Revenge of the Wedding Planner (29 page)

‘You silver-tongued bastard, you layabout lounge-lizard, you disgusting liar!’ she screamed at Jay, who did (I’ll admit) have the good grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. He’d tried to shield his delicate new love from Julie’s full force but really she’d have throttled the two of them if it hadn’t been for the hired help. She would have strangled them both and still had enough nervous energy left to mow down the confused and giggling guests with
a medieval cannon. People were jostling at the marquee entrance, desperately trying to get a glimpse of the unfolding drama. Others were jumping into their cars and trying to flee the scene but they were getting stuck in the narrow car-park entrance.

It was absolutely awful.

‘Well, this can’t get any worse,’ I half laughed, half wept.

Wrong!

Because, suddenly, the marquee was abandoned as the remaining onlookers scattered in every direction and all I saw was a black Volvo S80 coming bumping across the lawn and right into the middle of the banqueting area. It was being driven by the rock star, who had somehow grasped the enormity of what was happening to him. That is, he was getting the big ‘E’ in front of the world’s most glamorous magazine editor. (It was the magazine that was glamorous, by the way, not so much the editor.) I think the car belonged to one of the bodyguards because the rock star always seemed to travel by stretch-limo, but, anyway, there he was behind the wheel with the tears blinding him. And it finally dawned on me that he was possibly high on drugs. And shame, naturally. He was crunching the gears and revving the engine in a most alarming way. Chairs and tables and red velvet tablecloths went bouncing and slithering off the bumper as the rock star (I really can’t name him for legal reasons but let’s call him ‘John’ for the time being), as John tried to run Jay O’Hanlon into the ground. Drove right at him and accelerated wildly, the roar of the car’s engine filling the marquee with ugly noise and confusion.

Jay O’Hanlon might have breathed his last among the
toppling floral displays and the dried-up vegetarian banquet, had he not had the foresight to leap onto the chandelier and swing to safety via the roof struts. While Sophie rolled under the side of the tarp and rejoined her lover on the lawn outside. Once free, they jumped into one of the security jeeps and sped away towards the gates as John did a three-point turn in the black Volvo, ruining what was left of the wedding cake, and followed them. The last of the fireworks spluttered into silence.

My sugar levels bottomed out and I felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

I sat down on a chair and gave up.

‘Julie, I resign,’ I said blankly. ‘I’m too old for this shit. I’m going home.’

She looked at me and I saw a smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

Could it possibly be?

Yes?

Yes!

Praise the Lord.

At last, Julie Sultana had come to her senses.

‘Well, fuck this for a game of darts,’ she said calmly. ‘Let go of me, lads, the show’s over. Right! I want you lot to round up whoever’s left, give them a goody bag and get them back on the coaches. And you there, you waiters, please start closing up the buffet. Dump the food in the skip and pack away those glasses carefully. They’re designer glasses and I want them all counted. Mags Grimsdale, your resignation is not accepted. I don’t blame you for any of this. It was my own fault for being such an idiot. As soon as Bill comes, you can go home with him
and I’ll stay here and sort out this sorry lot. Okay?’

I could have sunk to the ground and kissed her feet, I was that relieved.

‘Oh, Julie,’ I said, ‘I’m so happy you’ve come back to us!’

Together we walked to the marquee entrance and looked up at the moon.

I was on Cloud Nine.

Whatever that is.

Or I would have been on Cloud Nine.

Had it not been for the sight of my beloved Bill coming driving in the castle gates and immediately colliding with John’s out-of-control Volvo. A loud smash and Bill’s Chrysler went over on its side and rolled down the hill towards the cliff edge. My beloved husband didn’t even have time to register shock, I’m sure of it. One second he was just doing what he does best, trying to locate me in the crowd and bring me home. The next, he was rattling and rolling towards a very low stone wall and a sixty-foot drop into the ocean. John went on out through the castle gates, clipping one of them on his way. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion.

My heart turned inside out with horror.

‘Fucking hell,’ said Julie, her hands flying up to her mouth.

‘Bill!’ I screamed, clutching Julie’s arm so tightly I probably hurt her. ‘Bill! Don’t be dead, don’t leave me! Bill! Oh, my God, somebody make it stop!
Bill!
’

And so on.

It was the worst moment of my entire life. I was frozen to the spot. We all were. The departing guests, the traumatized
young waiters, the experienced security staff, even Julie herself. We all stared in paralysed horror as Bill’s car slowed down and suddenly came to rest against the wall, battered and broken, all the windows smashed.

You could have heard a pin drop.

‘Mags, we have got to be brave now,’ said Julie in a strangely calm whisper. ‘Come on, we’ll go to Bill together. Hold my hand and take a deep breath.’

Julie half pulled me and I half ran to Bill on legs that felt like concrete pillars. Every step drained me and there was cold sweat on my face and on my back by the time I reached him. Julie looked into the car first while I stood nearby whimpering and doing a great impression of Charlotte Sultana in the early years. Bill was still moving, just about. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him brushing some broken glass from his face. His hand was covered in blood.

‘He’s alive, Mags. He’s okay, he’s still breathing.’

Julie beckoned to me to come forward.

I swiftly threw up on the grass, then cautiously pulled Bill’s crumpled car door open. He was slumped there, gasping, all twisted and uncomfortable-looking, covered in blood, bits of broken glass, clumps of mud and neatly mown grass.

‘Bill, are you all right?’ I said hopelessly. ‘Can you breathe?’

‘Just about,’ he croaked. ‘I think my leg’s broken. And my collarbone. And my hand. And I feel very cold.’

‘That’ll be the shock, love. I’ll call an ambulance, Mags,’ Julie said, brushing a stray piece of cake from her cleavage and slurring her words a bit after so much vodka. ‘Don’t
worry, Mags! And don’t move him in case he has spinal injuries!’ She hitched up her dress and ripped a mobile phone out of the garter on her leg. I was in no state to even remember I had a mobile with me. Thank heaven for Julie Sultana!

‘Bill, my darling!’ I wept, dropping to my knees beside him, holding his lovely firm hand (the one that wasn’t broken) in mine.

He closed his eyes and coughed gently. He tried to say something but all he could do was swallow and moan.

‘Talk to me, my love. I think you should try to stay awake and talk to me. Bill, please, please,
please
talk to me!’

And he did say something.

‘Never a dull moment with you, Mags Grimsdale,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever happens, I love you.’

And then he lapsed into unconsciousness. Julie got a waiter to round up some blankets from the First Aid tent and we made Bill as comfortable as we could. Then I knelt there, holding onto his hand, praying for the ambulance to arrive. Thinking to myself that it was the third ambulance that had had to be summoned in this sorry escapade. Because Gary had needed one when he had his car accident on the way down to Galway, and of course Jay had needed one when Gary broke his nose in the Café Vaudeville.

All the while, Julie stayed right beside me with a fire extinguisher (just in case the Chrysler caught fire) and constantly told me everything was going to be all right. She even got some of the men to tie a rope around the car and lash it to a stone outbuilding, just in case the ground underneath us was unsafe. The wedding guests were kept away from the scene and ushered out of the grounds as quickly
as possible. She’d also called the police and let them know John was at large in the area, chasing another car while under the influence of (presumably illegal) drugs.

I kept kissing Bill’s forehead and thinking I wasn’t ready to lose him. Thinking I wasn’t anywhere near ready to cope without him, say the worst did happen. And then feeling weak with shame for even considering my own future at a time like that. But there was no denying I needed Bill as much as I loved him. He was my best friend, really. Despite the wide circle of family and friends that I was blessed with, Bill was the one I got my strength from, he was my soul. I broke down and wept quietly with relief as the ambulance arrived, and again when they told me Bill had a strong pulse and no obvious internal bleeding.

‘A lot of pain and some broken bones but he should be okay.’

‘Thank God,’ I kept saying, ‘thank God, thank God, thank God.’

And so it was back to hospital waiting rooms and the smell of disinfectant. Julie never left my side. She stayed with me all night and she never mentioned her own heartbreak once. We held hands at one point during Bill’s operation (on his leg because the break was messy and jagged), which was kind of weird. But also nice and reassuring. Then at daybreak we sipped hot tea and nibbled on a biscuit or two from the vending machine to keep our stomachs from grumbling. Well, we hadn’t eaten for what seemed like an age.

‘I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about Jay earlier, Julie,’ I said, as the sun rose over the roof of the nurses’ apartment block.

‘That’s okay,’ she said, patting my arm. ‘I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway, Mags. To tell you the truth, I think I went off the rails a bit there. I must have looked an awful eejit to you and everyone else.’

‘No, not at all,’ I said. ‘He was very handsome and nobody would have blamed you for getting carried away. I’m only sorry it didn’t work out. I mean that, now. I’m not just saying it.’

‘Water under the bridge.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Just one of those things.’

And so the subject of Jay O’Hanlon was officially downgraded from life-changing watershed to mere office gossip.

Then I was allowed to see my husband.

Bill had one collarbone broken and the other one fractured, a badly broken leg, three fractured fingers, severe bruising on his face and neck, part of the glove-compartment door embedded in his knee, and a spot of short-term memory loss. He was on the strongest painkillers the hospital staff could legally administer. But his wonderful, loving, caring personality was still intact and we both shed more than a few tears of gratitude.

‘Oh, Bill, what are you like?’ I wept when I saw him in the bed.

‘You should see the other guy,’ he whispered. ‘Ah, well, at least I’ll get a few days off work.’

Julie left us there together and went back to my house to check on the boys. We’d phoned them the night before and they were anxious to visit as soon as Bill was up to it. Meanwhile, John had been stopped by the police sometime around midnight as he tore through a neighbouring
village. He’d been arrested and charged with dangerous driving. He went quietly in the end, so I’m told, and apologized profusely for causing Bill’s many injuries. He hadn’t even realized Bill’s car had flipped over, he was in such a state. He said he was thoroughly ashamed of himself and offered to go back into rehab.

Sophie and Jay, well, they made a clean getaway and caught the next flight to Paris. She in her bridal gown and Jay in his white shirt. Lucky sods were on the plane before the police could detain them as witnesses. Who’d have thought, in the middle of all the drama and confusion, that Sophie and Jay O’Hanlon would have had the foresight to bring their passports (and her credit card) with them to the castle? Proving for once and for all that not all supermodels and toy boys are as stupid as they look.

And me? Well, I sat at Bill’s bedside chatting to him and saying how it was all my fault, and how I’d stop being so needy and stand on my own two feet for a change, and did he want any more water or lemonade, until I collapsed (again) and was carried out of the ward by my three handsome sons and put in my own bed at home and told to stay in it. They switched on my telly, bought me a lorryload of magazines and sour worms from the corner shop, and ordered me to rest. I slept for eighteen hours. First lie-in I’d had in a long, long time. The only thing I did do was call Alicia-Rose to tell her what had happened but also to tell her she wasn’t to come rushing back to Belfast. That her dad was going to make a full recovery.

18. See You in Court

I didn’t give a lot of thought to Dream Weddings in the days that followed my husband’s brush with death. A brush with death all the more galling because he’d dearly loved the Volvo S80 up until that point, but he didn’t want one driven at speed up his crotch, thank you very much. And having the shards of plastic removed from his knee was agony, he said. Sheer bloody agony. Still, on the bright side, he was making a good recovery and Alexander was able to take on the smaller jobs for him, for the time being, having just passed his driving test on the first attempt. I was overjoyed that my eldest son hadn’t inherited my hopeless driving skills. So even though Julie had given me a few weeks off work, I was still quite busy fielding phone calls from Bill’s customers, washing and ironing Andrew’s and Christopher’s rugby kits, calling Alicia-Rose in Australia each day and getting used to living without Bill while he still remained in hospital.

God, I hated the loneliness of being alone in the house on those bright May mornings and afternoons. Yes, just one week on my own and I was getting cabin fever. Jesus knows how some women manage it for fifty years, pottering about making jam and ironing handkerchiefs. They ought to be canonized! In fact, I don’t think I’d have survived without
Diagnosis Murder
and countless cups of hot chocolate. That Barry Van Dyke would do in a
pinch, wouldn’t he, I thought to myself. Not for me, no. I’ve found my hero. But for all the other ladies out there who are still looking for theirs, Barry’s quite the pin-up.