Marrying Mr Valentine

by Laura Barnard

  I lead Benny, the big bastard, out to the front and wait for him to make his move. He just stares back up at me as if waiting for instruction. I roll my eyes at him. Jesus, all that stuff about dogs being intelligent is clearly crap. I’m definitely a cat girl.

  ‘Come on Benny, have a poo poo.’

  Dear God, I can’t believe I’m talking to a dog, telling him to have a poo poo. What has my life come to? But I don’t think I can say the word shit around him. Almost like he’s a child and will know I said a naughty word. Tell his mummy on me.

  ‘Come on, Benny,’ I say more cheerfully. ‘You want to have your poo poo now and not in the middle of the ceremony.’ He tilts his head to one side, his eyes narrowing, one ear cocking up. ‘That’s right, Benny. We don’t want it to happen while mummy and daddy are getting married. Saying their vows,’ I clarify, as if he’ll understand if I explain it enough.

  ‘Oh Jesus, I’m talking to a frigging dog.’

  I get my phone out and start googling how to get a dog to poo. I start watching the first video that comes up. Some training woman giving the dog treats when it poos in the same spot. Well that’s not what I want. I want it to poo now.

  A loud gulp makes me turn towards Benny. Why does his face look weird? He hunches his shoulders over and starts retching, obviously trying to bring something up. Like he just ate... Oh my God. He wouldn’t have... right?

  I grab his collar, desperately searching round for the ring bag. It’s not there. Shit the fucking bed, it’s not there. I search around in a last-ditch hope of finding it strewn on the floor. No such luck.

  He’s eaten it. The stupid bloody bastard has eaten the ring bag. The bride mustn’t have secured it enough. Jesus, you’d think if you were tying your wedding rings to a stupid dog you’d do a bloody double knot. That’s basic Brownie 101.

  Well, what the hell am I going to do now?

  She’ll need it cut out. I can’t go back to the bride and tell her I’ve allowed him to eat it while I supervised. You’d think I’d be able to handle a bloody dog. Of all the potential disasters I did not see this coming. I chastise myself.

  Right. Think Nadine. Think.

  How the hell am I going to get these rings out? I grab him by the collar while he’s still attempting to retch it out. Maybe I can help him to get sick. Hmm, with humans we just stick our fingers down our throats. At least that’s what my university flatmate, Hayley, used to do after a wild night out on the session.

  I move my fingers cautiously into his mouth. Ugh, his mouth is all wet, warm, and gooey. He starts licking me. Of course, he does. This dog has the IQ of an onion.

  ‘No, Benny. I’m trying to help you.’

  I push my two fingers closer to his throat and don’t stop until he starts retching again. A tiny bit of vomit jumps up and hits my hand.

  ‘Eeew!’ I scream, shaking my hand around. I find some grass and wipe it off as best I can. Dammit, where is my anti-bacterial lotion when I need it! I knew I should have put one in this coat.

  He carries on retching, but nothing else is coming up. I straddle him and start massaging his stomach.

  ‘Come on Benny boy. Get that bag up. You want your mummy and daddy to get married, don’t you?’ I encourage in what I’m hoping are soothing tones.

  I look up to see a wedding guest walking past me. He gives me the strangest look. Yeah, yeah. I talk to dogs I’m straddled over. Lap it up, arsehole.

  I grab some of the grass and offer it to him to eat. Cows eat grass, so dogs can too, right? Actually, don’t they naturally eat plants and things when they’re trying to bring stuff up? I’m sure I heard that from somewhere.

  He doesn’t take it though. Just turns his nose up at it as if I’ve offered him a shit sandwich. Ungrateful little fuck. Okay, I’m sweating now. This is going from disaster to disaster.

  I need to speak to a vet. But the wedding is due to start in the next ten minutes. I can’t make it to a vet and back in that time. I could call Flo, ask for her help? But then I remember the baby and the overprotective Hugh. No, I can’t do that.

  For a moment, I consider running up to the bride and asking for her help, but this is the last thing she needs. I’ll grab the maid of honour instead. I call her phone, thankfully having had the forethought to save it in my phone, and pray she answers.

  ‘Hi, Nadine. Is everything okay?’ she asks straightaway.

  ‘No. I need you to discreetly come down to the front where I have Benny.’

  ‘Oh, okay. I’ll be two minutes.’

  I carry on massaging Benny’s stomach until she finally appears, carrying her floor length peach bridesmaid dress.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asks before she’s even stopped running. ‘Is it Benny?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Benny,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘He’s eaten the rings.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ she shrieks, her eyes nearly bursting out of their sockets. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Well, she’s working out to be a whole lot of help. Not.

  ‘We need to get a vet. Do you know anyone in the wedding party that has experience with animals?’ I ask desperately.

  ‘Yes!’ she says, jumping up at her excellent idea. ‘I do. Wait here, I’ll go get him.’

  Thank God. There’s a vet among the guests. Of course, there is. They’re dog people. This is all going to be fine.

  ‘Don’t worry Benny. Help is coming.’

  She’s back a few minutes later with a tall man in his late thirties.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ he asks me, looking at Benny. ‘Shelby said something about the dog being sick.’

  Oh great. Thanks Shelby. Making me explain it to him.

  ‘The dog ate the wedding rings.’ I don’t have time to sugar coat it. ‘I need them out of him now. Can you perform emergency surgery?’

  He starts laughing.

  ‘Sorry, but what part of this is funny, exactly?’ I’m so pissed off I imagine launching myself at him and punching him repeatedly in his stupid face.

  ‘Sorry,’ he scoffs. ‘It’s just that there is no way I’m performing emergency surgery on a dog.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’ I demand, hand on hip. Does he not care about his friend’s wedding day? Selfish bastard.

  He snorts. ‘Well first of all I’m only a veterinary nurse.’

  A nurse? She’s brought me a bloody veterinary nurse?

  ‘And secondly, you can’t just demand surgery on a perfectly healthy dog.’

  ‘He’s not healthy!’ I shriek. ‘He has a bloody bag of rings somewhere inside his intestines! Surely that’s going to fuck his insides up?’ I glare back at the bridesmaid. ‘Well you guys have been no help. I’ll have to drive him into town.’

  ‘There’s no point,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘No vet will operate on him. You’re better off looking for new rings.’

  New rings? Does he just think I have a couple of spare wedding rings lying around? Some fucking jewellers from Hatton Garden on speed dial? Bloody idiot.

  ‘But the wedding is due to start in three minutes!’ Shelby shouts. ‘We have no time for that!’

  ‘Okay, calm down, Shelby,’ I say in a calm, authoritative voice, attempting to shut her up.

  It seems to calm her slightly. Okay, I need to think of a plan. Something to make sure this couple get married.

  ‘You need to go around all of the guests and see if anyone has any spare rings that could fit and be appropriate to fill in.’

  ‘Got it,’ she nods. ‘Wait, what are you going to do?’

  Is she trying to imply I’m lazy? I will take that bitch down.

  ‘I’m going to try to talk it out with Benny.’

  She nods, while the nurse snorts a laugh. They both turn and head back.

  I look down at Benny. I reach into my coat pocket and grab out my keys. There is one other option. I could do the surgery myself. Stab him in the gut and pull the rings out myself with my bare hands.

  Shit the bed.

  Did
I really just think that? What the hell is wrong with me?

  Have I really lost it so badly that I’m considering gutting a family dog just for a pair of stupid rings? I hand the dog over to the girl behind the bar, scared to be left alone with him. I walk out, unsure of what my next move in life is. If I just considered gutting a dog in order to save a wedding—a wedding for clients, not even friends of mine—I think it’s clear I need to take some time out.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday 14th January

  I can’t believe I left that wedding yesterday. Thankfully, Jill stepped in to make sure the execution of everything went perfectly. Well, as perfectly as it can when your dog’s eaten your rings. Apparently, Benny heaved and retched the whole way through the ceremony. It seemed to get a good laugh from the crowd with some saying he was revolted at all the love talk.

  The bride and groom weren’t best pleased with the rings their bridesmaid had managed to collect for them. The bride ended up with a diamanté Playboy Bunny ring and the groom had a Metallica Ninja Star ring. I mean, why were they inviting people like this to their wedding anyway? I think it’s their own fault.

  I’m woken from my glorious lie-in by my phone ringing. Dammit, when will I learn to leave it on silent? I’ve only just spoken to Jill.

  Hugh’s name flashes up. Oh God. He’s obviously heard about the farce that was yesterday and he’s calling to give me a bollocking. I sigh. I could ignore it, let it go to voicemail, but then I’d only be delaying the inevitable. I take a deep breath and press accept.

  ‘Hi, Hugh,’ I say wearily into the phone.

  I brace myself for this wrath. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not normally a shouty boss. I’ve got used to feeling like we’re more partners than boss and employee. But that’s part of the problem. I’ve become too comfortable with him.

  Plus, I haven’t had as much bad luck with weddings before as I have lately. He obviously thinks I’m taking my finger off the pulse.

  ‘Hi Nads, how are you?’ he asks, concern clear in his voice.

  Nads? He never calls me Nads. I think back over the last year. Nope, I don’t think I’ve heard him call me it once.

  ‘Err... hi, Hugh.’ I can’t help but sound as thrown as I am.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, his voice soft and tender.

  Am I imagining this phone call? Am I still asleep? Maybe dreaming the whole thing, including the nightmare dog scenario yesterday?

  I decide to take the bull by the horns and address it before he does.

  ‘I take it you’re calling about yesterday’s wedding? You must have heard what happened?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I can almost feel his grimace. ‘I popped in to lock up last night and Jill filled me in. Said you’d left.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Hugh. I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Nadine. I’ve put you under a lot of pressure over the last year and I often forget that you’re a normal human being with limits. I mean, I can’t remember the last weekend you had off. Can you?’

  I wrack my brain. Well, we have weddings on weekends so it’s not the right time.

  ‘It’s kind of a weekend job, though.’

  ‘Regardless, Nadine. I think you expect too much from yourself. I want you to take a few days off.’

  ‘You’re... you’re not firing me, are you?’ I ask, my voice wobbling slightly.

  He scoffs a laugh down the line. ‘Of course not! Nadine, you’ll always have a job here, for as long as it’s open. I just think you need to de-stress a bit.’

  ‘I’m really fine,’ I insist. Jesus, he’s acting like I did gut the dog. ‘Has Jill said something to you?’

  ‘No, why? What would she say?’

  That I was close to gutting a dog.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘I just want you to be nice and refreshed for cousin Clara’s wedding. That’s the one that really matters.’

  I scoff. ‘No pressure then, yeah, Hugh?’

  He laughs down the phone. ‘No pressure.’

  But I know there is. I need to stop riding Hartley about his choices of marrying Clara, even if they do want different futures, because this wedding is turning out to be one of the most important of my career. So, I need to make sure it runs perfectly, regardless of any personal feelings.

  I agree to having tomorrow off just to shut him up and end the call, jogging downstairs to make myself a cup of tea.

  ‘You alright, love?’ Mum asks, already in the process of making us both one. She’s a good woman.

  ‘Yeah,’ I sigh, lifting myself up to sit on the counter. She raises her eyebrows at me. She’s always telling me off for sitting like this, but she lets the cat walk all over the worktop and that’s far more unhygienic. That thing licks her own arse. ‘Hugh’s just told me to have the day off tomorrow. Try to relax.’

  She laughs. ‘Even as a little girl, you’ve never been able to relax. You go from being "on" to sleeping. There’s never been much in between.’

  I sigh. ‘I can’t help how I am.’

  ‘And you shouldn’t apologise for it,’ she says with a nod. ‘After everything you’ve been through, you can’t blame a girl for wanting to distract herself.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Mum,’ I snort, taking the tea from her.

  She sighs. ‘You never want to talk about it but remember that it happened to all of us too.’

  I sigh. I often forget that she lost her granddaughter too. But it’s still different. She didn’t feel that baby growing inside her for nine months. She didn’t have her entire relationship break down and then have to move back to the family home. To say my life ended along with Belle’s is an understatement.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I know you grieved too, but... I just don’t want to talk about it.’

  She smiles at me. ‘Why don’t we just relax today? You were so busy on the run up to Christmas we never had a chance to just sit around and watch Christmas films.’

  ‘You’re suggesting we watch Christmas films, in January?’ I ask in amusement. ‘Doesn’t Lydia have a list of wedding jobs we need to get on with?’ The woman’s a slave driver.

  She laughs. ‘I’ve told your sister to start giving more of her jobs to her bridesmaids. They need to earn those expensive dresses.’ I mean, she is right, but I can’t believe she’s told Princess Lydia that. Normally she can do nothing wrong. ‘And why bloody not enjoy some Christmas films?’ she laughs. ‘It’s still cold enough.’

  I can’t help but feel a massive affection towards her in that instant. I jump down and engulf her in my arms. Where the hell would I be without this woman?

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  Monday 15th January

  I’m back at the school today. It’s so different being in a high school compared to the old primary school I used to work in. I actually feel self-conscious. I walk past a group of boys rehearsing, when they start wolf-whistling. Assuming it must be for one of the girls, I carry on walking with my head down.

  ‘Alright, Miss?’ one of them shouts towards me.

  I turn to look at them and notice the main lad giving me a cheeky wink. I swivel to see if someone is behind me. Are they talking to me?

  ‘You’re a right fitty, Miss!’ another one shouts. His mate barks out a laugh.

  Well, what the hell am I supposed to do in this situation? You don’t get this kind of crap with five-year-olds. I’m blushing before I can reason with myself to play it unaffected. And now I look like I’m enjoying it. They might even take it as encouragement. Think I’m a horny Mrs Robinson type who fancies a gang bang in the car park.

  ‘Boys!’ Hartley booms behind me. ‘Leave Miss Roberts alone.’

  I smile at him gratefully, hoping to God my cheeks aren’t as heated as they feel. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You can’t blame them really,’ he grins, like a teenage boy himself for a second. He quickly recovers himself and plasters on an impassive face.

  ‘Huh?’ Does he think I’m leading them o
n? Dressing slutty or something? I look down at my black pencil skirt and salmon blouse. It hardly screams harlot. In fact, I make a real effort to deliberately dress conservatively. I don’t like exposing body parts, especially in the wedding industry. You don’t want the grooms staring at your tits.

  ‘I mean they’re not used to seeing gorgeous teachers.’

  Did he just call me gorgeous? What the hell is happening here?

  ‘They’re used to women in their fifties in lots of plaid.’ He bends over in a chuckle.

  Oh right. He wasn’t calling me gorgeous. Just saying I’m better than a fifty-year-old. Hardly a raving review, the cheeky bastard.

  I smile tightly. ‘I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.’

  He straightens up, attempting to wipe the smile off his face. ‘There is.’ He stares at me just a bit too long, our eyes connecting like magnets. He breaks away first, clearing his throat. ‘I was thinking you could help with some painting of the props today. That cool with you?’

  ‘Yep,’ I nod, glad of the subject change. ‘Fine by me.’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘What?’ I can’t resist asking. I want to know what he’s thinking.

  He scoffs a laugh. ‘You’re just so easy going. I’m not used to dealing with women without an argument in every conversation.’

  I laugh. That’s a little awkward. He’s clearly talking about Clara. But I’m not falling into that trap again. Talking about her will only have him getting pissed off at me again. Better to ignore the bait.

  And me, classed as laid back? That in itself is hilarious. If Florence was here she’d piss her pants laughing.

  ‘Anyway, must get on.’

  I rush over to where the paint pots are, some students already painting. Anna’s there painting a tree.

  ‘Hey,’ she smiles, her big brown Bambi eyes troubled.

  I casually walk up to her. ‘Hi. How are you?’

  She forces a cheery smile, looking around her to see if I’m drawing attention to her. ‘I’m okay.’

  I smile kindly, placing my hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, you know.’