She’s got it.

I let my gaze wander over to the walls, made of billowing cream drapes, greenery swags and countless—and I mean countless—white flowers. The amount of flowers and leaves on the walls superseded only by the number of flowers on the three long dining tables that edge the room. I reach for one of the roses and lightly squeeze it. You can always tell the difference between the high and low quality ones by doing so. This is a high quality one.

Dinner is to be a plated meal and all the tables are already set with plates, cutlery and glasses. The centerpieces are tall, elegant candelabras entwined with trailing exotic flowers. They are surrounded by clusters of small, unlit candles.

Later I will see the real effect.

The middle of the room, meant to serve as a large dance area, is covered in a cream and gold carpet. There is no gift table because Lana and Blake have requested their guests to pledge donations either to CHILD or to their favorite charities. To the left of me is a long table where there are earplugs in cream boxes for when the music gets too riotous, a phone charging station, comfy slippers for feet tired of high heels on the dance floor, miniature bottles of sunscreen, bug repellent, paper fans, and cozy wraps for the women in case there is a sudden evening chill.

The attention to detail is astonishing.

I leave the tent and head back towards the room where the three of us are getting ready. I open the door. Billie is sitting in a toweling robe having her make-up done and Lana, who has already had her make-up done, is now having her hair styled. My hair is already done.

The videographer is filming and a photographer is clicking away.

‘You’re next,’ the make-up artist says to me.

‘OK,’ I reply and go sit on a chair beside a window.

Fat Mary comes into the room and closes the door behind her. She is wearing a peach dress and a matching hat. For a change she actually looks all right.

‘Cor blimey…have you girls seen the best man?’ she asks and chortles.

‘Vann Wolfe?’ Lana asks with a laugh.

Mary indulges in a long whistle. ‘Even his name is perfection. One look at him and I know he is going to be a fantastic lover.’

‘How can you tell?’ I ask curiously.

‘Listen, love, I’ve been to bed with enough men to know who’s going to whip it out, whip it in and wipe it, and who’s got the slooooow hand and dazzling moves.’

I stare at her without comprehension. What the hell is a sloooow hand? I have only been with three guys and all three times it was a total and complete disaster. I was drunk, they were drunk. First time I was sixteen and he didn’t even use a condom. He promised he would withdraw before he came and he didn’t. He apologized, but what a bastard! What he did afterwards was unforgivable. Fortunately, that didn’t end with an STD or a nine-month bump for me.

The second time it was three years later. I was at a party. He was confident, the way Jack was, but he had a big nose. He put his finger into my knickers and poked me when I wasn’t expecting it. It was painful. I was drunk so he got on top and went for it. He said having sex with a condom on was like sucking a sweet with a wrapper still on it, but he didn’t want no squalling baby. He wanted to spray his semen on my stomach. So he did. It was sticky and messy and I hated it. He tried to ask me out again, but I refused.

The next guy was at a club. I was very drunk. He was the deejay. He took me around the back and pushed his hard length against me. It was exciting. I had a condom in my purse and we used it, but afterwards I was still ashamed. I felt as if I had betrayed Jack. I know it sounds crazy but that’s how I felt.

Fat Mary goes to sit on the bed and looks at Lana. ‘So who is he?’

‘His…father used to…work for Blake’s family,’ Lana explains, but I did not miss the pause before father and work.

‘In what capacity?’

‘His father was the butler. But Blake and Vann are very close. They grew up together so they are as close as brothers.’

‘What does he do now?’

‘I think he’s trying to be an artist. He lives in Paris.’

All I hear is ‘trying to be’ and I decode that as poor. Church mouse poor.

‘Oooo what I wouldn’t do for one night with his steaming flesh,’ purrs Fat Mary.

Lana laughs. ‘You could be in luck, Mary. Blake tells me he likes the fuller figured woman.’

‘That’s sealed Grandview’s fate for tonight, then,’ she says in such a black widow spider voice that we all laugh.

‘You are a terrible slut,’ says Billie.

‘Slut is so harsh. Dragon on the hunt is more appetizing.’

There is a knock on the door. Still laughing, Billie goes to open it.

‘Hi,’ she says, but her voice is suddenly different. We all turn towards the door.

‘Hi,’ a man’s voice says and I feel my heart stop.

Oh! my God! Oh my God! The man standing at the door is none other than my Jack.

My stomach does a backflip. I swallow hard and compose my face. Billie opens the door wider and I see him framed in the doorway. I have never seen him in a suit, and, oh boy, he is so incredibly handsome he dazzles my eyes. But on closer examination he is Jack and yet he is not. The African sun has turned him as brown as a berry, but it is his eyes. They are dull and sad. Has he seen what he shouldn’t have in Africa?

I have never been able to forget that time waiting at the dentist and, having read all the magazines on offer, picking up something on photography. Skimming through it bored me out of my skull, and coming upon that iconic picture of the sickly skeletal child crawling on the dusty, barren landscape towards a help center. Behind the child, a vulture following on foot, waiting for it to die. I researched the photographer on the net later, and it didn’t shock me when I learned that he eventually took his own life.

Jack’s eyes zero in on Lana. She stands up, her hand clamped on her mouth. For a moment no one moves and then she is flying across the room towards him, but instead of lunging into his arms as I have sometimes seen her do, she stops two feet away from him. There it is, the tension that Lana and Billie were discussing in the restaurant. Did they fall out?

‘Hello, Lana,’ he says. His voice is the same.

‘You came,’ Lana whispers. Her hand is pressed to her stomach.

‘Of course. I did promise to give you away,’ he says, and smiles. And for just one moment he seems as he was before.

‘Oh!’ Lana’s face falls. She bites her lower lip. ‘I’m sorry, Jack, but you never replied to any of my emails. I thought you weren’t coming. Billie’s father is giving me away,’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘No he’s not. I am. This is a surprise from Blake.’

It is only then that I realize that he is dressed in the color scheme chosen for the wedding. A blush-colored square of handkerchief is sticking out of his breast pocket. That little piece of material unifies his attire with mine.

Lana flings her arms around his neck joyfully. ‘Oh, Jack. You almost ruined my wedding.’

His arms go around her. She lifts herself up on her toes and kisses his cheek. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. So glad. Thank you, thank you so much for coming.’

‘I’ll always be here for you.’

Lana sniffs.

‘Don’t spoil your make-up,’ cries the make-up lady in a panic.

‘I guess I’d better leave and let you finish getting dressed. I’ll come back for you when you’re ready.’

Lana disengages herself from him. He throws a quick glance at the rest of us in the room. ‘Ladies,’ he says, and then he is gone.

Lana looks at Billie. ‘Did you know?’

‘Of course,’ Billie admits airily.

Lana goes to her mobile and calls Blake. All she says is, ‘Thank you.’

I don’t get to hear what he says, but her reply is rather intriguing as she says in a perfectly serious tone, ‘I consider that sexual blackmail.’ Then she turns around and goes back to sit in front of the mirror. She looks like the happiest bunny in the field. When she catches my eyes, she grins like a cat that has got the cream.