Page 73 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

It’s the day before my wedding but also the morning after the night before.

Seriously, how much did I have to drink at Sarah’s party?! I blink open my heavy lids and check my phone for the time. 6:09am. Gah! I do not need to be awake this early. I have a generous glug of water, close my eyes, rearranging the pillow so it better supports my neck, and try to relax. Go away, headache, I command. It continues to pound away, oblivious to my wishes. Go away, you sodding bloody bugger of a headache!

Why didn’t I take my usual precautions last night? Headache tablets and lots of water before bed?always. Except when you roll up to the castle at 11:00pm having spent the last six hours eating, drinking, and being merry and you completely forget. Maybe this is a symptom of middle age?the forgetfulness and the hangover. And if that’s the case, then maybe there’s something to Sarah’s angst about being forty.

Finally, I can feel myself drift along the cusp of sleep but a moment later, I land on the wrong side of it and my eyes spring open again. Bugger, bollocks, fuck, shit.

I slip out of bed, not wanting to wake Jean-Luc, and pad to the bathroom where I ferret around in my toiletries bag for headache tablets. I can’t have forgotten para-bloody-cetamol, surely? Another look through the bag reveals that I have. Argh! I scream silently. Oops, my head does not like that. Sarah will have some. She’s the most organised person I know?whenever she travels, she does two practice packs before her final one. She’s like Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99 only more anal. I’ve never truly appreciated that level of fastidiousness until now.

I ease out of our room and tiptoe down to Josh and Sarah’s room, then listen at the door to make sure they’re not having sex. Silence. I turn the knob and peek in?both asleep. I open the door just enough for me to slip through and head straight for their en suite and close that door quietly. So far, I’m impressed with my stealthiness. Perhaps I missed my calling?I could have been a covert operative.

Sarah has a toiletries bag, a separate makeup kit, and a proper first aid kit?of course she does. I try to open the first aid kit?a plastic container with a latch?and the bloody thing is stuck. I’m now at the point where I’ve never wanted a headache tablet more in my life. ‘Come on you bloody thing,’ I whisper at it, my jaw clenched.

The latch finally releases, but I may have been a little heavy handed and medical supplies erupt from the kit and clatter onto the bathroom floor. I stand stock-still and stare at the door?maybe they didn’t hear me. The doorknob turns and Sarah peers around the edge of the door. Bollocks. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she asks, though not harshly and I inwardly applaud her restraint.

‘I was trying not to wake you,’ I whisper.

She frowns at me and looks at the detritus of my not-so-covert-after-all operation littering the floor. She reaches down and retrieves a packet of tablets. ‘Here,’ she says. ‘You must really need these.’

‘Sorry, Sez.’

She sniffles and shakes her head. ‘Out, I need to pee.’

‘Oh, right, sorry.’

Just as I’m through the door, she says, ‘And go put the kettle on. I’m up now.’ No-nonsense, big-sister mode.

‘All right,’ I whisper, but it’s to a closed door.

I glance at the bed and Josh is still sleeping. I’m not sure how and I feel a pang of jealousy?I wish I could sleep through a great crashing sound. I leave and head to the kitchen and flick on the kettle.

A short while later, I’m sipping tea on the balcony of our castle, looking out over the valley, my headache starting to ease a little and I smile. I’m getting married tomorrow.

Sarah should have brought a clipboard with her?then she’d really look the part as she bosses us about doing her (wedding planning) bidding. She calls it ‘being organised’. I call it ‘being a drill sergeant’.

Unlike me, my sister managed to avoid a hangover despite fully participating in her birthday celebrations and being ‘up with the sparrow’s fart’, as our dad likes to say. Turns out it’s because, also unlike me, she downed two tablets and a bottle of water before bed. Josh and Jean-Luc are similarly unaffected and I am trying to not to hate them all?silently, of course. While my headache has eased, it’s not completely gone and even though I have eaten a mountain of toast this morning, my stomach is still a little off.

We are a crew of seven?the four of us, Mum and Dad, and Jaelee. I felt sorry for Alistair, as he didn’t sign up for wedding planning duties and ignoring Jaelee’s protests of, ‘He doesn’t care,’ I insisted he join the others who are spending the day in Montepulciano. It’s the sort of name that’s fun to say?Mont-e-pulll-chee-ah-nohhh?and, according to Sarah, it’s an amazing town, so I am also moderately jealous of the day-trippers. I am getting married tomorrow! I remind myself. Hmm, yes, I should definitely focus on that.

‘Right,’ says Sarah, ‘Jaelee and I have inspected the loft and it looks like there’s still a lot to do.’

‘There’s still everything to do,’ Jaelee says drily.

Sarah tosses her a look that says, ‘I’m trying to manage expectations here.’ Jaelee replies with a look of her own?‘So am I!’ Sarah clears her throat. ‘So, Bianca sent the cleaning crew in yesterday?’

‘But you can’t tell,’ Jae chimes in. I know my sister and she is incredibly patient, but it looks like she’s about to lose it.

‘And we will need to fix that. There’s also setting up the space, as Bianca wasn’t able to get anyone to help with that, like she’d thought.’

‘Honestly, if she worked for me, I’d fire her,’ mumbles Jae. I stifle a snigger.

‘Anyway, I’ve asked for cleaning supplies and they’ll be up in the loft, and Bianca has given us the key to the storeroom where the lights and chairs and other stuff are kept. Guys, Dad, you’ll be with me, bringing everything up to the loft. Mum and Jaelee, you’ll get started on the cleaning.’

Setting aside that Sarah’s division of labour is very ‘1950s’, I ask, ‘Wait, what about me?’ I don’t love cleaning and setting up, but I am not just going to watch my nearest and dearest do all the work.

‘Well, you don’t want to mess up your manicure, and …’ She hesitates as soon as she sees my piercing glare.

---