by Jane Green
“Ellie!” Linda turns to me, and, as she puts her arms around me, I think how wrong Fran is, how lucky I am to have someone like Linda, and how I could never possibly hate her, no matter what she does.
“We’ve brought champagne,” Michael says, as Dan and I exchange looks, neither of us saying a word.
“Do you have champagne flutes?” Linda and Michael disappear into the kitchen while I shake my head at Dan.
“We have wineglasses,” he says, looking at me for confirmation. I nod.
“Oh, well, at least we’ll be able to tell people what to buy you for an engagement present,” Linda laughs.
Engagement presents? What engagement presents? What on earth is she talking about? Wedding presents I expect, of course, but I’d never heard of engagement presents.
I look at Dan, who shrugs. Clearly he doesn’t know either.
Linda and Michael walk back in with four wineglasses and the open champagne bottle. They pour and hand out the glasses, and we all raise them in a toast.
“To Dan and Ellie,” Michael says, as we smile and I pretend to sip, although the very smell of the stuff is turning my stomach ever so slightly.
“Now, there’s something your father and I want to discuss with you.” She looks first at Dan, and then at me. “I know that traditionally the bride’s family pays for the wedding…” I keep a straight face because we are, after all, living at the beginning of the twenty-first century, not in the 1960s, and, to be honest, I’d presumed that, my own family circumstances notwithstanding, Dan and I would pay for the wedding ourselves.
“…but your father and I sat down and talked about it and we would like to pay for the wedding. No, I don’t want to hear anything different. We know that you’ll want to move out of this tiny flat and get something bigger, so you should be saving your money for that. We won’t take no for an answer,” she finishes triumphantly.
Dan looks at me to gauge my reaction. I look back at him to try to gauge his.
“Um, thank you,” he falters nervously before I leap in to save him.
“Thank you!” I go over and give each of them a kiss. “That’s the most wonderful gift you could have given us. You’re absolutely right about our wanting to move, and this is the best start for our married life. I can’t believe your generosity.”
Linda looks thrilled. “Wonderful.” She claps her hands together. “Oh, my goodness, so much to do, I hardly know where to start. We did agree on a winter wedding, didn’t we, Ellie?”
I swallow while nodding my head. She is paying for my entire wedding—what right do I have to request anything she might disagree with? And anyway, Sally did say spring weddings were done, and I’m sure it will be lovely.
“We’ll have to start making lists,” she continues. “There’s the venue, the caterers, the flowers—oh, I hear wonderful things about Absolute these days. Oh, and the church. Maybe I should call tomorrow. Let’s see. Claridge’s would be lovely if they’re free, the Connaught’s too small, maybe the Mandarin Oriental. Or we could do Searcy’s.” It is as if someone has pressed the play button and off she went. Linda keeps talking as I watch her in amazement and Dan shrugs.
Nothing that she’s talking about makes sense to me. I didn’t think Dan and I were Claridge’s types. I was thinking more about a small wedding at a register office somewhere, then perhaps a reception at Calden, but Linda hasn’t stopped muttering to herself, and I figure I’ll let her enjoy her dream a little while longer.
Plenty of time to tell her it’s not what we want, that our wedding will be small, that, much as we appreciate their paying for the wedding, it is Dan and I, after all, who are getting married, and that they will have to respect our wishes.
Plenty of time for that.
6
Tom told Dan that planning a wedding was like rolling a tiny snowball down a mountain. The farther along it went the bigger it got until it was completely out of control, and the very best thing Dan could possibly do was stay well out of its way.
And that’s not even taking into account the additional hassle and stress of trying to buy a new flat. I love my flat, but we’ve decided to start afresh with somewhere new, somewhere that’s ours. So I’ve been trying to keep my flat immaculate for viewings—not an easy task, let me tell you—and leafing through pages and pages of estate agents’ details, trying to find time on Saturday mornings to fit in all the viewings.
Three months after getting engaged I have to say I understood exactly what Tom meant.
“That’s why people use someone like me,” Sally huffed, when I confessed how I was feeling. She had finally forgiven me for not using her, but that was only because Linda seemed to have everything in hand and didn’t feel a wedding planner was necessary.
“Darling, if you feel that strongly about it, we can always pay for the wedding ourselves, and then you can do exactly what you want,” Dan would say every time I brought up how little the wedding had to do with us, with me.
“No, I’m not saying that,” I always said, because the costs also seemed to be spiraling out of control, and now that the hotel had been booked, the menus chosen, and the flowers decided, I didn’t want to start again from scratch.
And I felt unable to argue with Linda. Her personality was so forceful that when she’d made a decision, nobody ever seemed to argue with her. Except of course Emma, which was clearly why they didn’t get on.
I’d seen Linda and Emma have some terrifying rows—terrifying because I hated confrontation, because I’d always thought that rowing like that would inevitably lead to abandonment. But a day or so later everything always blew over and they were back to being, if not friends, then mother and daughter.
I loved Emma. One of the joys of marrying Dan was having a ready-made brother and sister, and Dan was so close to them, I suppose it was inevitable that I would be too.
In Emma I found the sister I had always wanted, the best friend I never knew I missed until I met her. I loved how nothing scared her, how everything in life was an adventure, how she never seemed to worry about anything and took pleasure in everything.
Initially I’d just see her on Sundays at Dan’s parents’, but then she’d call to speak to Dan and we’d end up chatting for a bit, and after a while she’d pop in on the weekends, and the more I got to know her the more comfortable I was with her.
We’d meet for lunch at Calden, or one of the neighboring cafés on Marylebone High Street, and she’d fill me in on her glamorous lifestyle and latest men while I tried my best not to be too envious. It wasn’t as if I’d given up a similar lifestyle once I met Dan, more that the possibility was gone: I’d never have the opportunity to go clubbing with the hottest name in pop music, or sleep with the man Cosmopolitan had recently called one of the ten most eligible bachelors in the UK.
Not that I’d ever wanted that. Should I have chosen, I could have hung out in Calden every night, mixing with the stars Emma talked about, the stars you read about in the gossip pages every morning, but even when I had the opportunity I was more interested in having early nights so I could be up early, ready for work the next morning.
I was invited to a school reunion a few years ago and for weeks I seriously thought about going. I was curious to see what my classmates were up to, and yet still felt that not enough time had gone by, knew that as soon as we stepped into the Great Hall we’d instantly revert to the bitchiness and cliquishness of all sixteen-year-old girls.
But mostly I thought about how surprised they would be to see me, to see how I’d turned out. I imagined they would expect me to be more like Emma: a party girl, someone unwilling, or unable, to settle down.
I didn’t go. The thrill of finding out whether they had changed, what they now looked like, didn’t outweigh my fear that they would be disappointed, or surprised, by me.
Sometimes I surprise myself, but I have only ever craved those coke-fueled nights and one-night stands since meeting Dan, and even then I know it’s just because the grass is always
greener, because Emma’s life sounds so fantastic, although I’m sure it wouldn’t make me happy.
Emma phones one Thursday morning around eleven thirty. “Hi, Ellie, it’s me. I’ve just finished gathering clothes in Portland Street and I’m starving. Do you want to have lunch?”
“Definitely.” I look at the Pret A Manger sandwich and Diet Coke sitting on my desk, and decide I could do with a break from the office. “Do you want to come here?”
“Would you mind if we met out? I’ve got a craving for sushi.”
“Sure.” This is yet another of the things I love about Emma. She doesn’t ever say, “Oh, I don’t mind. Where do you want to go?” Just like her mother, she has an opinion on everything, which would bother me more perhaps if she were taking over my wedding, but as it stands it is just another quality of hers that makes me love her.
We meet at a Japanese café a few doors down, and I arrive to find that Emma has bagged one of the few tables in there, platters of sushi already on the table.
“I couldn’t wait,” she says after giving me a hug. “Is this okay? Do you want to get anything else?”
“No, this is fine. Just tell me there’s no eel.”
“Nope, no eel. You’re safe. So, how’s the wedding of the century coming along?” She grins.
“How would I know?” I shrug. “It’s your mother’s wedding.”
Emma starts laughing. “Now you know why I’m never going to get married.”
“No, you can still get married.” I pick up a California roll. “Just elope and do it on your own terms.”
“Hmm. Not a bad idea. Maybe we could fly away to a Caribbean island and do it on a beach.”
“Emma Cooper! Don’t tell me you’ve never done it on a beach.” I feign shock at the double entendre.
Emma laughs. “Of course I’ve done it on a beach. Sandy and very overrated. I just haven’t done that on a beach. But there is something wonderfully romantic about getting married by the water’s edge.”
“Just as long as you don’t go somewhere where you’re the eighth wedding of the day.”
“Like Sandals,” we both say at the same time. And laugh.
“So is she driving you mad?” A slight pause, but we both know who she’s talking about.
“Not mad. Just ever so slightly insane.”
“I have to tell you, she’s my mother, I never had a choice, but you could get out. Seriously, it’s not too late.”
“I know,” I groan. “But then there is Dan, and I know you may not believe this, given that he’s your big brother, but I do actually love him.”
“But are you in love with him?”
“Of course. Why else would I be marrying him?”
“I see.” She nods gravely. “That is something of a problem, then. I guess you’ll just have to learn to live with her like the rest of us.”
“I know, but that’s part of the problem. The rest of you are her children: you can stand up to her, or have those huge rows because you know you’re still going to love one another when it’s all over. You’re still family.”
“And you’re just too damn nice,” Emma says. “You’re terrified she’s going to hate you if you tell her that actually you don’t want topiary trees all over the ballroom.”
“Exactly! So you heard about the topiary trees?”
“Yup. Ridiculous. Completely over the top. Just like my mother.”
“This so isn’t the wedding I want. Can’t you say something to her?” I plead.
“I’ve got enough arguments of my own with her. I’m afraid it’s up to you. But if you do want my advice, I’d have to say don’t be such a people pleaser. You are, after all, the mother of her future grandchildren. She has to be nice to you, and even if you piss her off, she’ll get over it. You’d be far better off if you stood up to her from time to time.”
I don’t say anything. There’s no need because of course she is absolutely right.
“So what does Dan say about all of it?” Emma asks. “I don’t suppose he sticks up for you?”
“Poor Dan. I think he’s in an impossible situation. He says he agrees with me, but when push comes to shove he won’t actually do anything.”
“Yup, that’s my brother,” Emma says.
“I’m serious. He just runs away. He keeps saying he won’t be put in the middle, and that if I have a problem, I have to resolve it directly with her; but as far as I’m concerned he’s my future husband and he should be defending me.”
Emma peers at me through her chopsticks. “If I were you, I’d want to hit him.”
I laugh. “I very often do. Not actually hit him, but think about it.”
“You know of course that Dan and my mother have a special relationship.”
“Please don’t tell me anything disgusting,” I say slowly.
“Oh, God, nothing like that, but I swear to God there is a serious problem with Dan.”
“You mean she’s in love with him?”
“I mean he can do absolutely no wrong in her eyes, and even though I couldn’t say the feeling was completely reciprocated, I do know he loves his position, and he probably wouldn’t do anything to rock the boat.”
“In other words, your family is as fucked up as mine, and I should really be thinking twice before marrying into it?”
“Basically.” Emma shrugs, then laughs when she sees the look of horror on my face. “Ellie, don’t be worried. My family’s no more dysfunctional than any other family I know, and actually I think we’re all doing pretty well, all things considered. Trust me, you could have done a lot worse. Anyway, we have to find a way of getting rid of the topiary trees.”
I groan. “Please don’t remind me.”
“And can you take a longer lunch break? I’m dying to look at the cashmere in Brora.”
Off we went, up and down Marylebone High Street on this cold, crisp September day. Into Brora. And Agnès b. And Rachel Riley. Emma ended up with three shopping bags, and I ended up with nothing.
“By the way, your mum is insisting on taking me wedding dress shopping,” I say, as we finally pause outside Calden to say good-bye.
“I know. And, much as I love the idea of being your bridesmaid, please don’t walk down the aisle in a cream puff.”
“I’ll do my best.” I make a face and then brighten with an idea. “Hey! Why don’t you come with us? I’m hopeless at sticking up for myself with your mother around, but you could do it for me.”
Emma thinks about it. “When are you going?”
“Saturday. She’s got a load of places in the West End and then a couple of places in North London.”
“Okay,” Emma says. “I’ll come and protect you, but in return I want a favor myself.”
“Anything.”
“Put me in peach or lilac and I swear to God I’ll never stick up for you again.”
“Sounds like a deal to me.”
Every time Linda winds me up to the point where I’m dreading seeing her, she does something so unexpected, so lovely, that I forgive her completely and always end up hurt and surprised when she manages to upset me again.
On Saturday morning she comes to pick me up, and, climbing into the car, I almost crush a small box sitting in the middle of the passenger seat.
I pick it up and place it on the dashboard, but Linda says, “Ellie, that’s for you.”
“For me? But why? It’s not my birthday.”
Linda smiles. “I know, but you are engaged, and I kept meaning to give these to you but I was…oh, I’ll tell you when you open them. Open them now and then we’ll go to pick up Emma.”
I open the box to find an incredible pair of diamond flower earrings nestling inside, the most beautiful, delicate earrings imaginable, and immediately I start shaking.
“Oh, my God,” I keep repeating. “Linda, these are beautiful. I can’t accept these.”
Linda looks thrilled. “You can and you will,” she says. “They belonged to my mother, then I wore them to my own weddin
g and now I want you to have them and wear them to yours.”
“But I can’t accept them. You have to save them for Emma.” I try to hand the box to Linda, but she shakes her head. “No, Ellie. I always said that they would go to the first one in the family to get married, and Dan is the first, and you’re now part of our family.”
“But Emma would be devastated,” I splutter, although I’m not sure it’s true, Emma being the kind of girl who is likely to get married on a beach in the Caribbean, doubtless in a bikini with brightly colored crystal earrings. If, that is, she gets married at all.
Linda smiles. “First of all, my darling daughter doesn’t look as if she’s going to be getting married any time in the near future. Second, said darling daughter doesn’t know about these earrings—”
“But that doesn’t mean I should have them,” I interrupt as Linda holds up a hand to stop me.
“Third,” Linda says triumphantly, “I have a beautiful diamond necklace that is far more Emma’s style, and if, please God, the day ever comes that my daughter gets married, she will have the diamond necklace.”
I open the box and look at the earrings again: small solitaire centers with marquise-shaped petals, forming a perfect daisy. “Are you sure?” I whisper, never having seen anything this beautiful outside the window of Cartier. “Are you really sure?”
“I’m really sure,” Linda says, and her delight in giving me this wonderful gift is almost palpable. “But maybe you shouldn’t say anything to Emma just yet.”
“Linda, I don’t know what to say.” I give her an awkward hug. “This is the most incredible present I’ve ever had in my life.”
Emma climbs in the back and leans forward to give first her mother, then me, a kiss on the cheek.
“So what’s new?” she says to the air, as I shoot a nervous glance at Linda, then flush a bright, hot red.
With memories of Basil Fawlty dancing in my mind, I clench my teeth and think, Don’t mention the diamonds. Don’t mention the diamonds.