Read Online Shopaholic Ties the Knot by Sophie Kinsella - Free Book Online Page B

opens the folder and begins to flip over laminated cards of women who look as though they had their makeup applied during the seventies. “This look is called Prom Princess, for the younger face,” she says breathlessly. “Now, here we have Radiant Spring Bride, with extra-waterproof mascara . . . Or Cleopatra, if you wanted something more dramatic?”
    “Great!” I say feebly. “Perhaps I’ll have a look nearer the time.”
    There is no way in a million years I’m letting Janice near my face.
    “And you’ll be getting Wendy to do the cake, will you?” asks Janice as Mum puts a cup of coffee in front of her.
    “Oh, no question,” says Mum. “Wendy Prince, who lives on Maybury Avenue,” she adds to me. “You remember, she did Dad’s retirement cake with the lawnmower on it? The things that woman can do with a nozzle!”
    I remember that cake. The icing was virulent green and the lawnmower was made out of a painted matchbox. You could still see “Swan” through the green.
    “You know, there are some really amazing wedding cakes in here,” I say, tentatively holding out an issue of
Brides
. “From this special place in London. Maybe we could go and have a look.”
    “Oh, but love, we have to ask Wendy!” says Mum in surprise. “She’d be devastated if we didn’t. You know her husband’s just had a stroke? Those sugar roses are what’s keeping her going.”
    “Oh, right,” I say, putting down the magazine guiltily. “I didn’t know. Well . . . OK then. I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”
    “We were very pleased with Tom and Lucy’s wedding cake.” Janice sighs. “We’ve saved the top tier for the first christening. You know, they’re with us at the moment. They’ll be round to offer their congratulations, I’m sure. Can you believe they’ve been married a year and a half already!”
    “Have they?” Mum takes a sip of coffee and gives a brief smile.
    Tom and Lucy’s wedding is still a very slightly sore point in our family. I mean, we love Janice and Martin to bits so we never say anything, but to be honest, we’re none of us very keen on Lucy.
    “Are there any signs of them . . .” Mum makes a vague, euphemistic gesture. “Starting a family,” she adds in a whisper.
    “Not yet.” Janice’s smile flickers briefly. “Martin and I think they probably want to
enjoy
each other first. They’re such a happy young couple. They just dote on each other! And of course, Lucy’s got her career—”
    “I suppose so,” says Mum consideringly. “Although it doesn’t do to wait
too
long . . .”
    “Well, I know,” agrees Janice. They both turn to look at me—and suddenly I realize what they’re driving at.
    For God’s sake, I’ve only been engaged a day! Give me a chance!
     
     
    I escape to the garden and wander round for a bit, sipping my coffee. The snow is starting to melt outside, and you can just see patches of green lawn and bits of rosebush. As I pick my way down the gravel path, I find myself thinking how nice it is to be in an English garden again, even if it is a bit cold. Manhattan doesn’t have any gardens like this. There’s Central Park, and there’s the odd little flowery square. But it doesn’t have any proper English gardens, with lawns and trees and flower beds.
    I’ve reached the rose arbor and am looking back at the house, imagining what a marquee will look like on the lawn, when suddenly there’s a rumble of conversation from the garden next door. I wonder if it’s Martin, and I’m about to pop my head over the fence and say “Hello!” when a girl’s voice comes clearly over the snow, saying: “Define
frigid
! Because if you ask me—”
    It’s Lucy. And she sounds furious! There’s a mumbled reply, which can only be Tom.
    “And you’re such a bloody expert, are you?”
    Mumble mumble.
    “Oh, give me a break.”
    I edge surreptitiously toward the fence, wishing desperately I could hear both sides.
    “Yeah, well, maybe if we had more of a life,