Authors: Sam Binnie

The Wedding Diaries (5 page)

BOOK: The Wedding Diaries

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When she rang yesterday asking if I was free at the weekend, I had to tell her we had plans at Susie’s. But she was eager to see us all, and asked if she could tag along and bring her new squeeze, the date she’d missed our party for; someone she’d met through her work as a fast-rising star in the charity world. Eve’s so utterly charming that although she started as an intern at her charity for London’s vulnerable people only two years ago, she’s rocketed up the ladder and now has her own assistant (who she says is so useless it’s more of a curse than a blessing), business cards, and even gets to
travel
for work (mainly to other UK cities, admittedly).

Susie knows her of old, and it was only a barbecue, so there we were: huddled around the grill in Susie’s back garden with Susie’s lovely friends Maggie and Eric, trying to pretend summer hadn’t entirely given up on us, as Suse tried to remember which country Pete was in today. Then Eve arrived, carrying a giant bunch of peonies for Susie in one arm and her date on the other. When she pulled him into the back garden, my mouth fell open, and when I swung my gaze towards Thom, his had done exactly the same. Eve’s new boyfriend – oh, how does she find them – was the very man we had witnessed proposing in Bath. Steve. Jilted Steve. Dr No. The Refused. How was that possible? How could fate be so kind/unkind as to bring him to us again? We just goggled at him for a while, but Steve, thank God, had no idea we’d seen him at the site of his knock-back. By his fifth bottle of beer, however, it was clear that Jen’s rejection had caused him to jettison his social skills entirely. Susie and Maggie were really enjoying him in a car-crash sort of way until the conversation took a fatal turn.

Steve: That’s all well and good, guys, but you can’t really
trust
women, can you? I mean, I’m sure you had your reasons, Eric, but you can’t say that you don’t realise what a huge mistake it was to marry. Every day, right? [roars with manic laughter]

Eric: Actually, Steve—

Steve: You know it! All women are
liars
, cheats and deceivers. All they want is to grind a man under their heel,
grind
him
down
…
break
him … [sobbing]

Even Eve had the sense to look uncomfortable by that point, tearing herself away from an ill-at-ease Thom who she’d been talking to at the edge of the garden (had she been backing out of bridesmaiding?). She dragged Steve into the kitchen to ‘help her with drinks’ and they left without sticking more than a goodbye arm back in the garden. Susie told Lily and Edward that it was worth remembering that actually, women were particularly brilliant, and the Twins responded by rote: ‘Gene Tierney, Aung San Suu Kyi, Marie Stopes and Marie Curie.’ Susie patted them both on the head and gave them a fruit kebab. Something tells me we won’t be seeing Steve again.

September 29th

Further emails with Jacki have confirmed that she has all her own staff for the wedding – the venue is booked, the dress is designed, the food arranged and even the hen party organised. From the little I’ve had to do with her, I’m not remotely surprised. But I am surprised to discover how much I like her: she’s not only incredibly professional and sweet, but pretty funny too.

We had this correspondence yesterday:

From: Carlow, Kiki

To: Jacki Jones

Subject: Engagement?

Hi Jacki,

Will you be happy to include details of how you and Leon got engaged in the book?

Thanks again,

Kiki

From: Jacki Jones

To: Carlow, Kiki

Re: Engagement?

Hi Kiki!!!!!!

I am more than happy to have that in there. But we may need to freshen it up for the readers! I’m not sure how much they’d like to hear about me just grinding him down until he proposed.

Jacs xxxxxxxxxxxx

TO DO:

Probably don’t recommend Jacki’s book to Steve.

October’s Classic Wedding!

ROMEO

Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap’d like mine and that thy skill be more

To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour air, and let rich music’s tongue

Unfold the imagined happiness that both

Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET

Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth;

But my true love is grown to such excess

I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone

Till holy church incorporate two in one.

Romeo & Juliet

William Shakespeare

October 2nd

Oh Christ. I think I’d forgotten that we’d really have to invite people to this shindig. Talked briefly with Thom about doing it just with family somewhere quiet, and his face lit up. ‘Yes!’ he said. ‘We can do it so cheaply!’ Then I remembered The Dress and mumbled something about us having to learn to be sociable. I’ve been working on it all morning, and so far I’ve got:

Me & Thom

Susie & Pete (if he’s in the country)

Twins

Mum & Dad

Thom’s Mum & Dad (Alan & Aileen) (10)

Eve & her +1 of doom

Jim and his +1

Alice (& Gareth?)

Carol (& husband Vincent)

Norman from work & his +1? (Does Norman have a special someone? How can none of us know this? What goes on behind that silent façade?) (10)

Rich (Thom’s best man) and his girlfriend Heidi

Dave, Jules and Andy and their +1s, and Ben & Hester (Thom’s school pals) (went to Ben & Hester’s very drunken wedding a few years ago but we haven’t seen the other three since then)

Six boffins from Thom’s uni course and their +1s (names from Thom – have only faint memories of them)

Fiona (my first boss) and her boyfriend Mark

Nick & his fiancée Rose, Tim, Clare and Sara (uni housemates) and their +1s (haven’t kept in particular touch with Tim and Clare, but can’t invite some and not all)

Five of my course-pals from uni and their +1s (lived briefly with Lucy after graduation and see her about twice a year, but mainly get news of the others from her) (they were utterly hilarious at uni, though)

Ruby, Ella and Vuk (friends from travelling) and their +1s

Other Tom from terrible holiday job I did when I was 17, and his +1 (50)

6 aunts, 7 uncles and 15 cousins between me and Thom (mostly me), including the v entertaining wonder that is cousin Emma (28)

8 horrible sweaty men from Thom’s previous accountancy division with their anorexic, thick-haired public-school girlfriends/wives

10 horrible piggy men from Thom’s current accountancy division with their slimdim Eurotrash girlfriends/wives

2 quite nice men from Thom’s current accountancy division and their also-nice girlfriends

1 horrible fat sweaty boss from Thom’s current accountancy division with his brutal, cold-eyed wife, living in terror that she’s about to be usurped by one of the Eurotrashers and she’ll be left with only their eight-bed townhouse, the Courchevel ski lodge, the New York apartment and the villa in Nice to comfort her (42)

So, as it stands, that makes 140, and that doesn’t include the ‘family friends’ I’m sure Mum will insist on. It’s fine. We’ll get that down. Jacki’s will be over 400, she tells me, so really it’s still a nice quiet number.

October 3rd

It turns out that venue hunting is basically just like house hunting, with the only difference being that I will never get to live in places with a ballroom and an east wing. The money is just as eye-watering, though, and the venues themselves make me queasy in the same way that Alice’s Hermès handbags do: I don’t
want
to pour a cup of tea inside it, but the mere fact of its existence in proximity to me means it
could
happen. And I might, could, burn down a wedding venue. One careless sparkler, one stray sky lantern, and England has lost one of its top beautiful buildings (but also an entire wunch of bankers and accountants, so maybe the
Daily Mail
will go easy on us after the event). Thom was supposed to come, obviously, but his work was so horrific this week that he has to go in this weekend too. He was hugely apologetic last night, but I can see how stressed he is, so I smiled and said I didn’t mind at all, that I’d give him a full debrief and he wouldn’t miss a thing. He suggested I take Susie instead, but when I called her she said Pete was due back from a trip from which he’d be really jetlagged and the Twins had friends coming over, so she was stuck there.

When he left this morning at 7am, Thom gave me a kiss on the tip of my nose and said, ‘I hope you have a nice day. What about Alice?’ I told him I wasn’t sure she’d want to, but sent her a text to find when she woke up, giving her the rough breakdown of the day, and saying she could join me at any of the venues if she fancied. I got a text back immediately: WITH YOU IN 30 MINUTES.

She was as good as her word, and I made us a pile of bacon sandwiches to keep us going while she outlined quite how lucky I was that things had turned out this way.

Alice: I’m truly sorry that Thom can’t make it today, but you are now in the safest pair of hands there is. I’ve seen it a hundred times, Kiki, people get swept away by a nice staircase or a draped ceiling, and their numbers and plans go out the window. I’m not going to have you signing up to some townhouse rip-off just because the lady spoke nicely to you.

Battle-ready, we aimed for three of my shortlisted venues today, and there was a definite fleeting thought at their prices that if this is a business they can sustain, something is seriously wrong with the world. Who has that kind of
money
? (Besides Alice and her family.) And why aren’t they spending more of it on C-list celebrity autobiographies and cookery books that are tenuous tie-ins from successful but un-cooking-related television series? (See Polka Dot’s
The Duchess’s Diet
, with some poor model done up like a
Downton Abbey
extra.)

First stop today was Fairley House, a Georgian townhouse just off Hampstead Heath, its chequered path shaded by two elegant plum trees. The house looked beautiful from the outside, but was actually quite dark and poky inside. I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach – how to tell them it wasn’t right, without offending them or convincing them that I simply couldn’t afford it. After five minutes and a swift tour of the space, Alice looked disappointed.

Alice: Thank you so much, but this really isn’t what she’s looking for.

Me: [shocked]
Alice.

Alice: It’s too small for us, the lighting’s wrong and the flow-through from dining room to ballroom isn’t ideal.

And that was it. ‘Alice!’ I said out of the side of my mouth, trying to smile coolly at the staff as we walked out. ‘You can’t just
tell
them that.’ She turned and took my elbows. ‘Kiki, this is their business. It’s not their first born. You need to
focus
.’ It’s then that I realised that Alice was right, and I was lucky to have her. Sorry, Thom.

She was equally relentless with the other two places. One had mould in one corner of the main hall (Me: ‘It’s … vintagey?’ Alice: [hissing] ‘It’s a bloody
airborne toxic event
’) and the other was decorated like a gentlemen’s club, circa 1905 (Alice: ‘Still, better than a gentlemen’s club circa 2005’). We were still without a venue at the end of our day, but Alice had some great leads for me; places in less salubrious areas of London, but central enough that I would still pay a reassuringly eye-watering fee.

October 7th

Rose rang me today, of Nick and Rose (the Noses as we think of them), due to marry in May. I do like them so much, even if they do have more money these days than seems sensible for anyone who is not a national public service. But they are actually very sweet, and I’ve known Nick for years, back when he was one of my university housemates with big City plans. Rose turned him from potentially a fairly revolting Banker Playboy into a middlingly revolting City Worker (slightly lower down the revulsion ladder) and although they still do things like buy new plasma flat-screens for every room because Sony have released a new generation model, they are funny and very thoughtful for Rich Folk. After small talk, Rose seemed to want to say something else to me.