The Wedding Diaries (30 page)

Thom: Keeks. Guess who that was?

Me: Clifton Black to confirm he’s left his wife and is on his way over?

Thom: Close. It was the headmaster from Hendon Park.

Me: Oh God. Am I still at school? Is this one of those weird dreams where I haven’t finished doing exams after all?

Thom: No. They’ve accepted me on a trainee teaching course. I’m going to be a teacher!

Me: I’m not awake yet. Of … accountancy?

Thom: No. English. I may not have mentioned it before—

Me: You definitely didn’t.

Thom: —because I never thought I’d get it. Keeks, it means we’ll have almost no money for a while. What do you think?

Me: I think it sounds pretty nice.

Thom: Can I get back into bed now?

Me: You’d better. I’ve got some congratulating to do.

Good work all round.

A bit later, after I’d done all that actual-going-to-work stuff, we did some proper talking. So Thom has abandoned the hard-nosed world of corporate finance altogether to embrace the soft paws of children’s schooling. Well, I
say
soft-pawed, but he’ll actually be dealing with secondary school kids, which means that if the school he ends up at is anything like my secondary, he’ll spend every lesson trying to break up a row between the girls about whether Juliet was a prick-tease or not while the boys at the back shout out suggestive comments about who they’d like to tease with their prick. Although I didn’t say that to Thom. I do know that it’s something he’s mentioned before, on drunken evenings of long conversations, always swearing off accountancy at the coalface of corporate greed to get back to his love of language. I’m so proud of him for sticking to his guns, and for not getting back into that pit that made him so miserable, and for doing this good thing. So it’s three cheers for him, that clever, secretive son-of-a-gun.

Speaking of lessons, having learnt a valuable one from me, Thom set off on his stage with earnest resolutions to stay sober-ish. He and the guys (Rich, Pete, Jim, Ben from school, Malcolm and Phil from uni and Rocky, boyfriend of Emma) are going camping for a couple of nights, with some meat, a few boxes of beer and some camping equipment (of unknown quality).

As Thom walked out this evening with giant rucksack on, Rich hooted the horn outside and revved the engine aggressively.

Me: This bodes well for a gentlemen’s civilised weekend.

Thom: How do I know Clifton Black’s not going to be round here the second I’m gone?

Me: I’ve booby-trapped all the entrances. I figure you’ve got little to worry about. [Rich hoots again] Well. Little to worry about on my behalf, anyway.

Thom: I promise not to go into any abandoned-looking houses if we get lost in the woods.

I’ve had a lovely night with Greta and Alice,
Casablanca
, a giant pasta meatball bake and a jug of Band on the Run. We sure know how to tear. It.
Up
.

August 13th

In Thom’s absence, I was drinking iced tea with Susie in her garden when Mum marched round with her military expression on. Dad must be feeling better for her to allow him some time unsupervised. ‘Right!’ she said. ‘I’ve got the print-outs of the dress you like – let’s go and find something even better. Susie, Pete’s going to look after your three, and you’re coming too. Come on, girls, don’t dawdle.’

With a whoop of glee, Susie and I had our shoes on and were waiting by the door before Mum even had the chance to chivvy us along. She drove the three of us round to Tally Ho corner, and took us into the smallest pokiest dress shop I’ve ever seen. It was a shop of Seconds, so if we found anything we wanted, we could take it with us straight away, rather than waiting three to six months to get it delivered. Surely just what I needed.

But as soon as we entered, I knew it wasn’t. Wall-to-wall strapless meringues, with a floor-to-ceiling glass case in one corner crammed full of sparkling cubic zirconia tiaras. Mum and Susie had split up and were taking a wall each, as Mum looked back down to the printout of The Dress, and I felt a welling misery at the contrast between this dark, poorly lit little place and the angelic beauty of my vanished wedding shop. Susie looked at me and grimaced a bit, gesturing to the rack of meringues she was sifting through, then Mum cried out with a little ‘Oooh!’ Susie and I came over to see her Surprise Find, but when she pulled out the dress it was another strapless frock, with a slightly slimmer line to the skirt than most of the others. ‘Look,’ she said, holding up her clutched picture. ‘It’s the same basic shape as this one. I can tweak it to make it the same – it’s so easy, Kiki. I can do this.’

In the old days, I would have raged at her, for not
getting it
and crowbarring her meddling into my wedding. It would be an ugly dress made clunky by an amateur’s stitchwork, and I wouldn’t look like a
Brides Magazine
model. But I was exhausted by my rage at everything that didn’t need raging over, and I had a sudden idea of a startling new tack.

‘Thanks Mum,’ I said. ‘That would be nice.’

She looked stunned, then gave me a big smile and a hug. ‘You’ll see, Kiki; your wedding is going to be wonderful.’

TO DO:

Chase remaining RSVP-ers

Check final headcount

Receiving line – ask Thom to imagine us actually trying to pull this off

Enjoy the two hours of laughter that will follow

Speech?

August 14th

At noon today there was a weary sort of knock at the door. When I opened it, Thom was standing there with a thousand-yard stare, while Rich and Pete had their backs to us, unloading camping stuff from his car. When Rich came in to drop the stuff in the hallway, I saw he only had one eyebrow, and a singe mark where the other should be. I looked at Thom.

Thom: Just … don’t. Don’t ask me anything.

After a three-hour bath, Thom finally managed to eat. As long as he doesn’t expect me to clean any of those camping things up, whatever happened in the New Forest can, frankly, stay in the New Forest. This is the spirit I shall carry into our married life.

Dad, meanwhile, seems a million times better than even a couple of weeks ago. His colour’s back and he’s as busy as ever. I’m so happy. Once Thom was in a fit state, we headed back to the school to get a better look at it for decisions about where to put the tent and access points, and where to direct the wedding guests. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it – the less time I had to spend there the better, as far as I was concerned. As long as everyone turned up, and enjoyed themselves, and didn’t get ketchup on my high-street wedding dress, that was fine by me.

But something had happened to the school in the last three weeks. We entered through the front this time, through the high-ceilinged hallway and the light, bright corridors, past colourful classrooms and giant, well-appointed kitchens. At the doors of the playground and school field, I could glimpse through the windows that the work tent had come down, and the pipes had all been completed and covered up. When Dad pushed open the double doors, I saw a very different venue.

Whoah.
Whoah
. This was absolutely and most definitely not the school I remembered. Instead of a scrappy dry field full of ankle-breaking holes and tripping hillocks, this was a smooth, green field of lush grass. I could see in the warm dusk that along one side was a long strip of meadow, full of waist-high flowers and grasses – the school’s wildlife project – and along the other, bunting from their sports day hanging from tree to tree. The back of the school looked really lovely too. I’d never registered before that my primary school, as well as being the scene of many a childhood trauma, was a wonderful old Victorian building. It had been renovated beautifully, and instead of fading portakabins and clunky new buildings, the view from this side was like slipping back a hundred-odd years to when the school was new (even the wooden doors to the tiny little child-toilets).

Thom and Dad were grinning at me, both with a slightly expectant air. ‘Crumbs,’ I said. ‘This
is
nice.’ Just then my phone rang – it was someone from the registrar’s office, apologising for calling out of hours but just wanting to report that they’d had a cancellation on the Saturday morning, would we like to move our slot? I checked with Thom, who gave the thumbs up.

And just like that, we are now
go
for one busy, beautiful Saturday.

August 16th

Another day, another day trip. First thing in the morning, Thom and I were at Heathrow to collect his bedraggled and jet-lagged but still good-natured parents (Thom’s mum: ‘Kiki, you are Bride Incarnate. Doesn’t she look well, Alan?’ Thom’s dad: ‘Like a spring flower, no less’) and take them to a hotel near Mum and Dad. They refused to be put up by any of us, saying we had more than enough to worry about without having to check they had sufficient towels – his mum threw in, ‘And my room service demands are very rigorous when I’ve been on a plane for days. None of you will fancy making me a steak sandwich at 3am when your fridges are full of carnations.’ We took them up to their room and left them pottering about, promising to meet again tonight when they’d settled in. Then Mum ordered me and Thom off to the garden centre. She was too busy with my dress (gulp) to come with us, but said we had to look at all the flowers and plants we liked, then come back with a list that she’ll share with her Women’s Institute cronies. I’d taken some snaps from the flower market by the station too, and the garden centre was full to bursting with great lush plants and full pots of flowers, from tiny delicate sweet peas to fat calla lilies. We made our list, bought a little hosta for Mum to say thank you, and went round to deliver them both to her. She was all efficiency, with no space for nagging – she looked down the list and shook her head or nodded along with some internal checklist, then positioned the hosta on the windowsill and watered it, still making her mental lists. ‘Alright, dear, that’s all fine. Leave it with me.’ She gave us both a kiss and a hug and we were out, Thom back home and me to work.

Thom: What’s she taking?

Me: It’s the uppers that were passed down to her from her mother. When I have events to organise, she’ll pass the pillcase down to me. It’s a Carlow chemical heirloom that we’re very proud of.

Thom: I really don’t know if you’re joking.

Me: This stuff with Dad has shaken her so much. Of course it has. But haven’t you noticed she looks about ten years younger? Having Dad home again, and well again – the pair of them are like teens in love. If it wasn’t working out so well for me on the organising front, I’d say it was a bit gross.

Thom: Gosh, you really do have an enormous heart.

Me: I caught them
kissing
them other day. Shudder.

Thom: Well, I’m glad for them both.

Me: Me too. I’m thinking how we can harness her energy for the betterment of the country.

TO DO:

Check whether Mum is
also
actually on uppers

If so, check she has enough for wedding day

Write vows

August 17th

A great evening. At Jim’s request, Thom, Susie, Pete and I spent it putting together a playlist of all our favourite songs in the world. Edward and Lily favoured early-era Beatles, while Thom preferred seventies denim rock and Pete’s hits all turned out to be pleasingly camp – the Pet Shop Boys, Marc Almond and Donna Summer’s disco hits. Susie rolled her eyes and told us all how happy she was in her lavender marriage. Between Susie’s fifties jazz classics and my nineties pop, there should hopefully be a tune for everyone.

Going through that music felt so strange. Some songs made us all dance (Jimmy Cliff, mid-era Blur), some songs got instant vetoes (almost anything from Pete’s hardcore clubbing years), and some were so fiercely evocative that they almost took my breath away. One song – Hole’s ‘Violet’ – took me back fiercely and instantly to my teenage years, to those nights where I would sit in a darkened room, listening out for Susie to come home again from a happy night with her friends, not sure who I was or where I could fit in the world. And here I am, with a lovely sister and her happy husband, three whole nephew/nieces, two parents who are alive and love one another, a job I enjoy despite my boss, and Thom. Thom. Thom, you make my heart leap every time I see you. You make me happy to be alive, every single day. You make me smile and make me want to be the very finest person I possibly can be, because you are that rare gem – a very, very good person.
You’re
my favourite tune in the whole world.

TO DO:

Table plans and place cards – abandon entirely, but ensure Susie doesn’t sit directly next to the buffet or no one else will be allowed to eat

Give Mum final numbers for food

Final measurements and fitting for dress with Mum

Check Mike’s OK with numbers for cake

Ceremony music – ask Jim to play something nice when I walk down the aisle

Fairy lights?

Get those lovely silver-white wedges from Topshop

Makeup – buy new mascara

Borrow some clear nail polish from Mum

Write vows

August 18th

A half day at work today, to check everything is OK before I’m on holiday. Hold on. Not holiday. Honeymoon! Alice gave a lovely speech at noon, describing how different life will be for me once I’m married: compulsory couples nights, no longer allowed to socialise with single friends, weight gain on both sides, and a sudden unexpected passion for DVD box sets, so we don’t have to talk to one another. She got a cheer and applause from Norman, Carol, Judy the Intern and the Art and Production teams, while Tony looked slightly uncomfortable as he handed over a card and a beautifully wrapped parcel from everybody. ‘Open it with Thom,’ Alice said, widening her eyes lasciviously. Then Tony beckoned me into his office.