Don't Tell the Groom (20 page)

‘I wanted to win,' I say quietly.

‘Why?'

I take a deep breath. I know that Josh won't understand.

‘I found out at the weekend that Lou, my best friend, is having a baby. So I'm down a bridesmaid. Then I've got flower arranging tonight, which I'm terrible at. I'm never going to be able to do my own flowers for the wedding. And so I bought the tickets hoping I'd win enough to pay a florist.'

‘That's it? That's why you were having a bad day?'

‘I'm sorry that it's not bad enough for you. It seemed pretty bad from where I was sitting,' I say stroppily.

‘How many classes of flower arranging have you done?'

‘Tonight will be my seventh.'

‘Out of …'

‘Eight.'

‘Well, you've got a quarter of the classes left. You may get better.'

‘No, I think it's one of those talents you've either got or you haven't.'

‘So don't arrange your own flowers,' says Josh, shrugging his shoulders as if it's the simplest decision in the world.

‘But I can't afford all the flowers I want without buying them wholesale and putting them together myself.'

‘Then have fewer flowers.'

I roll my eyes at Josh. He is such a man.

‘I can't have fewer flowers.'

‘Why not? Do the flowers conduct the service? Do the flowers say your vows? No, flowers may be nice, but they're not an integral part of what a wedding is.'

That's told me. I start to drain my coffee, wondering if I can make a speedy exit.

‘Look, I don't mean to be harsh. I'm just trying to make you try to see how you're worrying about all these little things that aren't important in the grand scheme of things,' says Josh. ‘Let's put it in perspective. You were gambling because you wanted a dress, yes?'

‘Yes, originally.'

‘Right, and now you have a dress?'

‘Yes.'

‘And did it cost as much as your dream dress?'

‘No. It was two hundred and twenty-five pounds.'

‘Right, then. Is it any less nice?'

‘It's different.'

‘But do you like it?'

‘I love it,' I say honestly, and my heart skips a beat as I remember the lace detail.

‘Don't you see? There are always options. You don't need to find a quick win to get what you're looking for. When it comes to life there are no quick wins. You have to either work for things in life or adjust what you want. Gambling to get what you want is never a good short cut.'

I will not cry, I will not cry
, I chant desperately in my head. I can feel the tears rushing to my eyes and my vision is starting to blur. I know he isn't having a go at me and I know that he is trying to help me, but I can't help it that I want to cry.

‘Hey, hey, Penny.'

He's grabbed my hand and he's stroking it. I want to scream at him to stop being so nice. I half laugh, half cough, and a few tears escape from my eyes.

‘Don't cry, Penny. Listen to me. None of the details you're worrying about are important. Don't you see?'

I nod. I did see. I was just always trying to get the next wow factor thing for the wedding.

‘You see, Penny, this is why I don't do weddings. At the end of the day if you love someone, you love someone and that love can just be enough. If I were ever to get married, which I'm not, then it would be the most basic wedding you'd ever need.'

‘Would you never marry Mel?' I ask.

‘No, that won't happen.'

I'm intrigued to know what Mel is like. I know that not every woman wants to get married, but it just intrigues me nonetheless. With a boyfriend like Josh I bet she's pretty enough to be a model.

‘Look, Penny, I'm sorry. I have to leave now if I'm going to get back to work on time.'

I glance at my watch. Yikes, so am I.

‘Thanks for coming to meet me, Josh. It's just so hard not being able to talk to anyone else.'

‘I still think you should consider telling Mark. He seems like a decent guy. I'm sure he'd understand.'

‘No, he really wouldn't. But anyway, I feel much better about everything. And I promise, no more scratch cards.'

‘Or any other get-rich-quick gambles. No taking yourself off to the horse racing or anything.'

‘No,' I laugh. ‘I promise.'

We walk back to the car park and already my shoulders seem lighter. It is such a massive relief just to have been able to talk about what was bothering me.

‘Thanks, Josh.'

The next thing I know Josh is hugging me. It is exactly what I needed.

‘I'll see you on Tuesday,' I say, waving as I get into my car.

Now all I have to do is get through an afternoon at work
and then hope that I've magically sprouted green fingers by six o'clock when I go to flower arranging class.

By 7 p.m. I realise that I haven't sprouted the green fingers.

This week's task is buttonholes. Mine resembles something a clown would wear. Only it wouldn't squirt any water, it would just fall apart if you pressed anything.

I glance at Amy, the woman who sits next to me. Her buttonhole looks like something you'd find in a florist's shop. I'm desperately staring at her fingers, which are all nimble and delicate. I wish mine were like that.

‘What?' asks Amy as she looks up at me. I think perhaps my staring was scaring her.

‘I just wish my buttonhole looked as good as yours. I've got fat thumbs.'

That is the only excuse I can offer. They may not be as big as Mark's mutantly strong thumbs, but I think they are fat enough to be hindering my flower arranging.

‘You just need to take a bit more time over them,' says Amy.

‘Patience has never been my strong point,' I say honestly.

‘You're good with the colours though. They at least complement each other well.'

She must be a mum. That is such a mum thing to say, looking for the positives in a bad situation.

‘That's really kind, but don't worry, I know it's crap.'

‘I mean it, about the colours,' she says.

‘So have you done this before?'

‘No, but I'm an art teacher, so I'm used to working with craft materials and a lot of the principles are the same.'

‘Wow, then you are really good.'

‘Thanks. So how are your wedding plans coming along?'

‘Well, I think I've got my buttonholes down, don't you agree?' I say, laughing. Who am I kidding? The forty-five pounds I spent on this course was a total waste of money.

‘Aside from your lovely buttonholes. How are the rest of the plans going?'

‘I've got most of the big things now. Venue, church and the dress. I have a dress! I've just got to sort the photographer, DJ, transport, flowers and the little details. Favours and decorations.'

‘Have you given the favours any thought? I always love those. The last wedding I went to had lottery ticket favours,' says Amy.

I wince as I remember how tempted I'd been a few weeks before to steal all the lottery ticket favours from the other person's wedding. I somehow doubt that it would be a good idea for me to have them at our wedding. Besides which, if any of my friends won a big prize I'd be forever pissed off about the one time I bought a winning ticket and someone else got the prize.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't be happy for a friend or family member if they won the lottery. I'm just saying that I wouldn't be happy if I'd bought them the winning ticket. There's a difference.

‘Yeah, I was thinking of making something,' I say. Or reading between the lines I want something cheap.

‘Oh, I know. I went to another wedding that had love hearts – you know, the little sweets? They had the bride and groom's name on them and they were in little organza bags.'

That was a cute idea, but I can't imagine that they'd come in at under £30, which is my current budget for favours. My preferred favours at the moment are an IOU coffee note that I thought the guests could redeem at some future date, when I had more than two pennies to rub together.

‘Right, now time to make your feminine buttonhole,' says the teacher at the front of the class, clapping her hands together to get our attention.

We all stand up and go and select some more flowers. This is just what I need, to knock myself even lower in the self-confidence stakes.

‘What about making something you can eat?' suggests Amy.

‘Wouldn't I have to make it really close to the wedding?' I ask.

‘Yeah, but if you made something simple.'

That is not the world's worst idea. I might be a terrible cake baker, but I'm sure there must be some recipe that I could use. I mean, if I actually follow the recipe word for word, and don't get a bit creative halfway through as I try to channel my inner Nigella.

I like the idea of something edible. After all, who doesn't like a tasty little snack when they've been drinking?

My feminine buttonhole is not looking any better than the masculine one. In fact it looks worse. Not even a clown would be seen dead in this.

I hold mine up, rotating it to see if it looks any better at different angles, but it doesn't.

‘I'm going to have the worst wedding flowers ever,' I say sadly. I know when I'm defeated. I'm embarrassed for thinking that I'd be able to do this.

‘Look, if you don't think your flowers are going to cut the mustard, why don't I do them? I mean, unless you'd rather get a florist to do them. I wouldn't be offended if you said no,' says Amy.

‘I'd love you to do my flowers. That's really kind of you. But the thing is, I was doing this course as I can't afford to get a florist. I wouldn't be able to afford to get you to do them either.'

‘Yes, you could, I'd do it for free. Or at least maybe a couple of bottles of wine. Listen, if you provide me with the flowers
the day before the wedding, then I'll put them together.'

‘Really?' I want to lean over and hug her, but having only met her a few times I don't think that is entirely appropriate.

‘Just before I commit to it, you're not having wall-to-wall flowers, are you?' she asks.

‘No, nothing like that. Just three bouquets and buttonholes, of course.'

‘What about table centrepieces?' ‘No, I'm not going to have table centrepieces.'

There, I've said it, and you know what? It's quite liberating. I'm not having table centrepieces. What happens to table centrepieces after the wedding anyway?

‘Great, then it should be easy. Can I take photos of them for a website? I'm hoping to do this kind of thing on the side. I thought it might be a good little earner during the summer holidays,' says Amy

‘Of course you can. And what a great idea. You've obviously got a talent for it.'

I feel fabulous by the time I get back to the house. I've swapped numbers with Amy and I only have one more flower-arranging class to go next week. Now that I'm not doing the flowers for the wedding I no longer feel under pressure and I don't think I'm going to mind going any more.

In fact, in the mood I'm in nothing can bring me down. I've ticked another big milestone off my list.

See, this wedding organising stuff is actually quite simple after all. Josh was right.

‘Hello?' I call as I walk into the house.

‘In the lounge,' comes the response from Mark.

‘Hey, how's it going?' I ask, plonking myself on the sofa next to him and kissing him on the cheek. He seems deep into his channel surfing. It's a pastime that he takes deadly seriously and it makes it a nightmare to watch anything with him. He changes the channels during most advert breaks and you find yourself watching about ten minutes of a programme before he gets engrossed in something else.

‘Fine. How was the gym?' he asks.

‘Same as ever,' I say dismissively. ‘How was your day?'

‘It was OK. I just had the weirdest phone conversation with Nan.'