Free The Youngest Bridesmaid by Sara Seale

run over you, just in case? ”
    “ No, ” she said faintly, but quite firmly. “ I ’ m only tired. It ’ s—it ’ s been a long day. ”
    “ Yes, a long day, poor Cinderella, ” Piers said gently, “ but it will soon be over. Could I make arrangements with an hotel from here, Doctor Evans? ”
    “ It ’ s already been done, ” the doctor returned a little gruffly. “ The Queen ’ s have reserved their best rooms for you—the hotels are fairly empty at this time of year. Now, Mr. Merrick, you ’ ll return tomorrow for that check-up, please? ”
    “ Yes, I ’ ll be back, ” Piers answered, and put an arm round Lou ’ s shoulders, guiding her to the door.
    Lexiter was, as the doctor had said, a big town, and the hotel at which their taxi deposited them an imposing if hideous example of the Edwardian era. The interior was equally ugly with its marble floors and pillars, the plush and gilt which looked outdated and rather gloomy, palms in gigantic pots and tiers of stiffly planted flower-boxes.
    “ What a joint! ” exclaimed Piers softly, but Lou could see he was amused. Perhaps for him, she thought, this unlikely setting was a freakish jest to be laughed over later, but to her unaccustomed eyes, the place seemed very grand, the deserted lounge a rather awe-inspiring pattern of rich respectability, and themselves the somewhat embarrassing centre of attention as manager and staff hastened to welcome them.
    “ We have given you the Bridal Suite, naturally, Mr. Merrick. Such an unfortunate setback to your plans but, if I may say so, a fortunate turn of events for the Queen ’ s—ha, ha ... ” the manager said, conducting them personally to their rooms.
    “ Why? Do you propose putting up a plaque stating that Mr. Merrick slept here? ” asked Piers innocently, and the manager laughed again somewhat nervously. He and his whole staff had been delighted at an unexpected share in the publicity following the wedding of the year, but the legendary Piers Merrick hardly looked his best with lint and plaster over one temple, and the bride, for all her mink and expensive accessories, had the air of a dressed-up child obediently following instructions. Plain, washed-out looking, thought the manager, who had admired for weeks the glamorous photographs of Melissa which had appeared in the press, and he told his staff rather darkly that in his opinion there was more than met the eye in this last-moment exchange of brides.
    “ Well, ” said Piers, surveying their quarters with a quizzical expression, “ I ’ ve ne v er occupied a bridal suite before, have you? ”
    “ Of course not, ” Lou replied, thinking the question foolish in the circumstances, and he stood watching with a faint smile, while she tentatively explored the suite ’ s potentialities. Sitting room, bedroom, dressing -room displayed the same faded gra ndeu r as the rest of the hotel, but the manager must have sent out hurriedly for flowers, for they filled the suite in hastily arranged abundance, and their heavy scent reminded Lou of the funeral impression she had received yesterday from Cousin Blanche ’ s decked-out drawing room.
    “ It feels like a conservatory, ” she said, and he opened a window.
    “ Central heating going full blast, but it ’ s preferable to freezing in the arctic chambers of most pro v incial morgues, ” he said, and watched her eyes slide from the vast double bed to their joint possessions already unpacked and distributed in appropriate places.
    “ How have they been so quick when we ’ ve only just arrived? ” she asked, but she was not really surprised; just another transformation scene, she thought, following the pattern of make - believe.
    “ Our stuff was fetched from the garage while we were still at the hospital. Somebody there evidently made lightning arrangements for us, ” he replied, but she was beginning to realize that it would be the same wherever Piers went; somebody would always be on hand to make