotton and soft, cosy-looking