this blessed. I need to double-check the cab to take us to the hairdresser's.
I love my hair! Manuel is amazing. Thea's looks gorgeous too. She actually had hers trimmed today – I just had the blow-dry of my life. Her hair is gleaming, slightly shorter than usual, cut into the nape of her neck and tucked behind her ears. I hate the way she says it's boring and mousy. Anyway, she looks like a fusion of Audrey Hepburn and Isabella Rossellini. I've had this beautiful grip made for her – a single orchid. I can't wait to see her in her frock. We chose A-line in crushed velvet the colour of buttermilk; slightly empire under the bust, a low, square-cut neck and wide straps just off the shoulder. I seriously almost wept when I saw her in it. She looks divine. My mum just phoned in some unnecessary flap or other. I spoke to Dad and diplomatically asked him to intervene on any further calls she might be tempted to make. I'm glad the car will take just Dad and me. And I know Thea will cope fine with Mum. I wonder how Mark is. We spoke when Thea was in the bath. I was meant to be having a little lie-down but I couldn't keep my mind still enough for my body to relax. He sounded fine. He said yes to every single thing on my Double-Triple-Check And Check Again List. He was laughing. He loves my quirks. I hope he likes my hair all heaped up like this. In fact, I wonder whether to warn him in advance that if he touches it, it's grounds for an immediate annulment. Whoever thought that hair could feel so heavy! Maybe it's the little pearls that they've pinned into it. Fake. Not that you'd know. In fact, I'm getting a stiff neck from admiring the back view in the mirror.
Thea came to say it's time to get dressed. She's a glorious vision in the pretty panties and bra we bought from Fenwicks for her. We bought my undies from Agent Provocateur. Mark will blush. I love it that Mark blushes at my sexiness. If he wore glasses, he'd be the type they'd steam up on. Thea and I have set the dress out on my bed and we have twice gone through the precise order that things must go on, be stepped into, have laced up and smoothed down. So I'm stepping in. And slipping my arms through the sleeves. And Thea is lacing me up. And smoothing me down. We've gone quiet. We're listening to some play on Radio 4 but I couldn't tell you what it's about. I don't know how to describe the feeling of my dress. I don't want to use clichés. It's duchesse satin, blush coloured – the colour you'd imagine a child's kiss would equate to. The sensation on my body is like a loved one gently, adoringly, whispering to my skin. I almost daren't look in the mirror. Thea's finished the lacing and smoothing and her eyes are welling up. She's just nodding at me. Nodding. And biting her lip. And nodding some more. With her eyes all watery and her nose now red. I'll have a look. In a minute. I'll turn around. I'll have a look now. I'll have a little look at Alice Heggarty in her wedding dress.
Hullo, Daddy. Hullo, hullo. Oh my God – the car is amazing! Let's tell the driver to drive round the block a couple of times. I ought to be five minutes late. Ten, preferably. And we must remember not to stride up the aisle. Mum will kill us. And please please don't say anything to me that'll make me cry. Don't call me your little girl. I am your little girl but if I hear it from you today, I'll cry and want to run all the way home.
I can't hear. I can't hear a thing. I'm watching lips move over the vows I helped pen. I know it all off by heart. But I can't hear. I'm ever so warm. Actually I feel a bit hot. Mark is saying things. Pardon? It's my turn. I have to say something. Something for everyone to hear. I know this bit. I know what to say. Please don't let my voice croak.
‘I DO.’
Thea and Saul
Thea Luckmore had a remarkable constitution when it came to alcohol. Guts of iron, Alice called it. For some, this would be their downfall. For Thea, it was no big deal. She didn't regard it
I love my hair! Manuel is amazing. Thea's looks gorgeous too. She actually had hers trimmed today – I just had the blow-dry of my life. Her hair is gleaming, slightly shorter than usual, cut into the nape of her neck and tucked behind her ears. I hate the way she says it's boring and mousy. Anyway, she looks like a fusion of Audrey Hepburn and Isabella Rossellini. I've had this beautiful grip made for her – a single orchid. I can't wait to see her in her frock. We chose A-line in crushed velvet the colour of buttermilk; slightly empire under the bust, a low, square-cut neck and wide straps just off the shoulder. I seriously almost wept when I saw her in it. She looks divine. My mum just phoned in some unnecessary flap or other. I spoke to Dad and diplomatically asked him to intervene on any further calls she might be tempted to make. I'm glad the car will take just Dad and me. And I know Thea will cope fine with Mum. I wonder how Mark is. We spoke when Thea was in the bath. I was meant to be having a little lie-down but I couldn't keep my mind still enough for my body to relax. He sounded fine. He said yes to every single thing on my Double-Triple-Check And Check Again List. He was laughing. He loves my quirks. I hope he likes my hair all heaped up like this. In fact, I wonder whether to warn him in advance that if he touches it, it's grounds for an immediate annulment. Whoever thought that hair could feel so heavy! Maybe it's the little pearls that they've pinned into it. Fake. Not that you'd know. In fact, I'm getting a stiff neck from admiring the back view in the mirror.
Thea came to say it's time to get dressed. She's a glorious vision in the pretty panties and bra we bought from Fenwicks for her. We bought my undies from Agent Provocateur. Mark will blush. I love it that Mark blushes at my sexiness. If he wore glasses, he'd be the type they'd steam up on. Thea and I have set the dress out on my bed and we have twice gone through the precise order that things must go on, be stepped into, have laced up and smoothed down. So I'm stepping in. And slipping my arms through the sleeves. And Thea is lacing me up. And smoothing me down. We've gone quiet. We're listening to some play on Radio 4 but I couldn't tell you what it's about. I don't know how to describe the feeling of my dress. I don't want to use clichés. It's duchesse satin, blush coloured – the colour you'd imagine a child's kiss would equate to. The sensation on my body is like a loved one gently, adoringly, whispering to my skin. I almost daren't look in the mirror. Thea's finished the lacing and smoothing and her eyes are welling up. She's just nodding at me. Nodding. And biting her lip. And nodding some more. With her eyes all watery and her nose now red. I'll have a look. In a minute. I'll turn around. I'll have a look now. I'll have a little look at Alice Heggarty in her wedding dress.
Hullo, Daddy. Hullo, hullo. Oh my God – the car is amazing! Let's tell the driver to drive round the block a couple of times. I ought to be five minutes late. Ten, preferably. And we must remember not to stride up the aisle. Mum will kill us. And please please don't say anything to me that'll make me cry. Don't call me your little girl. I am your little girl but if I hear it from you today, I'll cry and want to run all the way home.
I can't hear. I can't hear a thing. I'm watching lips move over the vows I helped pen. I know it all off by heart. But I can't hear. I'm ever so warm. Actually I feel a bit hot. Mark is saying things. Pardon? It's my turn. I have to say something. Something for everyone to hear. I know this bit. I know what to say. Please don't let my voice croak.
‘I DO.’
Thea and Saul
Thea Luckmore had a remarkable constitution when it came to alcohol. Guts of iron, Alice called it. For some, this would be their downfall. For Thea, it was no big deal. She didn't regard it
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