Don't Tell the Groom Read online

  I hang up and stare at the phone. Even if I do pull off the wedding of our dreams by some sort of miracle, am I always going to feel this lousy every time I think about it?

  Chapter Eleven

  Getting engaged, aka stage four of our life plan, is much harder than I expected it would be. Before I was engaged I thought it was going to be the most wonderful time of my life. Going food-tasting at wedding venues and sipping champagne in bridal shops. But my stage four is not panning out that way.

  This morning I went to the post office to post our beautiful invitations and it cost me a small fortune. Since when did stamps get so expensive? And I’m not even going to talk about the paper cut I have on my tongue from when I licked the envelopes last night.

  I also know I have to go dress-shopping at some point soon. My mum keeps phoning and texting me, trying to get a date in the diary. It’s funny as before I got engaged, the dress was the part of stage four I was most excited about, but now it is the bit I’m dreading the most.

  What if I have a dress made of awful synthetic material instead of the bundles of lace and silk that my dream princess dress is supposed to be made of?

  I can’t bear to go through that trauma just yet. I’m telling my mum that I need a few more weeks to shift some pounds. But, as she keeps telling me, I’m leaving it far too late to order a dress from a wedding shop as that can take months. And it is now two months until our big day.

  Even Lou’s got in on the act of forcing me to get a wedding dress. I keep suggesting we go looking for her dress but she tells me that it would be much better for me to get my dress sorted as that will impact on the type of bridesmaid dresses I pick.

  But enough about the wedding. I’m giving myself a weekend off. It’s Easter and there’s no Saturday volunteering club. The weather, considering it is a British bank holiday, is not atrocious so I’m going to spend the day in the country with Mark.

  I’ve started to realise that I’ve hardly spent any quality time with Mark since we got engaged. I’m always at the gym aka gamblers group/flower arranging/the museum – delete as applicable. I’m also exhausted most nights as I’ve worked the full day at work, and I’ve had to squeeze the gym into my lunch break so that I don’t gain too much weight and lose my alibi. Then, if I’m not too tired when I get home in the evening, I’m scouring the internet trying to turn myself into a budget bride.

  But today, it is going to be all about Mark. We’re going for a nice walk on the North Downs and then we’re booked into this great little pub in a small village for a very late lunch.

  It’s going to be perfect. And the best thing about Mark knowing nothing about the wedding means that it won’t be a topic of conversation and I’ll be able to forget about it all day.

  By the time I’m starting to climb the walls in the house, Mark appears from golf and after a quick shower and change, we’re in the car. There was some whining from one of us that Man United were playing Liverpool, but that was pretty short-lived. And now we’re on our way to the country. Where the air is clear and all that.

  ‘My mum wants to know if you want any help with the wedding,’ says Mark.

  Aagh, the W word. Does Mark not know I’m taking a break from it today?

  ‘You can tell her I’m fine. All under control.’ I say it with such conviction that I almost believe it myself.

  ‘OK. Well, she said nearer the time if there was anything she could do, you just have to let her know.’

  ‘That’s really sweet of her. Tell her I might need to take her up on that. But no more wedding talk. Have you spoken to Phil lately?’

  ‘I spoke to him on Monday.’

  ‘Are things, you know, OK?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘I think so. Apparently they’re trying for a baby.’

  ‘Well, I hope they keep their legs crossed until after the wedding, or all we’re going to hear about is her pregnancy.’

  I wouldn’t usually be that mean about people announcing they’re trying for a baby, but I can just tell what Jane will be like. Three hours we listened to her talking about her extension when she was round at our house last month. I could probably have built the extension for her in that time.

  ‘I think that Phil is hoping it will give Jane something to focus on.’

  Obsess about more like. I actually feel a little sorry for Phil; he’s probably having to have sex with military precision until he impregnates her.

  Looking out of the window, I’m surprised that we haven’t hit the countryside already. Our town isn’t that big and there are an awful lot of houses still.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. I spoke to my brother yesterday and when I mentioned that we were off for a walk he wondered if we could take Bouncer.’

  Bouncer is the loveliest Labrador in the world. And yes, he is named after Bouncer from Neighbours. I should have thought about taking him before. This means we’ll be going for a proper walk in the country.

  When I said I loved Bouncer, I think I meant I love him when he’s not splashing me with muddy puddles or dropping his ball for me every five minutes, like he has been for the entire walk. Not to mention what he’s just done. Mark and I have been standing in the same spot on a path for the last two minutes and every so often we glance down at the pile of dog poo that looks like a Mr Whippy ice cream.

  ‘I’m organising the whole wedding by myself, therefore you should pick it up,’ I say.

  ‘Hey, you offered to do that so you can’t play the martyr card. I do all the cleaning at home.’

  I open my mouth and close it again. Mark does do all the cleaning at home.

  ‘But I do the laundry and the shopping.’

  ‘Neither get your hands dirty.’

  ‘Well then, I’m not used to doing this. You are obviously well practised and you’ll be used to this kind of thing,’ I argue.

  ‘Maybe you need some practice in it.’

  ‘You’ve got bigger hands.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Well, your sleeves are going to be further away from the poop when you bend down to pick it up.’

  Mark leans over and rolls up my sleeves.

  ‘There you go. You’re ready for anything now.’

  ‘But, Mark,’ I pout, using my little-girl voice.

  ‘Stop pouting. Pen, you’re going to have to get used to this when you have kids.’

  ‘Hey, just because I’m the woman does not mean to say that I’m always going to be in charge of the poop. And it’s when we have kids, not when I have kids.’

  Mark sighs. ‘As I see it we’ve got no other choice than to bring out the big guns. Thumb war or rock, paper, scissors?’

  ‘Rock, paper, scissors.’

  With Mark’s mutantly strong thumbs I lose every time at thumb wars. With rock, paper, scissors there is an element of luck. Although I usually lose at that too. But at least I know that it will not due to my puny thumbs.

  ‘One, two, three,’ says Mark.

  Scissors. We both have scissors. Now do I stick with scissors and hope he’ll go for paper, and at the same time hope he thinks I’ll go for rock, or do I go for rock? This game is so taxing on the brain.

  ‘One, two, three,’ says Mark again.

  I put my hand out again for scissors only to have it blunted by Mark’s rock.

  ‘Ha, ha,’ he says, and he plants a kiss on my cheek. ‘You might be needing this.’

  I look at the black plastic bag in his hand and remember just why we were playing the game. He has such an adorable smile on his face that if we weren’t standing next to a pile of Bouncer’s finest then I would give him a good long kiss in the woods.

  ‘That’s it. We’re never having kids. That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.’

  ‘I think that baby nappies are going to be worse than that,’ he says.

  ‘Really? Nope. We’re stopping at stage five.’

  ‘Fine by me. Means I won�
��t have to give up my Saturday-morning golf.’

  ‘You’d give up golf when we have kids?’

  ‘Well, not completely, but I’m not going to be able to do it every Saturday, am I?’

  ‘But you love golf.’

  ‘I know. But I also love you. And as long as the kids don’t look like the milkman then I will probably love them too.’

  This time I do reach up to Mark and pull him by the scruff of his hoodie and snog his face off. Bouncer whines in horror and goes bounding off into the bushes, and it is only when we hear the ringing of a bicycle bell that I remember that we’re standing in the middle of the path.

  ‘Maybe I’ll be able to change the baby’s nappies then. You know, if you’re willing to give up golf.’

  ‘Um, remember I said play less golf, not give up golf. It’s a bit different.’

  There we go. That’s the Mark I know. But still less golf is just as big a sacrifice.

  By the time we make it to the pub I am absolutely starving. We must have walked at least ten miles and even Bouncer is exhausted. I’ve definitely earned myself the right to have a big fat burger and a sticky toffee pudding for dessert.

  Before we go into the pub, we wait for Bouncer to have the world’s longest drink of water from the dog bowl outside. It seems to take him ages as every time he starts to slurp he gets distracted by people walking past him, in or out of the pub.

  ‘Come on, Bouncer, drink,’ I say, bending down and pointing at the bowl of water. That seems to have done the trick. I’m clearly a dog whisperer.

  As I get to my feet I notice the feet of the person walking out of the pub. Those big Timberland boots look really familiar to me. It isn’t until I’ve reached eye level that I realise I’m looking straight into the bluest eyes I have ever seen.

  Josh.

  My smile goes up in an instant and I blurt out a hello before I realise what I’ve done. Mark is standing right next to me.

  Josh looks at me and his eyes slightly pop out of his head; he looks unsure as to whether he should say anything.

  I turn to Mark and he is looking between me and Josh like he is trying to connect the dots.

  ‘Hi, Penny,’ says Josh, finally breaking the awkward silence that has ensued.

  I’m looking round to see if his girlfriend is here, but he seems to be with two older people. They have got to be his parents as the man has the same piercing blue eyes.

  ‘Hi, Josh.’

  Have I said hello already? I’m not too sure where I’m going with this. Bouncer has finally finished drinking and has decided to drip the surplus water from his mouth all over Josh’s boots.

  ‘Josh is one of my work colleagues,’ I say to Mark.

  I’m the worst liar but that is the only way I can think to explain him. How else would an engaged woman get to meet another man who is just a little bit too sexy for his own good?

  ‘I’m Mark. Nice to meet you.’

  At least Mark has remembered his manners, unlike me.

  ‘Sorry. Josh, this is my fiancé, Mark.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mark. I’ve heard a lot about your wedding.’

  ‘Ha. Well, that makes one of us,’ says Mark, raising his eyebrows at me.

  ‘Penny is keeping it as a surprise for Mark,’ says Josh to his parents. ‘These are my parents, by the way. Penny works in HR.’

  Well remembered, Josh. I’m glad I didn’t have to do that the other way round. I still have no idea what he does for a living.

  I put on my best ‘I’m the nicest girl in the world’ smile, which is my classic default parent smile. It seems to work as they grin back at me.

  ‘No Mel today, then?’ I say to Josh, more to keep Mark from thinking there is something suspicious going on.

  ‘No, not today. Anyway, we really must be going. I’ve got to get Mum and Dad back to the station.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ I say to them.

  I notice that Josh and Mark are still looking at each other warily before I herd Bouncer and Mark into the pub.

  Well, that could have gone a lot worse. Thank goodness that Josh was quick on his feet keeping up with the cover story.

  Settling down into the pub, we position ourselves away from the roaring fire. It’s one of those pubs that does roaring fire very well and we’ve made the mistake of sitting next to it before. We ended up looking like we were playing strip poker by the end of our meal, with us having to de-layer after each food course.

  Mark comes over and places my cranberry juice in front of me. It feels only fitting after my mammoth walk that I have a drink as virtuous and healthy. I’m glossing over the fact it is probably full of sugar.

  ‘So what department does that Josh guy work in then?’

  Did that not finish when we left him outside the pub? Maybe he’ll forget about it if I keep studying the menu really intensely as if I’m considering whether to have the garlic mushroom burger or the Stilton and bacon burger. Yes, I am aware I have an impending wedding. But the ten-mile walk means I get to have whatever burger I want.

  ‘Hello, earth to Penny.’

  Damn. The intense menu stare didn’t work.

  ‘Huh? Sorry, I was reading the menu.’

  ‘Right. I was just asking you what that guy did at your work.’

  ‘Oh, Josh?’ I say casually, as if there are many people he could be talking about. ‘He works in IT.’

  I mean, I think from what I remember he does work in IT. Just not at my work. That’s the great thing about working for a big multinational company. There are always loads of general departments.

  ‘Oh, right.’

  I know he’s now wondering, how I would have come into such close contact with the IT department for Josh to know about the wedding.

  ‘He had a bit of a personal issue earlier this year,’ I say in a hushed whisper. It’s the voice I use when I want to be discreet at work.

  ‘Oh. Right,’ says Mark, nodding. ‘I don’t remember seeing him at the Christmas do last year.’

  Bugger. He won’t let this drop. I hoped that the personal issue would have put a full stop to the conversation. After all, as it was a personal personnel issue he should know that I can’t discuss it. At least not when he knows names. Of course I do tell him some things, but I always try to protect the people’s identity.

  ‘I don’t remember seeing him either,’ I say truthfully. ‘Perhaps he didn’t go. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’

  ‘At least you finally admit that. Does that mean that we don’t have to go this year?’ asks Mark.

  ‘No, you’re not getting out of it that easily. If I have to go to your stuffy do, you have to come to ours.’

  Mark hates our work Christmas parties as we have themes and fancy dress. I must make a mental note with the wedding themes: no fancy dress. Perhaps I’ll have to rethink the whole Spanish theme and him being dressed as a matador.

  ‘I wonder what the theme will be for this year’s Christmas party? I heard there were rumours of it being something sci-fi like Star Wars or Star Trek.’

  And before you ask, yes, I do work for a large engineering company. I don’t really like to reinforce any sort of stereotypes, but let’s just say a Star Wars theme would make everyone’s year.

  ‘I don’t think that this whole secret wedding thing is a good idea,’ says Mark.

  This again. And before I’ve had something to eat after our practically all-day hike and the run-in with Josh. I’m too mentally and physically tired for this fight.

  ‘But we’ve come this far and I’m only halfway through. It would be wrong for you to come in now as I’ve only half finished my masterpiece wedding. It wouldn’t make sense.’

  Mark doesn’t look happy. I can’t have him finding out about the wedding now. Not when I’ve worked so hard to get it all sorted on budget and with me trying to curb my little habit.

  ‘I just don’t like the idea that that guy knows more about my wedding than I do,’ he says.

  ‘But he
doesn’t.’

  Finally! Some truth. Josh actually doesn’t know any of the details of the wedding. OK, so he may know a few more of the background details than Mark, but he doesn’t know about the actual wedding.

  ‘He seemed to think he did.’

  ‘That’s because he’s a boy,’ I say. ‘I talk about our wedding a lot at work, I’ll admit that. But only how I used to talk to you about it before we got engaged. I daydream out loud about dresses and shoes and the perfect favours.

  ‘He’s a man, his eyes probably glaze over when I mention the “wedding” word. Like you would if you knew the details,’ I say.

  Mark is half smiling now. Some warmth has come back to his eyes and I actually might be getting through to him.

  ‘You don’t want me to turn into a Jane, do you?’ I ask.

  ‘Please, dear Lord, no. Jane was a monster in the run-up to her wedding. I’m sure that was why it took me so long to pop the question to you.’

  ‘Well, I’m not like that. I’m going to be a level-headed bride, and I want most of all for you to enjoy the wedding. That’s why I want it to be a surprise.’

  The waitress interrupts our little talk by taking our order and giving Bouncer a selection of dog biscuits. All the biscuits have disappeared before she has left the table.

  ‘Easy there, Bouncer, you should learn to enjoy your food,’ I say. Bouncer is really super cute. I bend under the table and give him just a little stroke around the ears and he rolls right over and lets me scratch his belly.

  Bouncer has it easy. I wish I was a dog. Guaranteed cuddles, people scratching your back for you. And most of all he has paws so he can’t gamble online so he wouldn’t have lost all of his money for his wedding. Not that he’d have a wedding. He is a dog, after all.

  ‘You’re really good with him. Maybe we should get a dog one day,’ says Mark.

  ‘After the Mr Whippy incident today, we’re only getting a dog if you promise to pick up all the poop.’

  Mark laughs. Finally, I feel like the cross-examination has come to an end.

  ‘This has been fun. I feel like I haven’t seen you that much lately,’ I say.

  ‘I know, what with your crazy gym schedule.’