The Wedding Diaries (15 page)

Another wedding in two weeks – Annie and Stephen. Annie is a very old friend, since I met her even before I met Eve, but we never really kept in touch. We were close at primary school, in and out of one another’s houses and together all the way to puberty. Our paths diverged when she got a job at a local stables and I blossomed into a terrible teenage cliché, snogging boys and drinking kiwi-flavoured 20/20 at discos. I’d see her around sometimes, crushingly wholesome, with happy anoraked friends while my crowd smoked roll-ups at the bus station and coloured in our nails with black permanent markers. But such is the wonder of modern technology that she tracked me down to invite me to her wedding. I really have no idea what she’s like now, apart from the fact that she and I have
very
different taste in wedding stationery.

I remember that she liked holographic stickers, and building Lego hospitals in which our toy animals would be healed. It seems unlikely that she’s still into that now, so Thom and I played it safe and bought a set of wine glasses from their wedding list. If she turns out to still have the same interests, I’m really going to regret not just sending over some silver hologram balloons. Fingers crossed.

From the snaps I’ve seen, I can’t help comparing Stephen to a young Keith Chegwin. But Annie looks nice now. By which I mean normal. I hope.

TO DO:

Bridal fascinator – as well as veil? Instead?

Shrug or bolero to go with dress? Vintage markets? Feather shrug? Gloves?

Paper boat place names?

Gifts for the groom – atlas? Smythson notebook? Silk pyjamas?

Favours – edible? Ornamental? Jewellery for women, cufflinks for men? Classic sugared almonds? Balloons? Crayons?

Remember most guests will not be six years old

Honeymoon!

March 8th

My birthday!! Good times. Pub with Thom and Jim and Eve and Zoe and her boyfriend and Alice and everyone (although poor Susie too knackered to make it out). Thom made us pancakes for breakfast, and gave me a gorgeous bracelet and an antique globe this morning, rolling his eyes when I opened the globe. He said, ‘It’s what you asked for. But the first time I find it tucked away in a cupboard, I’m getting rid of it.’ He ruffled my hair, muttering, ‘Ridiculous object.’ Hopefully he was referring to the globe, not me. Nice to see Zoe and her crazily handsome American boyfriend have become friends with Jim since Christmas (Jim’s studio is round the corner from their flat and they’ve stayed in touch). Even Eve was in fine form, and stayed miles away from Thom. Happy birthday me!

March 9th

Susie officially hormone-riddled. She gave me a fright though; when I went over on a visit this evening to receive my birthday gifts she looked a bit pale, and was tucked up on the sofa under an old blanket, watching Grand Designs.

Me: Are you alright, Suse?

Susie: Yeah, I’m fine. I’m really tired.

Me: Hormones?

Susie: [sighing audibly] Not
just
hormones. I’m not feeling brilliant at the moment.

Me: Have you been to the doctor?

Susie: Yeah, I went this morning. She said everything’s fine, but maybe I should slow down a bit.

Me: That’s what you get with baby number three.

Susie: [silence] What’s that supposed to mean?

Me: Nothing! Just … maybe you should take it easy. You’ve got two already and you need to take care of yourself.

Susie: What – I’ve got two already, so it doesn’t matter what happens with this one?

Me: [laughing] No!
Suse
! Come on – of course I didn’t mean that. Didn’t the doctor say the baby was OK?

Susie: Sorry, do you even care? It’s quite obvious that the wedding is the
only
thing
anyone
is allowed to care about anymore, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that our baby is not a particularly welcome member of the party—

Me: Susie, of course the baby is welcome. I was surprised, the way you sprang it; I didn’t know you and Pete wanted another one—

Susie: Who fucking cares if we wanted another one or not? How is that your business? If it doesn’t come with a veil or confetti, it’s impossible to find space in your subconscious at the moment anyway! I’m so sorry, I clearly should have discussed with you whether our unborn foetus matched your colour scheme. It was totally selfish of us to continue living our lives when you have this wedding to plan. So sorry.

Me: How am I being selfish? You’ve got your happy little life, and I’m living mine. Just because you and Pete decided to have your quirky, independent little wedding without bothering to actually involve anyone who loves you, doesn’t mean that I have to do the same thing.

Susie: Involving anyone? Who are you involving? You’re involving Thom’s wallet, and that’s about it! You won’t let Mum do a single thing—

Me:
You
didn’t even invite her to your wedding!

Susie: So what? I’m not the one pretending that I’m doing this big family event for purely selfless reasons—

Me: Susie! Can you calm down, please?

Susie: Can I calm down? Can you
piss off
, please?

Pete came in then, hearing us shouting, and in the nicest possible way repeated Susie’s request. As he took me to the front door, he said gently, ‘Give her a day or two. She really isn’t feeling great at the moment.’

She chose to have this bloody baby.
She
can call
me
.

TO DO:

Bunting?

Manicure?

Disposable cameras?

Party poppers?

Practise hair (on my own, since sister is now insane)

March 14th

A few more invitation responses. Fenella, the cold wife of Thom’s horrible sweaty boss, sent me a beautiful handwritten Smythson card saying they would be delighted to join us, and two of the thick-haired girlfriends sent identical responses. But booooo, brilliant cousin Emma can’t come, as they can’t get babysitting overnight and couldn’t really bring baby Jacob along. Jim says he’s really excited, although more about the ‘massive knees-up’ that will be our wedding than about being given an excuse to visit Ipswich. Fair enough. Other Tom (from dreadful holiday job) says it seems unlikely that he’ll be there, as formal weddings aren’t hugely his bag, but he does promise us a huge present to make up for his absence. Fiona and Mark say
they’ll
be there, as do all Thom’s school friends and my coursemates (bar Lucy who I’ve yet to hear from). Good going, so far.

Tony, meanwhile, has taken to hovering over my desk, as if he can pick up signals of how well
Perfect Wedding
will sell simply by eyeballing my computer. He sighs deeply whenever it comes up in our weekly meetings, and looks expectantly at me while I pitch our marketing and sales ideas and describe the new content Jacki’s still providing. But Tony never seems happy. I was copied into this email from Pamela:

From: Cooper, Pamela

To: Cooper, Tony

CC: Carlow, Kiki

Re: Wedding book

Anthony,

Please can you ensure that this book doesn’t compromise the company in any way . We have a lot riding on this, according to Norman and we need to bear in mind that it could have a vital bearing on our future stability.

Pamela

I can see why they had typing pools in the past.

I couldn’t stop thinking about all of that as I got ready for Jacki’s hen night tonight. A month before the wedding, thirty of her closest friends in the world (and me) went to the Soho Hotel where we had dinner, drinks, and barrels of popcorn for a private screening of
Die Hard
. A bloody brilliant choice, I might add. It was enormous fun, as we all heckled Alan Rickman, analysed Bonnie Bedelia’s hair and cheered Bruce Willis’s excellent comeback lines. After the film, we had the whole third floor to ourselves with massages, manicures and pedicures going on in each room, and B-list actresses and popstars rushing from suite to suite with nail polish and cotton wool. There may have been no paparazzi there, but there was the ever-present Pedro, snapping away at all the guests (except me). Jacki had also invited a whole bunch of friends from her school, women she’d stayed friends with even though they were stuck in a middle-England town and she was awarding statuettes at the Brits. Jacki’s warmth made everyone feel comfortable, so a soap actress chatted to a single mum-of-two about the difficulty of kids starting school, and a star of the top ten shared travel tips with Jacki’s primary school pal. We laughed so hard all night, and it was lovely to see how much all these people really cared about Jacki. And Pedro was a wonder – charming these women so no one looked nervous or self-conscious as he took pictures of them in various states of undress and tipsiness.

As the night was winding down (although from the sounds of it, one group was just starting on the mini-bar and sing-along) I told Jacki I would head home. She took me to her room and presented me with a party bag for the night. I didn’t check what was in there straight away, but I caught a glimpse of Laura Mercier and Diptyque boxes. Bloody hell, I thought, this bag might provide me with presents for my family for the whole next year. Although, unless he is suddenly
really
into his skincare routines, Dad might be a bit disappointed.

Jacki: Have you had a nice time tonight?

Me: I’ve had
such
a nice time! Thank you again, Jacki. [suddenly embarrassed] Although you did have to ask me, it being my job, of course.

Jacki: But I would have invited you anyway, Kiki. It’s been really nice getting to know you these last few months.

Me: Has it been instructive to see all those arguments you
shouldn’t
have?

Jacki: [laughing] Are we ready to laugh about them yet?

Me: No.

Jacki: [mock-serious] No, it’s not been funny at all.

Me: It might have been a bit funny. But I do think … I think as long as I can be with Thom. I think that’s all I need. You know what that’s like, though.

Jacki turned away and busied herself tidying up her makeup brushes as I put my coat on. Without looking at me, she said, ‘I don’t want to go down the same route as my parents, Kiki. They both gave me everything money could buy, but neither Mum nor Dad cared about anyone else but themselves, and their reputations. What their friends thought they could do. They didn’t love one another and they didn’t love me. We had a house full of things, and that’s all they cared about. I’m not going to live that life.’

I gave her a hug and reminded her that it was one thing she wouldn’t have to worry about with Leon. She hugged me back and sent me on my way, off home to jog Thom’s memory about exactly how much I loved him.

TO DO:

Confirm guests’ travel – see if anyone needs to share lifts

Confirm with the hotel those guests who have booked with them

Stop feeling guilty about Susie being a loon

March 19th

Annie and Stephen’s wedding today. I take back everything I said about her. She is still very much into her holographic décor, and she is definitely not normal. I really
hope
that’s not normal, anyway.

The ceremony was fine. Her dress looked like it had been piped onto her from a fire extinguisher, and she had a giant sunflower behind one ear, as if she’d fallen into an Athena poster from 1987 and only just escaped alive. The service was unremarkable, bar a reminder on the back of the Order of Service of their bank details, for anyone who hadn’t given to the gift list yet. I hadn’t spotted
that
tip in
Beautiful
Brides
.

But it was the reception that was the main treat. On arrival, I nudged Thom when I saw clusters of shiny silver balloons with holographic ‘A&S’s printed onto them (‘I
told
you’), and was a little bit delighted that sometimes people still cling to something of their early identities. It was reassuring, and I felt close to my childhood friend for a moment. Then Thom, who had gone on ahead to look at the table plans, came back to say, ‘I’m not sure if you should see this or not.’ At the invitation of the best man, we all headed into the dining room: every table was covered in a silver holographic tablecloth, every chair had a giant shiny silver holograph bow, and there was a huge gold and silver banner behind the top table, saying, ‘Annie & Steve – Love Eternal’. ‘That’s a bit … weird, isn’t it?’ said Thom in my ear. I didn’t know what to say. We took our seats, shell-shocked and dazzled.

Annie and Steve were outside having their photos taken by the world’s worst wedding photographer (‘OK, now can the bride look at the groom, and the groom look off into the distance? Lovely’) but arrived in the dining room not long after, and were given a standing ovation by the seventyish guests as Annie led Steve to the top table. We were at the second table, right next to them, and I gave Annie a wave and a thumbs-up as she took her place, and she smiled and waved back at me, open-and-closed hand, like a baby. The waiters came out from the kitchens with our starters, and the man to my left reached for a bottle of white wine at the centre of our table. Thom was opening the red as the waiter put our food in front of us; a bowl of what looked and smelled like Heinz Tomato Soup. I looked over at the top table to see how Annie would protect her dress, and saw that the six guests on the top table were being handed delicate dishes of French Onion Soup, with tiny heart-shaped croutons floating on the top. Checking the other tables, I saw that only the top table had the good stuff: the rest of us had tomato soup and a basket of sliced white loaf in the middle. I nudged Thom under the table and signalled to him the striking discrepancy, and he rolled his eyes slightly. The red wine having gone around the table, Thom finished it into my glass and caught the eye of a waiter: ‘Could we get another wine, please … No? No, nope, never mind, nothing …’ Thom’s voice faded away, neither of us surprised now that Annie and Steve would provide only two bottles of wine for each table of eight.