Sooo Not Looking For a Man: A witty, heart-warming and poignant, feel-good journey.

by CJ Morrow

  If I’d realised I was going to go hungry for six months I might not have agreed to the diet, but he caught me with my guard down. We’d just booked the venue for the wedding; it wasn’t quite what I had imagined - which was something small and intimate with just close family and a few friends. It turned out that Leeward wanted big and showy. God knows why we hadn’t synchronised our expectations before we looked at the venue – a visit he had arranged. It was a stately home, lovely, massive, expensive and the minimum number of guests we could have were two-hundred. Two-hundred. I didn’t think we even knew two-hundred people. But it was what Leeward wanted, and, as he reminded me, he always gets what he wants. After all, he’d chased after me for weeks all those years ago, before I gave in and went out with him, hadn’t he?

  So, here we are, a week before the biggest wedding I have ever been to – my own. And we’re having everything, six bridesmaids, including my forty-year-old sister as matron of honour – not that she was too keen. The men are all wearing top hat and tails, with cravats. My dad, with what he calls his middle-aged comfort roll – read fat belly – looks like The Penguin out of the Batman film, the one where Danny DeVito plays the baddie. There’s a live band, a six-course meal and champagne for the toast – not sparkling wine, which is normal at all the weddings I’ve been to. Personally, I think it’s all a bit excessive, but, as Leeward says, he’s paying for it and only the best will do for his bride. Me. Even if I would have been happy with something a lot less ostentatious.

  What you up to? A message comes through on my phone; it’s from Leeward.

  Just having lunch with Mum xxx

  Don’t eat too much x

  Lol xxx

  He doesn’t reply.

  Another beep from my phone and this time it’s Jayne telling me Mum’s dress isn’t the same shade as hers, so we’re all fine and no one is going to have to go dress shopping again. Thank God for that. I don’t tell Mum, because she would most certainly not be going dress shopping again, no matter what Jayne thinks.

  Mum and Jayne don’t really see eye to eye. My hen party is a good example. Jayne wanted to go to Barcelona. I didn’t. At thirty-five I’m the last of my friends to get married, most of them are having babies or staggering under the weight of big mortgages so I just wanted something simple and cheap. We went for afternoon tea and prosecco at a little café in town, though not Mum’s favourite café, because they don’t open for private parties. I enjoyed it. Mum enjoyed it. My sister, Cat, enjoyed it because it didn’t need too much organising and it didn’t take her away from her family for too long, and the same applied to my friends, most of whom I hardly see now anyway. So, something low key fitted the bill and everyone was happy. Except Jayne.

  You can’t please everybody.

  ‘This time next week,’ Mum says, her voice breezy. ‘You’ll be the new Mrs Quinn.’

  ‘As opposed to the old one,’ I say with a smirk.

  ‘Huh, has she ever been a Mrs? Is that even her name?’

  ‘They’re all Quinn, I’ve told you this before.’

  Mum shakes her head. She’s trying not to sound judgemental, not to be condescending. We all know that Leeward and his brothers have different fathers and that none of them were around during their childhoods. No one really knows where the name Quinn came from, except that all the boys have it as their surname and at some unspecified point in the past, Jayne changed her name by deed poll, adding a ‘y’ to her previously plain Jane and becoming Mrs Quinn.

  ‘You’ll be the genuine article,’ Mum says, before wincing as she realises she’s said it out loud.

  ‘Stop it.’ But I laugh. I can’t help it. Sometimes it’s fun to be bitchy.

  After our long, leisurely lunch we stroll around the shops because I still need to buy a nice gift for my sister, jewellery, I think. After a lot of looking Mum helps me choose a silver brooch.

  ‘That way she can pin it on her jacket and forget about it, and she’ll always be wearing it when she wears the jacket.’

  ‘If you think so,’ I say, not convinced.

  ‘She’s got four kids and a busy life. She rarely wears jewellery, does she? She’s too busy running around after everyone else and organising them.’ Mum pulls her I know what that’s like face, which is true, she does. There are four of us, me, my sister and my two brothers, though not in that order and it’s not as though any of us are children anymore, far from it. I’m the youngest, next is Sam, he’s thirty-six; my partner in crime, apparently, when we were kids. Then Mark who’s thirty-eight, then Cat who’s forty. When I was born Mum had four children under five, sounds insane. At least Cat has spread hers out.

  I get the brooch gift wrapped; when I get home I’ll add it to box containing the other bridesmaids’ gifts. They’re all children, the oldest is Cat’s daughter Natalia, who’s thirteen. The rest are my brothers’ girls, ages ranging from a cute and uncontrollable two, to eleven. Neither of Leeward’s brothers has any children yet.

  ‘Has Kenton decided who he’s bringing?’ Mum asks, referring to Leeward’s older brother.

  ‘No, and Jayne’s getting in a stress about it especially because Suzi keeps crying on her shoulder.’ Jayne adores Suzi, she certainly prefers her to me. ‘Whoever he brings, Jayne won’t like her.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll get back together? Ken and Suzi.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll come alone.’

  ‘I suspect not. He seems to have no problem attracting women.’

  ‘I can see why.’ Mum giggles. It’s true, Kenton, or Ken as he prefers to be called – and who can blame him – is tall, dark and handsome. In fact, he’s the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He’s well over six feet tall, has dark brown eyes and dark olive skin; some say his father was Spanish or Italian, or even of Caribbean ancestry, but Jayne never lets on. Whatever the mix is, he’s certainly benefitted in the looks department and he’ll steal the show on the photographs too because he’s incredibly photogenic.

  ‘Good job I never had Suzi as a bridesmaid.’ Jayne had pushed me, but I wouldn’t. I like Suzi, but I know what Ken’s like, he’s had fifteen girlfriends in the ten years Leeward and I have been together. Few of them last a year, and like so many of her predecessors Suzi hasn’t even made it past six months.

  ‘Imagine how awkward that would have been.’ Mum and I exchange grimaces. Fortunately, I don’t have to imagine, or worry about it. I just hope Jayne doesn’t egg Suzi on to come anyway; I wouldn’t put it past her though.

  In the car on the way home Mum and I chat about our plans, I’ve taken this week off work as holiday, followed by two more for my honeymoon. So we’re arranging lunches and outings to pick up last minute things. We’re also getting our nails done on Thursday. This is especially luxurious for me as my job prohibits me from painting my nails.

  ‘How is work now,’ Mum asks, when I say how much I’m looking forward to my three weeks off.

  ‘Since I went part-time, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mum and Dad didn’t really agree with me cutting my hours at the nursing home. Not that they’ve said anything, but I could tell from their faces when Leeward and I announced it over a big Sunday tea at their house, that they weren’t particularly happy. I don’t know why; you’d think they’d be pleased that I won’t be exhausted all the time. Yes, I’ve had to take a bit of a demotion, but it’s okay.

  ‘Yeah, it’s fine.’

  ‘Big drop in money though.’ Mum says this while driving and staring straight ahead. ‘And status.’

  ‘Yeah, but Leeward earns enough.’ I ignore her status remark.

  ‘Just seems a shame when you worked so hard to get there.’

  ‘I’m a nurse, Mum. All nurses work hard. I still work hard.’

  ‘Yes, but…’ Mum’s voice trails off.

  Yes, I was the senior nurse in the home, the one with the most experience, the one with the final say but I still have the knowledge. Nothing can change that.


  ‘Are you’re definitely not going to go back to full-time?’

  ‘No. Couldn’t even if I wanted to, they’ve already replaced me.’ I laugh. It’s true it wasn’t my idea to go part-time, it was Leeward’s. We were running around in circles trying to get everything organised for the wedding, when he came up with the solution. If I went part-time I could sort everything out – his job in hotel sales means he works long hours and often has to travel – so it just seemed the obvious solution. And we’ll probably be trying for a baby as soon as the knot is tied, so there’s no point in stressing with a full-time job then, either.

  ‘Oh well, on the bright side I’ll see much more of you once the wedding is over and you’re not spending all your time on it.’ Mum pastes on a big bright smile and I find myself feeling more than a little irritated.

  We pull up outside my house and Mum keeps the car running as I get out.

  ‘You not coming in?’ I ask, poking my head back through the car door. ‘Come and keep me company ‘til Leeward gets home.’ His car isn’t on the drive so I know he’s not in.

  ‘No, Grimmy will be needing her tea, you know what she’s like.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I laugh. I do know what she’s like. No one dare deviate from her meal timetable. It’s ironic how she’s never wrong on meal times yet loses track of days and weeks. Still, she’s amazing really. She’ll be ninety-four soon and she’s definitely got most of her marbles, unlike some of the poor souls I see every day at the nursing home. She’s a tough taskmaster and the irony is she doesn’t even live with Mum and Dad; she lives across the road from them in sheltered housing.

  ‘Shame you had to sell your car,’ Mum says, musing as she stares at the empty drive.

  ‘Yeah, well. All in a good cause.’ It seemed the logical thing to do to pay for the wedding. I can walk to work easily enough but Leeward needs his car for his job. I’ll get another car once we settle back down. And I’m sure some of it has gone towards my secret honeymoon surprise, so definitely money well spent. And the wedding rings, I know exactly what they cost because I took a sneaky peek at Leeward’s credit card bill which he’d left in his study. He insisted on choosing them, wanting them to be a surprise for me, and since I’ve never had an engagement ring, I am expecting something special; I’ve dropped enough hints about diamonds being a girl’s best friend. Judging by the bill from that rather chichi jewellers he likes, there should be several diamonds. Each. I can’t wait to see them.

  ∞∞∞

  Once indoors, I send Leeward a message asking what time he’ll be back and if he’s bringing his brothers with him. After about half an hour he replies that he’ll be home in an hour and he’ll be on his own.

  Excellent, there’s time for me to make our favourite dinner for two, spicy shepherd’s pie with sweet potato mash.

  An hour and half later and the pie is ready to come out of the oven, I’ve polished the glasses and the table is set, but there’s no Leeward. I message him again; I’ve already done it twice in the last half hour but he isn’t answering. I wish he would reply because it makes me nervous when he doesn’t, I imagine all sorts of silly things happening.

  I take the pie out, sit it on the cooker top and cover it with foil, it should stay hot for quite a while, in fact probably better that it cools down a little before we eat it. I grab my wine glass off the table and head to the fridge; there’s a lovely bottle of rosé sitting in there. It was a present from my work colleagues when I left yesterday, that and a John Lewis gift card, for quite a large sum, apparently lots of the residents insisted on chipping in too. That’s so kind of them.

  I’m just ferreting around in the fridge trying to find the wine when the front door opens.

  ‘Hiya, I’m in the kitchen,’ I call out. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’

  I don’t hear Leeward’s reply because I’ve still got my head in the fridge as I hunt for the wine, but I do hear his familiar footsteps on the wooden hall floor and then the kitchen tiles. They come to an abrupt end just behind me.

  ‘Any idea where that wine is in here?’ I ask as I turn around to face him.

  He shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t look very happy.

  ‘Is everything okay? You haven’t had an accident in the car or something?’ I knew there was a reason why he wasn’t replying to my messages.

  He shakes his head again, this time slower than the first time.

  ‘No,’ he says, quietly, ‘But I did witness one.’ He shakes his head and I can see that all the colour has drained from his face.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On the bypass.’ He shakes his head again. ‘Just awful. Let’s not talk about it.’

  ‘Okay. Are you hungry? I’ve made our favourite dinner.’

  He forces a weak smile and blinks several times.

  ‘Do you mind,’ he says, his voice faltering. ‘I think I’ll just go and have a bath then go to bed early.’ Very early, it’s not even dark yet.

  ‘Oh, okay. Were your brothers with you? Did they see it too?’ I’m asking because in some way, if they were all together, I think it might make it more bearable. I don’t know what happened but it’s obviously shaken Leeward.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I was on my own.’

  ∞∞∞

  I loosen the foil on the pie to let it cool completely, I’ll put it in the fridge later, we can easily have it another day. I clear the table before making myself a cheese and tomato sandwich – not quite what I had planned, but it can’t be helped. I have another look in the fridge for my wine, but still cannot find it. I’m beginning to wonder if I actually did put it in the fridge or if it’s been left in the bag I brought home from work. I hunt around and find the bag, but there’s no sign of the wine.

  Have I drunk it and not noticed? Did I imagine it? Did I leave it at work? No, I remember Leeward commenting on what a good wine it was – some special grape – he’s far more knowledgeable about wine than I am.

  Oh well, I’m sure it’ll turn up.

  I spend my Saturday evening on my own, my fiancé unconscious upstairs. I’ve checked on him twice and he’s so deeply asleep I wonder if he’s taken something; I’m sure we had a few sleeping tablets that Jayne thrust on us when Leeward had jetlag after a business trip to the US. I check his pulse and his breathing, and he’s okay.

  Downstairs, I flick through the TV channels, so many and so little I want to watch. Then I flick through my phone, googling “accident on bypass”. A photo of an horrific crash pops up immediately, the front of the car completely crushed. Two people were killed at the scene, another is critical in hospital. Just awful. The piece says it’s a notorious black spot.

  Then I notice the date; it happened last Wednesday. Good God, twice in one week. It certainly is a notorious black spot.

  And poor Leeward witnessed the latest one. Just awful.

  Two

  The week running up to the wedding flies by and Leeward and I hardly see each other. Either I’m out running wedding errands or he’s working late or working out.

  It’s Wednesday and we still haven’t eaten the spicy shepherd’s pie I made on Saturday. I ring Leeward at work mid-afternoon and am annoyed when he doesn’t answer straightaway.

  ‘You took a long time to answer,’ I snap.

  ‘I’m at work,’ he comes back, equally snappish. I think the prewedding nerves and stress are getting to both of us.

  ‘Oh course, sorry. I was just ringing to see what time you’ll be home because we really need to eat that pie I made at the weekend. If not today, it will have to go in the bin.’

  ‘Seven,’ he says. ‘I have to go, bit manic here. Bye.’

  ‘Bye. Love you,’ I say into the void, because Leeward has already hung up.

  The sooner we get past this wedding the better; we so should have sneaked off to Vegas, had an Elvis wedding and announced it to the world when we got back. My family wouldn’t have minded. Maybe my mum would, a bit, and Dad, it would be mean to deny him the pleasure of walking hi
s youngest daughter up the aisle. Jayne would definitely have complained. Okay, we should have gone for the wedding I wanted, something small and simple.

  But we are where we are and it’s all happening this weekend. Then it’s off on honeymoon, and I’m more excited about that than the wedding and I still don’t know where we’re going. Given how much Leeward loves all things Lord of the Rings, maybe it’s New Zealand. Wow, that would just be fantastic. Imagine it. We looked into it once, five years ago, Leeward had brochures and costings, you can even visit the hobbit village – not that I care so much about that – but New Zealand, I mean, just wow. We didn’t book anything, it was just too expensive, but maybe, for our honeymoon… I mustn’t be disappointed if it’s not New Zealand, anywhere will be wonderful with Leeward.

  ∞∞∞

  Leeward rocks in at six-thirty and I’m thrilled that he’s early. I pour us both a glass of wine – not my good one, I still haven’t found that – while we wait for the pie to heat through.

  ‘How’s work?’ I ask, dreading the answer because I know he’s under a lot of pressure at work.

  He rolls his eyes. ‘Bloody chaos. We have this event going on this weekend, which of course I won’t be attending, so I’m trusting Michael to get some business in. It’s just typical the date clashes with our wedding; these are international customers and they could give us a lot of business for the chain, worldwide.’ Poor Michael, he’s Leeward’s assistant and doesn’t always come up to Leeward’s exacting standards.

  ‘Can’t be helped,’ I say. ‘You weren’t to know.’ At least, I don’t think he was. Leeward has told me about this event so many times, yet every time he mentions it, he acts as though I know nothing about it. That shows just how stressed he is.