Don't Tell the Groom (7 page)

‘You OK there?' he asks.

‘Yeah, I think so. You're always going to love me, aren't you?'

‘I wouldn't be marrying you if I wasn't.'

‘No, I mean people change, and what if you fall out of love with me?'

‘I'm not going to. Where has all this come from?'

‘I was just thinking about it. And about how things seem to change when people get married, and you know we're so happy not being married. Sometimes I just wonder if we should just stay unmarried and happy.'

Stay with me, people – this is my latest genius idea.

‘What, and spend the money on a fuck-off big holiday instead?'

Damn it. I hadn't thought of that. If there is no wedding then Mark will still find out that the money's gone.

‘No, I mean …' God, what did I mean? ‘It's just that I don't think I want things to change.'

Mark sighs. ‘Is this about Jane and Phil?'

‘A little bit.'

‘Yeah, that's been on the cards for a while. To be honest, I don't even know why they got married in the first place. You know that Jane issued him with an ultimatum and told him that they had to get married or break up?'

No, I did not know that. I can't believe that Mark has never told me.

‘Is that why they got engaged so quickly?'

‘Yeah, although he didn't tell us until the stag do. By then it was too late to talk him out of it.'

Wowzers. I always thought I was desperate to have a wedding, but that takes it to a whole new level.

‘Look, Pen, you're nothing like Jane, thank goodness. For starters, if you were we wouldn't be getting married. But look, don't get stressed about the wedding or our future. It's just about us, OK? Just me and you. And it will always be just you and me.'

‘And our zillions of kids.'

Stage six! I use any opportunity to squeeze that in, just to see Mark's eyes pop out of his head.

‘We'll take it as it comes.'

I lie back against Mark's arms. Perhaps it will be all right after all. I just need to get some perspective. So it isn't going to be a spectacular extravaganza wedding like Jane's, but she isn't even happy. At least I know that whatever wedding Mark and I end up with, we'll just be as happy as we are now.

‘My name's Penny, and I'm a gambling addict.'

I can't believe that I've actually just said that out loud. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, it's true. I gambled again last night as I was so convinced that I was going to be able to win back some money and increase my wedding budget a bit, but I lost.

I lost £56. In the time it took Mark to go to see the latest comic book movie adaptation with his brother, I'd lost one per cent of my wedding budget. That's pretty much a drop in the ocean considering what I have lost in total. But when you have a budget as low as mine, you can't afford to lose any more.

My eyes are still scrunched closed as I couldn't bear to look at the rest of the group members whilst I confessed. I did think that they'd break out into rapturous applause, or
at least parrot back, ‘Hi, Penny', like they do in the movies at AA meetings. But there's no noise at all.

I open my eyes slowly to see the men sitting in a circle looking at me curiously. Maybe they're not used to having a girl in their group.

‘Um, Penny, thank you for sharing that with us. This is actually the unemployed men's group. I think the room you're looking for is next door.'

My cheeks are burning and I'm suddenly mortified. Next door? With all my nerves and the effort it took for me to actually get my legs to cooperate and walk from the car into the community centre, I'd not paid much attention to the room number. I'd just seen the group of men sitting round in a circle and assumed that was the gamblers' group.

‘Oh, I'm awfully sorry,' I say, dipping into my terribly polite, terribly embarrassed British mode, and I hurry out of the door as quickly as I can.

I don't feel like I can go through that again. Is it enough that I've admitted it out loud? Maybe now I've declared it to a room full of strangers it will have magically flicked some switch in my brain and I'll never gamble again. Maybe I don't need to go to the group after all. But as I'm walking towards the main exit of the community centre, I catch sight of my sparkly engagement ring and feel a pang of guilt about Mark. I owe it to him to sort myself out.

I take a deep breath and walk into the room next to the one I'd been in. But as I walk in I realise that this doesn't look like a gamblers' group either. The people in the room are all looking at me: the businessman in his suit, the woman who looks like she's walked out of an advert for White Stuff.

‘I'm sorry, I must have the wrong room,' I say, sighing in frustration.

‘What were you looking for, dear?' asks the woman standing up with a clipboard in her hand. She looks like a French teacher with her blue and white stripey top and red scarf tied around her neck; maybe this is conversational French. I can't tell
her
what I am here for. Whatever would she think of me?

‘I'm looking for …' Shit. Think, Penny, think. Why am I so bad at this? I'm just panicking that I'll say I'm here for an introduction to pole dancing and this woman will tell me that's what this class is.

‘Let me help you. This room is for online gamblers. Is that what you were expecting?'

My mouth drops open. This room and the people in it are definitely not what I was expecting.

‘I'm sorry. I'm Penelope Holmes.'

‘Welcome, Penelope. Take a seat. We're just about all here now, so we can get started. My name's Mary, and I'm a gambling addict, just like all of you. These meetings are
your first step to controlling your addiction, so well done for coming.'

I feel a swell of pride that for the first time in weeks I've done something right.

‘What we're going to do tonight is introduce ourselves to each other, introduce you to your one-on-one mentors, and then we'll give you some time to get to know one another. Usually we'd have a talk from one of our mentors to inspire you about their road to recovery. These two-hour sessions could literally change your life,' says Mary, beaming.

Blimey, two hours? I had this thing down for an hour max. I'm never going to make my body combat class. Maybe I should leave now. After all, Mark doesn't want a bride with a fat arse at the wedding. But then I remember, if I don't get this bingo addiction under control there won't be a wedding.

‘So we'll just start nice and gently and go round and talk about what we've done and why we've come here today,' says Mary.

I can feel myself having one of those panic attacks like the other day. I sort of thought I was going to an AA meeting where you'd just sit and listen to a talk. Maybe introduce myself by name. But the fact that I'm going to have to share my horrible secret with people is practically bringing me out in hives.

‘Right, then. I'll start. My name's Mary and I became a
gambling addict playing online bingo. I started playing when I retired and I was bored, and now as a result my husband's had to keep working to pay off my debt. I've been free of gambling for a year now and I've also gone back to work part-time to help my husband.'

Wow. I instantly feel like I'm not alone. Mary's just like me. And worse, she's caused her husband to delay his retirement.

As we go round the room I realise how far I am from being alone. The sharp-looking businessman is addicted to buying and selling on the stock market. He'd once fallen asleep waiting for the Asian markets to open and as a result lost £10,000.

Then it's the turn of the woman dressed in the White Stuff outfit. It turns out she is a librarian and she'd become addicted to the lottery and the daily play games on their website.

There is another bingo addict, two men obsessed with sports betting and another man who does all forms of gambling on the internet. I had no idea this went on behind closed doors. I thought you had to be trackside or at a bookies' to be a gambler. How dumb is that? Before I checked my bank balance a few weeks ago I didn't even think I gambled, and yet here I am, one among many gambling addicts.

Oh, crap. The guy next to me has finished speaking, and now it is my turn. What am I supposed to say? I'm so used
to bottling it all up and telling lies that I don't think I can physically get the words out of my mouth.

‘And you, dear?' asks Mary, motioning her hand at me.

I open my mouth and close it again. If I am not careful the other people in the group will think I am doing an impression of a guppy fish.

‘I'm Penelope.' Was that a stutter? My hands are so sweaty that I'm having to sit on them for fear that they'll leak on the floor. And my armpits feel so wet that I bet I look like those guys in the Lynx adverts.

‘My fiancé and I have been saving for a wedding. Or at least we were before we got engaged. I checked our savings account to see how much we had and we had ten thousand less than we should have done. I'd spent it on online bingo. I actually thought that I'd been topping up the fund rather than taking it out. Stupid, huh?'

‘It's not stupid, Penelope,' says Mary.

Looking around the room, I see that everyone is staring at me sympathetically and nodding. I've been so scared about telling my story but no one is throwing rocks at me or chanting to have me burnt at the stake. They really do understand.

‘That's great,' says Mary. ‘I'm so pleased everyone was able to share about their problems. That is one of the hardest
parts: admitting it to yourself. But as we go through the weeks we'll cover all sorts of things. How to get to the root of why you gambled.'

Mine is easy. It can be answered in four little words: Vera Wang wedding dress.

‘We'll also talk about how we can try to quit our habits and how we can tell those around us what is going on.'

My blood suddenly runs cold at the thought of Mark knowing I was here. Mark can't know. It would end our relationship.

‘Sometimes group members have found that it is easier to tell someone else close to you before you tell your partner, but we'll get to that.'

Great. Now that's made me think I should tell Lou. Of all the people in the world, apart from Mark, Lou is the person I want to tell. She always knows what to do in any situation. We tell each other everything. Well,
almost
everything. We do a lot as a foursome and there are some things I just don't want to know about her husband. But I couldn't imagine telling her about this. Lou struggles with money as it is. Perhaps struggles is the wrong word, but she and Russell are definitely not as comfortable as Mark and me.

In fact, Lou is the reason why we started our stupid savings account for the wedding. She let slip to us one night that she
was still paying her's off her credit card. Lovely as their wedding was, it was not worth the tidy sum it was still costing them each month, three years later.

I've done it again. I've started thinking about other things and I've got no idea what Mary's been saying. What if she's told me the key to kick my gambling habit and I've missed it? I have
got
to start paying attention.

‘Right, then. Time to introduce you to your mentors. This is someone who is going to be there, within reason, twenty-four seven for you. Someone who has been through it themselves and understands you.'

I turn round and there, sitting behind us, are a group of strangers. Oh my God, have they been there the whole time? Did they hear everything we said? I guess I really was too much like a rabbit in headlights when I walked in, and I missed them.

They look like a random bunch, just like we do. Again it's a mixture of men and women and different age groups. Oh, hello. There is one man who is to die for. Too bad I'm getting married or else I'd have been over there in a shot.

‘Now, I've paired you up on the list, based on the information you gave me over the phone. It always works out best if people have similar lifestyles. You don't want a buddy who's working the night shift when you're a day worker,' says Mary. ‘Right, I'll read out the names.'

I start praying that I get the sexy guy. Not that it matters, I don't think I need a mentor anyway, but it is always good to get the sexy guy.

Suddenly I'm transported back to school where you had to be in pairs and the teacher's picking random names and you're chanting in your head the names of the cool kids that you desperately want to be with. Of course at school I'd inevitably get one of the losers. They say like attracts like.

‘Penelope, you're with Josh over there. Josh, wave your hand.'

I'm scanning the line of people, desperately looking for Josh, and then I get to the sexy man and see his hand is waving. Oh my God, I actually got the cool guy. I beam with pride and then I realise that it makes me look fifteen and I'm suddenly back looking down at the floor. Which in my defence is a very cool parquet floor which would look lovely in our Victorian terrace.

‘Hi, I'm Josh.'

I resist the temptation to say that I know and instead I go into business mode and stick my hand out.

‘Penelope, but you can call me Penny.'

Or anything else you like. What is wrong with me? I keep having a mental block that I'm engaged. It is just that he is so tall with dreamy blue eyes and he's wearing a leather jacket. Yep, I'm fifteen. And still a loser.

‘Nice to meet you, Penny. I heard your story.'

‘Pretty shameful, huh?'

‘Yeah, but I've heard worse.'

I try not to think what could be worse; it is far too depressing to think about.

‘Come on, you can at least smile. Hey, it's not like you stole from anyone,' says Josh.

No, that's true. I have not stolen from anyone. Except myself and, well I guess, Mark. It was his money, too.