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

by Sophie Hart

  ‘The horizontal tango is my speciality,’ he winked, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously as Aimee burst out laughing.

  He span her around and she giggled delightedly, the steps coming far more naturally than they had half an hour ago. Aimee imagined them dancing like this on their wedding day, with all their friends and family watching, celebrating the special occasion. For the first time in a long time, she felt genuinely happy, able to put all of the doubts and worries out of her mind and simply look forward to becoming Mrs Jon Cunningham.

  28

  ‘Of course, I do have a slight advantage over the rest of you. It helps in a pinch to be able to remind your bride that you gave up a throne for her’ – Edward VIII

  It was morning playtime at Two Trees Nursery. The May sunshine streamed in through the windows, as the children pulled out trucks and dollhouses and teddy bears, some sitting down on the floor to carefully to do a jigsaw, whilst others raced around playing a giddy game of make believe.

  Debbie and Angela kept a careful eye on their charges, occasionally intervening in a dispute over who’d picked up the racing car first, or stepping in to help one of the toddlers find the right piece for the shape-sorter.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Angela asked, as Debbie listlessly scooped up some discarded Stickle Bricks and dropped them in their tub.

  Debbie shrugged. ‘I’m just feeling a bit down.’

  ‘Why? It’s almost the weekend, and you’re getting married in less than a month. You should be walking on air.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘You and Stevie haven’t had another row, have you?’ Angela looked at Debbie’s left hand, then gasped in shock. ‘You’re not wearing your engagement ring!’

  ‘Don’t panic, I’m getting it re-sized, that’s all. I’ve lost so much weight that it’s too loose now.’

  ‘Oh, I see. So everything’s okay with you two?’

  Debbie managed a smile. ‘Yeah, Stevie’s been great. We’re finally over all that stupid texting business.’

  She thought back to the rollercoaster of emotions they’d been through over the last couple of weeks; how a still-furious Stevie had given her the silent treatment when she’d returned from her spa day with Julia and Angela, much to her frustration. When he’d finally started to thaw, Debbie had picked an argument over his lack of trust in her, and the row had started all over again.

  But Debbie’s frightening experience with baby Jack had thrown everything into sharp relief, and their silly argument had been forgotten, with Stevie back to his usual, caring, supportive self. The following evening, when Stevie returned home with an enormous bouquet of red roses and a hangdog expression, they’d made up in the best way possible…

  ‘Then what’s the matter?’ Angela pressed, not noticing how Debbie’s cheeks flushed at the memory. ‘I hate seeing you like this. You’re usually so full of life.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not getting me confused with someone else?’ Debbie joked lamely. But Angela didn’t laugh, staring intently at Debbie in an attempt to make her crack. It worked. ‘Okay, I’m feeling pretty rubbish because I haven’t hit my target weight,’ Debbie sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got this last half stone to shift, and nothing seems to be working.’

  ‘Debs, you don’t need to lose any more weight. You’re literally half the woman you used to be. You’ve done incredibly well, and you look amazing.’

  But Debbie wasn’t listening. ‘I just don’t know what else to do,’ she wailed. ‘I’ve been exercising every day, and all I’ve been eating is homemade vegetable juice and quinoa salad, but nothing seems to work!’

  ‘Vegetable juice and quinoa?’ Angela shuddered. ‘I’m not surprised your body’s protesting. Seriously, Debs, you don’t want to go too far. It’s becoming an obsession.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Debbie insisted. ‘I’ve got my final dress fitting next week, and I’m desperate to be a size ten. That’s what I’ve dreamed about, ever since I started this weight loss thing months ago. I’m so close and I’m going to fail. There’s no way I can lose half a stone by then.’

  ‘You are not a failure,’ Angela insisted. ‘So what if you’re a few pounds off your target weight? You’ve already lost almost four stone.’

  ‘The thing is – hang on…’ Debbie stepped away for a moment, helping Sammy to put together sections of the train track he was playing with. When she came back over, Angela noticed her guilty expression.

  ‘What? What were you going to say?’

  ‘There’s another reason I wanted to get to a size ten. Something I haven’t told you.’

  ‘What?’ Angela demanded, clearly intrigued.

  ‘You remember months ago, when I first started my diet, and you suggested I should have some kind of reward system. Treat myself every time I lost half a stone.’

  Angela nodded. ‘Yeah – we went to get pedicures, and you bought that gorgeous dress from River Island.’

  ‘Which is now too big for me,’ Debbie interjected.

  Angela raised her eyebrows in an I told you so gesture.

  ‘Well there was one other thing I planned to do when I reached my target weight.’ Debbie hesitated, steeling herself for the big confession. ‘I decided to—’

  The door opened and Julia burst in, carrying Jack in her arms. As soon as he saw the other children, he strained to get away from her, so she stood him down on the floor where he swayed uncertainly for a moment before plopping onto all fours and crawling across the play area to join a group of kids playing with a toy kitchen.

  ‘Oh, he’s so nearly walking,’ Angela squealed.

  ‘Yeah, I know. He’ll walk if you hold his hands, or if there’s furniture to grab onto, but he hasn’t quite got the confidence to do it by himself. He keeps going back to hands and knees,’ Julia said ruefully, watching him hold onto the edge of the kitchen unit to haul himself upright.

  ‘He’ll get there,’ Angela asserted confidently. ‘They always do. Looks like he might have ambitions to be a chef too,’ she chuckled, as he grabbed a saucepan and placed a plastic banana inside, stirring it with a wooden spoon.

  ‘You can tell he gets his cooking skills from me,’ Julia joked. ‘I really have to stop feeding him boiled bananas for tea.’

  ‘So is he okay now?’ Angela asked in concern. ‘Debbie told me what happened.’

  ‘Seems to be,’ Julia said, as she watched him playing. ‘Fighting fit and raring to go. It was pretty scary though. I’ve genuinely never experienced terror like that. It was horrible. But the hospital staff were absolutely brilliant – as was Debbie,’ she grinned at her.

  Debbie shrugged modestly. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Julia disagreed. ‘I honestly couldn’t have left him in better hands. Nick and I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘How long is Jack with us for today?’ Angela asked.

  ‘I’ll be back for him about four. Obviously I don’t want to let him out of my sight after everything that happened, but life goes on, I suppose. The big wedding I’m doing is just a few weeks away now and there’s so much left to do. It doesn’t help that the groom’s mother keeps changing her mind every few minutes about what she wants.’

  ‘The groom’s mother? Isn’t it supposed to be the bride?’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? The bride’s lovely, but she’s barely getting a say in her own wedding. Ooh, that reminds me, I need to speak to you later, Debs, about the flower arrangements for the church.’

  ‘Sure,’ Debbie nodded.

  Julia stared at her for a moment. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Oh, don’t even go there,’ Angela groaned. ‘Debbie’s on a downer because she hasn’t lost enough weight.’

  Julia’s expression was incredulous. ‘Debbie, you’re tiny! You’re smaller than me now.’

  ‘Yeah, but she’s not a size ten,’ Angela cut in sarcastically. ‘And that’s the Holy Grail, apparently.’

  ‘It’s not that, it’s…
Oh, never mind,’ Debbie’s tone was defensive.

  ‘What were you going to say, anyway?’ Angela remembered. ‘This special thing that you can only be a size ten for.’

  Debbie gave her a withering look. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve always been a skinny minny.’

  ‘Stop avoiding the question,’ Angela shot back.

  Julia leaned in, sensing gossip. ‘Ooh, tell me too!’

  Debbie’s gaze darted between the two women, wondering whether there was any way she could get out of telling them her plan. She realised that there wasn’t – Angela was never going to let this drop – so she took a deep breath, gearing up for the big confession.

  ‘Okay, so I decided that when I finally got down to a Perfect Ten I was going to…’ She lowered her voice to a whisper, conscious of the children nearby. ‘That I was going to do a sexy photo shoot for Stevie. You know, all dressed up in lingerie, with gorgeous hair and make-up, so I could do some naughty pictures. Nothing too outrageous, obviously,’ she added hastily. ‘I’d be keeping it classy. But the idea was to give him the photos as a wedding present. That’s why I’ve booked tomorrow off work.’

  Both Julia and Angela gasped. ‘Debs, that’s an incredible idea!’

  ‘You have to do it.’

  ‘How can I do it when I look like this?’ Debbie protested. ‘When I planned it, the idea was that I’d be a slim and sexy size ten, not dumpy and squidgy, with these flabby love handles and chunky thighs that won’t seem to get any slimmer.’ She jabbed at them in frustration.

  ‘Are you serious?’ Julia burst out.

  ‘I think you’ve got that body dysmorpha-whatsit,’ Angela added. ‘Honestly, there’s not an ounce of squidge on you, Debs. You’re so toned from all that exercise you’ve been doing, but you’ve still got these massive boobs and curves in all the right places that’ll look incredible in the photos. Seriously, Stevie won’t know what’s hit him.’

  ‘He’ll love it,’ Julia added. ‘What man wouldn’t?’

  But Debbie wasn’t convinced. ‘I’ve decided to cancel it,’ she insisted. ‘I’m gutted, but there’s no way I can go through with it if I’m feeling like this. I just don’t have the confidence.’

  ‘No, you can’t cancel!’

  ‘Do you want one of us to come with you?’

  Debbie shook her head fiercely. ‘No. I don’t want anyone seeing me when I look like this.’

  She bent down to help Luke tie his shoelace, and Julia and Angela conferred in hurried whispers.

  ‘We’ve got to make sure she does it.’

  ‘We can’t let her back out.’

  Julia looked at her watch anxiously. ‘I really need to get going, but whatever you do don’t let her cancel. She’ll regret it if she does.’

  ‘I won’t. Even if I have to kidnap her and drive her there myself, I’ll do it.’ Angela started laughing. ‘Can you imagine me trying to wrestle her into a push-up bra and stockings while she’s trying to fight me off?’

  ‘Now that would make a funny photo shoot,’ Julia giggled. ‘I’ll see you later, okay Debbie?’ Julia called across. ‘And promise me you won’t cancel.’

  Debbie muttered something unintelligible as Julia said bye to Angela and headed out of the door.

  Angela was called away to help Mia go to the toilet, and then it was snack time for everyone. It wasn’t until the children were occupied with their activity later that morning , and Debbie and Angela could go on their break, that they finally got chance to talk.

  ‘You know you really should do the photo shoot,’ Angela insisted. The two women were sitting in the kitchen, where Angela was tucking into a KitKat whilst Debbie was nibbling at an apple. ‘You have to. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ Debbie offered. ‘I suppose I can always go for the shoot and if the pictures look awful, I never have to tell Stevie about them.’

  ‘They won’t though,’ Angela smiled. ‘Seriously Debbie, I don’t think you’ve realised how much you’ve blossomed. You need to appreciate how far you’ve come, instead of beating yourself up about the last little bit.’

  ‘Thanks, Ang,’ Debbie smiled warmly at her friend. ‘I think it’s all the wedding stress. Everything’s so close now, and I want it to be perfect.’

  ‘It will be, because you’re marrying Stevie and that’s all that matters. No one cares if the napkins aren’t folded into swans, or if you’ve got cava instead of champagne. We all want to see you happy. Both of you.’

  ‘You’d better stop soon or else I think I might cry,’ Debbie sniffed, half-laughing at the same time.

  ‘And I need you to do me one other favour.’

  Debbie looked at her suspiciously. ‘What?’

  ‘Eat a stick of this KitKat. It’s not going to kill you.’ Angela held it out tantalisingly.

  Debbie stared at it, feeling unexpectedly nervous. It was like facing down an enemy she’d been avoiding for months and now the confrontation was finally happening. She experienced a stab of panic, convinced that if she gave in and ate the chocolate, it would instantly undo all her hard work over the past few months, the fat suddenly bubbling up and splurging out over the top of her size twelve jeans.

  ‘Ange, I—’

  ‘EAT. ME,’ Angela demanded, putting on Dalek-type voice as she jabbed the chocolate in Debbie’s direction.

  In spite of everything, Debbie started to giggle. She suddenly realised how ridiculously she was behaving, and that everything Angela and Julia had said to her was true. She’d done incredibly well, she’d lost nearly four stone, and she looked and felt like a different woman.

  ‘Give it here,’ she chuckled, grabbing the KitKat from Angela and biting it in half. ‘You know what? I bloody deserve it!’

  29

  ‘When a man opens a car door for his wife it’s either a new car or a new wife’ – Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

  ‘Jon, they’re my best friends! You can’t just stick them at the back of the reception like naughty children.’

  ‘Oh, so you want me to stick the MD of Maison Furniture there instead, where he’ll feel incredibly unimportant and probably won’t renew his contract with us? If they were your true friends, they’d understand the reasons for this.’

  ‘I don’t understand the reasons, so how can you expect my friends to?’

  Jon’s eyes blazed in fury as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, the sleek white Porsche hurtling along the country lanes at a speed that terrified Aimee.

  ‘I’ve explained to you before, Mother and I have a lot of very influential people coming to this wedding. It’s a great opportunity for me to make some new contacts and consolidate existing ones.’

  ‘It’s our wedding, not a networking event,’ Aimee yelled in exasperation. She was close to crying now, her face flushed with annoyance.

  ‘It’s my business that keeps a roof over our heads, and pays for all those nice trinkets you love. I didn’t see you complaining last week when I took you to The Fat Goose for a surprise dinner, or when I bought you that Coach handbag you’d been eyeing up for ages.’

  It was a low blow, and one that only increased the lump in Aimee’s throat. I don’t love the material things, I love you, she wanted to retort. But for some reason the words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Your contacts might be important to you, but my friends are important to me,’ Aimee told him. Her voice cracked on the final word, tears finally spilling over and racing down her cheeks, ruining the make-up she’d so carefully applied that morning.

  Jon glanced across at her and rolled his eyes. Instead of being moved by her tears, he seemed irritated instead.

  ‘Oh, not the waterworks again. That’s all you seem to do at the moment. You can’t get your own way just by crying all the time you know.’

  ‘I’m crying because I’m upset,’ Aimee shot back furiously, astounded by his coldness. ‘I can’t believe you’d bring up the seating plan again, today, of all days. My make-up’s ruined n
ow…’

  They were still rowing as they pulled into the driveway of Southwark Castle, the magnificent location they’d chosen as their wedding venue, and the location for today’s pre-wedding photo shoot.

  Jon killed the engine, and the two of them sat without speaking, the only sound being little snuffles from Aimee as she tried to stop the tears. Jon was grinding his teeth, his jaw working furiously, in a clear sign that he was angry.

  Ever the peacemaker, Aimee leant towards him, placing a hand on his knee. ‘Jon—’

  ‘Don’t,’ he hissed, his face contorted with rage. ‘I don’t know if you realise how angry you get me, Aimee.’ He slammed his hands against the steering wheel using the full force of his body weight, and Aimee jumped in shock.

  When he finally turned to her, Jon seemed to have regained control of himself, but his voice was like ice. ‘We need to go now. Katherine will be waiting for us. Please try to conduct yourself with some dignity, and don’t you dare do anything to embarrass me.’

  Meekly, Aimee climbed out of the Porsche, following behind Jon as he strode across the car park to the glorious stately home. His strides were long, and Aimee had to hurry to keep up.

  They walked up the imposing steps and into the opulent entrance hall. Aimee was too distracted to notice just how beautiful it was, with its sweeping marble staircase and enormous gilt-framed mirrors, antique oil paintings and exquisite fresh flower displays. There were leather armchairs and velvet upholstered sofas in a formal seating area to the left, and Aimee spotted their photographer, Katherine Connor, seated beside a low table, scrolling through her phone.

  Jon made his way over to her, greeting her with a warm smile. There was no trace of the earlier temper he’d displayed; he was all charm and good humour.