Read Shopaholic Ties the Knot for Free Online Page B

She’s a real expert!”
    “I can . . . see!” I say feebly, looking at the lurid stripes of blusher and highlighter painted on Mum’s cheeks. Maybe I can manage to wipe them off accidentally on purpose.
    “So, is Luke here?” says Mum, looking around with bright eyes, like a squirrel searching for a nut.
    “Somewhere around,” I say—and Mum and Dad exchange glances.
    “He is here, though?” Mum gives a tense little laugh. “You did fly on the same plane, didn’t you?”
    “Mum, don’t worry. He’s here. Really.”
    Mum still doesn’t look convinced—and I can’t honestly blame her. The truth is, there was this tiny incident at the last wedding we all attended. Luke didn’t turn up, and I was completely desperate, and I resorted to . . . um . . .
    Well. It was only a tiny white lie. I mean, he
could
have been there, mingling somewhere. If they hadn’t had that stupid group photograph, no one would ever have known.
    “Jane! Graham! Hello!”
    There’s Luke, striding through the front door. Thank God for that.
    “Luke!” Mum gives a relieved trill of laughter. “You’re here! Graham, he’s here!”
    “Of course he’s here!” says my father, rolling his eyes. “Where did you think he was? On the moon?”
    “How are you, Jane?” says Luke with a smile, and kisses her on the cheek.
    Mum’s face is pink with happiness, and she’s clutching onto Luke’s arm as though he might vanish in a puff of smoke. He gives me a little smile, and I beam happily back. I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long, and now it’s actually here. It’s like Christmas. In fact, it’s better than Christmas. Through the open front door I can see wedding guests walking past on the snowy gravel in morning dress and smart hats. In the distance, the church bells are pealing, and there’s a kind of excited, expectant atmosphere.
    “And where’s the blushing bride?” says Dad.
    “I’m here,” comes Suze’s voice. We all look up—and there she is, floating down the stairs, clutching a stunning bouquet of roses and ivy.
    “Oh, Suzie,” says Mum, and claps a hand to her mouth. “Oh, that dress! Oh . . . Becky! You’re going to look—” She turns to me with softened eyes and for the first time seems to take in my dress. “Becky . . . is that what you’re wearing? You’ll freeze!”
    “No, I won’t. The church is going to be heated.”
    “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” says Suze. “So unusual.”
    “But it’s only a T-shirt!” She gives a dissatisfied tug at the sleeve. “And what’s this frayed bit? It isn’t even finished properly!”
    “It’s customized,” I explain. “It’s completely unique.”
    “Unique? Don’t you have to match the others?”
    “There aren’t any others,” explains Suze. “The only other person I would have asked is Tarquin’s sister, Fenny. But she said if she was a bridesmaid again she’d jinx her chances of marriage. You know what they say, ‘Three times a bridesmaid.’ Well, she’s been one about ninety-three times! And she’s got her eye on this chap who works in the City, so she doesn’t want to take any chances.”
    There’s a short silence. I can see Mum’s brain working hard. Oh God,
please
don’t—
    “Becky love, how many times have you been a bridesmaid?” she says, a little too casually. “There was Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Sylvia’s wedding . . . but I think that’s it, isn’t it?”
    “And Ruthie and Paul’s,” I remind her.
    “You weren’t a bridesmaid at that,” says Mum at once. “You were a . . . flower girl. So it’s twice, including today. Yes, twice.”
    “Did you get that, Luke?” says Dad with a grin. “Twice.”
    Honestly, what are my parents
like
?
    “Well, anyway!” I say, trying quickly to think of another subject. “So . . . er . . .”
    “Of course, Becky has a good ten years before she needs to worry about anything like that . . .” says Luke conversationally.
    “What?” Mum stiffens, and her