A Beginner's Guide To Saying I Do: A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Jennifer Joyce

‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’ Trina’s voice squeaked in surprise. ‘How?’

  ‘Aidan told me.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to Aidan?’ Trina hadn’t, not for a whole agonising week. Aidan was her best friend and she missed him, but it must have been worse for Aidan because he didn’t even know why Trina had cut off all contact. She was too chicken to tell him the real reason, so she’d simply avoided his calls and – shamefully – she’d hidden in her bedroom on the occasions when he’d visited, leaving him on the doorstep.

  She was a terrible human being and an even worse friend.

  ‘He did my hair on my birthday.’ Ruth hadn’t told Trina at the time. Aidan hadn’t wanted Trina to think Ruth was inviting her to her birthday meal through pity. ‘And he told me about the date.’

  ‘Did he tell you that he stood me up?’ Trina stuck her chin in the air. She may have been a terrible friend, but Aidan hadn’t always acted admirably either.

  ‘Yes. But that wasn’t his fault.’

  ‘Then whose was it? Mine?’ Trina had been devastated when Aidan had failed to turn up for their date. She’d thought they were on the cusp of something really special, but clearly Aidan hadn’t shared her feelings. It was such a humiliating experience, standing there waiting for the man she’d fallen in love with (not that Trina would ever admit that now. She’d been embarrassed enough, thank you very much) only for him to lack the decency to turn up. Thank goodness Rory had taken pity on her and asked her to dance!

  ‘I’m pretty sure Aidan blames the arsehole who smashed into him,’ Ruth said.

  Trina blinked slowly at her cousin, dislodging another tear. She swiped it away. ‘What do you mean, smashed into him?’

  ‘Well, not him physically, but, you know … his car.’

  ‘No.’ Trina shook her head. ‘I don’t know. What are you talking about? What car?’

  ‘Aidan’s car. The reason he didn’t turn up to that dance thing.’

  ‘Aidan didn’t turn up because he’d changed his mind about me. About us.’ Trina could recall the conversation clearly. He’d phoned her the next day – the next flipping day – to explain. Trina had quickly got in first, letting him know all about the wonderful man she’d met. She wasn’t going to let Aidan know she was heartbroken. No way! She was mortified about being stood up, so she had to save face and pretend it hadn’t fazed her at all. Not in the slightest. No, she’d had a grand old time with Rory Hamilton-Wraith and he was taking her sailing on his father’s yacht. Beat that, Aidan Miller!

  ‘He didn’t tell you about the crash?’ Ruth asked.

  Trina dumped the sodden loo roll on the pile of tissues. ‘I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  So Ruth repeated what Aidan had told her about that night, about the car accident and the lack of phone.

  ‘But why didn’t he tell me this at the time?’ Trina asked.

  Ruth gave a shrug. ‘You’ll have to ask Aidan that yourself.’

  Trina was torn. Should she go and see Aidan and demand answers? Or should she respect Rory’s wishes and stay away from him? It was all so confusing. In the end she decided to return home so that she could think things over rationally. Everything would all work out in the end. It had to.

  Dread washed over Trina when she realised the door to the annexe was unlocked. A couple of weeks ago, she’d have skipped over the threshold, pleasantly surprised that her husband was home, but now her feet were sluggish. Rory being home was no longer thrilling, as it meant rows and unbearable tension. Trina was considering backtracking, sneaking back out of the house unnoticed – but where would she go?

  ‘You’re home early,’ she called through to the sitting room as she hung her coat up in the cupboard under the stairs. Although it was the weekend, Rory usually worked until late and, if he wasn’t at the office, he was being kept busy schmoozing on the golf course.

  ‘Darling!’ It wasn’t Rory who was home after all, but Trina’s mother. Gloria appeared in the doorway, tanned arms flung wide. Trina ran into them, yet more tears bubbling to the surface. If she continued on this blubbering path, she’d become dangerously dehydrated, she thought.

  ‘Mum! I’m so glad to see you.’ Trina held on to Gloria with a vice-like grip. ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘Very late last night.’ Gloria peeled Trina away from her bosom so that she could observe her daughter. Her hands were cool as she placed her palms on Trina’s flushed cheeks. ‘Is everything okay, darling?’

  ‘I’m just happy to see you.’ Trina swiped at the tears that had managed to worm their way down her cheeks. ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘The housekeeper. Lovely lady. She made me a gorgeous cup of tea. There’s nothing better when you get back from a trip, is there?’ Gloria led the way into the sitting room and arranged herself on the sofa. ‘I had a fabulous time. I didn’t want it to end! Yuri wanted to take me home with him, the little devil.’

  ‘Who is Yuri?’ The postcard her mother had sent was still propped up on the mantelpiece.

  Gloria waved a hand, jangling the charm bracelet she’d bought herself after her first divorce. She added a new charm with each divorce, and it was filling up fast.

  ‘Oh, Yuri was just a fling.’

  ‘And what about Barry?’ Gloria had been dating Barry for three months before they went away on the cruise – funded by the man in question.

  ‘He wasn’t so keen on seeing me being flung by another man, so that’s over.’ Gloria gave a dismissive wave. ‘So how was the honeymoon? Did you make it out of the bedroom?’

  Eventually, after being confined there due to Rory’s sunburn. ‘It was … nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ Gloria’s spine straightened as she observed her daughter. ‘Nice? What is that supposed to mean? Picnics are nice. Visiting grandparents is nice. Your honeymoon is supposed to be delicious and sensual and downright filthy!’

  Trina pressed her lips together, but it was no use. She was about to jump right back on the blubber train. ‘Oh, Mum.’ Yep, here were the tears, thick and rapidly spilling onto her cheeks. ‘I think I’ve married the wrong man!’

  Thirty-Eight

  Erin

  Erin groaned as the alarm evicted her from a deep sleep, and she fumbled to reach it to make the noise stop. But the room was silenced before she could make contact. Beside her, Richard gave a groan of his own as he stretched.

  Ooh, Richard. Erin wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be waking up in her own flat, yet there she was, cocooned with Richard. Amanda wouldn’t be pleased at all, what with the children sleeping only a wall away. No sleepovers while the children were staying over, that was the rule. Which only made it all the more delicious.

  ‘Morning.’ Richard opened his arms and Erin found herself nestled into his chest, a stupidly serene smile on her face. ‘We don’t have to get up yet, do we?’

  ‘I’m afraid we do. Lots to do today, and Lindsay will flip if we’re late.’ The day Erin had been dreading was upon them. It was Lindsay’s wedding day, which meant Erin was on bridesmaid duty.

  Such joy.

  Erin hadn’t seen Lindsay – or the other bridesmaids – since the hen weekend, which had ended as gruesomely as it had begun when Rita sneaked one of the strippers into their room and Erin had been forced to either listen from the next bed or top-and-tail with Lindsay. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a shit place. In the end, Erin had chosen to squeeze in with Lindsay.

  ‘You’re right.’ Richard reluctantly pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with vigour. It was going to be a long day. ‘I really don’t want to face the wrath of my sister if we’re late. You go and wake the kids and I’ll make a start on breakfast.’

  Fastening Richard’s robe around her – why did Richard’s robe always feel so much cosier than her own? It was the same with his slippers, even though they were far too big – Erin made her way along the landing, knocking gently on first LuLu’s and then Ralph’s door. LuLu e
merged almost immediately, eager for her flower girl responsibilities to begin. Erin wished she shared the girl’s enthusiasm for the day ahead, but couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but deep hatred for the slutty ballerina outfit she’d be sporting.

  After a quick breakfast, the family – for that was what they were, no matter how hard Erin and Amanda had fought against it – dressed before heading out to their respective meeting points. Richard dropped Erin, LuLu and Ralph at his parents’ house before driving on to Frank’s flat where the groom’s party were gathering.

  The Shuttleworths’ house was in chaos when Erin arrived. The other seven bridesmaids were in differing stages of dress – some already tipsy on the champagne doing the rounds – and Lindsay looked like Miss Hannigan as she tottered around the house in her lingerie and curlers, a glass of champagne in each hand. Ingrid was stalking about the place, clipboard in hand and barking orders, while one of the bridesmaids sat in a heap on the bottom step, sobbing away, apparently overcome by the emotion of it all.

  ‘What’s up with Annie?’ Erin asked Ingrid, who ignored the enquiry. If it wasn’t on her agenda, Ingrid didn’t have the time or inclination to trouble herself with it.

  ‘You two need to be in the dining room.’ She jabbed a pen towards Erin and LuLu. ‘The girls from Sparkle are set up in there. Pageboy, you need to go upstairs. Susan has your suit ready. One of the Sparkle girls will sort your hair out when they get the chance.’

  Ingrid snapped her eyes away from her clipboard and marched away, yelling about flowers and shoes.

  ‘Erin, darling!’ Erin was set upon by Rita before she’d even reached the dining room. Rita threw her arms around her and gave her a drunken squeeze. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’

  ‘Erm, yes, you too.’ Rita had formed quite a bond with Erin during the hen weekend, but at least today she wasn’t waving her arse in Erin’s face, as she had done on the coach trip home. For their final day at the spa, Helen had organised a twerking lesson with a so-called professional, which the girls had found hilarious and had practised their new skill for the entire journey back home.

  ‘What’s wrong with Annie?’ Erin peered along the hallway, where Annie was still howling, as she repeated the question she’d asked Ingrid moments ago.

  ‘No idea. She’s been like that since she got here.’ Rita pulled a brief sympathetic face before brightening and shoving a glass of champagne towards Erin. ‘Celebratory drink?’

  ‘God, yes.’ Erin took the glass and took an immediate gulp. She was going to need several of those to get through the day.

  Three hours later, the bridal party was finally ready, filing out of the house amid excited chatter. A horse-drawn carriage and a pink limo waited outside, the sight of which upped the excitement level by a million per cent. Erin and the children hung back to prevent being stampeded into the hallway carpet, so they were one of the last to emerge from the house. Only Annie and Ingrid were behind them.

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ Annie had managed to stem the flow of tears for long enough to get dressed and have her make-up reapplied, but a fresh wave threatened to burst forth.

  ‘Will you get a grip?’ Ingrid barked. She was clearly a fan of tough love, but it worked. With a final sniff, Annie straightened up and stepped over the threshold with her head held high. Ingrid waited for Erin to join her, cocking an eyebrow ever so slightly as she hesitated.

  Was she really expected to step out in public wearing a tutu? She felt like an utter fool inside the house – she would surely expire of embarrassment out in the open.

  ‘Are you going to start snivelling too?’ Ingrid’s lip curled. She couldn’t deal with such soppy women. It wasn’t like it was their wedding – and even if it was, there was only so much she could tolerate.

  LuLu took Erin’s hand. ‘We’ll go out together. No one will even notice you when they see Aunty Lindsay anyway.’

  Erin kissed the top of LuLu’s head. She hadn’t even conveyed her concerns to the kid but she’d still picked up on Erin’s discomfort. ‘Come on, then.’ She turned to Ralph and took hold of his hand too. ‘You look handsome, kiddo. Just like a miniature version of your dad.’

  Ralph pulled at his tie. ‘I don’t want to look like Dad.’

  ‘He wants to look like Harry Styles,’ LuLu said.

  Ralph pulled at his tie again. ‘Shut up. I do not.’

  Ingrid gave a weary sigh from behind them, prompting the trio to finally make the leap over the threshold and out of the house. The bridesmaids were shrieking about how gorgeous the carriage was as Lindsay sat inside it, waving regally to her adoring fans. Annie stood to one side, struggling with a packet of tissues as mascara streaked down her face.

  ‘Come on, ladies!’ Ingrid clapped her hands and directed the bridesmaids into the limo. Erin helped the children inside before she climbed in, followed by Annie, who was given a helping shove from Ingrid.

  ‘I can’t do this!’ Annie wailed as the limo set off. She held a crumpled tissue, but it was ignored as the tears were running too fast and free to control. Rita gave her a pat on the knee but she was mostly overlooked as another bottle of champagne was opened and the women filled their glasses (or, in the case of Whitney, drank straight from the bottle). Undeterred, Annie sniffled for the entire journey.

  ‘Oh my God, the paps are here!’ Whitney squeaked as the limo pulled up outside the hotel. Erin spotted a lone photographer on the pavement, who it later turned out was a reporter from the local free newspaper. Still, it didn’t stop the bridesmaids pouting at him, and even Annie bucked up enough to have a photo taken on the grand steps leading up to the hotel where the wedding would take place. The reporter lost interest in the bridesmaids as the groom arrived, and instead snapped shots of Frank as he emerged from his car.

  Annie burst into tears again and flung herself into Rita’s arms. ‘It’s not fair! He was supposed to be mine! That bitch stole him from me!’

  Rita made soothing noises as she stroked Annie’s back. ‘But you and Frank had only been dating for eight months, and you’d broken up before he got together with Lindsay.’

  ‘For two days. She knew I was in love with him!’

  ‘Ssh now. You and Frank are ancient history, and Lindsay has been your best friend since you were five. You want her to be happy, don’t you? Frank’s marrying Lindsay because he loves her and she loves him.’

  This only made Annie even more unhappy and she broke down again, throwing her head back and making mooing noises.

  ‘Will you get a grip?’ Lillian, the eldest bridesmaid, marched towards Annie, slapping her hard across the face. ‘Lindsay will be here any minute, and you’re going to ruin her day.’

  ‘Fuck Lindsay. She’s a selfish bitch.’

  Lillian slapped Annie again, even harder this time, which managed to knock the girl out of her pity party. But instead of calming Annie, it only incensed her, and she retaliated by grabbing a fistful of Lillian’s hair and tugging with all her might. Lillian howled like a strangled cat. The reporter was busy snapping away as the exchange took place.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Ingrid waded into the cat fight and prised the pair apart. ‘Get inside now and sort yourselves out. You.’ She glared at the reporter as she marched the girls past him. ‘Don’t you dare print those photos.’ She dragged the still sniping bridesmaids into the hotel foyer, ordering the rest of the party to follow. ‘I want this silliness to stop right now. Lindsay is on her way and the last thing she wants to greet her is a pair of bridesmaids brawling in the street.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Richard had been waiting in the foyer and now joined Erin and the children, who were gripping Erin’s hand with a painful ferocity. He looked handsome in his suit and he showed what impeccable manners he possessed when he didn’t so much as smirk when he saw Erin in her ridiculous costume.

  ‘Annie’s just overcome with happiness,’ Erin said. Rita was trying to drag Annie into the loo, while Helen attempted
to fix Lillian’s hair. Her extensions had been wrenched loose, giving her hair a roadkill look.

  ‘It’s a bit of a palaver, isn’t it?’ Richard asked. ‘We won’t have all this when we get married, will we?’

  ‘Don’t start all that. Right now, I’m ready to disown you and your crazy family. Apart from you two.’ Erin put her arms around LuLu and Ralph and gave them a squeeze. ‘You two are the best.’

  ‘Speaking of crazy family …’ Richard pulled Erin to one side, out of earshot of the children. ‘Amanda’s here.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Erin

  Of all the people on the planet, the very last person Erin wanted to see her trussed up like Ballerina Barbie On Crack was Richard’s ex-wife.

  ‘What’s she doing here? Lindsay can’t stand her.’ Apart from Richard, it was possibly the only thing they had in common.

  ‘Mum invited her.’ Richard gave an apologetic shrug. ‘She says she’s still family.’

  Susan and Amanda were still on friendly terms and often met up for coffee, which Susan delighted in relaying to Erin. Amanda was like a daughter to her, apparently, and it didn’t seem to matter that it had been Amanda who’d left Richard and started divorce proceedings. The woman was a saint in the (treacherous) eyes of Richard’s mum.

  ‘Can’t I call it quits and go home?’ Erin looked down at her outfit. Amanda was going to love this.

  ‘I think you look great.’ Richard gave another apologetic shrug when Erin caught his eye. ‘Okay, not great. Quite ridiculous, really.’ Richard chuckled as Erin nudged him with her elbow. ‘But beautiful. Always beautiful.’

  ‘You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend and you’d also quite like to have sex sometime this century.’

  ‘But it’s also true.’ Richard wrapped his arms around Erin and kissed her (but not too passionately. His children were present and they didn’t want to see that).

  ‘She’s here!’

  There was a flurry of tutus as the bridesmaids charged towards the door to get a glimpse of the bride as she arrived in her carriage. Even Annie popped out of the loo to have a gander, although her face was filled with rage rather than wonder. Ingrid took charge, bellowing orders as she arranged everybody in their rightful places. Lindsay and Kelvin stepped into the foyer and Erin instantly felt better about herself. Lindsay’s dress was definitely worse than her own, especially as Lindsay had added a diamanté-encrusted garter, which was on show thanks to her minuscule dress.