by Unknown
‘Holy crap, what do we do now?’ I say, sounding like I’ve appeared out of the Batman and Robin from the 1960s. ‘Wasn’t it on the map?’
‘It was on the map,’ says Matt, scratching his head. ‘Only I thought it was more like a little stream.’
‘Well, this rain isn’t helping it,’ says Martin.
We stare at the stream-slash-raging torrent of a river for a while before anyone speaks.
‘We’re going to have to cross it,’ says Tim.
‘But isn’t it a little dangerous?’ asks Annie.
‘Yes, I think you’re not supposed to go through rivers when it’s raining. I’m sure I saw it on some programme,’ I say.
‘You’re not supposed to go through fords in cars when it’s raining heavily. But this is only a stream,’ says Tim. ‘Come on.’
I watch as he takes his backpack off and balances it on his head before wading across the river. He doesn’t even flinch, despite the water being around his upper thighs.
‘Come on,’ he says when he makes it to the other side.
I look down at the water, which is probably about three metres wide. It looks like it’s almost jumpable, but remembering my track record with the long jump from school was not good, I decide to walk it.
I hold my breath, and after placing my mobile in my backpack, I do exactly what Tim did, only I accompany my wading with a lot of ‘weee’ and ‘squeee’ noises. The water, despite it being mid-July, is freezing and my lovely waterproof boots, which were doing a surprisingly good job of keeping my feet dry are now sopping wet.
‘Well, that wasn’t so bad,’ I say, lying, as I make it to the other side. I feel I have to lie to keep the team going. It’s only going to make it worse if I tell people how bad it really was.
The other men are starting to wade, then Tess jumps in gung-ho, into the water, and soon everyone but Annie is safely on the bank.
‘Come on, Annie,’ we start to call at her, ‘it’s not as bad as it looks. Come on.’ I hold my hand out to her and she closes her eyes for a second before stepping into the water. After a few steps across she grabs me, and the three of us pull her across.
‘Well done, Annie, that was excellent,’ I say.
‘Yes, excellent,’ says a voice. We turn around and there’s the ex-Special Forces chaser. ‘I always get everyone in the end,’ he says, winking directly at me.
A sense of deflation sweeps across us, that we got so far through the day without being caught. I look at my watch, we only had thirty-six minutes until the chasers were called off.
‘Is this the first time you’ve been caught today?’ asks the chaser.
‘It is,’ I say despondently.
‘Well, then, you should all be very proud of yourselves. You’ve obviously worked very well as a team.’
I can see his eyes burning into me as he says this, it’s almost like he’s mocking me. But he has as much to lose as I do if anyone found out about our little jaunt to Brighton.
*
I’ve never felt as pleased to be clean as I did when I got back to the scout hut. Ice-cold shower aside, I managed between that and the wet wipes to get most of the mud off. But what’s left is a whole lot of red patches which are going to make beautiful bruises right in time for tomorrow’s wedding.
I now understand why they told us to wear loose-fitting clothing for the presentation. Every muscle in my body aches. We’ve just had the team presentations, and I was voted most inspirational leader in my team, from our secret ballots. I feel just a tad guilty that I got this, mainly because of my shopping jaunt. But, thank goodness, we didn’t win the overall thing because of the points I got from when I cheated with the flag. Richard aka Mr-I-Don’t-Believe-in-Armies’ team won. They managed to escape evasion the whole time, steal a flag and do all their bonus tasks. I bet the ex-Special Forces man wishes he’d spent less time shopping and more time chasing.
‘Penny, I just want to congratulate you on a brilliant trip,’ says Gunther as he and Giles walk over to me.
‘It was a great thirty-six hours, and I think we should give it the green light to do this bi-annually with different members of staff,’ says Giles.
I’m trying to keep a smile on my face and not let my eyes pop out in horror as Giles has some unfortunate sunburn. I can only guess he went for Tony the Tiger stripes of camo cream on his face as those bits are white while the rest of his face is slightly pink.
‘Great,’ I say, wincing at how his daughter’s wedding photos are going to come out tomorrow.
‘Good job,’ says Giles as he walks away towards the minibuses.
‘Oh, Giles, have a lovely time at your daughter’s wedding.’ Let’s hope she doesn’t kill you for ruining the photos, I add in my head. Giles turns round and gives me a little wave and a big grin.
I can’t quite believe I managed to organise a successful team away day. I didn’t get lynched, and people are actually smiling. Now all I need to do is pull off this wedding tomorrow, and I’ll be living the dream.
As I start to run to the minibus in the pouring rain, I do a silent prayer that this is just a little bit of localised summer rain, and the picturesque village of White Hartnell will be unaffected.
chapter twenty-two
princess-on-a-shoestring friend or foe:
Wedding Insurance
When you’re planning a wedding, you don’t want to think that your big day might not happen, but there’s always a chance something might go wrong. I’m not talking doom and gloom that you and your HTB decide to part ways, but more that there might be a family disaster or the venue might go bust. Before taking out the insurance, look at your costs of your venue and suppliers, how much would you be liable for if you had to cancel and the time frames involved. Now, I’ve only ever known one person to cancel their wedding, but I’m sure it does happen. If it’s only forty pounds, is it worth it in the long run? What do you reckon, friend or foe?
Tags: insurance, doom and gloom.
Not only was driving the hour and a half up the road in the minibus some of the most treacherous driving conditions I’ve ever endured, but it seems that the rain has got worse not better. I aquaplaned a couple of times which, when you’re driving a minibus with fifteen people in, is a scary thing to do. I was almost in need of the extra pair of pants that I’d packed for emergencies.
After unloading my colleagues back at our office car park, and saying what felt like a surprisingly emotional goodbye to my team, I headed to Henri’s mum’s house. I didn’t manage to get hold of Henri before the church rehearsal, but I’m hoping that they’ll be almost finished.
I can only guess that her spa treatments have chilled out the bridezilla that she’d become, because I’ve not had any missed calls from her, no emails, no texts, no tweets. Ironic, considering that it’s raining cats and dogs and it’s the kind of thing that I would actually call an emergency the day before her wedding.
I just hope it clears up as quickly as it started. Or else the photos on the beautiful village green aren’t going to be anywhere near as magical.
I pull up outside Henri’s mum’s house by the duck pond, only today it’s difficult to see where the pond starts and finishes. I’ve been far too wet today to want to run out again in this rain. I’m trying to assess whether there is anyone home, but the longer I sit in the car the more it is fogging up. I count to ten and realise the rain isn’t going to get any better, and I make a dash for the house. After six rings of the bell and a fierce knock, I try my luck at the cricket club instead.
When I’d had my close encounter with the cricket ball, I remember strolling across the nicely manicured lawn. Yet tonight I’m sinking into the mud and I feel like I’m ruining it with every step. I shiver in memory of my earlier commando crawling. I’m wondering if I’ll ever look at mud in the same way again.
The clubhouse lights are on, and when I reach the doors, I see that Michelle, the captain’s wife, is there with a mop in her hand. That doesn’t do much to sett
le my nerves.
‘Hi, Michelle,’ I say, walking through the door.
‘Ah, Penny, thank goodness you’re here.’
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask trying to crack a smile as clearly it isn’t.
I’m looking round, trying to see what the mop’s for, but the floor looks nice and dry in here.
‘No, I’m afraid it isn’t. What’s happened to your face?’
‘My face?’ I say instinctively reaching up to touch it.
Michelle walks up and looks at me closely.
‘It looks like it’s bruised.’
‘Bloody face paint.’ It’s probably the only part of my body that isn’t bruised. I hope that I manage to get it off by the wedding tomorrow. I don’t think it’s going to go too well with my dress.
‘Oh, for a minute I thought something awful had happened. Anyway, there’s a bit of a problem with the marquee.’
‘What kind of a problem?’ I ask, not wanting to know the answer. ‘Is it leaking?’
‘Yes and no, the water seems to be coming in from the sides.’
It hadn’t occurred to me when I’d walked over the sodden ground that it could have got into the marquee. We’d made sure that we’d had the proper hard flooring and carpet put down rather than the cheap coconut matting, mainly as we thought that Henri’s stilettos would get stuck in it. But still, the floor is supposed to be waterproof.
‘I don’t believe this,’ I say, shaking my head.
‘Max is in there at the moment trying to put sandbags round the edges. I’m afraid the carpet is pretty sodden in places.’
‘Has Henri been down?’
‘She came over earlier when it was pouring. At that point it had only been raining for twenty minutes and we thought it was a quick shower. But that was before the marquee started to flood. I don’t think she’d cope too well with that.’
‘No,’ I say, ‘she certainly won’t. Michelle, I feel awful about you being here to sort this out.’
‘Don’t worry, we open on a Friday night as the team usually have a few drinks anyway, this gives us something to do.’
I was supposed to be coming along tonight to hang the bunting and give the venue a final once-over so that tomorrow I would only have to inflate the balloons and dress the tables. I always thought I’d get sucked into staying later to help Henri, but for some reason I assumed it would be for something totally mundane, like a broken nail, not that Henri would have thought it mundane.
‘I guess I’m going to have to see it for myself.’
I walk down the now-flooded path to the marquee. I’m not even going to think about how many pairs of shoes it will ruin tomorrow. Not to mention how Henri’s going to swish in her dress. I unzip and rezip the entrance at lightning speed when I get inside.
Poor Max is throwing piles of sandbags around the edges. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen them inside a wedding venue before.
‘Hi, Penny, I’m afraid we’re doing our best.’
‘Max, you’re doing a fantastic job.’
‘Before you come any further, take your shoes off,’ says Max.
I look down at my shoes and realise I’ve bought inside most of the mud from the field outside. The carpet looks like it’s in a bad enough state already, let alone without my stamping feet.
I walk over and start helping put the sandbags down. Michelle comes to join us, and soon the edges of the marquee are covered.
‘Hopefully, that should work. I’m not too sure what we can do about the carpet though.’
I look at my watch and see that it’s after seven, the likelihood of me getting anyone at the marquee company at this hour is pretty slim. I try anyway and leave an answerphone message.
We go over and inspect the damage. The sandbags have done a good job of covering up the water marks. If only Henri was having a vintage wedding, we could have kitted it out like it was war-time. But, somehow, sandbags and princess weddings don’t really go together.
I dig my phone out of my pocket; this calls for reinforcements in the shape of my lovely husband. Mark is usually über-practical and he’ll be able to sort us out. When it clicks through to answerphone, I do my usual swoon at his sexy voice and leave him a message:
‘Hi, honey, it’s just me. We’ve got a pretty big problem at the marquee, it’s flooded. I could really do with your help. Any chance you could pop down, or give me a call back, that would be lovely, OK speak to you soon.’
I hang up the phone and wonder where my husband is tonight. I know that I said I’d be late home but still, doesn’t he know he should be sat at home pining for me, looking at his phone, just in case I might have called. Hopefully he’ll ring back soon, as I need someone to tell me what to do.
‘Oh. My. God.’
I look up expecting to see Janice from Friends standing in front of me, but in fact it’s Henri with her mother, and Nick.
‘Henri, it’s not as bad as it looks,’ I say walking towards her with my hands out in a calming gesture as if I’m calming down an angry mob calling for blood.
‘There are sandbags in my marquee,’ she says in a wail.
‘I know, I know. Calm down,’ I say again. ‘Take your shoes off and come have a look and you’ll realise it isn’t that bad.’
I’m lying, it’s pretty bad. The edges of the tent have gone all mushy and there is a faint smell of mould permeating the room.
Henri walks towards me and I give her a little bit of encouragement like she’s a wild horse unsure of her new surroundings.
‘See, it’s not that bad.’
Henri is pulling a face that says I’m deranged for thinking that.
‘I’ve tried to phone the marquee company to sort out an additional carpet.’
‘But we’ve spent the budget, and there’s no money for another carpet.’
‘Henri, darling, I’m sure I can pay for a carpet on the credit card, and we’ll pay it off next month,’ says Nick, walking over to put his arms around her.
Tears are rolling down Henri’s face. We were so close to her dream wedding, and here it is unravelling before our very eyes. When I left here on Wednesday night, it looked beautiful and now it looks like a scout camp gone wrong.
‘My beautiful, beautiful wedding,’ says Henri. ‘It’s ruined. We might as well not bother. Why don’t we call the whole thing off? It’s not like anyone really cares anyway.’
She sits down at one of the tables and rests her head on her hands, the tears rolling down her face. I’m wondering if Nick’s going to try and talk Henri into marrying him, but before he has a chance her mother goes and sits down beside her.
‘Henri, don’t say that. It’s just a little bit of rain. A little bit of rain never hurt anyone.’
She’s clearly a braver woman than I am, there’s no way I would have bought that up at this moment. And I’d hardly call three hours of torrential downpour a little rain.
‘But what will Daddy say?’ asks Henri, between sniffs.
‘Your father can say what he likes, for all I care,’ says her mother waving her hand dismissively.
‘How did the rehearsal go?’ I whisper to Nick. Henri’s mother seems to be calming her daughter down and I’m sensing it perhaps didn’t go to plan.
‘It went well, except her dad didn’t turn up. He said something came up at the last minute.’
‘Oh,’ I say.
‘Yes, oh. And now this has happened. I don’t know how much else she’s going to be able to take.’
My phone rings and my first thought is that it’s Mark. Yet, instead of being disappointed when it’s not, I’m pleased when I see that it’s the next best thing, it’s the marquee company.
‘Hello,’ I say, breathing a sigh of relief.
‘Hi, Penny, it’s Frank from Visions Marquee Hire, I’ve just got your message.’
‘Yes, thanks for phoning back. I was wondering if there was anything that we could do with the carpet, I mean whether we could get it replaced tomorrow? I know that
it’s supposed to be waterproof but it’s still waterlogged.’
‘I don’t think there was anything you could have done, there’s just been so much water.’
‘We know that it’ll cost us, but what are the chances of getting the carpet replaced tomorrow?’
‘I’m sorry, love, but you’ve got no chance. All our marquees have flooded, and unfortunately we’ve got our biggest marquee out with one of our regular corporate clients and we’ve got to go first thing to sort out their carpet. I’m sorry, Penny, I’ve got to go where the money is. I did you a special deal as it was.’
He did do us a cracking deal in return for me doing an interview with him on my blog about how to keep the costs of a marquee wedding down.
‘But we’d be willing to pay for the carpet,’ I say in a last-ditch attempt.
‘I’m sorry, Penny, we just don’t have the manpower, we’d only be able to get to you after lunch.’
‘But that’s too late,’ I say in a whisper.
‘Sorry, Penny, looks like you’ll have to have a bit of a damp carpet. Maybe it’ll dry out by tomorrow.’
I hang up the phone and try not to scream. There’s no point in upsetting Henri any more than she already is.
‘I take it that was bad news,’ says Henri, sighing.
‘Well, it wasn’t the news I’d hoped for,’ I say, trying to make the best of a bad situation.
‘Listen, darling, it’s stopped raining,’ says Nick enthusiastically.
It’s true, the pat-pat-pat of the rain on the marquee roof has stopped. Henri looks up and I notice that she’s momentarily stopped crying.
‘Maybe that’s the worst of it over,’ says Nick.
‘But the ground is still soaking. It’s never going to dry,’ says Henri. ‘My dress is going to be ruined.’
‘You’ll just have to get your bridesmaids to hitch it up,’ says Nick, winking at her. Bad time, Nick, my friend, to be winking, I think.
‘But what about my shoes. They’re IVORY,’ shouts Henri. ‘Not to mention that they’ll probably get stuck in the mud.’