A Beginner's Guide To Saying I Do

by Jennifer Joyce

  My body moved into the chair pose, my breathing even despite my mind being a hive of activity. The venue was the tip of the wedding iceberg. There was so much to think about and I wasn’t sure where to go from here. I’d never planned a wedding before and never thought I’d ever get the opportunity to before Jared, so I’d definitely need Mum and Linda’s help.

  Cobra pose. I lay on my mat, feeling the stretch. What was I going to do about a dress? I’d had a brief glance at plus-size wedding dresses online but they’d been so horrific, I’d been forced to close the internet browser before I called the whole thing off. Who wanted to get married in a cream tarpaulin? Brides were supposed to feel beautiful and you can’t do that sporting a potato sack. I’d (mostly) come to terms with the fact that I was a size 22 (on a good day), but I was conscious of the wedding photos I’d one day show my grandchildren.

  ‘Now let’s move straight into the plank,’ Nell said in her soothing voice. I followed Greg’s lead on this one. No matter how many sessions I attended, the plank was my most dreaded pose.

  Speaking of dread, my mind shifted to the guest list. There were certain people who I wasn’t all that keen to have at my wedding, people who sucked all the joy out of life and got their kicks from putting others down – and not even behind their backs like normal people do. But I couldn’t think of a way to get out of inviting Aunty Pat and her vicious tongue. I’d contemplated – fleetingly – getting married abroad. Imagine getting married on the beach with the sound of waves gently lapping as you exchanged vows with the man you loved. It sounded blissful, but then I could never get married without Mum and Dad there, and I was pretty sure Jared felt the same way about his own parents. There was the option to take our families with us, but that would cost a fortune and we’d be saving for a million years to pay for it.

  Downward dog.

  I’d been thinking about the theme of the wedding too – as advised by the wedding websites – but I was a bit confused by the whole thing. How did you pick a theme for a wedding? Did they mean like Christmas or Halloween? Because I wasn’t keen on that in the slightest. Easter could have worked, what with all the chocolate and everything but … no, it all seemed a bit daft to me.

  ‘Let’s go back into the mountain pose,’ Nell instructed.

  I’d tried discussing all of this with Jared, but he wasn’t that interested in the wedding. He’d said we had plenty of time to iron out the details, which was true. Perhaps I was panicking too soon, but it seemed like there was an awful lot to panic about and not nearly enough time to do it in.

  ‘Maybe we could have a long engagement?’ Jared had suggested. ‘If it’s all getting a bit much?’

  I’d been horrified. I didn’t want a long engagement. I wanted to marry Jared as soon as possible, before he could change his mind.

  ‘Take a step back,’ Nell instructed and we all followed. ‘Arms outstretched.’

  My body took itself into the warrior pose while my mind went over wedding plans, to-do lists that I needed to put together, and long engagements.

  ‘Are you all right, Ruth?’ Greg asked once the class was over and I was rolling up my mat. ‘You seemed a bit tense today.’

  I secured the bands to keep my mat in place and tucked it under my arm. ‘I’m fine.’ My mouth was aching to tell Greg about the wedding, just to see what it sounded like to say it out loud again, but I managed to keep it buttoned.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’ Greg hung around for a moment, waiting for me to speak. I hitched my bag onto my shoulder, which finally convinced him that I wasn’t about to offload what was clearly on my mind.

  ‘Are you coming for a drink?’ Mary asked as Greg wandered away.

  ‘Yeah, why not?’

  Jared was right. There was no point in worrying about this stuff right now. We had months and months ahead of us to sort everything. We hadn’t even set a date yet.

  Having a drink with the others after yoga managed to calm my mind. Somewhere between my first drink and Mary’s impromptu jukebox singalong, I realised that I could do this wedding thing. Other people managed to get married without combusting, so why couldn’t I? This would be my one and only wedding, so I needed to keep calm and enjoy the process.

  I prepared Kelvin’s office for his arrival before settling down to work the following day. I’d decided to take the wedding one step at a time, so today I would be concentrating on honeymoon destinations. There could be surely nothing stressful about planning a holiday! A few clicks later and my theory was proven to be wrong. I knew Jared would love an action-packed holiday – perhaps skiing – while I was happier lying by a pool with a cocktail. Jared would enjoy activities and walks to take in the scenery while I’d need nothing more than a good book and regular siestas. The honeymoon was clearly going to need a bit more time and thought than I’d anticipated.

  ‘I’ve just been collared by Sally.’ Kelvin puffed his way into the office, a film of sweat coating his brow. I had to admit the stairs were a pain first thing in the morning. I was contemplating starting a petition to have a stair lift installed. ‘She says she still hasn’t had the minutes from you.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘But I emailed them yesterday. You saw me do it.’ This was a big fat lie, but Kelvin didn’t pay enough attention to be able to confidently call bullshit. I gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’ll do it again now. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with my computer, do you?’

  Kelvin grunted. He didn’t care about my computer. He didn’t really care about the minutes. He simply wanted Sally from HR off his back.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ Anything to get his mind away from the minutes, in case he decided to stand there and witness me emailing them, supposedly for the second time.

  ‘I can’t.’ Kelvin spat the words. Actually spat them. I surreptitiously wiped the spittle from my cheek. ‘Susan’s put me on a detox for the bloody wedding.’

  I shuddered. I certainly wouldn’t be detoxing before my wedding. I needed coffee and alcohol and junk food to get me through the day. What was the point in living otherwise?

  ‘If she rings, tell her I’ve dropped dead from lack of toxins.’ Kelvin shuffled into his office, grumbling about nuptials and his lack of caffeine while I grabbed the notes from the meeting from my in-tray. I was busily typing them up, for once not consumed by wedding plans, when Kelvin’s wife appeared and put me off my stride.

  ‘Is he in?’ Without pausing for pleasantries, Susan wobbled towards Kelvin’s door but changed her mind and stopped in front of my desk, her chin jutting out as she observed me. ‘I’m here to talk to Kelvin about wedding arrangements. Not my own, of course.’ Susan tittered and swept a stray platinum curl from her eyes. I think Kelvin’s wife modelled her appearance on Marilyn Monroe, but it had gone horribly wrong somewhere along the way. Her look was more gruesome than glamorous, with her shoddily applied make-up and hideously tight clothes, which showed every bump and crevice. ‘It’s my daughter’s. She’s marrying a professional rugby player, you know.’

  I did know. Susan shoehorned the fact into every single conversation. ‘How lovely for her.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Susan gave her hair a flick, but it was so heavy with hairspray that it didn’t budge. ‘It’s so strange having an athletic future son-in-law. Nobody else in the family is remotely fit.’

  ‘What about your future daughter-in-law? Erin’s pretty athletic too.’ I didn’t mention that my best friend’s athleticism lay in the bedroom only.

  As though on cue, Erin walked into the office, freezing when she spotted Susan. Erin had been seeing Susan and Kelvin’s son, Richard, for the past couple of years. Susan’s lip curled when she caught sight of Erin. She didn’t approve of her son’s choice of girlfriend, but then Erin couldn’t stand Susan either so it was a well-balanced loathing.

  ‘Anyway, I must be getting on. I need to speak to Kelvin rather urgently.’ Susan turned to Erin, the lip-curl still in evidence. ‘Don’t forget we have a wedding meeting on Saturday aft
ernoon. Don’t be late.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Erin muttered as Susan disappeared into Kelvin’s office. She flopped wearily onto the edge of my desk. ‘Have you got time for a skive?’

  I looked at the half-typed-up minutes, then back at Erin. I could spare ten minutes, surely.

  Eight

  Erin

  ‘So how are the wedding plans coming along?’ Erin and Ruth were sitting on a bench in the far corner of H. Wood’s car park, which was their preferred skiving spot. It wasn’t quite warm enough to sit outside, but they both needed a breather from the office. Despite the coolness, the back of Erin’s neck was sticky so she pulled the mass of dark hair away from her collar and secured it with a band on top of her head, creating a messy ponytail. For years, Erin had kept her hair in a short, glossy bob, but she’d allowed it to grow longer recently. Richard, her boyfriend of over two years, said he liked it this way so Erin had kept it, even though the extra length could be a bit of a pain at times. Fiercely independent, Erin was surprised that she’d allowed Richard’s opinion to sway her hairstyle choice, but she had to admit that the style suited her.

  ‘It’s all a bit overwhelming, if I’m honest.’ Ruth tore open the Twix she’d bought from the vending machine on their way out, handing one of the fingers to Erin before biting a chunk off her own. ‘There’s so much to do and Jared doesn’t seem particularly interested.’

  Erin gave a wave of her hand. ‘That’s just men. They’re really only interested in the wedding night. They think with their willies, not their hearts.’

  ‘But Jared’s not usually like that. He can think with both.’

  Erin and Ruth shared a smirk. ‘I can ask if Lindsay’s wedding planner is available to help.’

  Ruth almost choked on her Twix. ‘God, no.’ Ruth had heard enough about the wedding planner to know that she was a complete nightmare. Erin had somehow found herself agreeing to be a bridesmaid for Richard’s sister and was finding the whole process as arduous as Kelvin was. Erin hadn’t been Lindsay’s first choice of bridesmaid, and she’d only been asked when one of the other bridesmaids had been ejected from her duties for daring to question Lindsay’s taste in wedding dresses. Erin had seen a photo of the dress that had caused all the furore and had to agree with the original bridesmaid. The dress was hideously tacky and had since been scrapped, but the bridesmaid had never been forgiven or reinstated.

  Lucky cow.

  ‘It’s probably a good thing you’re not interested in hiring a wedding planner. Ingrid is costing poor Frank a fortune. You’d think he was a Premiership footballer the way Lindsay spends his money.’ Groom-to-be Frank Harper played for their local rugby team, the Woodgate Warriors, but Lindsay was somehow under the impression that she was now a WAG and acted accordingly.

  Ruth picked up her cup of coffee from beside her on the bench and blew on it. ‘I thought Kelvin was paying for the wedding?’

  Erin spluttered. ‘You must be joking. I think he offered to pay for his own suit, but that’s about it. No, this wedding is all on Frank.’ And it was costing him an absolute arm and a leg. As well as wedding planner Ingrid, Frank was funding eight bridesmaids, partnered with eight groomsmen plus a pageboy and two flower girls. The wedding was taking place in a fancy hotel and promised to be the most garish wedding Woodgate had ever seen.

  ‘I don’t think our small savings will stretch to a wedding planner,’ Ruth said. ‘So it looks like I’ll have to do myself for free.’

  Erin placed a hand on Ruth’s. ‘If you need any help, you know where Quinn is.’ She laughed when Ruth stuck her tongue out at her.

  ‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you?’

  ‘Thankfully not.’

  ‘What are you going to do when it comes to your own wedding? Hire Ingrid?’

  Erin’s mouth dropped open, aghast at the very suggestion. ‘Who said I was ever going to get married? You know my views on that.’ The thought made her shudder. Erin couldn’t think of anything worse than being shackled to a man for life.

  ‘But that was before you found Richard.’

  ‘I can still have Richard without a wedding.’ Erin really didn’t get what all the fuss was about. A piece of paper and a bit of jewellery didn’t prove your love. ‘Besides, Richard’s already been married, so hopefully Amanda scarred him for life on that front.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t met the woman.’ Richard’s ex-wife was needy and demanding and if Erin hadn’t been against marriage on principle before she met Amanda, she certainly would have been afterwards. ‘I know you can’t wait to marry Jared and I’m so happy for you, but I just don’t feel the way you do about marriage.’

  ‘Not even a teeny bit?’

  ‘Not even the tiniest scrap.’ Ruth had spent years listening to Erin’s views on marriage and knew there was little point in arguing her point. ‘I’m happy as we are.’

  Erin pushed the key into the lock, and the delicious smell of home cooking wafted towards her as soon as she opened the door. Before Richard, she had never possessed the key to a boyfriend’s house – before Richard, she hadn’t really had long-term boyfriends at all – but it had seemed like a convenient step forward in their relationship to exchange keys. Erin had worried she would feel like her personal space could be violated at any moment, but so far it hadn’t been a problem and she quite liked how grown-up that small act made her feel.

  ‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Richard called as Erin made her way down the hallway, following the spicy scent. Richard was still in his work shirt, but he’d rolled the sleeves up and covered it with a navy and white striped apron. Erin couldn’t quite believe she was attracted to a man who would wear an apron, but life was full of surprises.

  ‘What are we having?’ Erin dumped her handbag on the kitchen table before reaching up to kiss Richard.

  Richard stirred the contents of a large saucepan on the hob. ‘Chicken curry.’

  ‘Don’t make it too spicy. It was too hot for Ralphie last time.’ The poor boy had acted as though he’d needed a fire extinguisher for his mouth and in the end Erin had made him cheese on toast instead. He’d said it was the best meal he’d ever eaten, which was either very sweet or put Richard and Amanda’s parenting skills into question.

  ‘I remember. I’ve made it quite mild. See?’ Richard spooned out a little of the curry and held it out for Erin to try.

  ‘Mmm, not bad. I think we may get away with it.’

  ‘I’ve made sure there’s some cheese in the fridge, just in case.’ Richard returned to his cooking duties but was interrupted by his mobile. ‘Can you keep an eye on this? I won’t be a minute.’ He fished his phone out of the pocket on the front of his apron and moved through to the sitting room. Erin gave the curry a tentative stir, not really having a clue what she was supposed to be keeping an eye on. Cooking was definitely not her forte. She was temporarily relieved from cooking duties when the doorbell rang and she bolted for the door. Her relief at being excused from cooking, however, was brief.

  ‘Isn’t Richard in?’ Richard’s ex-wife wasn’t impressed when it was Erin who opened the door, and she did little to disguise her displeasure. Amanda had taken an instant dislike to Erin and had tried her best to make her relationship with Richard as awkward as possible.

  ‘He’s on the phone.’ Erin too did nothing to disguise her displeasure. She didn’t have to explain herself to Amanda.

  ‘Well, remember the rule.’ Amanda raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip. ‘No sleepovers while the children are here.’

  Erin tried her best not to roll her eyes. Erin’s sleeping arrangements had nothing to do with this woman, but she knew she and Richard would follow her rule anyway. It was easier for all involved if they played along with Amanda’s little games.

  ‘Whatever.’ Erin turned from Amanda and plastered a smile on her face while she addressed Richard’s children. ‘Hey, kiddos. Are you hungry?
Your dad’s making a curry.’ Erin ruffled Richard’s son’s hair. ‘But don’t worry, Ralphie, it isn’t too hot this time.’

  ‘His name is Ralph.’ Amanda put a hand out to stop her children from charging into the house. Erin wondered if her mouth had permanently resembled a cat’s arse during her marriage to Richard, or whether it was a habit she’d developed once she’d signed the divorce papers. ‘Give Mummy a kiss before you go.’ The children dutifully kissed their mother before they skipped into the house, dumping their bags in the hallway before moving through to the kitchen. It had taken a while for them all to adjust to the new dynamics of life with Richard’s children, and not because they didn’t like sharing their dad with Erin but because Erin wasn’t entirely comfortable around kids. She’d always done her best to avoid children, but she could hardly swerve Richard’s offspring. Surprisingly, Erin found that she was quite fond of LuLu and Ralph. They were all right, as far as kids go, and were pretty easy-going. It helped that at twelve and nine years old, LuLu and Ralph were fairly independent, didn’t require anything gross like nappy changes, and were quite capable of bathing themselves.

  ‘I’ll see you after school tomorrow!’ Amanda called after the children, but they’d already disappeared into the kitchen – no doubt raiding the biscuit tin while their dad was out of sight. Again. ‘I’ve packed LuLu’s PE kit. Please don’t forget it in the morning.’ Amanda gave Erin a scathing look before she turned and stalked across the garden path without a farewell. Erin closed the door and turned, almost tripping over a Hello Kitty backpack.

  ‘Hey, kids. Why don’t you take your things upstairs before tea?’ And before your bags cause an injury? LuLu and Ralph dutifully trooped back into the hallway – crumbs suspiciously adorning their T-shirts – and picked up their bags. Erin ruffled their hair affectionately as they passed her on their way to the stairs.