Don't Tell the Groom (12 page)

Why do I feel like I'm making a deal with the devil here? I can't understand how it can be that bad to volunteer here every week. I get out of bed to go to work every day and I don't like that very much.

OK, so I get paid to go to work, but here you have biscuits. We don't have biscuits at work unless you bring your own, thanks to Trevor and Biscuitgate. I did bring a packet to work the first week post Biscuitgate and I ate the whole packet of Jammy Dodgers in one day. Since then I haven't trusted my willpower and I've been biscuitless.

‘I thoroughly enjoyed it this morning. The ladies were really nice.'

‘Yes, they
are
really nice. There are only a couple of battle-axes that come, and then their bark is much worse than their bite.'

I thought Cathy should be selling this volunteering to me, not putting me off. I'm still smiling though, only now it's through gritted teeth.

‘Shall we look at dates for the wedding then?' asks Cathy.

Does that mean I've passed the test? I can now become a fully-fledged volunteer? I have to resist the urge to make Cathy do a high-five with me. This whole ‘don't tell the groom' thing is really tough; Mark would have high-fived me over this news.

I nod, not wanting to mess it up by saying something stupid like thank you, thank you, thank you with a cherry on top. Cathy doesn't seem like the type of woman who would appreciate it.

‘Now,' she says. She's flicking so quickly through the diary that I wonder how she can possibly take it all in. No wonder she has so many books if that is how quickly she reads.

‘I'm afraid there isn't a lot of choice. We've got the third weekend in May free.'

‘I'll take it,' I say, before I even register what has come out of my mouth.

‘Do you need to talk to your fiancé first?' asks Cathy.

‘No, no. I'm organising the wedding. It's going to be a surprise.'

‘He does know you're getting married, doesn't he?'

Cathy is giving me one of those looks which makes me think she's suddenly scared to be alone with me in an office in the basement.

‘Yes, he does. He did propose to me,' I say, trying to laugh in a non-maniac way. ‘We're just doing the whole
Don't Tell the Bride
thing only we're doing “don't tell the groom”.'

‘They're not filming you, are they?'

‘No, it's just for fun.'

I literally want to curl up and die. Cathy is like a proper serious adult and I just sound like I'm a child.

‘OK. Well, I'll pencil you in. Now, we don't have a marriage licence so you'll need to get married elsewhere.'

‘OK. I'll sort somewhere.'

How hard can that be? Everyone knows the reception venue is the difficult place to book.

‘So I'll put you in here provisionally, and we'll hold it for a couple of weeks until you can confirm with the venue you're getting married at. Then, once that's confirmed, we'll just need your five hundred pounds. If you keep volunteering that is all you have to pay, but if you don't, that money will act as the deposit and you'll have to pay the balance of two thousand five hundred pounds.'

By hook or by crook I'll be volunteering here. I can't believe it. I could actually pull this off single-handedly. I could be the savvy saving bride and no one would be any the wiser.

‘Thanks, Cathy. I'll sort out the ceremony and I'll let you know.'

‘I'll show you back up to reception then.'

Cathy is a mind-reader. I was just starting to panic about getting lost in the basement and someone finding me in fifty years' time as a skeleton and thinking I'm part of a display.

By the time I get back to the house I'm practically skipping. Well, I have to burn off the calories I was supposed to burn at the imaginary Zumba class somehow.

‘Helloooooo,' I call.

‘Hiya, I'm in the lounge.'

I unwrap all my layers as quickly as possible, getting stuck in my scarf that I probably don't need today as it's fairly mild, but I've become so attached to it over winter that I can't go anywhere without it. I'm so excited I
have
to tell Mark.

‘We've got a wedding date!' I say, bounding into the lounge. Then I freeze. I didn't realise that Mark wasn't alone. Nanny Violet is sitting in the armchair having a cup of tea. In our house. This is weird. She's never made a house visit to us unannounced before. Or at least not since she realised that
we didn't keep cakes in the house for unexpected guests. Although secretly I have some mini Battenbergs lurking in the cupboard for such emergencies now. Hidden from Mark, of course. If I'm lucky, they may still be in date.

‘A wedding date. How wonderful,' says Violet, clapping her hands together.

Now, don't get me wrong. Nanny Violet is not evil. She is a nice nanny. It is just that since we've got engaged she seems to be out to get me and I'm definitely not being paranoid, no matter what Mark says to me.

I perch on the sofa next to Mark, suddenly unable to relax in my own house.

‘I'm allowed to know the date at least, aren't I?' asks Mark, laughing.

‘Of course you are, silly. You need to know when to turn up! It's the 18th of May.'

‘Wow. Just under three months before you become Mrs Robinson.'

Here comes The Lemonheads again.

‘I know, I can't believe it.' I give Mark a little peck on the cheek, forgetting that Violet is there.

But as I turn back into the room she's giving me the Look. The one I can't decipher.

‘Anyone want tea?' I ask, jumping up. There's something going on with Nanny Violet and I can't work out what.

I know she doesn't approve of the whole ‘don't tell the groom' principle, but I'm convinced there's more to that look than meets the eye. I am not being paranoid. I think Nanny Violet is out to get me.

‘Pen, can you come in here for a moment?' calls Mark.

I'm being summoned to the lounge while I'm cooking dinner. This has to be serious as Mark knows that if he interrupts me there is always a danger that I'll never go back into the kitchen and finish cooking.

‘What's up?' I ask, sitting down on the sofa next to him.

‘We need to have a serious chat.'

‘OK,' I say.

My heart starts to beat faster and I want to reach for a bag as I can feel a panic attack coming on. I'm getting clammy and a full-on sweat is beginning to break out across my brow. I am certain that he has found out about the wedding account and my dirty little gambling habit. What else would he have to tell me?

He takes my hand in his and starts to massage it. This isn't going to be good. He is obviously softening me up before he breaks up with me. What if it isn't to do with my gambling habit at all? What if Mark has met someone else and he's leaving me? I just couldn't take it.

‘What's wrong, Mark?'

‘It's about the “don't tell the groom” thing.'

Oh no, please don't tell me he's changed his mind. He was doing so well.

‘What about it?' I ask cautiously.

‘Well, Nan was talking about it when she came over at the weekend.'

Oh, I should have known Violet would be involved in this. I know she has it in for me at the moment.

‘What did she say?'

‘She was just talking about us getting married and she was voicing her concerns.'

‘I knew it. I know she doesn't like me.'

‘Pen, it has nothing to do with her not liking you. I've told you, you're imagining that.'

I am definitely
not
imagining it.

‘Well, if it isn't that, then what?' I ask.

‘She was disappointed that I won't be picking where we're getting married and I think it has really upset her.'

‘But you don't mind not knowing, do you?'

‘No, I do trust you. It's just that I think Nan is worried about what the ceremony is going to be like.'

‘Hey, it's not like I'm going to book us a pagan wedding ceremony or anything.'

Hang on, that isn't such a bad idea, thinking about it. I would make an excellent pagan bride. I could grow my hair and have it in loose curls with a garland of woodland flowers on my head. I could have a flowing dress with bat-like sleeves and I'd be a cross between a fairy and an earth mother goddess. I wonder if Mark would like that as a theme?

‘Penny, are you OK?'

I've done it again. I've gone into my wedding daydream. As I have said many a time before, this wedding planning is dangerous, taking away your concentration without notice.

‘Sorry, I got lost in the moment. You were saying about Nanny Violet.'

‘Yeah, she was sad that we're not getting married in her church.'

In her church
? I want to scream. Does she have any idea how much weddings in a church cost? Not that I have any idea myself, but they
have
to be expensive. It is like hiring a whole separate venue. It isn't like a quick five hundred pound registry office affair.

‘Her church,' I say slowly.

‘Yes, St James and St Thomas. We went there once, you remember, for my granddad's funeral.'

I stroke Mark's hand in recognition of the memory. I do remember. It was a beautiful old-fashioned church.

‘Is that what you want?' I ask.

‘It would mean a lot to my family, and to me – I suppose.'

‘I guess I hadn't given it much thought.'

Looking at Mark's face is killing me. I'll have to book the church. There's no way I can let him down on his one request. Even if it means I have to walk to the church and forgo my fancy car.

‘OK, Mark. I'll pop in and see the vicar.'

‘Thanks, Pen. I'm so sorry to ruin your “don't tell the groom” theme, but I think this is just too important.'

‘Don't worry, Mark. There's still plenty that you won't know,' I say, trying to smile.

There is also plenty that I don't know either. Like how the hell I am going to pay for a church wedding.

The next night I am sitting in a freezing cold church hall waiting for the vicar to come in and see me. The nice lady who was flower-arranging in the main part of the church said he'd be along any minute now. On reflection, perhaps I should have just followed the woman around the church to pick up some tips as I start my first flower-arranging class on Thursday.

‘Ah, Penelope, is it?' says the vicar as he walks into the hall.

It's nice when people wear such distinctive uniforms that they are instantly identifiable.

‘Call me Penny.'

‘Well then, Penelope, nice to meet you. I'm Reverend Phillips.'

‘Nice to meet you too,' I say, shaking his hand. Penelope it is then.

‘So I understand that you want to get married at St James and St Thomas?'

‘That's right.'

‘And where's your fiancé? Usually we have a meeting with both of you. Unless he's serving abroad? We have a few military weddings here.'

‘Oh no. He's at home.'

‘Well, it is usually better to have these discussions with both of you. We need to check whether this is the right type of wedding for you both.'

‘Oh, it is. His nan Violet is one of your parishioners and Mark really wants the wedding to be here.'

‘And yet he is at home?'

‘Yes, but it's not like that.'

The vicar must think Mark is the laziest man around.

‘It's just we're doing a “don't tell the groom” wedding.
Which is a bit like the BBC programme
Don't Tell the Bride
. Have you seen it?'

‘No, but I have heard of it,' he says. He doesn't sound impressed.

‘Right. Well, it's like that. I'm not telling Mark what I'm planning.'

‘I see. And it is being filmed, is it?'

I somehow think people don't actually get that it is an analogy. It is
like
the TV programme but it isn't
actually
a TV programme.

‘No, it isn't.'

‘So why are you doing it?'

‘Because we thought it would be fun.'

The vicar is scratching his head and I think I might be losing him. This is the only part of the whole wedding that Mark has insisted on and I'm in danger of it not happening.

‘Penelope, marriage between two people should not be entered into lightly.'

‘And it isn't with me and Mark. We've been living together forever and I've been wanting him to propose to me for years.'

Hang on, that didn't come out right. I didn't mean to announce to the vicar that we are living in sin. That wasn't going to count against us, was it?

‘Let me rephrase this. I won't agree to do a wedding unless I meet you both. You'll both have to attend a marriage preparation
class here, as well as attending services when your banns are being read.'

Marriage preparation class? Flipping heck. How much was that going to cost?