It Had to Be You (31 page)

‘Cock it,’ yells Muffy, skidding towards me as her foot lands on a stray heated roller.

‘
Oh, there it is,’ says Wes, who had agreed to be my hairdresser for the day, at an exorbitant fee I might add.

‘
Have you seen my pink lipstick?’ Muffy asks, limping around the room. ‘Christ, I think I’ve got three degree burns from that bloody thing Wes.’

Wes winds the stray roller into my hair and surveys me.

‘Right, I’ll have a tea darling while they do their magic,’ he says, disappearing to the kitchen. I feel so sick I’m sure I will throw up all over the wedding dress. It hangs outside my mum’s wardrobe and the veil and wedding train lie on the bed in my parents’ spare room.

‘
Are you doing my make-up Muffy?’ I ask anxiously. ‘How much time do we have?’

Muffy flops onto the bed and
sighs.

‘
About three hours, plenty of time. I’m bloody exhausted and your parents have got the heating up so high. I feel like I’m going to pass out, and my foot is throbbing like buggery.’

‘
Mum can you turn the heating down?’ I yell, feeling perspiration running from my armpits. I sniff under my arms and groan.

‘
I’ll have to shower again,’ I moan.

‘
Just do the arms and spray with loads of deodorant,’ says Muffy, falling back onto the bed.

Her hair is freshly washed and hangs beautifully in gorgeous waves. Wes is going to put
it in a chignon at her neck and dress it with the pearls we had bought at
Victoria’s Bridal
. I feel sure she will look a hundred times more stunning than me, and I really don’t mind. I finger the pearl earrings and necklace that sit in the white satin of a box that Oliver had given to me last night.

‘
I want you to know that you have made me the happiest man in the whole world,’ he had said.

I had opened the box to find the pearls.

‘I want to see you in only these on our wedding night,’ he had said huskily.

I fiddle with them and jump at a knock on the door.

‘What was that?’ calls Dad from the other side.

‘
I asked if the heating could go down,’ shouts Muffy.

W
hat the sodding hell is my dad doing here? Why isn’t he at the church making sure everything is going okay? He knows I don’t trust that bloody Douglas, who is no doubt already pissed on rum. He’s another one into the pirate malarkey. If he and Oliver had their way I swear we’d have been dressed as bloody pirates for the wedding. God, I hope he hasn’t got Oliver playing that stupid pirate game. When those two get together they get so immature.

‘
Christ Dad, why are you here?’

I
open the door where he is hovering outside.

‘
I didn’t know if you’d be dressed,’ he says. ‘Didn’t like to come in.’

He
’s wearing his dressing gown and slippers. I nearly faint at the sight. This is a disaster, a complete and total disaster.

‘
Why aren’t you dressed?’ I yell. ‘You should be dressed and checking everything is okay at the church, Mum, where are you?’ I shriek.

‘
I was practising my speech, and anyway I’m taking you to the church in the car,’ says Dad frowning, ‘but not for a few hours yet.’

‘
Oh no,’ I cry.

‘
Christ Binki, take a Valium or something. You’re overstressing,’ says Muffy forcing herself from the bed.

Mum bounds up the stairs, panic written all over her face.

‘You know what Douglas is like, he’s worse than Oliver with his pirate stuff. They’ll get playing that stupid bloody strip the pirate game to see who can destroy the boat first and capture the woman and then Oliver will never get ready and …’

‘
Good God, what on earth are you on about,’ says Mum. ‘What boat and what woman?’

Oh for God
’s sake.

‘
It’s an online game,’ sighs Muffy. ‘All very boring, the woman strips every time you hit the boat, you know, men’s stupid games.’

‘
I’ve never seen that one,’ says Dad.

‘
And you never will,’ says Mum firmly. ‘Now, what’s the panic?’ she asks breathlessly. ‘Does the dress not fit?’

‘
What is Dad doing here in his dressing gown,’ I say, sounding hysterical. No, that’s not true. I
am
hysterical.

‘
Well, he lives here dear,’ says Mum.

For God
’s sake have they gone totally insane? They’re too young for dementia so it has to be insanity doesn’t it?

‘
I know he bloody lives here but today he is supposed to be at the church, checking everything is okay, preferably in a wedding suit as opposed to his sodding dressing gown. I don’t trust Oliver’s best man, I told you that,’ I snap, bursting into tears. ‘It’s my wedding day, the happiest day of my life,’ I sob.

‘
Yes, one can see that,’ says Muffy dryly.

‘
It’s all going wrong,’ I say. ‘I knew it would. Oh God, give me the bloody chocolate teapot Muffy.’

She holds her hands up in front of me like a traffic policeman.

‘Now calm down Binki. You said no matter what happens or how much you beg I was not to give you the chocolate teapot. Not until after the ceremony. You’ll overdose when you’re this stressed.’

‘
I don’t care what I said,’ I say walking menacingly towards her. ‘Give it to me now.’

‘
Christ,’ says Muffy backing away. ‘She’s bloody possessed.’

‘
Bernard, get dressed now and down to the church,’ instructs Mum. ‘And make sure you’re back here by twelve.’

‘
But ...’ interrupts Dad.

‘
Now Bernard,’ she says firmly.

‘
Right,’ says Dad disappearing down the hall.

‘
Can you turn the heating down?’ yells Muffy. ‘I swear the Sahara is cooler than in here.’

M
um grabs my arm and sits me down.

‘
Now listen to me dear. You have three hours. Your dad will be back in plenty of time. Douglas phoned to say everything is fine his end. The buttonhole flowers are all ready, there have been no problems. You just have to make yourself beautiful. Now, do you want Sylvia to come round and help, she just phoned and …’

‘
No,’ I yell.

‘
That’s just as well because I told her we had a houseful as it was.’

‘
Hello Mrs Grayson, do you have any Earl Grey sweetie? I can’t possibly drink PG Tips,’ calls Wes.

‘
Just coming dear,’ calls Mum. ‘Are you okay if I go down to the kitchen, you won’t do anything stupid will you?’

Do something stupid? I
’m already doing something stupid. I’m bloody marrying Oliver aren’t I?

Meanwhile back at the flat

‘Arrr, the hair of the scurvy dog me matey?’ suggests Douglas, pulling a bottle of champagne from the fridge along with a slab of cheese.

‘
This and some cheese on toast will do the trick.’

‘
Put that back you wanker, that’s for when we move into the new house.’

‘
The cheese or the champagne?’ laughs Douglas, making Oliver’s head thump even more. ‘Or maybe both, I have to give it to you; you two know how to live.’

‘
Don’t get anything down that shirt either. That’s all we need right now,’ groans Oliver.

‘
You need to chill out mate. Christ, if this is what marriage does, you can keep it.’

Douglas puts the bottle back and rummages through the cupboard for
a bottle of rum while Oliver drops two more Alka Seltzer into a glass.

‘
I blame you for this hangover. What the fuck did you lot put in my drinks last night?’ he asks while throwing a carefully aimed parrot at Douglas.

Douglas laughs.

‘Don’t ask me mate, buggered if I can remember. After that fourth vodka and fifth lap dancer I’d had it. Christ, that brunette was a goer. Wore me out she did. I won’t be doing anything for a while.’

Oliver buries his head in his hands. He
’d never had a hangover like this in his life. What the hell had he been thinking of? He’d promised Binki he wouldn’t drink too much and he’d probably drunk more than he ever had in his whole life. Will he ever learn? The last time he had drunk too much look what had happened? He thinks back to that lunchtime on Christmas Eve and feels that small tingle of excitement that always follows memories of that day. It was a mistake but he hasn’t forgotten the mind blowing sex. He loves Binki, but she certainly lacks something in that department. He seriously hopes after the wedding and once they are settled in the new house things will pick up in that area. If not he may have to convince her to seek some kind of help. He can’t spend his married life spicing it up by thinking about a one-night stand, or in this case a one-afternoon stand. It’s not his fault he knows that, because Christ, when she does explode she’s like a firework display, so he’s doing everything right. She’s just not very adventurous and he can’t for the life of him understand why the pirate fantasy doesn’t work for her. Amanda had been dead keen to try on the outfit. God, what is he doing? The last person he should be thinking about right now is Amanda. He does miss her tight little arse walking past him at the office though. He shakes his head to push the memory from it and feels his head thump.

‘
Bloody good night though wasn’t it?’ laughs Douglas, giving up the search for the rum and filling the kettle instead.

‘
Black coffee for you sonny boy. Need you looking like something on earth to meet the old ball and chain.’

‘
It’s not a bloody prison sentence,’ Oliver snaps throwing back the Alka Seltzer.

‘
Trust me there won’t be nights again like last night and while I remember you need to get that lap dancer’s phone number off your iPhone, and
her text message.’

‘
Shit,’ mumbles Oliver, scrambling for his phone. The flat intercom buzzes and Douglas goes to answer it.

‘
Maybe it’s her, one last quickie,’ laughs Douglas.

‘
Christ, I didn’t did I?’ Oliver groans.

Douglas opens the door to the florist holding boxes of carnations.

‘Great, shove them in the kitchen will you.’

The fragrance from the flowers makes Oliver feel nauseous, and the text from the lap dancer doesn
’t help either. Christ, he hopes nothing happened with her. It’s no good asking Douglas, his memory of last night is worse than his own. Still, this is what happens at stag nights isn’t it? It’s bloody expected that the groom will end up wasted. That’s one good thing. If he was that pissed then the chances of him having done anything were pretty slim.

‘
Jesus, I’m going to throw up,’ he declares, rushing to the bathroom.

‘
Best thing mate, get it out now. You’ve got a few hours yet before your life is over.’

Oliver retches over the toilet bowl still holding his phone. It bleeps and he glances at the screen and sees it is a text from Amanda. Great, just what he didn
’t need today.

‘God, I want to cry,’ says Muffy. ‘You look like a real princess. You really do.’

Even
I don’t recognise myself. Muffy has performed miracles with make-up. I have acquired high cheekbones and thick long black lashes, and if I don’t resemble Grace Kelly I certainly look like a film star. I only wish I could look like this every day, not wearing a wedding dress obviously, that would be a bit weird, I mean looking glamorous like Andrea always does.

‘
I look amazing,’ I say, my voice sounding miles away and not belonging to me at all.

‘
It’s all down to Touché Éclat darling,’ says Muffy.

The dress fits to perfection. The lacy sleeves stand out against my pink painted fingernails. Wes has done wonders with a few heated rollers and a styling brush. I look stunning and I find myself thinking
how I wish William could see me. Mum spreads the train around me so Dad can take photos. Muffy stands beside me and we hug for a picture and she then kisses me on the cheek.

‘
I’d better go. Come on Bella or else the bride will be there before us.’

Mum gets all tearful.

‘I’m so proud. Now don’t rush her down the aisle Bernard. Take your time,’ she sniffs.

‘
The car is here. We’ll go when you’re ready, okay?’ says Dad. ‘I’m just going to check I’ve got everything. You just close your eyes and relax. It’s going to be wonderful.’

I take
Dad’s advice and close my eyes, except for the occasional peep at myself in the mirror. I tell myself I’m getting married. It only seems like a few moments before Dad says,

‘
Ready, love, we should go.’

I look up at him in his
smart new suit and smile.

‘
I think so,’ I say.

God, I
’ve never been so unsure of anything in my whole life.

‘
This is the first day of the rest of your life,’ smiles Dad.

Shit and double shit. This feels like the
last
day of the rest of my life, the last day of being Binki Grayson and the beginning of the rest of my life with Oliver and lots of mini Olivers or Olivias. But it is the right decision isn’t it? He’s a good man. I’m thirty, and how many good men are there out there? Apart from the odd few with bloody warts on their noses, or God forbid, warts somewhere else, and the divorced and desperate men. What’s left at my age? No, Oliver is the right one. He’s stable and in a good job, unlike William, who never knows what will happen from one day to the next. One day he could have work and the next ... What am I doing? I shouldn’t be thinking about another man on my wedding day. I’ve chosen the right man. He loves me and I love him. I can sort out the being in love thing afterwards. There are loads of books I can read and maybe Oliver can see someone about his pirate fetish. That’s not normal but everyone has their oddities, right?

All the neighbours are standing at their gates as I walk towards the
white Rolls-Royce.

‘
Congratulations darling, good luck’, they cheer.

Dad helps me into the car and folds the train around
me before climbing in.

‘
Alright love?’ he asks.

I nod
while wondering if it is normal to feel so unsure on the most important day of your life. I glance down at my engagement ring and finger the pearls in my ears.

‘
I feel a bit sick,’ I whisper into my dad’s ear.

‘
I’ve got some water, will that help?’

I nod and he hands me a bottle of sparkling water. Great, the last thing I want to do is go belching down the aisle isn
’t it? I shake my head and hand it back.

‘
How about some nice calming music?’ says the chauffeur. ‘I have it especially; you’d be surprised how many nervous brides I’ve had in this car.’

I lay my head back and take
a deep breath as he pushes a CD into the music player. I’d just inhaled and was about to exhale slowly when Tony Bennett’s
It Had to Be You
begins to play. I snap open my eyes, exhale and stare at the chauffeur, is this some kind of joke? I mean of all the bloody songs he must have in his little collection he chooses to play this one.

‘
Perfect huh?’ he says, smiling at me through the rear-view mirror.

He begins to sing along.

‘Played this at my own wedding, what’s your song?’ he asks.

I feel
Dad pull his jacket sleeve up to check the time on his watch and all I can think is, this is
our
song. Not Oliver’s and mine but William’s and mine. I struggle to think of a song that Oliver and I share and realise we don’t actually have one. We’d chosen to start the dancing with W
hen a Man Loves a Woman
but I was surprised Oliver didn’t want to start it with
Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a Pirate’s Life For Me.
God, have I gone completely mad? I’m marrying the wrong sodding man and it takes me to be in the bloody wedding car to finally realise it. I can’t marry a man who plays pirate computer games, not to mention
playing them for real during our lovemaking. Most of all, I can’t marry
someone
just because I’m thirty and I ought to be marrying
someone,
most of all I can’t marry Oliver because I love someone else. I may not be able to marry William and maybe William doesn’t want to marry me, well, I’m quite certain William doesn’t want to marry me. Who would want to marry me when they can marry someone like Andrea, with her big breasts and stick-thin legs, not to mention her natural elegance and sophistication which I could never ever hope to achieve? But just because I’m not Miss Perfect it doesn’t mean I have to marry Mr Not-So-Perfect does it? I don’t have to settle for second best just because the clock is ticking do I? Of course you do, whispers a voice. He’s waiting for you. The reception is booked, the food is prepared, all the guests are arriving, and presents have been bought. In other words, your face is on the tea towel now. Christ, can you imagine if there really were tea towels with Oliver’s and my face on them? I cringe at the thought. Plus, continues the voice, your dad is in the car with you, Muffy is waiting at the church, the vicar is primed and ready to go. You can’t back out now, and besides do you remember what your wedding dress cost?

Oh fuck it.

‘Dad, can I use your mobile?’ I say breathlessly.

He shakes his head.

‘I didn’t bring it dear.’

Shit, shit.

‘Do you want to borrow mine love? Everything all right?’ asks the chauffer.

No everything is as wrong as wrong can be.

‘Yes, I mean no, everything is not fine but yes, can I borrow it for a sec.’

The minute he hands it to me I realise I don
’t know Muffy’s number. Oh for God’s sake. How can I not know her number? I hate technology; it makes me not know my best friend’s phone number. She’s just down as
Muffy
in my contacts. That’s not natural is it? Why didn’t I bring my bag? Because brides don’t carry bags, you idiot, whispers the voice. God, I hope Muffy has her phone with her.

‘
Here we go,’ says the chauffeur and I see the church approaching. Oh buggery fuck. Muffy stands at the entrance all smiles, holding her bouquet delicately in her hands, and the photographer is positioned ready to capture the moment that I step out of the Rolls. I scrutinise Muffy to see if she has a bag, but there is nothing. Oh, buggety bugger it all. Douglas waves and rushes into the church, no doubt to tell Oliver that the bride has arrived. God, this is getting worse by the second.

‘
You’ve got to get out Dad,’ I say.

‘
Yes, I know dear, give me a moment and then Muffy and I can help you out with the dress.’

Dear God, please don
’t let my dad have a heart attack.

‘
Dad, you need to get out and Muffy needs to get in. I’m the one not getting out of the car.’

‘
What?’ says Dad and the chauffeur in unison.

‘
Oh no, I hate it when this happens,’ moans the driver.

‘
I don’t understand,’ says Dad halfway between getting out of the car and staying in it.

Muffy stands by the door looking confused. She peeks
in almost headbutting my dad.

‘
What’s going on?’ she asks.

‘
She’s not getting out of the car,’ says the driver.

‘
Oh God,’ she groans.

‘
Do you have your Blackberry,’ I hiss.

‘
What,’ she says fiddling with the bouquet, like she doesn’t now know what she is supposed to do with it.

‘
Do you have your Blackberry?’ I repeat pushing Dad out of the car.

‘
Oh dear,’ he mumbles. ‘Is it that you can’t get out of the car or …?’

‘
I can’t go through with it,’ I say with a little sob. ‘Tell Oliver I’m terribly sorry.’

‘
Oh cock it,’ groans Muffy.

‘
Is that a yes?’ I snap.

‘
What?’ she asks helping my dad from the car.

‘
Do you have your …’ I shout.

‘
Yes,’ she yells.

‘
Get in.’

‘
Hang on a minute,’ says the driver.

‘
Don’t worry you’ll get paid,’ I say.

‘
Christ Binki, have you lost your mind?’ asks Muffy, hesitating by the door.

‘
Oh dear, oh dear, what do I tell your mother?’ says Dad.

I can
’t stand this. I pull Muffy into the car and she almost falls into my lap. The photographer captures the moment with a shot of Muffy falling into the car.

‘
Just drive,’ I shout to the chauffeur.

‘
But …’

‘
Please,’ I beg.

He shoots off and Muffy looks at my dad appealingly through the back window.

‘Just wait until I tell the wife about this one,’ grins the driver.

‘
Please turn that music off too,’ I plead.

‘
Where are we going?’ asks Muffy. ‘You’re not Julia Roberts doing a scene from
Runaway Bride
you know. Christ Binki, you can’t just jilt him at the altar.’

‘
She jumped on a horse,’ I say.

Muffy pulls off her head
dress.

‘
Well I’m glad we clarified that. You still can’t jilt him at the altar, I mean cock it all Binki, you’ve had weeks to call it off.’

‘
Cock it, that’s a new one. I must tell the wife,’ says the driver.

‘
It’s all your fault,’ I say pointing a finger at him.

He looks at me through his mirror.

‘What did I do?’ he asks defensively.

‘
Yes, what did he do?’ asks Muffy struggling to get the pearl garland back into her hair.

‘
He played
It Had to Be You,
that’s
our
song.’

‘
We don’t have a song,’ Muffy says, looking confused.

‘
Not
our
song, of course we don’t have one. It’s the song William and I shared, and I realised …’

‘
Oh God,’ groans Muffy. ‘Not bloody William.’

‘
Who’s William?’ asks the driver.

‘
Do yourself a favour and keep your eyes on the road. You really don’t want to hear any more of this because it just gets worse,’ groans Muffy pushing her hand down her cleavage and producing her mobile like a magician.

‘
I’ve seen everything now,’ he grins.

‘
Eyes on the road,’ she reprimands. ‘We need to turn back and you have to marry Oliver, phone Douglas now. Tell him you had last minute nerves but you’ve realised it was silly and you’re on your way back,’ she says firmly, handing me the phone.

I stare at her.

‘Turn around now, sorry what’s your name?’ she asks the driver.

‘
Max,’ he says.

‘
Turn around now Max.’

Max swerves to take the next turning.

‘No,’ I scream. ‘Muffy what the hell are you doing? I need to tell William it is him I love. Even if there is no future in it, I don’t care. I have to tell him and I can’t marry someone I no longer love. Max, keep going to Hampstead Heath please.’

‘
Bloody hell,’ he mumbles doing a three-sixty degree turn in the middle of the road.

‘
Christ,’ mumbles Muffy. ‘Binki, William is marrying Andrea today. You can’t tell him anything and you can’t throw away your one chance of marriage. You may never get another one, and Oliver is a good man isn’t he?’