by Anna Bell
This DVD thing is marvellous. Maybe I should record all my life stories and woes on to disk and then I won’t have to tell the same stories over and over again.
I know I should probably be in the room watching it with her, but I can’t bear to hear my pleas to Mark again. It seems so much worse now that I know he’s probably watched it and it hasn’t moved him enough to come to me.
I unzip the garment bag and I gasp again at how beautiful the dress is. I’m so stupid. Why did I ever think I needed to have a dress worth thousands of pounds? Right now I’d marry Mark in a potato sack. I’ll tell you what, a potato sack and Louboutins would look fierce. OK, so potato sack and bare feet would be fine too. I know now, too late, that it doesn’t matter.
‘Has Mark seen that?’
I look up and see that my mum is standing in the doorway of the spare room.
‘Lou gave him a copy but I don’t know if he’s watched it or not. He thinks I was having an affair with Josh!’
‘The guy with the gorgeous eyes from the video?’
I nod. I don’t appear to be the only person fixated with his eyes.
‘And he wouldn’t listen to you when you told him you weren’t?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him.’
‘Penny, you’re getting married tomorrow. You’ve got your rehearsal in eight hours’ time. What if he doesn’t turn up?’
‘I don’t know.’
Oh my God. The rehearsal! With everything going on I’d completely forgotten about the rehearsal. Being jilted on your wedding day at the altar would be bad enough, but how am I going to get through the rehearsal? How am I going to explain the missing groom to Reverend Phillips? I don’t think I’m going to be able to convince him it is part of my ‘don’t tell the groom’; he wasn’t very impressed with that whole idea.
We’ve only invited our parents and the bridal party to the church, plus Mark’s brother to sort out the photography. Will Mark’s family even turn up?
I’ve been speaking to his mum on the phone every day and she knows only slightly more than me. Apparently Mark has told her that he’s OK. I don’t really want to analyse what OK means; I don’t have the energy.
My mum looks at her watch.
‘We’ve got so much to do today. We’ve got to sort out your cakes and drop those off at the reception venue. We’ve also got to get you sorted out. Look at your nails,’ she says, in horror. She yanks my hand up with such ferocity that I think she is going to rip my arm out of its socket.
‘What’s the point, Mum? What’s the point if I can’t get Mark to come?’
‘Penelope, if you thought in your heart of hearts that he wasn’t going to show up then you would have cancelled the wedding. What we’ve got to do is focus on getting this wedding ready and getting Mark to watch the video.’
‘How come you’re not shouting at me for what I did?’
‘Penny, we all make mistakes. Your gran once gambled the housekeeping money on bingo and we all had to eat bread-and-butter pudding for a week.’
Blimey, thank God that wasn’t me. I hate bread-and-butter pudding.
‘Anyone would be able to see on that video how much it hurt you and changed you for the better. I mean, I’m so impressed with your wedding planning skills on a budget. I’m going to ignore the fact that you should have been able to confide in me, and that you should have told Mark. But darling, I’m proud of you.’
‘You are?’
My mum sits down on the bed next to me and puts her arms around my shoulders.
‘Yes. You had an addiction and you had a problem and you sorted them both out. You also didn’t want to hurt Mark and I think he’ll understand your motivations, even if they were misguided.’
I can’t believe that my mum just said she’s proud of me. She’s never said that to me. Not when I graduated with my 2:1 from university and not when I beat off stiff competition to get my perfect HR job. I’ve never doubted that she was proud of me, but to hear it out loud is the boost to my confidence that I need.
It is also the kick up the bum I need to get me into the shower and to wash off last night’s make-up. Within an hour I’ve deep-conditioned my hair, had a bath, and I’m ready to play the part of blushing bride-to-be. I don’t really feel like it, but at least I look the part.
Having my mum around is just brilliant. I wish I’d had her over for the rest of this miserable week. Usually I’d take it as an insult if she came round and got the Hoover out, but today I practically smother her with a gigantic hug. Not only has she cleaned my house, helped me take everything to the reception and driven me to the flower wholesalers, but she has also deposited me at a beauty salon.
I tried to protest but she told me that my eyebrows were nearly as bad as Professor Dumbledore’s. I’ve now had my eyebrows plucked and shaped, my toenails painted, and I’m having my nails done; I’m beginning to feel just a little bit special.
‘Are you nervous about getting married in front of all those people?’ asks the woman buffing my nails.
I don’t want to tell her I am nervous that I won’t be getting married in front of all those people. I also don’t have the strength to tell her the truth or have the DVD with me to play for her.
‘No, it’s going to be totally awesome.’
Yes, I do think I’m from The Hills. It seems like when I lie I turn into an American reality TV star. Next I’ll be saying ‘totes’ and ‘amazeballs’ and every other word Mark has banned from the house.
‘What’s your dress like? Is it all big and princessy?’
‘No.’ I laugh. ‘It’s really demure and almost Grecian.’
‘I bet it’s lovely.’
‘It is.’ I’m trying not to think that there’s a possibility that I’m never going to put that dress on.
‘So are you going anywhere nice on your honeymoon?’
‘I’m going to Mexico.’
That much is true. My name is on the ticket. I am going to Mexico. It might just mean that I am weeping into my cocktails alone all day, but I don’t care. What better thing to do to mope over your wedding that never was than to go on holiday? To a couples hotel surrounded, no doubt, by newly-weds. I really hadn’t thought that one through.
‘I’d love to go to Mexico. You’re so lucky.’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
I think my mum has slipped something in my tea. I’ve always had my suspicions that she’s on Valium, as she’s always so perky and happy. How else do I explain why I’m not in tears at this Spanish inquisition the nail technician is giving me?
‘You all right, love?’ asks my mum.
Thank goodness she has shown up to rescue me.
‘Hi, Mum. Did you manage what you had to do?’
‘Mission accomplished. I’ll just wait for you over there.’
I don’t know where my mum went. She just said she had some business to take care of. I hope that was code for she had secretly tracked down Mark and given him a smack up the arse, but I think that is probably too much to hope for.
‘Right, you are all set,’ says the nail technician. ‘Just be careful you don’t do too much or you might chip the polish. Now have an amazing day and don’t forget to come and bring us pictures of it!’
‘Thank you so much! And of course I’ll bring pictures.’
They may be of me eating the cake by myself in consolation, but I’m sure tomorrow, one way or another, there will be pictures.
‘Right then, love. Time for the rehearsal?’ asks Mum.
I nod. There’s no use trying to be late for that. At least one half of the happy couple should show up.
I expect the church to be empty when I walk in, but it is far from it. Lou and Russell are here, Mark’s parents are sitting in the front row. Mark’s brother Howard and his wife Caroline and their children are sitting behind his parents, and my dad and my sister are chatting over the other side of the aisle.
Nanny Violet is standing next to Reverend Phillips and upon seeing me she giv
es me an incredibly guilty look.
‘Ah, Penelope. I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting a bit worried,’ says Reverend Phillips. ‘Mark not with you?’
My heart sinks. I knew it was a long shot that he was going to be here, but I couldn’t quite help hoping that he would show up.
‘Don’t tell me, Penelope that you’re going along with this “don’t tell the groom” thing still? I thought I told you that the church couldn’t be part of that.’
‘I …’
I hear the door of the church go and my stomach somersaults at the thought that it is Mark. I turn to see Phil walking in.
‘Sorry, sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.’
Phil walks straight up to me and kisses me on the cheek as he would normally, and he carries on walking to the top of the aisle.
‘Where’s Mark?’ he asks, realising that Mark is nowhere to be seen.
Oh my God. Phil doesn’t know. Mark left five nights ago and he hasn’t told his best friend. Where the hell is Mark? And what is he playing at?
I’m about to open my mouth and tell the truth. Enough is enough. I know that I’m hoping that Mark turns up tomorrow but I just have to accept that he isn’t going to. He would have turned up to the rehearsal if he was planning to marry me. I have to face facts.
‘He’s—’ I say.
‘He’s got food poisoning,’ says Howard, talking right over me. ‘We went out for a curry last night and I guess his prawns weren’t cooked.’
Howard is talking to Phil but looking straight at me.
‘Oh dear, oh dear. Well, this isn’t the first time we’ve had to do a wedding rehearsal without the groom. Usually it’s when they’ve had the stag do a couple of nights before the wedding, but you know, these things happen,’ says Reverend Phillips.
‘I’ll stand in for Mark,’ says Mark’s dad.
I look at my mum and she’s giving me a two-thumbs-up hand gesture. I don’t really know what she’s done, but I somehow think that Mark’s family’s behaviour is all down to her.
‘Splendid, splendid. Right then, positions, people. Now, father of the bride you come and stand at the end of the aisle with your daughter.’
My dad walks down the aisle as happy as ever. Maybe mum has got him on the Valium too. I should really only accept water from her from now on.
‘You look lovely, dear,’ he says, as he links arms with me.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Right, then. The organist will start to play and you will walk up.’
As if by magic the organist that I hadn’t even realised was there starts to play the wedding march. I can feel my whole body tingling in the way that it has in so many of my wedding fantasies. I have to admit, though, that this isn’t quite like any wedding fantasy I’ve ever had. For starters, I was never walking up the aisle towards Mark’s dad.
I realise just how wrong it is that Mark’s dad is standing in for Mark when I have to say my vows. Let’s skip over the bit where I practically choke saying ‘for richer for poorer’ and jump to the bit where I tell Mark’s dad ‘all that I am I share with you’. My cheeks go as purple as my hair once was. This is not how it is supposed to be.
‘You’re now allowed to kiss the bride,’ says Reverend Phillips.
I look at Mark’s dad in horror, and luckily he looks equally as perturbed.
‘Only joking,’ says Reverend Phillips. ‘I don’t actually like the bride and groom to kiss in the church. It isn’t part of the ceremony as far as I’m concerned.’
Phew. Not that I’d not want to snog Mark, but I draw the line at his dad.
‘Right, then. Penelope, you and Mark will now be married and I’ll take you through that door to sign the register. Who are your witnesses?’
‘Lou and Phil.’
‘Great. Bridesmaid and best man. Keeps it easy for me. So we all sign the register and then I bring you back here in front of the congregation and I announce you to the church.’
Mark’s dad has linked arms with me and we turn and face the others. They politely clap and it’s then that it hits me that Mark should be here. I can’t believe he’s missing out on this. A tear threatens to roll down my cheek, but I don’t let it out. I very deliberately applied non-waterproof mascara this morning as a tear-prevention method. It is proving most effective. Sadly the inside of my mouth is taking quite a beating as I have to keep biting my cheek to distract myself from crying with the pain.
We walk back down the aisle and everyone claps and waves and I try to join in the jolly mood, but I can’t. I know that Mark’s family are playing along fantastically but what is the point if Mark isn’t going to show up? Are we just delaying the inevitable?
I turn and thank Reverend Phillips and he says he will pray for Mark’s speedy recovery. It makes me feel terrible that one little lie has meant that we’ve lied to the man upstairs, which surely will result in me going to hell.
Reverend Phillips ushers us out into the fresh air and I start to hug everyone goodbye. Lou gives me a big hug and a squeeze and whispers to call her tonight if I need to. Phil gives me another kiss and as he’s leaving I see my mum slip him a DVD. Great. Is there anyone who isn’t going to know my secret?
Before I can skulk back over to the safety of the car and have a good cry, which is all I want to do, Mark’s mum grabs my arm and pulls me off into the graveyard.
‘Have you seen him?’ I whisper. I suddenly feel like I’m a spy in a movie, as the last thing I want is for Reverend Phillips to find out Mark’s absence was a lie.
‘No. I’ve had texts from him and I keep telling him to talk to you but he doesn’t reply to those texts.’
‘He hasn’t said anything about a video?’ I ask.
‘No, sorry, Penny. Your mum showed it to us. It was lovely. Well, not your gambling, you silly girl, but the message.’
I smile at Rosemary. I hope that Mark does turn up as I want more than anything to have someone as nice as her as my mother-in-law.
‘I just want Mark to see it,’ I say.
That was all I wanted when I made the video.
‘I think I can help with that,’ says Nanny Violet.
I’m sure that woman has stealth mode as I didn’t see her approach.
‘What are you going to do?’ I don’t think I really want to know what she has up her sleeve.
‘Don’t you worry about that. Just you make it to the church on time. He’ll be here, don’t you worry.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As the day is long.’
I’ve never really understood that as a phrase but Nanny Violet is my last shot.
‘Thanks, Violet. I really appreciate it.’
‘Penny, it is the least I can do. I fear that I made the whole situation worse.’
I don’t want to argue with that. Although if I hadn’t gambled in the first place there wouldn’t have been a situation, but I’m not going to argue over potayto potahto.
‘I really do appreciate it,’ I say.
‘I know you do, dear. I saw the video.’
Is there anyone who hasn’t seen the video? Ironically, probably Mark, the person who the video was actually for.
‘Don’t you worry, Penny. This time tomorrow you’ll be Mrs Robinson too,’ says Mark’s mum.
Not even The Lemonheads going round in my head can make me smile. Instead, it just feels like it is taunting me. I wish I shared the Robinson women’s faith that Mark will show up. Right now any hope I had is fading fast.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Here I am, about to climb into the jeep that is going to take me to the church, on what should have been the happiest day of my life. Yet it feels like my most miserable day. I’ve still not heard from Mark and I have no idea whether he is going to be waiting for me by the altar.
Maybe I should have accepted drinks from my mother after all. Fearful of her drugging me up to the eyeballs, I’ve been making my own drinks all day. And even the champagne I drank, that would usually have
had me giggling and giddy, made me feel sick.
‘You look beautiful,’ says Ted.
‘Thank you.’
In all my fantasies this is the bit where I would twirl round and milk the compliments as, after all, this day is all about me, but I can’t. I know I look pretty good. My sister has done an amazing job with my make-up. She’s even managed to hide my red eyes that looked so puffy and swollen when I got up it was as if I’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Lou has pinned my hair up in a side bun with a plain hair clip that she bought in John Lewis and decorated herself with diamantes and pearls.
‘You look like a young Sophia Loren,’ says Ted.
I smile as best as I can and I wonder just how I am going to get into the jeep in my dress. As if reading my mind, Ted pulls a kick step from the back seat. He places it down in front of me and takes my hand.
I hoist up my dress, which looks really classy, let me tell you, and I climb in. Ted has even covered the seats with tissue paper. I hope that he asked Cathy the curator before he stole it as it looks a lot like the expensive conservation type she uses.
I notice that he has even tied white wedding ribbon to the bonnet and the side mirrors. I remember that I need to make a wish when I see a wedding car and I close my eyes and make it. Now I can’t tell you what I wished for or it won’t come true, but I bet you might just be able to guess what it was.
‘Ready?’ says Ted.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
The jeep starts noisily and I cling on for dear life as it travels jerkily down the road. What should have been a fifteen-minute drive from our house seems to take a lot longer with the engine nearly conking out every time we stop at traffic lights.
By the time we make it to the church I don’t know whether I feel sick with nerves or whether it is the post-adrenalin rush of holding my breath every time Ted pulled out in front of a car at a dodgy junction. Which happened a lot.
Ted, ever the gentlemen, comes and helps me out of the jeep. Lou and my sister walk straight up to coo over the jeep. I keep forgetting that they didn’t know about it.