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

by Sophie Hart

  ‘No probs. It’s been kind of fun, actually.’

  ‘I’m glad. And your blog sounds like it’s going really well.’

  Kelly’s face lit up. ‘Yeah, I love it. I wish I could do it all the time, like, as a job. I’ve been thinking I might like to have a career where I can write, or maybe something to do with fashion, like a stylist. But some people make careers out of blogs you know.’

  Julia nodded. ‘So do you think you’re going to write about today?’

  ‘Uh huh. I’m going to do a feature on bridesmaid fashion – cool styles that you can wear after the wedding too. I don’t think I’m going to put this on there though,’ Kelly nodded at the bag by her feet. ‘Because if Mum reads it I don’t want her to see what we’ve actually decided on.’

  ‘I think Paige was pretty excited about being featured on your blog.’

  Kelly rolled her eyes. ‘She’s such a loser.’ But the comment was said with affection, Julia noticed.

  ‘I reckon she really looks up to you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Kelly acknowledged. ‘She’s not as annoying as she used to be. It’s just kind of weird, y’know, to suddenly have a sister who’s only a few months younger than me. And Sammy too. He’s cute, I guess, but it means Mum’s really busy all the time, running around after so many kids. I just kind of do my own thing.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s always got time to talk to you, if you need her.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. It’s cool talking to you though, ’cos you’re younger, and you listen to what I say.’

  ‘Well… thanks…’ Julia grinned, feeling an irrational surge of pride and pleasure that Kelly thought she was cool.

  ‘Mum doesn’t always understand about stuff. Like, with my blog, she was convinced I was going to run off with some paedophile or something. I mean, I’m not stupid. Weirdly Mike was the one who talked her round. He’s all right sometimes. He’s not my dad, obviously, but sometimes he can be funny and he makes Mum happy.’

  ‘I think he seems like a really nice guy,’ Julia told her. ‘And you know, if you ever want to chat about anything, you can always call me or email me. You’ve got my number, right?’

  Kelly nodded. ‘It’s on the bottom of your emails.’

  ‘You know, I actually have a really good feeling about this wedding,’ Julia grinned, as she finished her ice cream and pushed the tub away with a contented sigh. ‘You guys have all come up with such brilliant ideas, I think your mum’s going to be blown away.’

  ‘Maybe I should become an events planner too,’ Kelly suggested, with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Don’t do it, you’ll put me out of business!’ Julia laughed. She noticed Kelly’s empty tub, and reached for her bag. ‘All finished?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Then let’s go and find Mike and Paige, see how they’re getting on.’

  ‘Sure.’ Kelly stood up, picking up the carrier bag with her bridesmaid dress. ‘And thanks for the chat. It was really nice talking to you.’

  ‘Any time,’ Julia replied. And she meant it.

  32

  ‘If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married’ – Katharine Hepburn

  ‘And the winner is…’ Aimee let the moment hang, her eyes darting between the two groups of expectant women. In front of her, her two best friends, Rachel and Charlie, had been decked out as ‘brides’, swathed in yards of white toilet roll with pillowcase veils, pieces of tinfoil fashioned into a shiny wedding rings and dazzling hair decorations.

  Rachel’s team had opted for a classic dress style with a fitted bodice and layer after layer of trailing toilet paper skirt; Charlie had taken a risk and gone modern, with loo roll tightly bound on her body and stopping mid-thigh, a dramatic toilet paper flower on one shoulder and a contrasting belt made from tinfoil.

  ‘Charlotte,’ Aimee announced gleefully, as the group on her left broke out into squeals and cries, hugging each other.

  To her right, Rachel slumped dejectedly, slowly peeling off sheets of toilet paper from around her waist and letting them flutter to the floor. ‘I knew I should’ve been more daring,’ she sighed.

  Aimee went across to give her a conciliatory hug. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I just liked the drama of Charlie’s. It’s so completely different to what I’m having.’

  ‘Never mind. I’ll forgive you.’

  Tara and Katie, two girls Aimee had worked with at the pub where she’d met Jon, emerged from the kitchen. ‘Food is served,’ Tara grinned, balancing a pizza in each hand and carefully putting them down on the coffee table, as Katie followed with fries and onion rings.

  ‘Will someone give me a hand with the nachos?’ she called out, returning moments later with an enormous bowl of corn chips covered in melted cheese and jalapeños, smothered in guacamole and sour cream.

  ‘Mmm, this looks amazing, ladies,’ Aimee sighed happily, as she took in the array of fast food in front of her, whilst Tara topped up her wine glass with chilled rosé. There were a dozen women altogether, and they all piled onto the sofa, or sprawled out on the carpet, helping themselves to gooey slices of margarita pizza and dough balls drenched in garlic butter. Clueless was playing on the TV in the background, but no one was watching, as the conversation became louder and ever more raucous.

  It was Aimee’s hen do, and she and her friends had hired a cottage for the weekend in the beautiful Suffolk countryside. It was cosy and modern, with wooden floors and Ikea furniture, and her friends had decorated it liberally with bright pink ‘Hen Party’ balloons and banners. The kitchen was filled with dozens of carrier bags brimming with snacks and alcohol, whilst Charlie had made cupcakes, decorated with ‘B-R-I-D-E-T-O-B-E-X-X-X’ in pink icing, one for each guest.

  The women had started arriving in the early afternoon, and since then they’d been catching up and gossiping, drinking and playing party games. It was exactly what Aimee wanted. She’d decided against a night on the town, where she was forced to wear L plates and fairy wings; nor did she want to make everyone pay a small fortune for a weekend in Barcelona or Amsterdam. Instead, she wanted to relax and have fun with her closest friends, in a grown-up version of the slumber parties they used to have at school.

  ‘While we’re eating,’ Rachel announced, waving her pizza in the air in an effort to get everyone’s attention, ‘We’re going to play a fun little game called “How Well Do You Know Your Hen?” There’ll be a series of questions all about Aimee, and we’ll see who knows the most about her.’

  Aimee cringed, wondering what Rachel had in store for her, as the others hooted with laughter, and Charlie gave her a sly wink.

  ‘So,’ Rachel shouted over the noise, as she consulted the list she’d scribbled earlier that week. ‘Who was Aimee’s first kiss?’

  ‘I know this!’ Ellie, who’d been friends with Aimee since primary school, screeched excitedly. ‘It was Ricky Gillingham, and it was the Year Nine school disco. They had a cheeky snog to Daniel Bedingfield.’

  There were cheers and catcalls, as Aimee burst into giggles. ‘Ah, Ricky Gillingham. I didn’t even fancy him, I just wanted a snog because everyone else was getting one!’

  ‘He looked like Wayne Rooney,’ Ellie cackled.

  ‘No, he didn’t!’ Aimee squealed. ‘If you squinted, he looked a bit like a dark-haired Justin Timberlake.’

  ‘If you squinted and all the lights were turned off, then maybe,’ Ellie scoffed.

  ‘Okay, okay, next question,’ Rachel pressed on, as everyone looked up expectantly. ‘What is Aimee’s bra size?’

  Half a dozen voices yelled back, ‘34B!’

  ‘Hardly worth bothering with,’ Aimee chuckled.

  ‘You know what they say,’ Charlie yelled. ‘Any more than a mouthful’s a waste!’

  ‘Charlie!’ Aimee exclaimed, laughing as she threw a cushion at her.

  ‘Where are Aimee and Jon going on their honeymoon?’ Rachel called out. ‘And a bonus point if you can name all the cou
ntries.’

  ‘I don’t even think I can name all the countries,’ Aimee giggled, at the same time as Tara shouted:

  ‘Caribbean cruise!’

  ‘Lucky cow,’ Katie grinned, but it was said with affection.

  ‘…Barbados, St Lucia, Antigua, Jamaica, St Kitts…’ Ellie was attempting to list all the destinations.

  ‘And we start off in Miami,’ Aimee couldn’t resist adding.

  ‘All right, all right, don’t rub it in!’

  ‘Moving swiftly on… What is Aimee’s favourite sexual position?’ Rachel grinned, to another round of whoops and giggles, as Aimee flushed bright red, burying her face behind her hands.

  ‘Girl on top?’ guessed Tara.

  ‘Doggy style?’

  ‘Reverse cowgirl?’

  ‘Ha ha, I bet Jon loves missionary, doesn’t he?’ Ellie teased.

  ‘Yeah, come on Aimee, tell us what Jon’s really like in bed.’

  ‘Someone pour her another glass of wine!’

  ‘I bet he’s really uptight. Or is he totally wild between the sheets?’

  ‘Is he into some kinky Christian Grey stuff?’

  ‘Does he have to ring his mother and ask for permission before he ejaculates?’

  ‘Charlie!’ Rachel screeched, flinging another cushion her way.

  The girls fell about with laughter, half-horrified and half-hysterical.

  ‘Charlie, I can’t believe you said that,’ Aimee exclaimed, her face still beetroot red.

  ‘Sorry,’ Charlie grinned. But her eyes were sparkling, and she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  ‘She’d never give him permission anyway,’ Aimee couldn’t resist saying, making her friends scream with outrage, a few of them breaking into applause.

  ‘Oh, it’s just so good to have the old Aimee back,’ Charlie sighed, as she crawled across the floor and threw her arms around Aimee, squeezing her tightly. ‘Even if it is just for a night. You’re so much fun when you’re like this.’

  ‘Yeah, we never seem to see you any more,’ Rachel added, piling on the guilt.

  ‘I miss you guys too,’ Aimee said sadly, realising that she genuinely did. ‘I’ve just been so busy with the wedding and everything.’

  ‘I thought you had a wedding planner?’ Tara interjected, as she scraped the last of the cheese from the bottom of the nacho bowl.

  ‘Yeah, but I still have to make the decisions.’

  ‘I thought his mother was making all the decisions.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ Aimee shot back, getting defensive.

  The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the movie playing in the background, where Cher and Dionne were giving Tai her makeover.

  ‘So where’s Jon going on his stag?’ Katie asked casually, changing the subject.

  ‘He’s not sure if he’s going to have one,’ Aimee explained. ‘He’s been really busy with work, you see, and as it’s getting so close to the wedding he doesn’t know if there’ll be time to organise it—’

  ‘And he doesn’t have any friends which makes it harder,’ Charlie quipped, and there was a ripple of uncomfortable laughter.

  Aimee swallowed hard, a tight feeling in her chest. ‘Char, that’s my fiancé.’

  ‘Yeah, I know but he’s…’ Charlie trailed off, realising she probably shouldn’t say what she was about to.

  ‘He’s what?’ Aimee demanded, tears springing into her eyes. She didn’t know if it was the stress of the wedding, or whether she’d had too much to drink, but she’d ended up in the middle of an argument with one of her best friends. Her heart was beating fast as she stared Charlotte down, daring her to answer.

  The silence was shattered by Aimee’s phone ringing. Everyone looked across to see the picture of Jon light up as the phone jangled away.

  ‘I’d better take this,’ Aimee said quietly, as she reached for it.

  ‘No, you’re on your hen do! No male contact allowed.’ Tara tried to lighten the mood, but somehow the joke fell flat.

  Aimee shrugged, her expression resigned, as she picked up her phone and ran upstairs to the bedroom she was sharing with Rachel. She sank down onto the floral duvet cover, and swiped to answer the call.

  ‘Hey, baby,’ she greeted Jon softly.

  ‘Hey,’ he sounded instantly relieved. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘No reason. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in A&E having your stomach pumped by now. I know these kind of nights can get pretty outrageous.’

  As if on cue, a gale of laughter wafted up from the living room.

  Aimee smiled sadly. ‘I’m just having fun with the girls. We’re eating pizza, watching films, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Right, well, don’t let them lead you astray. I know what they’re like.’

  It was an innocuous-sounding comment, but for some reason it grated on Aimee. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? What are they like?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Jon’s voice had that airy, judgemental tone that Aimee had found increasingly irritating in recent weeks. ‘Well, that Tara, for example. She’s sleeping with a different man every week, isn’t she? She’ll get herself a reputation, and that’s not the kind of person I want my fiancée associated with. And that ginger one, Catherine, she—’

  ‘Her name’s Charlotte, Jon. Charlotte! She’s one of my best friends, and she’s going to be my bridesmaid, and you can’t even get her bloody name right.’

  ‘Calm down, Aimee, it was just a slip of the tongue—’

  ‘Rachel,’ Aimee burst out. ‘My best friend and maid of honour—’

  ‘Well of course I know Rachel,’ Jon blustered.

  ‘What’s her boyfriend’s name?’

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘My best friend’s boyfriend, Jon. They’ve been together for five years now. What’s his name?’

  ‘Aimee, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but it’s late and—’

  ‘You don’t know it, do you?’ Aimee exploded, weeks of pent-up frustration finally spilling out.

  ‘It merely slipped my mind, that’s all and—’

  ‘Why don’t we ever socialise with them? We never go out with my friends.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘We went bowling once with Rachel and Charlie, at that big multiplex with the cinema and the Nando’s. You said, and forgive me if I don’t get the phrasing quite right, that they must be “mentally deficient if that’s what they consider a good night out”.’

  ‘You see Aimee, this is exactly how you behave when you’re around those girls, and that’s exactly what I don’t like. You become bolshy and vulgar, and it’s really not very attractive.’

  ‘What you mean,’ Aimee’s voice was getting louder with each word, ‘is that you don’t like it when I have an opinion. When I say what I think and it’s different to what you want me to think. When I’m not just some perfect little fiancée who stays at home to cook your meals and dress prettily for you and have sex whenever you want it, and you don’t even care whether or not I have a good time.’

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Aimee was breathing heavily. She had a sneaking suspicion that she’d gone too far, but it actually felt good. Cathartic.

  She jumped as the door flew open and Rachel bounced in yelling, ‘Tell Jon to get off the phone, you’re going to miss the stripper!’

  She shut up as soon as she saw Aimee’s face.

  ‘So there’s a stripper, is there?’ Jon’s voice was like ice.

  ‘She’s joking, Jon,’ Aimee said wearily.

  ‘Hilarious. Well, this seems like the right time to say goodnight.’

  ‘Jon—’

  ‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Aimee.’ The line went dead.

  The phone slipped from Aimee’s hand onto the bed, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek.

  Rachel looked horrified. She stepped into the room, c
losing the door behind her. ‘Are you okay, hon?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Aimee sniffed. The tears were falling faster now, and she wiped them ineffectually with the back of her hand. ‘Just a stupid argument. I think I’m a bit drunk.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be drunk. It’s your hen do. He’s not supposed to be a dickhead about it.’

  ‘He wasn’t.’ Aimee automatically leapt to his defence. ‘It was me, I was just…’

  ‘Why do you always do that? Why do you always stick up for him when he’s being an arsehole?’

  ‘You don’t understand. He can be so sweet and so caring. You just don’t see that side of him.’

  ‘No, I don’t. And I never see you any more either.’

  ‘I know. But once the wedding’s out of the way I’ll have more time and—’

  ‘No, you won’t. Then he’ll have you in his clutches and he’ll never let you out again.’

  It was meant to be a joke, but Aimee began to cry harder. ‘Please don’t be mad at me, Rach. I can take anything but you being mad at me.’

  Rachel reached across for a hug, and Aimee clung to her. ‘I’m just so stressed out by this whole wedding thing. There’s so much to plan and his mother is such a nightmare and I feel I’m stuck in the middle trying to keep everyone happy and I don’t know how much more I can take. Jon and I seem to be arguing constantly, about every little thing. It should be the happiest time of my life and I just feel… I’m so miserable,’ Aimee confessed.

  ‘Oh Aimee,’ Rachel sighed, stroking her hair. They sat in silence for a few moments, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Aimee couldn’t help but remember back to the disastrous photo shoot the other week. She’d never seen Jon like that before. Oh, she’d seen him angry, but never in such a rage. She knew he was under a lot of pressure, with his business and the impending wedding, but surely the two of them needed to work together, not against one another, if they were going to get through this with their sanity intact.

  The atmosphere since that day had been awful. Aimee was walking on eggshells around her fiancé – the slightest provocation set him off on another furious rant. Aimee had been losing weight with all the stress; she was worried that her wedding dress was going to hang off her unflatteringly and—