The Girl's Guide to Getting Hitched: A charming feel-good read

by Sophie Hart

  Ken shook his head. ‘I don’t like it too cold. I have sensitive teeth you see, Jonathan, and anything cold really sets them off.’

  Jon didn’t reply, sparking yet another uncomfortable silence.

  ‘Sit down, everyone, sit down,’ Pauline insisted, placing the last of the dishes on the table.

  ‘Wow, Mum, you’ve really pushed the boat out,’ Aimee exclaimed. The table was practically groaning under the weight of all the food, and every spare inch was covered with plates and dishes. There were sprouts, carrots, parsnips in honey, roast potatoes, red cabbage, Yorkshire puddings, pigs in blankets and a vast array of sauces in their sticky, faded jars. Aimee couldn’t help but think of Jon’s usual insistence on having no bottles at the dinner table; he preferred that Aimee decant all of their condiments into classic ramekin dishes, just like Valerie always did.

  ‘So have you heard from Charlie?’ Aimee asked, as Ken set about carving the turkey. Her brother was spending Christmas with his girlfriend’s family in Portsmouth, but would be coming home for New Year.

  ‘Yes, he called this morning to wish me happy Christmas. He said to say hello to you – and Jon of course,’ Pauline added hastily.

  ‘Hopefully we’ll get to see him when he’s back.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure he’ll be busy doing his own thing,’ Jon commented. ‘And besides, we’ve got plans for New Year.’

  ‘Oh, have you decided what you’re doing?’ Pauline poured gravy over her food and tucked in.

  ‘We’re um… going with Jon’s mother to her club.’

  ‘The Lancaster Club,’ Jonathan added.

  ‘Ooh, very fancy. They’ll put on a good do there.’

  ‘It’s a black tie dinner, with champagne reception and an award-winning swing band,’ Jonathan explained.

  ‘Lovely,’ Pauline replied, looking somewhat blank at the concept of ‘black tie’.

  The meal continued with sporadic conversation, Pauline cheerily overcompensating as Jon made the occasional cutting remark that he imagined was going over their heads, but Aimee could see that her parents were taking every comment to heart.

  ‘That really was delicious, Mrs Nicholls,’ Jon said effusively, pushing his plate away as he sat back in his chair.

  ‘She does a good roast, does your future mother-in-law,’ Ken grinned.

  ‘You can come round for a meal any time you like,’ Pauline encouraged. ‘You don’t have to let us know, just drop in. It’d be lovely to see more of you. Both of you.’

  Aimee felt a familiar pang of guilt, knowing that she didn’t visit her parents as often as she should – Jonathan even less so.

  ‘Jon’s very busy,’ Aimee said, hearing how pathetic it sounded.

  ‘I know he is. I don’t know how you do it, running that big company,’ Pauline marvelled, and Aimee again felt bad, hating the way her mother felt the need to grovel to her fiancé.

  ‘Well, it’s great to know that I’ve got Aimee to come home to,’ Jon smiled, putting his arm around her.

  ‘Aw, isn’t that nice,’ Pauline cooed, as she stood up to clear the plates. Aimee got up to help, but Pauline waved her away. ‘It’s fine, you sit down and relax. It’s Christmas! Now, Jon, this was always our Aimee’s favourite dessert when she was younger, so I thought it’d be nice to get it out today.’

  Pauline moved to the worktop and took out four bowls, filling them up and carrying them across to the table with a flourish.

  Jon looked down at the dessert that had been placed in front of him – vanilla flavoured ice cream decorated with chocolate fingers and drizzled in strawberry sauce – and exhaled loudly, shaking his head. ‘I’m stuffed, thanks, Mrs Nicholls.’

  Pauline’s face dropped. ‘You don’t want any?’

  ‘I couldn’t eat another bite. And to be honest, we really need to get going soon. My mother’s expecting us.’

  ‘But you’ve only just eaten!’

  ‘I know, I hate to rush off, but now that Mother’s on her own I don’t like to leave her for too long. Especially not at Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that. Yes, it must be a very difficult time of year. You’re such a considerate son, Jonathan.’

  Jon stood up, pushing his chair under the table with a scraping sound. He hit the cat with the chair leg, and Tinkerbell slunk off with a yowl. ‘Well, we really must be off. Thanks so much for everything. Pauline, Ken.’ Jon kissed Aimee’s mother on the cheek and shook hands with her father.

  Aimee followed in his wake, wondering what the sudden rush was all about, but not wanting to question him in front of her parents. She hastily pulled on her coat and hugged her mum. ‘I’ll call you tonight, okay?’

  Jon was practically sprinting down the driveway and Aimee hurried to catch up with him, sliding into the Porsche where he revved the engine and pulled away at speed.

  ‘Whew, thank God that’s over, right?’ he said with a little laugh, glancing across at Aimee.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh Aimee, I know they’re your parents, but I honestly couldn’t take another minute. That ice cream concoction was the last straw. And what did your dad look like in that hat? You can tell I love you very much if I’m willing to put up with your family,’ Jon chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be at Mum’s in ten minutes tops,’ he continued, nodding at the empty roads. ‘I need to get some decent champagne down me, get rid of the taste of that vinegar your father served.’

  Aimee felt as though she’d been slapped in the face, stunned by Jon’s damning critique of her parents. They drove in silence, with Aimee too upset to speak, her mind reeling as she tried to take in everything he’d just said. Jon didn’t seem to notice, humming along to the Christmas carols that were on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  It was only as they swept into the driveway of Valerie’s house that Aimee realised Jon had never picked up his gift. He’d left the watch on the mantelpiece at her parents’ house, half-hidden behind a glittery candle display.

  Aimee looked across at her fiancé, at the firm set of his jaw, his handsome face and immaculate designer clothing, and couldn’t help wondering whether he’d be callous enough to do something like that deliberately.

  13

  ‘Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight’ – Phyllis Diller

  Debbie squinted through half-closed eyes, holding her breath as she looked down at the chipped pink polish on her toenails. Between her feet, the electronic dial of the scales flickered back and forth, before finally coming to rest.

  ‘Three pounds!’ she squealed indignantly. ‘I’ve put on three pounds overnight! How did that happen?’

  ‘Well, it was Christmas Day,’ Stevie replied reasonably. ‘You’re supposed to indulge.’ He was lying in bed, shirtless and bundled up in the purple duvet, as he called out to Debbie who was in the bathroom. She stormed back through, tying her dressing gown tightly around the middle, a furious look on her face.

  ‘It’s not fair. I take my eye off the ball for one day, and that happens.’

  ‘Never mind, it’s just a blip. Come back to bed.’

  ‘Hmph,’ replied Debbie, unimpressed, as she crawled back in beside him. Stevie wrapped an arm around her and she snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth, as Scamp dived onto the bed, settling down by their feet.

  ‘It was a festive one off,’ Stevie assured her. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Hmph,’ Debbie said again, unconvinced. Although, now that she thought about it, she really had given herself free rein to eat whatever she wanted yesterday. She’d started in the morning with a glass of Buck’s Fizz and two croissants spread liberally with butter and strawberry jam, then demolished half a box of Ferrero Rocher as soon as she’d unwrapped them. There’d been a full roast dinner with all the trimmings when they’d visited Stevie’s mum and dad for lunch, before moving on to her own parents’ in the evening who’d produced an enormous cheeseboard, with crackers and bread. She’d ended the night with a ch
eeky Baileys or three, and gone to bed feeling stuffed to the gills.

  ‘I think I know a way to burn off some of those calories,’ Stevie murmured naughtily, leaning over to run a hand along her thigh.

  ‘Me too,’ Debbie replied, kissing him. ‘How about we have a long, hot, sweaty… Boxing Day walk?’

  ‘Huh? That’s not exactly what I had in mind.’

  ‘Why not?’ Debbie sat up excitedly, getting carried away by the idea. ‘We could drive out to the Broads. It’d be so romantic, strolling by the water, and Scamp would love it. Plus we’d be burning calories and getting fit.’

  ‘I thought all those healthy resolutions didn’t start until the New Year?’

  But Debbie refused to be put off. ‘No time like the present.’ She bounded out of bed and began getting dressed, pulling on an old pair of jeans and layering up beneath a thick jumper. ‘I want to grab a quick breakfast before we go, otherwise I’ll be starving. Do you want me to do you a fry-up?’

  Stevie looked torn. ‘What are you having?’

  ‘Special K with skimmed milk.’

  ‘You know what? I’ll have that too.’

  Debbie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Really? You don’t have to.’

  ‘No, no it’s fine,’ Stevie said quickly, before he changed his mind. ‘I want to support you. I’m really proud of how well you’re doing, Debs.’

  Debbie stopped mid-change, surprised at how honest he was being. Her fiancé wasn’t the kind of man to gush about his feelings, so for him to say he was proud of her was a big admission. Dropping her socks on the floor, Debbie crawled back across the bed towards him, giving him a long, loving kiss. ‘Thanks, babe. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Good,’ Stevie grinned, kissing her back. ‘Now let’s get going before I change my mind.’

  * * *

  The two of them tumbled out of the car an hour later at Berney Marshes, Scamp jumping out of the boot excitedly and immediately haring off after a group of pigeons. It was one of those deliciously cold and clear winter days, when the sun is bright and the fresh air brings the colour to your cheeks. Debbie was wrapped up cosily, wearing a fleecy jacket and her spotty Wellington boots. She’d tied her hair in two long Pocahontas-style plaits, and was wearing a bobble hat with matching scarf.

  ‘It’s a gorgeous day, isn’t it,’ she sighed, tucking her arm through Stevie’s as the two of them set off walking, Scamp running around their feet, snuffling at bushes and tree trunks.

  ‘Not bad at all,’ Stevie agreed cheerily. ‘As long as we get back in time for the football.’

  Debbie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you, I spoke to your mum yesterday and she said she’d be more than happy to make the wedding cake, so that’s brilliant. It means we can save a bit on the budget. I can’t believe how much some people charge, just to make a cake!’

  Stevie nodded in agreement.

  ‘So everything’s coming together nicely. Julia’s been amazing, getting us a great deal on the caterers and the florist. You’ve got the photographer sorted, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And I still need to make a final decision on a dress. Everyone keeps telling me I’m leaving it really late, but I want to lose a bit more weight first, then I’ll get more of an idea of how it will fit.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ was Stevie’s contribution, as he took her hand in his. They were strolling along the muddy path beside the water, the fields stretching away in the distance, and the trees bare and bleak against the winter sky. A group of ducks paddled by, and Scamp watched them longingly, whilst a heron stood at a safe distance, half-hidden in the long grass at the side of the marsh.

  ‘Have you had any thoughts about the honeymoon?’ Debbie wondered. ‘It might be worth booking in the New Year, as they always have some great offers. January sales and all that.’

  Stevie shrugged non-committally. ‘I don’t mind. Where d’you fancy?’

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking…’

  ‘I thought you might have been,’ Stevie grinned, as Debbie stuck her tongue out at him.

  ‘Look, one of us has got to do some planning, or else this wedding’s never going to happen. Anyway, I think it’d be nice to go somewhere warm, but not too far flung. I don’t think the budget will stretch to the Caribbean or the Maldives,’ she sighed wistfully. ‘But there are some really nice places in Greece. Santorini’s gorgeous, and so romantic. Look.’

  Debbie pulled out her phone, opening up a page she’d clearly been looking at earlier. It showed a perfect little village with whitewashed houses and domed roofs, against a stunning backdrop of blue Aegean sea.

  ‘Very pretty,’ Stevie commented admiringly. ‘I wouldn’t mind being there right now.’

  ‘Mmm, me too,’ Debbie agreed, as she put her head down and sunk deeper into her scarf, trying to keep out the chill blowing off the North Sea and across the Norfolk countryside.

  ‘If you don’t fancy that, there are loads of cheap deals to Egypt, and some lovely looking hotels along the Red Sea. You can go snorkelling, and camel trekking…’

  ‘And is that what you want to do on our honeymoon?’ Stevie teased.

  ‘Maybe. If I get bored of you I can always ride off into the desert and join a harem,’ Debbie shot back.

  ‘That won’t happen,’ Stevie asserted confidently. ‘You won’t get bored of me. I plan to keep you very entertained during our honeymoon.’

  ‘Ooh, promises, promises,’ Debbie giggled. ‘I’ll remember to pack my handcuffs. Oh, I was looking at Dubai too,’ she suddenly remembered. ‘Although we probably shouldn’t pack the handcuffs if we go there. But Angela’s friend Clare went and she said it was amazing. Loads of shopping and nice restaurants, and a fantastic water park.’

  ‘Water park?’ That got Stevie’s attention.

  ‘Yeah. Actually, I was browsing bikinis online the other day,’ Debbie confessed. ‘I saw this really pretty aquamarine one, with ruffles around the bust and along the top of the bikini bottoms.’

  ‘Bikinis?’ Stevie was looking at her thoughtfully. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a bikini. Even when we went to Majorca, you had a swimsuit and a cover-up thingy.’

  Debbie flushed, unable to keep the proud smile off her face. ‘I know. But now I’ve started losing weight, I thought “why not”?’

  ‘How much weight are you actually planning to lose?’

  ‘I don’t know really. As much as I can.’ Debbie hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not to confide in him. ‘I’d love to get down to a size ten.’ Her confession came out in a rushed whisper; she felt giddy with excitement at having said it out loud.

  ‘Size ten? There’ll be nothing left of you. I won’t recognise the girl walking down the aisle towards me.’ Stevie laughed, but he was clearly disconcerted.

  Debbie felt a wave of anger pulse through her chest at the way he was reacting. Why wasn’t he happy for her? Didn’t he understand how hard she was working? That all the Zumba classes and salads and the saying no to KitKats were as much for him as they were for her?

  ‘That’s the point, Stevie,’ she snapped back. ‘I want to look different. I don’t want to look like a big pile of blubber on my wedding day.’

  ‘But I like the way you look,’ Stevie insisted. ‘I love you, and it doesn’t matter what size you are. Besides, you’ll always be a big girl, won’t you, Debs?’

  Debbie stopped walking. She dropped his hand, staring at him in disbelief. And once the disbelief had passed, the anger kicked in. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I just meant…’ A look of panic flashed across Stevie’s face and he began speaking quickly, trying to extricate himself from the hole he’d started digging. ‘You know, you’ve never been small the whole time I’ve known you. And size ten is just… well, I like you as you are, and there’s no need to…’ He was floundering now, terrified by Debbie’s expression.

  ‘You don’t think I can do this, do you?’

  ‘It’s n
ot that, Debs, it’s just that—’

  ‘Or you don’t want me to do it, is that it? Is this all you think I am?’ Debbie waved her hands in the air, gesturing at her body. ‘You think this is me forever now? Chubby and miserable, not capable of wearing tight dresses or sexy bikinis?’

  ‘I didn’t say—’

  But Debbie was on a roll. ‘I thought you’d be supportive. I thought that you, out of everyone, would be the one person who’d understand and try to help me out.’

  ‘I do. I am,’ Stevie gabbled helplessly. ‘Why do you think I came out with you today, and ate Special K for breakfast? It’s to help you, Debs.’

  Debbie flashed him an exceptionally withering look, a look that could have turned lesser men to stone. ‘Oh thanks, Stevie. Thank you so much. Could you be any more patronising?’

  ‘But… I…’ Stevie’s mouth flapped open and closed uselessly. He was desperate to make the situation better, but everything he said seemed to unintentionally make it worse. Just as he was trying to decide what to do for the best, Debbie let out a scream of frustration, then turned on her heel and began stomping back towards the car, Scamp chasing at her heels.

  ‘Debs, wait.’ Stevie rolled his eyes upwards towards the heavens, pleading for divine intervention, then set off at a jog after his furious fiancée. ‘Debbie, please.’

  Debbie’s mouth was set in a tight line, her expression furious. By the time they’d got back to the car, at twice the speed it had taken them to walk away from it, the two of them still weren’t speaking. Debbie stood mutinously outside the passenger door, her arms folded across her chest as she waited for Stevie to unlock it. Instead, he came round to her side and attempted to take her hands. She snatched them away angrily.

  ‘Debbie,’ Stevie sounded annoyed now. ‘I’m not getting in the car until we’ve resolved this.’

  ‘Fine. Give me the keys and I’ll drive home. You can stay here as long as you like.’