girlyswot

Author's note: Thanks for all your comments - I'm amazed that anyone's still reading. Anyway, you've probably worked out by now that I'm plot-light and fluff-heavy (if that's not too much of an oxymoron), so sorry if that's not your thing. Not being AF and a genius, this is bound to disappoint at times.

‘I thought I’d ask Doris what she could do.’ Nicola was busy making acquaintance with Poppy, the Labrador puppy Rowan had acquired.

‘From the chest?’ Mrs Marlow sounded doubtful.

‘Is there anything left in the chest?’

‘Not really.’ The chest, which had been the repository for all Mrs Marlow’s pre-war glamour, had dressed Nicola and her sisters throughout their teenage years, more often than not transformed by Doris’s magic fingers.

‘No. I know what I want. I just thought it’d be easier to get some stuff and then ask Doris. And cheaper. And I think she’d like to.’

‘I’m sure she would. Well, that’s easily organised. What about everything else?’

‘What everything else?’ The puppy was licking Nicola’s face ecstatically.

‘Oh Nicky! Invitations and flowers and food and honeymoon and all those things.’

‘I suddenly realise how lucky Kay was not having any of this bother.’

‘Yes, well.’

‘Oh alright. What do I need to do? I’ll get Patrick to write a list of all his lot who need inviting. And I expect Nellie and Mrs Bertie are itching to be asked to help.’

‘Good. What will you do if Daddy can’t make it?’

Nicola chewed her lip. ‘He probably will though, I should think. If not, it’ll have to be Peter. I don’t s’pose there’s any hope of Giles being back.’

‘No, darling. And I'm not sure about Peter either. He was expecting to be sent to the Far East.'

'Oh.' Nicola frowned. 'Well, it can't be Mr Merrick, obviously. What about Edwin?'

Mrs Marlow smiled. 'I should think he'd be very pleased to be asked. Now, what about bridesmaids? Have you decided?’

‘We-ll. I did ask Lal, but she said we’d look ridiculous and I think she’s right. So I’m not going to bother.’

Doris sucked in her breath and made an excited sort of squeal when Nicola told her what she wanted. ‘Oh, Miss Nic’la, it’ll be just beautiful. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll pop into Colebridge and get the stuff at the weekend. I’ll be bound you don’t know what to get.’

Nicola acknowledged her ignorance. ‘Thanks Doris, it’ll be magic, I’m sure.’

Suddenly there was only a week left and Nicola was disappearing up to London to spend a few days with Lawrie and Miranda.

‘I’ll ring tomorrow.’ She reached up to kiss Patrick’s cheek.

‘Oke. Nick… next time…’

‘Yup. Odd isn’t it?’

‘That wasn’t what I was going to say.’ She waited. ‘You don’t have any doubts? It’s not too late to change your mind. I mean, maybe…’

She smiled and put up a hand to touch his cheek. ‘No. No doubts.’

He hugged her tightly. ‘See you then.’

‘See you.’

Two days before the wedding, the dress appeared. Just how Nicola had imagined, the silk clung to her in all the right places and swung out deliciously when she twirled. Doris had sewn beads all around the wide hem, making little wave-like patterns. The V of the neckline was deeper than Nicola would have dared suggest but the more she got used to it the better she had to admit it looked. Mrs Marlow nodded in a satisfied way.

‘It’s perfect, Doris. Thank you so much.’

‘It was lovely, having all that stuff to work with. You’ll look just fine on Friday, miss.’

‘You are coming, aren’t you Doris?’

‘Me and Aunty’ll be there, you try and stop us.’

‘Nick, try this.’ Mrs Marlow handed her a necklace of graded diamonds.

‘Ma!’

‘Put it on. Here.’ She lifted Nicola’s hair and fastened the clasp. ‘Yes, I thought so.’

Nicola looked in the cheval mirror and saw a glamorous, sophisticated woman she barely recognised.

‘You don’t think it’s a bit… I just wonder if it makes me look a bit like…’

‘Like Ginty?’

‘Well, yes. It doesn’t seem like me somehow.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re probably right. But it needs something.’

Nicola hesitated.

‘Well?’

‘What about the pearls? I mean, if you don’t mind.’

‘No, I don’t mind. Let’s try.’

The simple string of pearls lay around Nicola’s slender neck. Their softness made her skin glow. She leant to kiss her mother’s cheek.

‘What’s it like, Mum? Being married?’

Mrs Marlow laughed. ‘I can’t tell you that, darling. You’ll have to work it out for yourselves.’ She finished unbuttoning the dress and sat beside her daughter on the bed.

‘Are you nervous, Nicky?’

‘A bit. Not like before a match or anything. More just not knowing what’s going to happen.’

'Has it been absolutely toe-curling?' enquired Nicola when they were in the lift at the hotel. Patrick grinned.

'Not all of it. Some bits were quite bearable.' He squeezed her hand and she blushed. 'Mind you, I wouldn't have gone through that for anyone else. All those people. Looking at one.'

'They weren't looking at you half so much as they were looking at me,' observed Nicola demurely.

'Quite right too,' he murmured, stroking her wrist in a way that made Nicola's insides turn upside down. The lift pinged and the door opened. Nicola, embarrassed, turned away but Patrick smiled at the elderly couple who got in and politely enquired which floor they wanted.

Mr Merrick had booked them into Colebridge's grandest hotel for their first night. After that they were going to take Windfall out. Nicola planned to sail over to Brittany and explore. Patrick planned to spend a lot of time on the boat and didn't much care if he didn't see France at all.

'Gosh! Look, Patrick!' She was exclaiming at the complimentary champagne and chocolates.

'Shall we open it now?'

'No.' She shook her head. 'Unless you want to? I've had quite enough,' she smiled.

'Let's smuggle it out tomorrow.'

'Good idea.'

Nicola sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off her shoes. 'That's better. Those heels have been agony for hours.' Patrick came and sat next to her.

'Are you nervous, Nick?' She looked up into his hazel eyes, seeing the concern behind his steady gaze.

Holding his hand firmly, she answered honestly, 'A bit. It seems like…' she hesitated, trying to work out what she felt. 'Like I'm a different person. All day it's been like it was happening to someone else. I don't quite know who I am any more. Or who you are. So, before… it's like that wasn't us.'

'Nick?'

'What is it, Pat?'

'Did you enjoy it? Last time?'

Nicola struggled to remember that evening. It seemed so long ago. The memories of that night had been so overshadowed by its consequences that it hardly mattered. Had she enjoyed it? She loved Patrick, she was sure of that, even more now than she had been then.

'I didn't not enjoy it. I mean… it was strange. But I think I could get to like it properly.'

'I love you.' He bent and kissed her gently, feeling her lean in towards him. Her hand stole up to stroke the back of his neck, one finger curling into his hair. Nicola stopped feeling nervous or strange. It was the most natural thing in the world to be kissed by Patrick, to be undressed and caressed and to surrender her whole body to his touch.

She stretched, curling her lips into an involuntary smile and revelling in the sense of utter rightness. Patrick leaned across to brush his mouth against hers.

‘I’m thirsty, D’you want anything?’

‘Mmm. A glass of water, please.’ She watched him tread across the room to find glasses and ludicrously expensive bottled water. He noticed her gaze and shot her a swift, shy smile in return. He placed her glass safely on the bedside table and slid in beside her.

‘Alright?’

‘Oh yes.’ She found she could hardly keep from laughing with sheer delight. Instead she reached to curl her arms around his neck and drew him down to her.

‘What time do we have to leave tomorrow?’ he murmured.

‘Seven.’

‘Hardly seems worth going to sleep at all,’ he grinned.

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

It was a blissful three weeks. The sun was warm overhead, the breeze strong enough out on the water, the beaches soft and welcoming. Patrick and Nicola fell quickly into a leisurely routine, watching the sun set each night, heading ashore to stock up on fresh bread, cheese and fruit, finding a quiet spot for a late morning picnic before setting sail further along the coast. They swam and dived and lay basking in the sun.

On the last night before they were due to return to England, they went ashore. Wandering along the path towards the village, Patrick heard the cry of a tawny owl. Cupping his hands, he replied in kind, delighted to hear the cautious answering call. Nicola laughed at him and pointed out a small bistro.

They ate fruits de mer, gulping oysters determinedly and mussels with real pleasure. Nicola dared Patrick to try the snails.

'If you do.' He raised a challenging eyebrow.

'Okay. After three.' She gouged the little slug out of its shell and counted. Together they swallowed, looked at each other and simultaneously reached for their wine glasses.

'Ugh. Never again.'

'No. But I'm glad I've tried it once.'

'I think I'd've died happy without ever eating a snail.'

'No sense of adventure.'

He grinned, contentedly. 'Marrying you is quite enough adventure for me.'

Afterwards, they shared a lusciously rich creme brulee, feeding each other spoonfuls of the deep vanilla cream.

'Coffee?'

Nicola nodded. 'I wish it would never end.'

'The coffee?'

'The honeymoon. Don't you worry that perhaps this is all just a dream and when we get back it'll be awful?'

He took her hand.

'We'll still be married. I don't think it can be that awful.'