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

by Sophie Hart

  She quickly got ready, wincing at her reflection as she tried to simultaneously pull up the front of the dress and pull down the bottom. The clinging fabric left little to the imagination, but it was too late to worry about that now. She rooted around for her favourite pair of nude heels, the ones with the bow on the back, then grabbed her bag and tottered back through to Jon.

  His jaw practically hit the floor when he saw her, his eyebrows raising so high they almost hit his hairline.

  ‘Wow, you look incredible,’ he told her, pulling her in for a kiss, his hands roaming over her body. ‘You feel pretty incredible too.’

  ‘Jon, you’ll mess up my make-up,’ Aimee flushed, detangling herself from him and smoothing down her hair.

  Jon’s gaze travelled over her one final time before he switched into professional mode, straightening his tie and shrugging on his heavy wool overcoat. As he checked his appearance in the mirror by the front door, he said casually, ‘You know tonight’s important for me, don’t you? Don’t mess it up.’

  Aimee was startled by his tone, struck by the unfamiliar coldness in his voice. For a second, she was thrown, but then he turned to her with a bright smile, reaching for her hand.

  ‘Ready? Good, let’s go.’

  Aimee put the incident out of her mind, and obediently followed Jon out of the door.

  * * *

  ‘So then I said to him, I don’t care if you have to swim, make sure you get to Rotterdam by seven or I’ll dock you a week’s salary!’

  Malcolm Huddlestone roared with laughter, and Aimee dutifully chuckled at Jon’s anecdote, before taking a fortifying sip of red wine. She saw Malcolm glance slyly across at her, his eyes lingering a little too long on her cleavage, and Aimee found herself wishing she’d brought a wrap to cover up.

  Malcolm Huddlestone was a Yorkshireman by birth, but had settled in Norfolk and was now the biggest independent bathroom furniture retailer in the East of England – a fact he’d already mentioned six times, and they’d barely even finished their starters. He was in his early sixties, with a florid complexion and a wiry grey moustache, flecked with strands of ginger.

  Tonight’s dinner, Jon had explained to Aimee, was all about schmoozing. Huddlestone had used Cunningham Haulage for almost ten years, having built up a solid working relationship with Jon’s father, Nigel, but he was showing signs of jumping ship now that the company was in Jon’s hands.

  ‘We’ve got to take him out, throw some money at him, make him feel like a king for an evening, and that’ll secure us another decade of his business,’ Jon had told Aimee on the way to the restaurant. ‘You see, the thing about business, Aimee, is that it’s all about people. People deal with people, and if you can get that bit right then the money follows.’

  Right now, Jon was speaking effusively about his plans for the business, and Huddlestone was listening and nodding, interjecting with the occasional comment. Aimee watched the two men as they conversed, Jon trying to flatter and impress, as the older man enjoyed his fawning. If Aimee was being honest, she found the whole scenario somewhat cringeworthy, but she knew that tonight was a big deal for Jon and she wanted to play her part.

  As the waiter approached to refill their wine glasses, Aimee became aware of someone watching her, and turned her head to see Malcolm’s wife, Janette, glance disapprovingly at her exposed cleavage before quickly looking away. For the umpteenth time that evening, Aimee found herself wondering why on earth Jon had insisted that she wear this revealing outfit.

  Janette herself was wearing a classic little black dress in a forgiving fabric, with brightly coloured costume jewellery and a quilted Chanel clutch bag. She was approximately thirty years older than Aimee, and her ash-blonde hair was cut into a bob and styled in soft waves.

  ‘It’s a lovely restaurant, isn’t it?’ Aimee said brightly, leaning across to speak to her. She knew she had to put her reservations out of her mind and make an effort; Jon was always telling her how important it was to get the wife on side at these corporate dinners.

  ‘Wives always have so much influence over their husbands’ opinions,’ he’d winked at her.

  ‘Yes, the food’s delicious,’ Janette smiled graciously. ‘They’ve completely refurbished the place since we were last here. Ah, here come the main courses.’

  The waiter brought out a chunky rib-eye steak for Malcolm and a rack of lamb for Jon, whilst Aimee and Janette had both opted for the seafood risotto.

  ‘And what do you do for a living?’ Janette asked Aimee, as she speared a prawn and popped it in her mouth.

  ‘Oh,’ Aimee looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t… Well, I don’t actually work at the moment. I used to be an admin assistant but… it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘I’m surprised. I thought all you young ones were career women now.’ Janette smiled, but there was no malice in the comment.

  ‘I… Well, I never really figured out what I wanted to do, I suppose,’ Aimee said apologetically, although that wasn’t strictly true. She realised she felt embarrassed about not having a job, and hated the idea that this woman might think she was a gold digger. ‘I’d like to be a teacher,’ Aimee confided, surprising herself with the announcement. ‘I’m thinking about pursuing that.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a wonderful profession, you should definitely look into it. Our eldest son, Neil, teaches maths in a secondary school near Cambridge.’

  ‘Really? I’m not great at maths, but I’d love to teach English. Jon and I are getting married in the summer, but once the wedding’s out of the way I’ll have more time to look into it.’

  ‘Yes, Malcolm mentioned that you were engaged. Congratulations! Oh, and what a beautiful ring,’ Janette exclaimed, taking hold of Aimee’s hand for a closer look.

  ‘Thank you. It was Jon’s grandmother’s.’

  ‘It’s stunning.’

  ‘Look at the ladies there,’ Malcolm bellowed across the table. ‘Getting on like a house on fire.’

  Aimee smiled sweetly, noticing that he had a piece of rocket stuck between his teeth. She caught Jon’s eye and he gave a small nod of approval, a sign that she was doing well.

  ‘I was just congratulating Aimee on your engagement,’ Janette told Jon.

  ‘Yes, I’m a very lucky man,’ Jon returned warmly.

  ‘I’ll say,’ Malcolm chipped in, with a slight leer in Aimee’s direction. ‘But just you wait until that ring’s on your finger and she’s got you locked down. It all changes then,’ he guffawed loudly.

  ‘And Aimee was telling me about her plans to enter the teaching profession, after you’re married,’ Janette continued. She smiled expectantly at Jon, but Aimee caught something – confusion? displeasure? – flash across his features, and instantly felt her stomach tense.

  She knew it was ridiculous, but she wished Janette had never said anything. More accurately, Aimee wished she had never said anything to Janette in the first place, and wondered why she had. Probably out of a desire not to come across as vacuous and directionless, Aimee realised. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life living off Jon’s money, and she didn’t want anyone else to assume that was her intention either.

  The problem was that Aimee got the very strong impression Jon wasn’t in favour of her career plans; she’d tried to raise the topic with him once or twice and he’d instantly shut the conversation down.

  ‘Was she now?’ Jon replied tightly, not taking his eyes off Aimee. She looked down uncomfortably, pushing her rice around her plate. ‘Well, I’ve just been sharing my vision for the future of Cunningham Haulage with your very knowledgeable husband,’ Jon changed the subject seamlessly. Only Aimee, who was an expert at reading Jon’s body language, could tell he was annoyed. The slight puckering of his lips gave it away, the tension along his jaw line.

  ‘I recently placed an order for twenty new vehicles, and I want us to be the biggest carrier of furniture and white goods in the East of England area,’ Jon announced proudly, following his words with a slug of wine. ‘We
currently have one hundred and fifty trailers in our fleet, but I plan to double that in eighteen months. I also intend to introduce refrigerated vehicles, so we can carry palletised food for retail, and train a specialist team for hazardous assignments – chemicals, waste, that kind of thing.’

  Jon was on a roll, waxing lyrical about his aspirations for the business, his goals and targets for the coming months.

  ‘Goodness. What an ambitious young couple you are,’ Janette commented, smiling at Aimee once again.

  Aimee stayed silent as Jon continued to talk, outlining his plans to build half a dozen new warehouses, and describing how his site was the best placed in the region for access to Norwich Airport.

  ‘Obviously the way my father built up the business from scratch was impressive, but now it’s time to take that to the next level, and I’m the only man who can do that. We’re really branching out from the foundations that Dad laid. His business acumen was sound, but limited, and I have the vision he lacked,’ Jon boasted, the alcohol making him breathtakingly arrogant.

  ‘It’s all well and good being ambitious,’ Malcolm cut in, waving his steak knife recklessly in the air. ‘But you have to make sure you’re not overreaching yourself. Your old man specialised in consumer goods. He knew his market like the back of his hand, and he built up a loyal customer base with that knowledge. Beware of spreading yourself too thinly.’

  ‘Of course, of course, you’re absolutely right, Malcolm,’ Jon backtracked, but Aimee knew that Jon hadn’t changed his opinion in the slightest; he was simply savvy enough to know that he should show deference to his long-term client. After all, the real aim of tonight was to retain Huddlestone’s business, not to detail Jon’s expansion plans and polish his ego.

  ‘And what does your fiancée think?’ Malcolm asked, grinning across the table at Aimee. ‘Surely you’re not going to want to be slaving away at your desk all the hours God sends when you’ve got a pretty little thing like that waiting at home for you?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll always make time for Aimee,’ Jon smiled.

  Aimee attempted to smile back, but she wasn’t sure that she liked being discussed as though she was merely some pet or plaything.

  ‘What do you think of his ideas?’ Malcolm pressed, his speech beginning to slur. ‘You think they’re good?’

  Aimee hesitated, not expecting to be asked for her opinion. ‘Of course I’ll support Jon, whatever he decides to do,’ she replied, realising that she sounded like the loyal wife of a disgraced politician at a press conference.

  ‘Ha, I bet you don’t care, as long as you keep getting that diamond jewellery and those designer dresses, eh?’ Malcolm chuckled. ‘You’re all the same, you women.’

  Aimee’s cheeks flamed, and she felt a sudden surge of anger towards this boorish, presumptuous man. She inhaled sharply, dropping her napkin on the table as she jumped to her feet.

  ‘Do excuse me, I need to visit the bathroom.’ She flashed a brilliant smile before quickly walking away, feeling everyone’s eyes on her as she left.

  * * *

  Later that evening, they wished the Huddlestones good night and left the restaurant, crossing the car park to Jon’s Porsche.

  ‘Do you want me to drive?’ Aimee asked. Her fiancé was clearly over the limit, but he strode purposefully round to the driver’s side, glaring at Aimee as he slid into the car.

  The atmosphere on the way home was unbearably tense. Aimee’s hands gripped the leather of the seat rests so tightly that her knuckles turned white as Jon drove far too fast, haring along the dark country lanes and taking corners at speed.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Aimee asked eventually, her voice cracking with nerves.

  Jon glowered beneath his dark brows. ‘Do I have to spell it out?’

  Aimee swallowed. She didn’t know what would enrage him more – to stay silent, or to speak.

  ‘Were you deliberately trying to ruin this evening for me?’ Jon demanded angrily, slamming his foot down on the brake so that the tyres screeched.

  ‘Of course not, what do you mean?’

  ‘You made me look an absolute idiot tonight. It’ll be a miracle if Huddlestone renews his contract with us. Do you know how many thousands of pounds’ worth of business you might have cost me?’

  Aimee’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘I don’t understand! What did I—’

  ‘You think he didn’t notice how rude you were being to him? With your smart alec comments and your fake little smiles? And then you start boring his wife with some ridiculous notion about becoming a teacher. I mean, where the hell did that come from? We were there to talk about my business, not your little pipe dream.’

  Aimee blinked away tears, her face growing hot. ‘I’m sorry Jon, I didn’t realise—’

  ‘Don’t I give you everything, hmm? Are you not satisfied enough with your life with me that you’re running around telling people you need something more? You just had to try and make tonight all about you, didn’t you? Rubbishing my business plans, talking about yourself, with your breasts practically out on the table.’

  ‘But you told me to wear…’ Aimee began, and then closed her mouth, knowing it was pointless to protest when Jon was in this kind of mood. He was being cruel and irrational and nothing she could say would make a difference.

  Instead, Aimee turned away from him, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window, a thick lump forming in her throat. Blindly, she stared out at the starry night sky, letting the salty tears roll freely down her cheeks.

  16

  ‘If I get married, I want to be very married’ – Audrey Hepburn

  ‘Oh, Debbie, you look absolutely beautiful,’ Julia gushed. She’d attended dozens of wedding dress fittings over the past few years, but the transformation from excited fiancée to blushing bride never failed to move her.

  ‘Do you think so?’ Debbie tugged self-consciously at the dress, smoothing down the fabric over her stomach, before pulling at the cap sleeves in an effort to hide her hated bingo wings. She turned from side to side in front of the mirror, trying to find a flattering angle.

  ‘It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. Here, have a sip of this, you’ve hardly touched it.’

  Debbie eyed the champagne warily. ‘I don’t know if I should drink it. Isn’t it full of calories?’

  ‘No, it’s full of bubbles and fun,’ Julia giggled. ‘Seriously though, champagne is one of the lowest calorie alcoholic drinks out there.’ She spoke confidently, although she wasn’t sure whether or not that was true. She was fairly sure she’d read it in a magazine once… ‘There’s less calories in this than a bunch of grapes.’

  ‘Isn’t it made of grapes?’ Debbie wondered doubtfully.

  ‘Mmm hmm,’ Julia said slowly, trying to bluff her way out of it. ‘Something to do with science. During the fermenting process. I think the alcohol kills off the calories…’

  ‘Maybe later,’ Debbie replied, staring sadly at her reflection. Across the shop, another young woman was trying on a dress, and Debbie turned round to look at her. They were roughly the same age, but the other woman was slender as a reed, with a handspan waist and a figure so small that she’d had to be clipped into the dress she was trying. It was an incredible one-shoulder creation in tulle and organza, and an assistant was currently fussing around her, arranging the long train to show it off to its best advantage.

  ‘She looks stunning,’ Debbie murmured.

  ‘You look stunning,’ Julia assured her, knowing exactly what Debbie was thinking.

  Debbie was about to reply when the assistant came hurrying over. She was tall and thin, dressed all in black, with sharp features and dyed auburn hair swept up in a French twist.

  ‘And what do you think of this one, madam?’

  Debbie wrinkled her nose, looking down at the tight-fitting mermaid skirt. ‘I don’t think it’s the one.’ She drifted over to the other gowns, rail after rail of exquisite dresses all waiting to be plucked from their hangers and worn and lo
ved. There was no denying that they were incredible, but Debbie wasn’t having her fairy-tale moment, feeling far too self-conscious about her appearance.

  If only she’d been able to lose a little more weight, Debbie thought desperately. She’d already lost a stone and a half, meaning that she could fit comfortably into a size sixteen, but there were still at least another couple of stones to go before she hit her target. Julia had warned her that suppliers could take months to make and ship her dress, and that was before any alterations took place, so reluctantly Debbie had agreed to come shopping today. But the reflection in the mirror wasn’t what she wanted to see.

  ‘Do you have anything like that?’ Debbie asked, pointing at a dress on a mannequin. It had a deep V neckline and a flattering full skirt. ‘But maybe in satin, with a little bit of sparkle?’

  The assistant frowned. ‘I think something like this would be more flattering, madam,’ she said, pulling out a lace monstrosity. ‘It has the full-length sleeves, to cover your arms, and the ruching here around your waist distracts from any extra pounds.’

  Debbie froze, feeling her cheeks flame at the way the assistant was drawing attention to everything she hated about herself. She felt horribly embarrassed and willed herself not to cry, hot tears prickling behind her eyes.

  ‘Do you like that dress, Debs?’ Julia asked her gently.

  Still unable to speak, Debbie shook her head.

  ‘No, we won’t be trying that one,’ Julia told the assistant firmly. ‘Like Debbie said, we’re looking for something in satin, with a little bit of sparkle.’

  The assistant gave a petulant shrug before turning back to the rails, making a big show of pulling out dresses then tutting loudly before putting them back again.

  ‘I like this one,’ Debbie volunteered, holding up a halterneck gown with a beaded bodice and diamanté sash.