by R J Gould
The Engagement Party
R J Gould
Wayne and Clarissa are a young London couple whose immediate families are about to meet for the first time.
Trying to create harmony between the parents is hard enough, but in this case there are eight parents, step-parents, and partners to cope with.
Wayne comes from a working class background and Clarissa, an upper-middle class one. They are deeply in love but tensions arising from the forthcoming gathering have created a rift, and it’s touch and go whether their relationship is strong enough to survive the event.
With more than just an engagement on the line, can these two families come together – or will their differences rip them all apart?
Clarissa and Wayne
To celebrate our engagement we invite you
to join us at the
Manor Lodge Hotel, Worplesdon
Sunday 23rd January at 12.30 p.m.
RSVP: Clarissa [email protected]
or Wayne [email protected]
Who’s invited:
Wayne’s family
His mother
Carol Collingwood
His father
Thomas Briggs
His stepfather
Jack Collingwood
His stepmother
Margaret Briggs
His sister
Lil Briggs-Collingwood
Clarissa’s family
Her mother
Fiona Derbyshire
Her father
Reginald Montague
Her stepfather
Henry Derbyshire
Her father’s partner
Suzie Ambrose
CONTENTS
Saturday 15th January
Clarissa Montague
Wayne Briggs
Lil Briggs-Collingwood
Jack Collingwood
Carol Collingwood
Jack Collingwood
Carol Collingwood
Henry Derbyshire
Fiona Derbyshire
Henry Derbyshire
Fiona Derbyshire
Reginald Montague
Suzie Ambrose
Reginald Montague
Thomas Briggs
Margaret Briggs
Thomas Briggs
Wayne Briggs
Clarissa Montague
Wednesday 19th January
Lil Briggs-Collingwood
Carol Collingwood
Jack Collingwood
Fiona Derbyshire
Henry Derbyshire
Fiona Derbyshire
Henry Derbyshire
Clarissa Montague
Wayne Briggs
Suzie Ambrose
Reginald Montague
Margaret Briggs
Thomas Briggs
Margaret Briggs
Thomas Briggs
Wayne Briggs
Sunday 23rd January
Carol Collingwood
Jack Collingwood
Lil Briggs-Collingwood
Reginald and Suzie
Fiona and Henry
Reginald and Suzie
Thomas and Margaret
Fiona and Henry
Thomas, Margaret, Carol, Jack, and Lil
Reginald, Suzie, Fiona, and Henry
Wayne and Clarissa
Thomas, Margaret, Carol, Jack, and Lil
Reginald, Suzie, Fiona, and Henry
Everyone - Starters
Everyone - Main Course
Everyone - Desserts
Women’s Contemporary Fiction
Saturday 15th January
Clarissa Montague
‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy, dear,’ her mother had said when she’d broken the news of their engagement. It had been a statement of great craft in indicating the exact opposite of what the combination of words superficially suggested. It was accompanied by the look that Clarissa had been subjected to many times over the years – smile to smirk to frown to smirk to smile. She knew exactly what was implied; “you silly girl, you’ve made another wrong decision and I’ll be the one who has to pick up the pieces.”
‘Have you told your father yet?’ she then asked, all part of the post-divorce competition for attention and preferential treatment. Clarissa ignored the question, not wanting to give her mother the pleasure of knowing that her father had still to meet her fiancé. That evening she’d popped in to give him the news.
‘Where does he work?’ he’d asked, ahead of even knowing the man’s name.
‘He delivers sandwiches,’ she’d replied with mischievous deliberation. There followed a rare moment of paternal speechlessness. ‘His name is Wayne,’ she’d added. Her father had responded with a patronising nod, indicating that he thought the name highly appropriate to the trade.
Clarissa recognised that her father was a complete and utter snob and her mother was a close second. And if pushed she would happily admit that she was too – a product of her parents, enhanced by fourteen years at prestigious independent girls schools. She was well versed in the subtle nuances of dress, style, behaviour, and expectations that went with upper-middle class status. Her ‘you can have everything you want’ only-child upbringing was poles apart from Wayne’s experience of relative poverty, a broken home, bog standard comprehensive schooling, and a flight from education at sixteen. Although her parents had also separated, it wasn’t the same as for Wayne – for a start the split hadn’t brought on any money problems.
From the outset she had been sure their differences in background would never be a threat to their relationship, but perhaps now she was just a little less confident than she had been before they’d starting planning their engagement party.
It was Saturday. Just eight days then it would all be over and they could relegate their families to deserved low-level status.
She’d been woken by the sound of his tacky mobile phone alarm – a dog barking and refusing to give up. Just when you thought it had packed it in, the infuriating pseudo-yaps repeated at louder and louder volume.
‘Wayne, turn that bloody thing off,’ she yelled for the second time.
Her left eyelid was fluttering uncontrollably, a movement that kick started whenever she was stressed. Her Achilles eyelid.
Bark, bark, bark.
‘Wayne!’
‘Sorry,’ came a weak mumble, barely audible through the closed door.
When he’d chosen the barking alarm they had shared the joke. Now she found herself analysing his choice in terms of lack of taste. There was no way any of her ex-boyfriends would have dreamt of being woken up by the sound of a dog – not Charles or William or Sebastian or Christopher or Roland. And certainly not Si, either. Class was rearing its ugly head and she was finding things about Wayne annoying that had never bugged her before. She had to escape her growing intolerance.
She did feel just a little guilty about her harshness in kicking Wayne out. However, the ban from the bedroom was entirely his fault. He was usually so compliant, and went along with whatever she said or did. They had never argued, not until now. Well, this wasn’t exactly an argument – more him getting on her nerves going on and on with her spitefully snapping back.
Wayne had completed his fourth night in exile. She could appreciate why he was suffering from lack of sleep; the sofa was far too narrow and short for him. She’d peeped out when she’d woken up in the middle of the night and watched him fidget, his knees bent as he struggled to get comfortable. She heard his sighs and groans as she lay restlessly in bed, endeavouring to dispel her own fears. Her mechanisms for blanking out the high chance of disaster at the forthcoming engagement party were not working and she blamed Wayne for nurturing her high anxiety.
Clarissa stretched out diagon
ally across the king-sized bed and buried her face in the goose down pillow.
Two hours. Zero, one, two. It’s just for two hours, she chanted slowly and quietly, as rising panic gathered momentum to accelerate her eyelid flutter. Zero, one, two. Zero, one, two. She’d been told about the benefits of deep breathing and chanting during a session with a child psychologist when she was fifteen. There was some nastiness at school with a plot to marginalise her, led by Chloe. All sorts of bitchy things were said, and at one stage no one but the weediest of girls would sit next to her in class. Break times were awful, standing alone, crying while her ex-friends laughed. In the end it was resilience rather than psychiatry that helped – gradually she had won back her friendships, picking them off one by one and successfully turning them against Chloe. Zero, one, two.
Last Tuesday morning had been the final straw with Wayne. They’d been sitting in the kitchen having a quick breakfast before work, she feeling pleasantly relaxed after sex followed by a good night’s sleep.
‘Clarissa, I can’t see why we’re doing this,’ Wayne had challenged for the umpteenth time.
Clarissa took a sip of cappuccino as she considered a new line of attack – or was it defence? ‘Because my mum is desperate for it and my dad is happy to pay.’
‘That’s hardly a reason. It’s the “we” I’m talking about. Why are we doing it?’
‘We’ve been over this a hundred times, Wayne. Our parents have got to meet at some stage and an engagement party is as good a way as any. It’ll only be for a couple of hours. Hardly time for a disaster, is it?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Look, Wayne, it’s done. Period. We’re not going to cancel, so either make the most of it, or don’t bother to come and I’ll go alone.’ Rat-tat-tat went Clarissa’s left eyelid.
Wayne stood, walked around to Clarissa’s side of the table, lifted up her mane of jet black hair, and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck. He turned to face her.
‘You’re right, that’s it then. No more moaning, I promise.’ He planted a kiss on her lips. Clarissa expected a longer embrace but Wayne backed away. ‘Though if you don’t mind one final thing. I’ve had Lil on at me for not inviting her to the party for our friends. You know she’ll hate the parents do.’
Clarissa saw red. Wayne’s sister was thick, a tart, devoid of social skills, and malicious. There was no way Lil was going to be given the opportunity to mess up the event that she was planning for her friends. ‘Right, that’s it, Wayne!’
She leapt up, stormed to the bedroom to collect her things, grabbed what she needed, slammed the bedroom door behind her, strode across the lounge to the front door, then slammed that one shut, leaving without a goodbye. Later that morning she sent Wayne a text: i am fed up with u, keep out the bedroom 2nite.
And for four nights he’d kept out. To his credit, in their brief curt exchanges over meals he hadn’t mentioned the forthcoming event, but that hadn’t stopped her becoming increasingly edgy about the engagement party and she held Wayne responsible for making her feel that way.
However, four days was enough of a punishment and it was probably time to let him back in. Anyway, she was missing him. So when he gently knocked on the bedroom door that Saturday morning she resolved to be tranquil and loving.
‘What do you want, Wayne?’ she snapped. He couldn’t expect her to change tone instantaneously.
‘I just wondered whether you’d like a cup of tea, Clarissa.’
‘That’s sweet of you, but no thanks. I’ll get up too, let’s have breakfast together.’
Half an hour later they were at the table just like they’d been on Tuesday; sitting in the same chairs, the same crockery laid out, the croissants and coffee set out by Wayne as per usual. Everything back to how it was, how it should be. Being a Saturday there was no work to rush off to. They made light and friendly conversation about Wayne’s eviction. Their shared difficulty in getting to sleep. Missing each other with severe sex deprivation. Wayne having to wear the same clothes too often as he didn’t want to get to the wardrobe in the early mornings while she was still asleep just in case he disturbed her. Clarissa joking about wading through his dirty clothes strewn across the lounge floor.
Wayne took a gulp of cappuccino, which left a milk foam line on his upper lip. Clarissa smiled as she lifted her serviette.
‘Look at you. Come here,’ she said with affection as she leaned across the table and dabbed his mouth. She blew him a flamboyant kiss before sitting back down and taking a bite of croissant. Flakes of pastry adhered to her left cheek.
‘My turn,’ Wayne said, as he stood and walked to her side of the table, serviette in hand. But instead of wiping it he licked her cheek and ate the crumbs.
Clarissa looked up. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too, Riss.’
Clarissa smiled as Wayne returned to his side of the table. She lifted yesterday’s newspaper and began to read the film and music reviews.
Wayne stood up again. ‘If you’re reading I’ll get my book. It’s been stowed away in the bedroom since I was banished, I’ve pretty well forgotten what it’s about.’
Wayne Briggs
In the bedroom, Wayne reached across to grab the crime novel on his side table before collapsing onto the bed, sinking into the mattress and savouring its softness. He was desperate to get back and was confident that he’d be welcomed that night. He rolled across to the foot of the bed to inspect a tiny black satin thong with little purple flowers and a matching bra. He didn’t recognise them but they were enough to make him rather keen to return to bed with Clarissa.
He looked across to the small dressing table, as usual untidily laden with jars, pots, tubes, cases, and sticks of make-up. Applying make-up was a drawn-out and complicated procedure for Clarissa. His previous girlfriends had just slapped on some red lipstick and black eyeliner, and usually a bit of fake tan. It was different with Clarissa. She made extensive use of several large designer bags, full to the brim. Today was more untidy than usual, all the contents of one of the bags had been tipped out. He smiled as he read labels. Suede Sensation Mousse Eye. Bronze Goddess Soft Shimmer. Sumptuous Bold Volume Lifting Mascara. Double Wear Stay-in-Place Lip Duo. Colour Surge Butter Shine Lipstick.
Although their families lived less than ten miles apart, their backgrounds were a million miles away. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter – their love was genuine. Much was physical, and when they were thinking about getting married they’d talked a lot about the possibility that maybe it was just that. He knew it was more and that Clarissa felt the same. They’d got as far as talking about having kids. Waynettes, she’d mocked. When he’d suggested forming a girl band, Clarissa and the Waynettes, they’d laughed ’til it hurt as they sang Britney duets until a neighbour banged on the wall.
Wayne believed in fate and their first meeting had to be just that. He was helping out a mate by delivering sandwiches. He’d moved from job to job since leaving school after completing his GCSEs and nothing that he tried felt right. Most recently he’d had a go with a small firm of decorators, but found the endless painting boring. Before that, he was a stock controller at a local DIY store, and if the decorating was boring, then stock control was mind-numbingly tedious. So there he was, driving around North and Central London in a white van with ‘Rumbling Tummies’ written in large, ornate, green lettering on its side panels, and below it in a smaller font, ‘Healthy Tasty Organic Food’. He had an embarrassing T-shirt to match, the Rumbling Tummies positioned low down across his stomach and the other lettering on the back.
Clarissa’s office was a large, open plan one on the top floor of a modern block near Soho. Everyone in it seemed young, no one much older than him, and all wearing what looked like expensive, designer label clothes. He’d noticed her the instant he walked in, and she’d caught him looking and smiled. Like a little kid planning how he could approach a first girlfriend he moved around the office, edging towards her and hoping she intended to buy his sandwich
es.
‘Where’s Jane, then?’ were her first words.
‘She’s not well. I’m just helping out.’
‘What’s good today?’ she asked.
He wanted to say ‘me’ but stuck to the etiquette. ‘It’s all good, but if it was me I’d go for the tuna and sweetcorn on multigrain.’
‘OK, that’s what I’ll have then.’
She paid and that was it.
Luckily, Jane was ill the following day. Wayne impatiently trekked around the other offices, nothing more than a chore en route to reaching Clarissa’s workplace in the hope that she would be there and he could pluck up the courage to take the conversation beyond the relative merits of brie and mozzarella.
She beckoned him over, bought a sandwich, a fruit salad, a packet of crisps and a muffin, then asked if he wouldn’t mind taking her food to the kitchen area, which he agreed to do. She followed him in.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me out then?’ she said when they got there, which made what he was desperate to say rather easy.
‘Excuse me, miss, and forgive my boldness, but would you care to go out with me?’ he proposed with mock humility.
‘I think I will take up your offer, kind sir. And when might that be?’ she replied, taking on the role of a well-to-do heroine in a Jane Austen novel.
‘What y’a doin’ tonoyt?’ he asked, replicating Dick Van Dyke’s Cockney accent in Mary Poppins.
It had been a whirlwind romance, and within a month of meeting he’d accepted her suggestion to move into her flat. They were remarkably well-suited and at ease in each other’s company from the word go. Laughter was one thing they had in common. They both came from broken homes and much of the laughter was directed at their families. Parents were just about tolerated but the new partners were prime targets for ridicule.
His thoughts were interrupted by Clarissa’s call. ‘Wayne, what are you doing in there?’
‘Just thinking about you in the sexy underwear I’ve just seen,’ he replied as he stepped back into the lounge.