Never The Bride(4)

'You'll be wanting to trim that bush of yours, it's getting out of hand.'

'I beg your pardon?' I looked at him wide-eyed, wondering if I'd just heard him correctly. I knew I hadn't had a wax in a while, but how did he know that?! I tried to remember when I'd last worn a bikini to sunbathe in the garden, where there was a remote possibility that he might have noticed some stray hairs if he'd been hanging out of his bedroom window using a pair of binoculars with a telescopic lens, with the sole purpose of muff spotting. But with our usual wet summer weather, I was drawing a blank.

'Your bush, it's looking a bit of a mess. Might take someone's eye out if it's not tended to soon. Too much for me to handle, I'm not much good unless it's already neatly trimmed and has some sort of shape for me to follow. I know a fella who won't mind getting right in there, head first, isn't it. He's even got a qualification in it.' 

'In  …  bush trimming?' I squeaked. What bizarre world had I woken up in this morning, where my "been drawing a pension for over two decades" neighbour was openly discussing the state of my fanny hair and factoring me out to local muff-diving stud?

'Hmmm,' he confirmed with a nod. 'My big purple plums were hanging too low, Daphne swung around too fast the other day and got smacked in the face by them, ended up at casualty with a black eye, isn't it. He soon came round and sorted them out for me as well. By God, he's multi-talented, and easy on the eye, too,' he winked.

'He swings both ways?' That was all I needed, a blind date with a bisexual romancer of the elderly. This guy was sounding like a real catch. Not.

'Swings? No, he doesn't do swings. Just carpentry, bushes and trees, mowing and the like, isn't it. He'll even do your overgrown hedge while he's at it, as I know how busy your job keeps you. I'll tell him to pop by one day this week for you.'

'Oooh, you were talking about my holly bush, about sending a gardener around.' I breathed a sigh of relief, cursing my overactive imagination.

'What other bush needs trimming? He'll do them all. Very reasonably priced. And he's single,' David added, giving me a poignant look.

'Awesome,' I replied with a sinking feeling of dread. I'd stopped accepting recommendations from some of the well-meaning busybodies in the area. All of the blind dates they'd fixed me up on had been disasters. 'I really must go, David. Nice to see you. Don't forget to remind Daphne about Sumo tonight, she knows where the spare key is. And I'll see you for Sunday lunch at mine tomorrow.'

He gave me a salute and disappeared back behind his hedge as I yanked on the handle and got Sumo's ride moving. Jesus, and people thought life in the country was dull.



'Bisexual romancer of the elderly,' Georgie chuckled, after I'd recounted my morning during the taxi ride to Rachel's family home, situated in Kingsland, the posh part of Shrewsbury, of course.

'Honestly, I swore we were having an entirely different conversation. And as for the "he's single, easy on the eye," comment, I'll believe that when I see it. Do you know any single, good-looking gardeners in our parts? If so, I'd have thought you'd have been all over that action already.'

'No, I don't,' she replied with a shake of the head, then pulled a slight face.

'Sorry,' I whispered, reaching over to grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Georgie was all talk, but took after me with no action. She'd been engaged only five months ago, before she found out he was cheating on her with one of The Cock & Bull barmaids. Quite apt really, turned out Greg was a cock, and totally full of bullshit. One minute she'd been talking about her own wedding, which would have taken me one step closer to the dreaded thirteenth dress, the next she was in puddles of tears, having broken it off and kicked him out. 'Still hurts, huh?'

'Like you wouldn't believe,' she replied with a forced, but brave, smile. Never having been in love, I couldn't even begin to imagine putting myself in her shoes, but I'd seen how devastated she'd been. I'd been the one to try and help her pick up the pieces and get through it. And the well-meaning Joneses too. They really were a sweet old couple, as long as you didn't spill your deep, dark secrets to them. Daphne never meant to be malicious, but always forgot what she'd been told to keep quiet. Not that I had any secrets in my closet, my life so far really had been dull.

'I'm so sorry, Georgie,' I repeated sincerely, squeezing her hand again and wishing I could do more, then letting it go.



       
         
       
        

'It's not your fault. I have good and bad days, but I'll get there. Each morning I wake up and it doesn't hurt quite so badly. I hope that one day, I'll fall in love again, be able to trust a guy completely and get that "happy ever after" that I'd been sure was so close, but I'm not ready yet. So if this gardener turns out to be a Hemsworth or James look-alike, he's all yours.'

'Why thank you, kind lady,' I grinned. Georgie wasn't one for wallowing in the woe-is-me pity party. She got stuff off her chest and moved on, and liked me to treat her without a pair of kid gloves.

'Besides, who says you won't meet someone tonight, or at any of the other weddings you're going to this year? Bridesmaid and best man or usher, it's a classic get together. Everyone's feeling emotional and needy, seeing their friends all googly-eyed as they exchange their vows. I've had some super-hot wedding encounters in my time.'

'Are you serious?' I scoffed. 'For one, I'll be in that dress, and for two, they'll all think I'm a lesbian with the most stunning date,' I reminded her. 'You look gorgeous, Georgie, as ever.'

It was the truth. Her long red hair was pulled back into an elegant but sexy chignon, tucked under one of those huge-brimmed cream and navy hats. They always looked so classy on everyone else, I just wasn't a hat person. Some navy eyeliner enhanced her baby blue eyes and her navy and cream patterned shirt-dress, with a pair of navy suede shoe-boots to round off her ensemble. Casually elegant, that was Georgie's style all over. I was so envious. I was more of a t-shirt, jeans, and trainers kind of girl.

'And so do you, and will continue to do if you smile, regardless of what you're wearing.'

'Humph,' I trumpeted, rolling my eyes.

'Don't make me pin you down with the dog clippers and give your bush an obviously overdue trim,' she warned with a giggle. 'Last week during a long and much needed arse kicking, you promised me smiles and making an effort to get out there. If Prince Charming doesn't come knocking, the modern-day woman goes out looking for him.'

'Then I'll do as I'm told, as long as you promise to do the same when the time's right, that you won't close your heart to love forever.' I held out my little finger and she wrapped hers around it with a solemn face.

'Deal.'

I kissed her cheek as I was dropped off at Rachel's parents' Georgian house in the leafy, posh part of town.

'Will you be ok on your own until the service?' I asked. She had a good two-hour wait before it was time to head to The Abbey, where the service was taking place. 

'Please! One of The Peach Tree's famous brunches, with the odd mimosa or twelve, I'll be fine,' she laughed, shooing me out of the taxi. 'Remember, whatever your head is thinking, don't say it.'

'If only it were that easy,' I groaned. I shut the door and waved her off, then hurried to pull the heavy black wrought iron handle of the bell.



'You look so lovely and radiant,' I told Rachel as she stepped out of her limo with her dad, then went to adjust her askew veil, as her maid of honour was too busy chatting to the other bridesmaids to notice.

I wasn't lying, she did. It was us thirteen bridesmaids, and her maid of honour and flower girl, that looked ridiculous. I mean seriously, colour tone aside, who needed fifteen people walking up the aisle with you? I knew it wasn't like she couldn't afford it, but it seemed a total waste of money to me. Rachel was in a gorgeous, obviously expensive designer dress, with a thin, hot pink belt as homage to her "riot of colour" scheme, and was carrying a bouquet of brightly coloured gerberas. They were the focal point for the wedding flowers. Quite how Sarah at Rosie Posie had found so many gerberas to adorn all of the women, button holes for the men, pew and floral arrangements in the church, not to mention a floral arch, more arrangements, and table centrepieces at the after-wedding venue, was beyond me. Thousands of fields of gerberas must have been slaughtered to put these gorgeous displays together.

'Thank you,' she smiled.

'I'm really sorry, again, about the comment I made about the unicorn farting.'

'It's ok, I was just super stressed and I forgot that you were just being you. In school, you always had a way of blurting out whatever you were thinking, however appropriate or not it was.'

'I do try, honestly I do,' I added, desperately trying to redeem myself as the rest of the girls finally noticed she'd arrived and swarmed around us.

'Just make a conscious effort to rein it in around Dean. He only moved here a few months ago, he's not accustomed to such  …  forthrightness,' she replied, squeezing my upper arm. That surprised me. He was American, and I was under the impression that Americans were quite vocal and far less reserved than us stiff-upper-lip, polite-at-all-times British.

'He's so dreamy,' sighed Julia.

'He's a keeper alright, but what I wouldn't give to be single so I could get me some of that Miller action,' groaned Rebecca, maid of honour. 'That guy is so smouldering, I swear he could melt my underwear just by staring at it.' There was a murmur of agreement and vigorous nodding of heads all around me, along with some girly giggling.