Don't Tell the Groom (16 page)

‘Hi, Penny,' says Josh, finally breaking the awkward silence that has ensued.

I'm looking round to see if his girlfriend is here, but he seems to be with two older people. They have got to be his parents as the man has the same piercing blue eyes.

‘Hi, Josh.'

Have I said hello already? I'm not too sure where I'm going with this. Bouncer has finally finished drinking and has decided to drip the surplus water from his mouth all over Josh's boots.

‘Josh is one of my work colleagues,' I say to Mark.

I'm the worst liar but that is the only way I can think to explain him. How else would an engaged woman get to meet another man who is just a little bit too sexy for his own good?

‘I'm Mark. Nice to meet you.'

At least Mark has remembered his manners, unlike me.

‘Sorry. Josh, this is my fiancé, Mark.'

‘Nice to meet you, Mark. I've heard a lot about your wedding.'

‘Ha. Well, that makes one of us,' says Mark, raising his eyebrows at me.

‘Penny is keeping it as a surprise for Mark,' says Josh to his parents. ‘These are my parents, by the way. Penny works in HR.'

Well remembered, Josh. I'm glad I didn't have to do that the other way round. I still have no idea what he does for a living.

I put on my best ‘I'm the nicest girl in the world' smile, which is my classic default parent smile. It seems to work as they grin back at me.

‘No Mel today, then?' I say to Josh, more to keep Mark from thinking there is something suspicious going on.

‘No, not today. Anyway, we really must be going. I've got to get Mum and Dad back to the station.'

‘Lovely to meet you,' I say to them.

I notice that Josh and Mark are still looking at each other warily before I herd Bouncer and Mark into the pub.

Well, that could have gone a lot worse. Thank goodness that Josh was quick on his feet keeping up with the cover story.

Settling down into the pub, we position ourselves away from the roaring fire. It's one of those pubs that does roaring fire very well and we've made the mistake of sitting next to it before. We ended up looking like we were playing strip poker by the end of our meal, with us having to de-layer after each
food course.

Mark comes over and places my cranberry juice in front of me. It feels only fitting after my mammoth walk that I have a drink as virtuous and healthy. I'm glossing over the fact it is probably full of sugar.

‘So what department does that Josh guy work in then?'

Did that not finish when we left him outside the pub? Maybe he'll forget about it if I keep studying the menu really intensely as if I'm considering whether to have the garlic mushroom burger or the Stilton and bacon burger. Yes, I am aware I have an impending wedding. But the ten-mile walk means I get to have whatever burger I want.

‘Hello, earth to Penny.'

Damn. The intense menu stare didn't work.

‘Huh? Sorry, I was reading the menu.'

‘Right. I was just asking you what that guy did at your work.'

‘Oh, Josh?' I say casually, as if there are many people he could be talking about. ‘He works in IT.'

I mean, I think from what I remember he does work in IT. Just not at my work. That's the great thing about working for a big multinational company. There are always loads of general departments.

‘Oh, right.'

I know he's now wondering, how I would have come into such close contact with the IT department for Josh to know about the wedding.

‘He had a bit of a personal issue earlier this year,' I say in a hushed whisper. It's the voice I use when I want to be discreet at work.

‘Oh. Right,' says Mark, nodding. ‘I don't remember seeing him at the Christmas do last year.'

Bugger. He won't let this drop. I hoped that the
personal issue
would have put a full stop to the conversation. After all, as it was a personal personnel issue he should know that I can't discuss it. At least not when he knows names. Of course I do tell him some things, but I always try to protect the people's identity.

‘I don't remember seeing him either,' I say truthfully. ‘Perhaps he didn't go. It's not everyone's cup of tea.'

‘At least you finally admit that. Does that mean that we don't have to go this year?' asks Mark.

‘No, you're not getting out of it that easily. If I have to go to your stuffy do, you have to come to ours.'

Mark hates our work Christmas parties as we have themes and fancy dress. I must make a mental note with the wedding themes: no fancy dress. Perhaps I'll have to rethink the whole Spanish theme and him being dressed as a matador.

‘I wonder what the theme will be for this year's Christmas party? I heard there were rumours of it being something sci-fi like
Star Wars
or
Star Trek
.'

And before you ask, yes, I do work for a large engineering company. I don't really like to reinforce any sort of stereotypes, but let's just say a
Star Wars
theme would make everyone's year.

‘I don't think that this whole secret wedding thing is a good idea,' says Mark.

This again. And before I've had something to eat after our practically all-day hike and the run-in with Josh. I'm too mentally and physically tired for this fight.

‘But we've come this far and I'm only halfway through. It would be wrong for you to come in now as I've only half finished my masterpiece wedding. It wouldn't make sense.'

Mark doesn't look happy. I can't have him finding out about the wedding now. Not when I've worked so hard to get it all sorted on budget and with me trying to curb my little habit.

‘I just don't like the idea that that guy knows more about my wedding than I do,' he says.

‘But he doesn't.'

Finally! Some truth. Josh actually doesn't know any of the details of the wedding. OK, so he may know a few more of the background details than Mark, but he doesn't know about the actual wedding.

‘He seemed to think he did.'

‘That's because he's a boy,' I say. ‘I talk about our wedding a lot at work, I'll admit that. But only how I used to talk to you about it before we got engaged. I daydream out loud about dresses and shoes and the perfect favours.

‘He's a man, his eyes probably glaze over when I mention the “wedding” word. Like you would if you knew the details,' I say.

Mark is half smiling now. Some warmth has come back to his eyes and I actually might be getting through to him.

‘You don't want me to turn into a Jane, do you?' I ask.

‘Please, dear Lord, no. Jane was a monster in the run-up to her wedding. I'm sure that was why it took me so long to pop the question to you.'

‘Well, I'm not like that. I'm going to be a level-headed bride, and I want most of all for you to enjoy the wedding. That's why I want it to be a surprise.'

The waitress interrupts our little talk by taking our order and giving Bouncer a selection of dog biscuits. All the biscuits have disappeared before she has left the table.

‘Easy there, Bouncer, you should learn to enjoy your food,' I say. Bouncer is really super cute. I bend under the table and give him just a little stroke around the ears and he rolls right over and lets me scratch his belly.

Bouncer has it easy. I wish I was a dog. Guaranteed cuddles,
people scratching your back for you. And most of all he has paws so he can't gamble online so he wouldn't have lost all of his money for his wedding. Not that he'd have a wedding. He is a dog, after all.

‘You're really good with him. Maybe we should get a dog one day,' says Mark.

‘After the Mr Whippy incident today, we're only getting a dog if you promise to pick up all the poop.'

Mark laughs. Finally, I feel like the cross-examination has come to an end.

‘This has been fun. I feel like I haven't seen you that much lately,' I say.

‘I know, what with your crazy gym schedule.'

‘It will calm down once the wedding is over, I promise.' Two more months and counting.

‘Well, perhaps we should make more of an effort to borrow Bouncer,' says Mark.

‘I'd like that.'

And just like that we have our excellent date back on track. And the silly thing is, instead of feeling guilty about the secret wedding I'm planning, it has reminded me of why I am doing it in the first place. I love Mark more than anything. I've just got to man up, and anytime I get stressed I need to remember why I'm doing it.

‘I love you, honey,' I say.

‘I love you too.' he says, kissing me.

Yes, I just need to remember that I get to become Mrs Robinson and that makes it all worthwhile.

I've been really good at going to my Saturday volunteering slots at the museum. So far I've been to all of them. Today is the first Saturday I haven't wanted to go. Not because I don't want to volunteer, but because I want to get as far away from here as I possibly can.

Today is the day I am going dress shopping. The day I've dreamt about since I was a little girl and I used to play dressing up. I used to wear an elasticated pink dress of my mum's and I would play bridesmaid to my sister, the bride, who always got to wear my mum's actual wedding dress.

Only instead of being elated about the dress-shopping experience, I'm thoroughly miserable. I can't tell my mum that my budget for the wedding dress is about two hundred
pounds, so I'm going to have to pretend that I don't like any of the beautiful dresses I try on today.

It's going to be torture. Like going into the Häagen-Dazs factory with a spoon and being told that you can only stir the ice cream and not eat it.

‘Hello, Penny dear,' says Betty, as I sit down at the table.

‘Hi, Betty.'

‘What's wrong with you? You don't seem your usual cheery self today,' she says.

‘Just wedding stuff,' I say, shrugging my shoulders.

Cathy is explaining to us that today we're making tunic bags. I get to be in charge of the pinking shears and I'm cutting the fabric that Betty is measuring and marking up. Nina is then pinning Velcro to the fabric and Lilian and Marjorie are over on the other side of the room with what seem to be antique Singer sewing machines.

‘I don't understand these modern weddings,' says Betty. ‘In my day it wasn't like this. There wasn't as much fuss. We practically organised them overnight. In fact, in many cases during my sister's generation, during the war, they did. Their fiancés came home on a weekend leave pass and they went back to the Front married.'

They had it easy. Wait, not in the war they didn't. I didn't mean that at all. I just meant that maybe that is the best way to do it. Getting married in a short space of time. No time
to fritter the money away or get sucked into deciding which made my forehead look bigger, a side tiara or a front tiara.

‘What was your wedding like, Betty?' I ask.

‘Well, my wedding wasn't very grand. My Malcolm and I didn't have a lot of money. We both worked at the aircraft factory. I was a secretary in those days, before we had children.

‘We got engaged not long after Christmas and were married in the February. Valentine's Day it was, just by coincidence. We got married at the church and then we went back to my mother's house for sandwiches after and people popped round all afternoon.'

‘So you didn't have a formal reception?'

‘No, Penny. Not many did in those days. We put a bit of a spread on at my mother's house. People generally called all week in the run-up to the wedding and brought us presents. Then that evening we took the train down to Portsmouth and went to the Isle of Wight for our honeymoon.'

I didn't think it was possible for Betty to smile any more than she did normally, but now, talking about her wedding, she is positively beaming.

‘He was so handsome that day. When I turned up at the church Malcolm was there in his National Service uniform. I tell you, Penny, I still catch my breath when I remember the look on his face when we first made eye contact as I walked down the aisle.'

‘What were you wearing?'

‘I had the most beautiful dress. It was a long white dress with lace sleeves. Not unlike the type of lace that the Duchess of Cambridge had. Of course mine didn't have a train like hers. It was just a plain white dress and my mum had stitched the lace on to it. Don't forget that clothing rationing hadn't long been finished. We were still into the “make do and mend” mindset. Not that I've ever really stopped.'

‘It sounds perfect.'

‘It was, dear. But it was only the start of it. Sixty-two years we've been married now. Can you believe it? And we're still as happy as we were then.

‘Of course, Malcolm's not as fit as he used to be and his mind is often elsewhere. But I know we've been blessed with our marriage.'

I wonder if Mark and I will be happily married sixty-two years from now. I'm glossing over the fact that will mean that I'd be ninety-one and Mark would be ninety-two. I hope that we are. I hope that one day I'm telling the story of my wedding to some whippersnapper who will probably be getting married on a spaceship or something equally futuristic.

‘That's incredible, Betty. You're really lucky.'

‘I know. My Malcolm and I think so. But enough with the past. Tell me about your dress. Have you picked one out yet?' asks Betty.

‘Not yet. Funnily enough I'm going shopping for one with my mum after this.'

‘How lovely.'

‘Just keep your fingers crossed for me, Betty, that I don't lose my mind.'

‘Don't you worry. I have two married daughters. Believe me, when you try
the
one on, you know it's the one.'

I don't tell Betty that that is exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm scared stiff that I might actually try on my dream dress with my mum and, thanks to my new budget, I never in a million years have any chance of owning it.