Standing on a rock under gathering purple clouds, the wind buffeting her sideways so she had to fight to stay upright, she yelled out to
sea.
Turning, she looked up at the turrets of Duntarvie House which rose out of the trees, half hidden. All those people who relied on the estate for their livelihood, the naysayers who’d
shaken their heads, convinced that weddings on the island would be a disaster because of the unpredictable nature of island life –
There were footsteps on the gravelly beach behind her. She turned, pulling her hair out of her face once again.
‘Come on, let’s get you back.’
Elizabeth, wrapped in one of Roddy’s old coats and a pair of too-big wellington boots, was standing there, her arms open.
‘It’s okay, my darling. Just let it out.’
Oblivious to the howling wind, with the first snowflakes icing her hair, Kate allowed herself to be wrapped in her mother’s arms and comforted like an exhausted child.
Eyes scarlet from crying, still sniffling, Kate was soon up to her nose in bubbles. Her mum had run her a bath whilst she’d sat, obediently, on a chair in the bathroom,
blowing her nose on pieces of loo roll. When she’d protested that it was a bit early for a glass of brandy, her mum had insisted that it was good for stress, and her expression made it clear
there was no place for arguments.
By the time she got downstairs, hair knotted up with a clip, wrapped in her favourite of Roddy’s big sweaters and a pair of old jeans, she found the kitchen was full.
‘It’s okay, Bridezilla, we’ve got this.’ Sian gave her a gentle smile, pulling out a chair.
‘Me?’ Kate looked at Sian, who was positively beaming. She had her hair folded into a headscarf today, a pair of dungarees over a tight, comic-strip-patterned T-shirt. She looked
ready for anything.
‘You.’ Roddy was by the Aga, his expression full of love. He was barefoot, his hair standing half on end, and his T-shirt was inside out. Clearly this emergency summit meeting had
taken him by surprise.
Kate looked around the kitchen. Jean, predictably, was dishing up a pile of pancakes. Her mum was making tea. Morag was writing a list – just as well someone was, thought Kate – and
Susan was perched against the dresser, one long leg folded across the other. She raised her eyebrows at Kate.
‘I’ve never been so glad to be trapped on this bloody island. If that’s what it takes to bring you back to reality, it’s worth it. Kate Jarvis, we love you, and
you’ve gone completely bonkers.’
Placing a plate of pancakes in front of Kate, Jean gave her a fond smile. ‘You know, dear, I had no idea what a Bridezilla
was
until Sian told me the other day. But you’ve
got so wrapped up in this nonsense, you’ve forgotten what this is all about.’ She pushed the plate a bit closer. ‘Now eat this, and get some tea inside you.’
She ate the pancakes obediently. She’d spent quite a bit of time this last week feeling like she was about five again, and it was strangely comforting not having to think about
anything.
‘Right then.’ Sian was holding a clipboard.
That’s
my
clipboard
, thought Kate.
‘We’ve had a change of plan,’ said Sian. ‘And I’m sorry, Kate, if I helped tip you over the edge getting stressed about tietheknot.com.’
‘Even if you were doing it for all the right reasons, honey.’ Roddy gave Kate a conciliatory smile.
‘But you’ve lost the plot completely.’ Susan was no-nonsense as ever.
Kate realized she had a point, though. She looked across at the wall by the Aga, where she’d Blu-Tacked up four pages of almost identical thank-you notes in order to compare them whilst
cooking risotto.
With the breakfast ready, everyone settled down at the table. There were a few minutes of grateful silence, punctuated only by the sounds of tea being poured. Plates of maple syrup and bacon
were passed back and forth. Kate looked across at Roddy, who caught her eye, laughter in his
sea.
Turning, she looked up at the turrets of Duntarvie House which rose out of the trees, half hidden. All those people who relied on the estate for their livelihood, the naysayers who’d
shaken their heads, convinced that weddings on the island would be a disaster because of the unpredictable nature of island life –
There were footsteps on the gravelly beach behind her. She turned, pulling her hair out of her face once again.
‘Come on, let’s get you back.’
Elizabeth, wrapped in one of Roddy’s old coats and a pair of too-big wellington boots, was standing there, her arms open.
‘It’s okay, my darling. Just let it out.’
Oblivious to the howling wind, with the first snowflakes icing her hair, Kate allowed herself to be wrapped in her mother’s arms and comforted like an exhausted child.
Eyes scarlet from crying, still sniffling, Kate was soon up to her nose in bubbles. Her mum had run her a bath whilst she’d sat, obediently, on a chair in the bathroom,
blowing her nose on pieces of loo roll. When she’d protested that it was a bit early for a glass of brandy, her mum had insisted that it was good for stress, and her expression made it clear
there was no place for arguments.
By the time she got downstairs, hair knotted up with a clip, wrapped in her favourite of Roddy’s big sweaters and a pair of old jeans, she found the kitchen was full.
‘It’s okay, Bridezilla, we’ve got this.’ Sian gave her a gentle smile, pulling out a chair.
‘Me?’ Kate looked at Sian, who was positively beaming. She had her hair folded into a headscarf today, a pair of dungarees over a tight, comic-strip-patterned T-shirt. She looked
ready for anything.
‘You.’ Roddy was by the Aga, his expression full of love. He was barefoot, his hair standing half on end, and his T-shirt was inside out. Clearly this emergency summit meeting had
taken him by surprise.
Kate looked around the kitchen. Jean, predictably, was dishing up a pile of pancakes. Her mum was making tea. Morag was writing a list – just as well someone was, thought Kate – and
Susan was perched against the dresser, one long leg folded across the other. She raised her eyebrows at Kate.
‘I’ve never been so glad to be trapped on this bloody island. If that’s what it takes to bring you back to reality, it’s worth it. Kate Jarvis, we love you, and
you’ve gone completely bonkers.’
Placing a plate of pancakes in front of Kate, Jean gave her a fond smile. ‘You know, dear, I had no idea what a Bridezilla
was
until Sian told me the other day. But you’ve
got so wrapped up in this nonsense, you’ve forgotten what this is all about.’ She pushed the plate a bit closer. ‘Now eat this, and get some tea inside you.’
She ate the pancakes obediently. She’d spent quite a bit of time this last week feeling like she was about five again, and it was strangely comforting not having to think about
anything.
‘Right then.’ Sian was holding a clipboard.
That’s
my
clipboard
, thought Kate.
‘We’ve had a change of plan,’ said Sian. ‘And I’m sorry, Kate, if I helped tip you over the edge getting stressed about tietheknot.com.’
‘Even if you were doing it for all the right reasons, honey.’ Roddy gave Kate a conciliatory smile.
‘But you’ve lost the plot completely.’ Susan was no-nonsense as ever.
Kate realized she had a point, though. She looked across at the wall by the Aga, where she’d Blu-Tacked up four pages of almost identical thank-you notes in order to compare them whilst
cooking risotto.
With the breakfast ready, everyone settled down at the table. There were a few minutes of grateful silence, punctuated only by the sounds of tea being poured. Plates of maple syrup and bacon
were passed back and forth. Kate looked across at Roddy, who caught her eye, laughter in his
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