Page 57 of The Bridesmaid
Georgia glances at me irritably, as if I should know better than to let my body get hungry.
‘This is photoshoot replica food,’ she says pointedly. ‘Laid out earlier today for pictures.’
I realize the fish has an unnatural painted gleam, the grapes are fixed to plastic stems. It’s fake.
‘There’s Ophelia,’ says Georgia. ‘She’ll take us to the Tower Suite.’
Ophelia brings us up several flights of stairs to the grand house, where a huge resort-style modern addition has been built onthe back. It opens the entire premises out onto a spectacular clifftop, with rock-clad walkways spilling over like bridges, connecting the old house with a new glass and stone structure behind.
We cross over, admiring a chasm of verdant tropical cliff below. Ophelia points to a glass-sided tower, right at the top, commanding a view of the entire island.
‘That’s the grand Tower Suite,’ she explains. ‘Leopold Kensington’s design, but we’ve brought it up to date.’
‘This part was an old fort originally,’ explains Georgia. ‘Dad fixed it up. I think that’s a man thing,’ she adds. ‘Always wanting high-up views of your territory.’
As we ascend a glass elevator to the suite, I’m getting an idea of just how high she means. The fiery sun is setting, spilling vivid colors over the darkening sea. Georgia pushes the door to the honeymoon suite open.
‘Wow,’ I say. One side of the room is open to the sheer cliff with vertiginous views of the entire green island beneath us, curled as if in sleep, on a bed of gentle waves. My eyes fall on the stony black peninsula, spilling out to sea in a clutch of round black rocks, like tipped-out peppercorns.
An infinity pool gives the impression of trickling its contents onto the ocean below, wrapping around a curved deck seating area that juts out directly over the cliff.
‘I think my jaw just dropped open all by itself,’ I tell Georgia.
She manages a little smile.
‘The Tower Suite is actually a bank of interconnected suites,’ she explains. ‘Elysium always brought out Dad’s overprotective side.’ She looks sad. ‘He didn’t want us girls sleeping down on the beach cabanas.’
‘Isn’t it stunning?’ Ophelia says, pleased. ‘We modernized, but … you can’t improve on that view.’
A hummingbird flutters in and out again. Adrianna and Silky arrive as we’re admiring the panorama.
‘Are the wait staff not here yet?’ Adrianna looks around, bemused. ‘Georgia, can you call them?’ Her sister obligingly lifts the Tower Suite phone. ‘Ophelia, could you … maybe show us the patisserie video while we’re waiting?’
I chew my lip as Ophelia locates a channel on the TV. We watch dutifully as ‘Sugar Room’ flashes up on screen.
‘This is live from New York,’ explains Adrianna. ‘The sugar room where they create, like, a hundred thousand candy-flowers for my cake. Isn’t it cool?’
We dutifully watch the TV. The camera shows a huge commercial kitchen filled with sugar flowers. Rows of confectioners busily shape petals, or hand-paint saturated shades onto sugar orchids. My stomach rumbles treacherously.
I glance at Georgia. Her face is taut with stress. She holds the receiver to her chest.
‘The staff can’t seem to get in,’ she tells Adrianna. ‘The security. It’s set only to recognize your fingerprint.’
Please, I beg silently,please let the cake arrive.
Adrianna rolls her eyes and walks nonchalantly to a set of double doors in the wall. I glance about the other bridesmaids. None of them look the slightest bit concerned that the cake is delayed.
Lifting a glossy-nailed finger, Adrianna taps a button. The door beeps, and an electronic lock whirs.
To my huge relief, it opens and a line of gold-liveried wait staff enter the room, each holding a plate with four tiny little mouthfuls of cake. They hand them out to the assembled girls.
Expectations of the sugar hit flood my mouth. I’m so faint with hunger, I’m honestly not sure I could stand another moment.
‘These look so good,’ I gush at the waiter, who looks slightly disconcerted at my sincerity. I am so hungry I cram the first slice fully into my mouth, barely pausing to chew. It’s apple cake with toffee caramel frosting, so creamy and soft it’s like eating clouds. It’s only when I look up, I realize all the other bridesmaids are looking at me with shocked expressions. A second wave of waiters are handing out dainty golden forks.
‘Sorry.’ I wipe cake crumbs and take a fork. All eyes seem to now be on Adrianna, and I watch as the forks stand poised in unison.
With a regal nod, Adrianna takes the smallest fraction of food, and tucks it delicately into her mouth. The girls do the same. I swallow the cake in my mouth with difficulty.
