by Jane Green
There is a bit of an awkward silence, broken by Anna swearing and blushing. “Shit. Oh, God, talk about putting my foot in it. I totally forgot, I mean, I wasn’t thinking…I’ll just shut up, shall I…” She tails off miserably.
“Actually,” Lily intervenes, saving the day as I smile at her gratefully, “I was giving them the secret of getting on with your in-laws, and just for the record, Ellie didn’t say anything about your mother.”
“She didn’t?” Richard is surprised. “Well, she obviously hasn’t been spending enough time with her.”
I resist the urge to give Richard a hug, and suddenly I know that I have an ally in him. That as much as Linda bothers me, she seems to bother Richard and Emma even more, and I now know that if the going ever really gets tough, Richard will support me.
I watch Richard walking out the door. Funny that if I didn’t know them so well, if I had just walked into a room and was faced by Dan and Richard, I would probably choose Richard. In many ways he and I are far more similar, and in some ways perhaps better suited. Except that Dan has a stability I have always craved. I look at Dan and see my future. In his arms I see our children, in his smile I see years of friendship and laughter, and in his voice I hear comfort. Richard is more mercurial, probably more like me, and certainly more like the men I’ve been out with before, but Dan is my rock, and I know that as long as I anchor myself to Dan I will be safe.
And it’s wonderful to know Richard can get as pissed off with his mother as I do, particularly because Dan refuses to get involved. Although I don’t think it will continue like this; I’m sure it will get better. Fran keeps saying that weddings are one of the most stressful events in your life, on a par with moving house. Incidentally, the flat of our dreams has turned out to be a large garden “estate” (agentspeak for basement but never mind) maisonette in leafy Primrose Hill. Thanks to Dan’s recent award and the valuation of my flat, we’ve suddenly found that we have far more money than we’d thought, which means Primrose Hill is no longer somewhere I visit on a Saturday afternoon, wishing I could afford to live there. We’re expecting to have a simultaneous exchange tomorrow, with completion about two weeks after we get back from honeymoon.
So really, is it any wonder things, or people, are getting on my nerves?
9
Come on, Ellie, breathe in more.” Linda huffs and puffs as she pulls the corset of my wedding dress tighter, cursing as the two sides will not meet.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She gives up eventually and stops, probably terrified her impending sweat will ruin her immaculate makeup. “This is ridiculous,” she says, sitting down on Dan’s old bed in her house. “I thought you went for a fitting a couple of weeks ago. How is that dress not fitting you?”
I’m tempted to tell Linda about the baby, use it to throw in her face, but even if we had decided to tell her at some point before we actually got married, an hour before walking down the aisle isn’t exactly perfect timing, not to mention that Dan would kill me if I told his mother without him present.
“I have had the munchies recently,” I say, nonchalantly trying to explain the rapidly expanding waistline.
“The munchies?” Linda says in horror. “Most brides are losing weight, Ellie, not putting it on, for Christ’s sake. What are we going to do?” Her voice rises in near hysteria, while I watch in amazement. Because, though everyone talks about the stress of planning a wedding, though I’ve read practically every article ever written about dealing with the stress of planning a wedding, I haven’t really felt it—apart from the arguments with Dan, inevitably over Linda. And during those times when I managed to distance myself from what was going on, I was strangely fascinated to see Linda becoming more and more wound up as the wedding grew nearer.
And now, as the dress shows little sign of closing, Linda looks as if she’s going to burst into tears.
“I don’t bloody believe it,” she says, her voice wobbling. “Ellie, do you know how much that dress cost? I might as well have taken my money and thrown it down the toilet.” Her voice actually starts to break. “How could you do this to me? How could you get fat on your wedding day?” Jesus Christ. Talk about a drama queen. I almost want to laugh.
Emma, who has set up a mobile hairdressing salon in the corner, takes the final pin out of her mouth, pops it in her chignon, and turns to her mother. “Mum, shut up!” she barks, standing up and gliding over in her champagne silk bridesmaid’s dress. “This is Ellie’s wedding day. Stop being so insensitive.”
“Don’t speak to me like that.” Linda’s voice is again on the rise. “Don’t tell me I’m being insensitive when I’ve spent a fortune on this wedding and the bloody dress doesn’t even fit because the bride doesn’t give a damn what she looks like.”
Charming.
“Will you all just relax?” Emma picks up the laces of my corset and tugs, drawing the fabric together a centimeter farther, but still leaving an inch of tanned skin peeking through the laces. Oh, well, I think to myself, feeling as if I’m watching a farce, at least I had the good sense to book a course of tanning sessions. “Okay, Ellie,” Emma says, taking control, “pass me those stockings.”
Emma doubles, triples, then quadruples the stockings until they are opaque, then lays them gently under the laces against my skin, as Linda sniffs, not wanting to admit how impressed she is with her daughter’s skills.
“There.” Emma finishes tying the laces and stands back, admiring her quick thinking and the finished results, which are, if not perfect, then perfectly fine. As long as I keep my veil on, no one will be any the wiser.
“Okay.” Linda takes a deep breath. “We should all calm down.”
“You mean you should calm down,” Emma whispers to me.
“Thanks, Emma.” I smile gratefully. “You’re amazing.”
“Ellie, turn around, show us.” Linda has managed to regain her composure. She says happily, “You look lovely,” and then glances at her watch and jumps. “Oh, my goodness, it’s nearly four. I’ll run downstairs and see if the car’s here.”
“So.” Emma eyes me up and down. “The munchies?”
“Yup.” I pretend to be busy straightening my skirt, but of course I’m doing my damnedest to avoid looking Emma in the eye.
“I thought you said you’d been eating hardly anything,” Emma presses, raising an eyebrow.
“When did I say that?”
“Last week when we spoke on the phone.”
“Well, I hadn’t, but this week I’ve been starving. I think it’s nerves.”
“But you said you never ate when you were nervous.”
“I lied,” I try lamely, a smile starting to spread, because of course Emma has guessed and I don’t care anymore about keeping it a secret. I want someone else to know.
“You are pregnant, aren’t you?” Emma squeals.
I gesture nervously to the open door. “Don’t tell anyone. We’re keeping it a secret until we get back from the honeymoon, and I’m only ten weeks.”
“I knew it, I knew it.” Emma flings her arms around me, careful not to muss up my veil. “Oh, Ellie, I’m going to be an auntie!”
“I know,” I say, grinning. “But you really mustn’t tell anyone, do you promise? Your mother would have a fit if she thought she wasn’t the first to know.”
“Oh, God, tell me about it. Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.”
“Emma,” I say warningly, knowing that discretion has never been one of her strong points, “do you absolutely swear?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
The wedding may not have been what I had wanted, or rather it may have had almost nothing to do with me, but it was lovely. The flowers—peonies and calla lilies—spectacular in their simplicity, the food delicious, and the band—Dan and I had preferred a DJ, but Linda and Michael insisted on a band—both loud and lively enough to ensure that people danced most of the evening.
As a bystander, which is frankly how I felt, I had to admit it w
as spectacular. Quite the most lavish and extravagant wedding I had ever been to. As a bride, once the ceremony was over, I felt completely removed, as if I were both watching a film and walking on air, not the slightest bit present in the moment.
The ceremony was different. It was the one aspect Linda was not able to control, as Dan and I had written our own wedding vows, and I cried when I saw Dan’s tears welling, his emotion and love for me shining so clear and true when he spoke his words.
Annabel and Sadie were the flower girls, both unbearably cute in their tiny bridesmaid’s dresses, their hair in ponytails, looking ever so serious as they started walking down the aisle, collapsing in giggles halfway down as all the guests grabbed their cameras to take pictures.
And then, almost before I had a chance to take it all in, there we were, husband and wife, and the intimacy and honesty of our ceremony was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size and scope of the party.
The few people who were there whom I could call genuine friends, people like Fran and Marcus, Sally, Lily and Anna, felt like ports in the storm. Whirling around the dance floor, I’d find myself face to face with someone I recognized, smiling at me and spilling over with compliments for me, and I’d again be jolted by the realization that this was my wedding day. My wedding! The fulfillment of all my dreams.
But the biggest shock of all was my father.
I hadn’t expected him to come, hadn’t even really wanted to invite him, if the truth be known. Dan was the one who had insisted I send an invitation, even as I insisted that he had no interest in me anymore, that it would be an invitation wasted, that the only thing that made him my father was blood and that it wasn’t enough. I tried to explain how we had nothing in common now, no love, no friendship, nothing.
I knew it would be a wasted invitation, and yet he came.
My father and his wife sat in the fourth row during the ceremony, all dolled up in their Sunday best, looking dull and dowdy only in comparison with Linda and Michael’s glamorous friends. Each time I looked at them they seemed uncomfortable, and overwhelmed, and—could I have imagined this?—proud, all at the same time.
Of course I went straight over to him at the reception and gave him an awkward hug, because we both knew that there was little left between us. “Hello, Dad,” I said, pulling back in astonishment to see tears in his eyes.
I stood in shock as my father choked up, repeating, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He reached for my hand and held on tight as his wife retreated into the background, leaving the two of us together. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you.” And I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all, just breathed a sigh of relief when someone whisked me away for more photographs.
Later, after the speeches, everyone stopped talking as a middle-aged, balding man in a suit that had clearly seen better days took the microphone and tapped it nervously.
“I know you weren’t expecting another speech,” said my father while I cringed, knowing this wasn’t planned, completely embarrassed about what was going on. He cleared his throat nervously, and drew two index cards out of his pocket. “But Ellie is my daughter and I just wanted to say a few words.
“At 3:27 A.M., on the second of September 1970, Eleanor Sarah was welcomed to this world. My wife was in labor for twelve hours and fourteen minutes while I paced up and down the hallway.” He paused. “In those days we men did the manly thing and waited outside.” He got a laugh, which boosted his confidence, and as he continued, the quaver in his voice disappeared. “A nurse came out and handed me this little bundle, and I looked down at the tiny creature who was screaming, and she stopped crying and looked into my eyes, and at that moment I understood what everyone meant when they said you never loved anything like you love your child.” He stopped and looked through the tables, through the guests who knew what he was talking about, the guests who were younger, who didn’t have children and had yet to learn, and he found me and we locked eyes, and all of a sudden I was filled with an unbearable sense of loss and grief. Grief for the father I hadn’t known, for these feelings of his that I hadn’t known existed, and for the unexpected pleasure and pride in having him speak at my wedding.
“I have not been the best father to Ellie,” he said, as I felt a lump in my throat and a tear slide slowly down my left cheek. “Her mother died when she was very young.” There was a rustle as people looked at one another, surprised, few of them knowing this, few of them knowing anything about me other than that I was marrying Linda’s son. “And, looking at her today, I’m reminded of my own wedding to her mother. Ellie, you won’t remember this, but you look just like her now. You have her beauty, her sparkle, her love of life.” He paused as people cheered, not realizing the impact his words were having on me. “I didn’t know what to do with a thirteen-year-old daughter,” he admitted sadly. “I loved her so much but I didn’t know how to help her. But what I didn’t know then, I know now, and Ellie, I want to pass those lessons on to you and Dan, I want you to know all the things I learned too late. I know that love isn’t enough. That you have to cherish the people you love, that saying I love you isn’t ever enough, that you have to show that love each and every day, even when life threatens to get in the way.
“If I may quote from someone else far more eloquent than I am, ‘The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they’re alive.’ Ellie, I love you. I may not have told you often enough, but I do. And both of you, Ellie and Dan, love each other, and show one another that love each and every day.”
And with that, he walked away from the stage and started to move toward our table.
“Are you okay?” Dan leaned in and wiped the tears carefully from my face, and I nodded, still too choked up to speak, and then my father was standing next to us, and I stood up and hugged him properly, feeling connected to my father, feeling my father’s love for me for the first time in years.
“Thank you, Dad,” I said softly as I pulled away. “Thank you, and don’t keep saying you’re sorry; you don’t need to be sorry anymore.”
“I do,” he said, smiling sadly, “but I appreciate your telling me it’s not necessary.” He turned to Dan. “Maybe when you get back from your honeymoon, you and Ellie will come and stay? Spend some time with us?”
Dan looked at me and I nodded. “We’d love to.”
Dan grinned and shook his hand. “Dad.”
Linda came bustling over. “Hello! We didn’t know you were going to speak!” and she pushed me aside to introduce herself to my father. “I’m Linda, Dan’s mother. And this is Michael. We didn’t even know you were here.” She shot me a look, one that said how unimpressed she was that I didn’t mention he was coming, and that I hadn’t yet introduced them.
“I feel so embarrassed that we haven’t met before,” she continued. “But how lovely that you’re here. Isn’t your daughter beautiful? Doesn’t she look like a princess?”
And I did what I always do when Linda realizes she has overstepped the mark and starts lavishing compliments or presents on me to compensate: I melt and instantly forgive her any and all transgressions.
“You know,” Linda said, leaning in conspiratorially, checking that Emma was nowhere near, “I really shouldn’t say this, but I feel so blessed to have your daughter in my family. You hear people say their daughters-in-law are the daughters they always wanted, but in Ellie’s case it’s true. Oh, not that I don’t love Emma,” she said quickly, noticing both Dan and Michael looking at her as if she were completely bonkers, “but Emma’s so difficult and we argue so much, and Ellie is just such a lovely, easy girl.” And she looked at me proudly. “You clearly did a wonderful job in raising her, and I’m so lucky to have her.”
“And it seems she’s lucky to have you too,” my dad said, won over by Linda’s compliments and charm.
“Come on.” Linda linked her arm through his. “You must introduce me to your beautiful wife, and then you shall come and m
eet all our friends. Perhaps,” I heard her say just before she was out of earshot, “you’ll come over for dinner when the kids are back from their honeymoon?”
I turned to Dan with a groan, because, as wonderful as my dad’s words were, and as much as I thought there might be a future for us now after all, I wasn’t ready for Linda to step in and become his new best friend, not by a long shot.
And Dan put his arms around me and planted a laughing kiss on my cheek. “Don’t you worry, lovely wife of mine. You know my mother’s full of hot air.”
I arched an eyebrow as I turned to look at him. “How come you’re allowed to say that but I’m not?”
But Dan was still grinning. “Did you hear what I said? Lovely wife?”
And I giggled. “I know! And you’re my husband. Oh, my God, that’s weird!”
“You know what’s even more weird?” Dan gestured at my stomach and dropped his voice to a whisper, “There’s a baby in there! Can you believe that? Our baby!”
“I know. A little us.”
“Yup. A mini-Cooper,” Dan said, and we looked at each other and started to laugh.
An hour later Dan finds me talking to Fran and Marcus and pulls me to one side. “I don’t suppose we can sneak out of our own wedding, can we?”
“Not unless you want to be disinherited.”
“Damn. Let’s go and find the power switch and turn the bloody thing off. I want to take you upstairs.”
“Calm down, calm down,” I whisper in his ear. “We’ve got the rest of our lives for that.” And we stand back and grin maniacally at each other, neither of us quite able to believe that we are now husband and wife.
Two hours later, finally, we manage to leave. The guests form a line and we walk down it, hugging good-byes to friends and shaking hands with many people I have never seen before in my entire life.
And it’s only as we drag our feet up the stairs that I realize how exhausted I am, just how bloody tight and uncomfortable my dress is, how all I want to do right now is just collapse on a bed and sleep for a hundred years.