Marrying Mr Valentine

by Laura Barnard

  ‘It's fine. I get it. He’s being protective because you’re carrying his baby.’ I smile whenever I think of a mini Florence and Hugh.

  ‘It’s not just that.’ She sighs, putting her head in her hands. ‘He previously lost a baby with Felicity.’

  ‘Felicity? That whore that tried to stop you getting married?’

  She snorts a laugh. ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

  I feel a new compassion for her. She may be a bitch but losing a baby changes you. Makes you hard, jaded. A bitch, even.

  ‘Well, just because it happened with her doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you,’ I offer weakly. I mean, really, who the hell am I to tell her to stay positive? I’m proof that anything can bloody happen. It’s beyond your control.

  ‘I know,’ she nods. ‘But until I’ve had my twelve-week scan, I won’t relax. Neither will Hugh. They were ten weeks gone when they miscarried before.’

  ‘How many weeks are you?’ I can’t help but ask.

  ‘I’m only seven weeks. It's seriously early days.’

  I take her hand and squeeze it tight. ‘It’s going to work out for you. I know it.’

  Her eyes fill with tears. ‘How do you? After what happened to you, how can you be positive about anything?’

  I smile back sadly. ‘You’re not me, Flo. You’re going to be fine.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ she demands, a tear escaping, trailing down her cheek. ‘I’ve only had this baby inside me a couple of weeks and already the fear of losing it has my heart breaking. I just... I don’t know how you survived it, Nads. I really don’t.’

  Sometimes I don’t either. But life goes on regardless and sooner or later you have to start going back through the motions of living.

  ‘Because I was too much of a pussy to take my own life,’ I joke.

  She narrows her eyes at me. ‘You were suicidal?’ she shrieks in disbelief. ‘You never told me that.’

  Oh Jesus. I can’t be telling her this stuff while she’s in such a fragile state.

  ‘Of course, I wasn’t. Just joking.’ She blinks rapidly, as if not believing me. ‘Look, I got on with things because I had no other choice. Now, let’s take your wedding ring off and use my necklace to see if it’s a boy or a girl.’

  She laughs. ‘You know that’s a load of crap.’

  ‘Hey! Maybe we need some superstitious silliness right now to take your mind off the seriousness.’

  She bursts into heavy tears. ‘Nadine, I bloody love you sometimes.’

  I allow her to hug me tight as she sobs on my shoulder. I say a silent prayer to a God I no longer believe in. Please God, if you’re real, don’t let it happen to Florence. Not her.

  Thursday 11th January

  I’m back at the high school this evening helping out these little brats they call kids. It’s getting easier though. I wonder whether Hartley has had a word with them. That or I’m getting so used to my sister Lydia’s enraged phone calls every time something with her wedding goes askew that I’m becoming more tolerant in general.

  I’ve helped small pairs of kids practice their lines of Romeo and Juliet and I'm just clearing up the outfits for the day when Anna, the sweet Bambi-eyed girl that let us out of here yesterday, comes in, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’ I ask, immediately going to her and pulling her into an awkward side hug.

  ‘Ugh, everything! I’ve fucked everything up. I’m useless,’ she wails, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  God, I forgot how everything is the end of the world when you’re a teenager.

  ‘Ssh, don’t be silly.’ I start to subconsciously rock her like you would a baby. ‘It might feel awful now, but I promise you there’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’

  ‘Really?’ she asks sarcastically, pulling back and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I don’t see how you can fix a baby away. Last time I checked that was called an abortion.’

  What the fuck?

  ‘Whoa! Wait, are you telling me you’re pregnant?’

  She sniffs, her eyes falling to the floor. ‘Yeah.’ Her huge brown eyes find mine again, filled with trepidation. ‘Now try to tell me how everything will be okay.’

  ‘Oh, Anna.’

  If I would have guessed on anyone being pregnant it would have been that slut Chelsea with the neon pink bra, not sweet Anna.

  ‘The school will expel me when they find out, and then I won’t be able to finish taking my GCSE’s. I’ll probably end up working full time in New Look or something.’ She gulps, more tears welling in her eyes.

  My heart sinks for her. Why does it always happen to the nice kids? I try to think of something to cheer her up.

  ‘No. I’m going to help you,’ I announce with a determined nod. ‘You can take your GCSE’s at college if the school finds out, but until then you need to hide this as best you can. Keep your head down and study like mad.’

  She smiles back gratefully. ‘Thanks, Nadine.’ She sniffs. ‘You’re so nice. I wish my mum was as understanding as you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure your mum loves you.’ I scribble down my number for her. ‘Here, take this and call me anytime you want to chat.’

  She smiles and turns to walk out of the door. She pauses just before leaving and turns around. ‘Nadine?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You never asked me if I wanted an abortion. What made you assume I wanted to keep it?’

  God, she’s right. That’s terrible of me, to just assume.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just...’ I think of my Belle. ‘Well, I suppose I just see any baby as a miracle, regardless of the crummy situation.’

  She smiles brightly. ‘Thank you.’ She walks out, her shoulders no longer as drooped as before. I’m glad I’ve given her some hope. ‘Oh, hi, Sir,’ I hear her say.

  Oh no, Hartley. Did he hear anything?

  He enters the room and I immediately know he heard from his tense jaw and bunched eyebrows.

  ‘Hey,’ he smiles uneasily.

  ‘How much did you hear?’ I ask, too weary to beat around the bush. It’s been a long day.

  He sits down on the bench and rests his head in his hands. ‘She’s pregnant?’ He phrases it like a question, but it’s clear he already knows.

  I nod.

  He looks devastated. Clearly this is more than the normal teacher/student relationship. Shit... you don’t think he’s the father? Oh my God!

  ‘You’re not the father, are you?’ I ask with a gasp.

  His mouth drops to the floor. ‘Are you fucking serious?’

  ‘Well... I was,’ I admit, suddenly feeling stupid.

  ‘Jesus! I haven’t started to shag my students. Or anyone other than Clara for that matter,’ he confirms with a condemning shake of his head.

  Well, thank God for that. All respect for him was quickly going down the toilet. I was already wondering whether I’d have to go to the police, as well as to see Clara, and the headteacher.

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so pale and worried.’

  I’m really not used to teachers caring so much about their students. I remember telling Mr Conlon about my concerns of Maddie Charston being bullied for the strawberry birthmark on her forehead and he couldn’t have given less of a shit. Poor Maddie. It was Max Factor that sorted her out in the end.

  ‘Of course, I’m fucking worried. She’s my student and now she’s knocked up.’

  ‘Sssh!’ I hiss, jumping up to close the door. ‘You don’t want this getting out.’

  He sighs heavily, swiping his hand through his hair. ‘Why didn’t you persuade her to consider an abortion? What was with the "all babies are miracles" crap?’

  Just thinking of Belle again has me gasping for breath. I falter, staggering backwards slightly, hitting my back against the door.

  ‘Nadine, are you okay?’ He jumps up and is in front of me within a second. ‘You look like you’re about to faint. Are you having another pan
ic attack?’ He holds my upper arms as if to steady me.

  At just this tiny act of comfort, I feel the unshed tears brimming at my eyes. All of the tears I hold in every day since it happened. I want nothing more than to collapse in his arms, crush my face into his warm chest and sob my heart out. Ask him to hold me, stroke my hair, tell me everything will be alright. But I can’t. I know that. I barely know this man. And what I do know is that he’s due to marry someone else.

  I take a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ I assure him, my voice shaky and completely unbelievable.

  His thumb gently lifts my chin. ‘Hey, I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I can be a heartless bastard sometimes.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ I say hastily, pushing his hand away. I don’t want to look him in the eye when I lie to him. ‘Sorry, I’m just being weird and emotional. I must be due on or something.’

  He frowns. Jesus, why on God’s holy earth did I think it acceptable to tell him I’m due on my period? I’m not even due for another few weeks. Now he’s going to be thinking of me bleeding. Ugh, poor bastard will probably need to have therapy.

  His eyes bore into me until I’m forced to look at him.

  ‘Nadine, I think you’ve got a massive heart, that’s all.’

  I sniff and shake my head.

  ‘I mean it. I heard what you said to Anna. Anyone else would have been horrified at the idea of a pregnant teenager, but you were so kind to her. You gave her hope.’

  ‘She does have hope,’ I say defiantly, already feeling strangely overprotective of her. ‘Even if the school finds out, she can still do her GCSE’s at college.’

  He scoffs. ‘And you think she’ll be able to do that while pregnant? Carry on her education with a baby around?’

  I cross my arms over my chest. ‘All I know is that if she wants that baby, everything else is just background noise.’

  He looks at me, a strange expression on his face. ‘You’re very odd, you know that?’

  I snort a bitchy laugh. ‘Just because I actually like kids, unlike your fiancée.’

  He glares back at me. ‘Hey! That’s not fair.’

  ‘Why isn’t it?’ I snap. ‘She said so herself. She doesn’t want kids. Don’t you want them?’

  I know I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question, but it’s pretty clear that this isn’t the normal client/planner relationship.

  ‘Of course, I do,’ he grumbles, turning to comb his hair through with his hand. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Really? Because it sounds to me like you don’t want to face up to the realities of your future marriage.’

  His face scrunches up, his forest-green eyes flashing with animosity towards me. ‘Fuck you, Nadine. You know nothing.’

  He stands, turns, and storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Oops.

  Chapter Five

  Friday 12th January

  ‘Where the hell is he?’ Clara demands, looking at her Cartier watch with a pout.

  I’m not sure if she’s expecting me to answer her or if she just wants to voice her rage.

  Hartley’s ten minutes late for his own engagement photoshoot being held here at The Duck and Goose. It makes me wonder if he’s given what I said some thought. If he’s halfway to New Zealand by now, I couldn’t blame him. Not wanting to marry this prissy thing.

  ‘He knows what time the appointment was. God, I hope he’s not been held up by another bloody student of his. I swear, they’re so clingy.’

  She’s a heartless cow.

  ‘Hi, sorry, sorry!’ Hartley says, rushing in looking frazzled. He avoids my gaze and instead pecks a chaste kiss on Clara’s cheek.

  Not changed his mind then. Quite willing to get married to someone who doesn’t want the same things as him. I don’t know why I even care. Maybe because it’s making a complete mockery of the whole institution of marriage? Something I care deeply about.

  ‘Ready to get this show on the road?’ the photographer asks, fiddling with his camera lens. ‘I’d like you over here, with the trees as a backdrop.’

  ‘Well, are we?’ Clara demands to Hartley, hand on her hip like a tea pot handle.

  He rolls his eyes. ‘Yes. I’m here now.’

  He looks over to me, his cheeks slightly pink. Is he embarrassed that he’s still going ahead with this sham after admitting to me that they want different things? He bloody should be.

  Look at him, hugging her from behind for the photographer. Gazing down at her adoringly. Can love really be that blind that you ignore your future together?

  Ugh, I can’t watch. I go inside and attempt to busy myself with some paperwork. It’s hard though when you’re as efficient as me. I have to stay until the shoot is finished so I decide to make them both a frothy hot chocolate. It’s still freezing out. Most people are looking forward to spring, but I love the cosiness of winter. There’s nothing better than relaxing in front of the fire with a warm mug of hot chocolate.

  I’m just bringing them out, pleased with my artwork of chocolate shavings and mini marshmallows when I almost walk into Hartley striding back into the pub.

  ‘Whoa!’ we both say at the same time, barely missing bumping into each other.

  I steady the mugs so that only a small bit drips down the sides.

  ‘Sorry,’ he grimaces. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  I find I can’t look him in the eye. What is wrong with me? I can’t help but feel embarrassed that I spoke so freely last night. I must remember that he’s a client.

  ‘Oh, that’s fine. I was just bringing you and Clara a hot chocolate.’

  He smiles, his face lit up at the idea. Wow, he must really love hot chocolate.

  ‘She’s gone back to work. But I’ll have it.’ He carefully takes a mug from me. ‘I love hot chocolate.’

  ‘Very manly of you,’ I joke, sitting down at a table so I can sip the leftover one. My God, I make a good hot chocolate.

  ‘Yep. Me man. Me like hot chocolate,’ he jokes in a Tarzan voice, hitting his chest.

  I smile and take another sip. Why is this awkward? You could cut the uneasy tension with a knife.

  ‘Anyway, I was coming in here to ask if you’re planning on coming back to the school tomorrow night to help out with the play?’ His eyes portray the vulnerability in the question.

  I’m surprised he’s swallowing his pride and asking, with how it ended the other night.

  I fiddle with the mug handle. ‘Well, I wasn’t sure you wanted me there anymore. You know, after you told me to go fuck myself.’

  He sighs, looking down at the table. ‘Of course, I do.’

  I smile back, his eyes finding mine and holding them in place. It’s like they’re hypnotic.

  ‘Besides, it’s too late to find someone else now,’ he grins, attempting to break the atmosphere.

  I hit him on the arm. ‘Cheeky bastard!’

  ‘Come on. I’m sorry for what I said about Anna. I’d really like it if you were there. You’re so bloody organised. Without you it’ll probably go to shit.’

  I smile smugly. ‘Well, I am pretty awesome,’ I agree with a nod. ‘So... I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Think about it?’ he asks, his eyes widened in disbelief.

  He’s obviously used to everyone doing whatever he asks of them. Sex God that he is.

  ‘Yep. I’ll think about it.’ I take another sip, trying to act nonchalant. ‘Is Clara coming to the play?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he nods. ‘She’s getting off work early for it.’

  ‘That’s nice of her,’ I say sincerely.

  He presses his lips into a fine line. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ he snaps, squinting his eyes at me in disgust. ‘I know you don’t like her, but there’s no need to take the piss.’

  I gasp, shocked by his outburst and opinion of me. ‘I wasn’t taking the piss. I was seriously saying I’m glad she’s supporting you.’

  ‘What, because she can’t be bothered to s
upport me normally? Because she wants me to give it up and get a real job?’

  ‘Hey,’ I hold my hands up in surrender. ‘You are literally going off on a tangent right now. I never said or meant anything like that.’

  He sighs, running his hand through his tied up hair. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just being sensitive. I’m worried it’s all going to go to hell.’

  ‘What, the play or the marriage?’ I smirk. Okay, maybe I can see why he’d think I’m against his marriage. I’m hardly acting like a supportive wedding planner.

  ‘The play,’ he answers sternly fiddling with his watch. ‘Why are you so down on my impending marriage?’

  ‘I’m not! I’m a bloody wedding planner for God's sake.’

  ‘Which has clearly made you jaded.’ He raises his eyebrows as if wanting me to challenge him.

  ‘The only jaded person here is you,’ I insist, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. God, it's broad. No Nadine, for God’s sake, concentrate.

  He sighs, standing up, having cleared his hot chocolate. ‘Whatever. I don’t have time to argue about this. Are you coming tomorrow or not?’

  I stare back at him defiantly. ‘Fine, I’ll be there. Much like you, I don’t break a promise. Regardless of how much I regret it.’

  Saturday 13th January

  I watch on anxiously as the bride ties the wedding rings to her dog Benny’s collar. She insisted on her golden retriever being a part of the ceremony. Hugh made me take double our usual deposit in case it shits somewhere. I’m more worried about the dog behaving and making it through without trashing the place.

  The bride is getting her make-up done while I assess the danger. She's clearly oblivious to all the potential damage this dog could cause.

  ‘Would you be able to take him outside?’ the bride asks me with a hopeful smile. ‘He needs the toilet before the wedding.’

  I stare back at her. Is she serious? She stares back at me expectantly. Okay, so she clearly is. Now I can add dog walker to my CV next to wedding planner/manager. God, my life is glamorous.

  I take the lead with a forced smile. ‘Of course.’