I know I said that I was going to find out what was wrong with Nanny Violet but I’ve bottled it well and truly. And even though Mark had told her we were going round for Sunday afternoon tea I couldn’t face it. His brother Howard and his family are going over later and I feel too awkward to be a part of it. I do need to speak to her on her own, but I’ll pluck up the courage eventually. Honestly I will.
I’ve lied and told Mark that he should go and spend some quality time with Violet by himself and that I need to go and sort things out with Lou. Which is not a lie. I have barely spoken to her since she came round for the wine-tasting evening two weeks ago. I sort of thought I’d give her some space for a week, and let her come to tell me she is up the duff. But she hasn’t.
With less than a month to go I need to start getting the wedding back on track, and at the moment the bridal party is in disarray and my maid of honour is MIA.
Mark was happy I was going to see Lou as he had told me off for not having gone to see her before now. He’s reminded me that she’s pregnant, she hasn’t got a contagious disease, and that she could probably be a bridesmaid while pregnant. Although he did admit that he didn’t know that for a fact as he wasn’t an expert on pregnancy.
I could have perhaps called Lou to let her know I was on my way over but I haven’t. I guess part of me still thinks that she might have secret friends and this way I’m going to catch her in the act.
Only one way to find out. I press the doorbell and my stomach starts to get butterflies. I don’t know why I’m so nervous all of a sudden. I’ve stood on this very doorstep hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.
‘Penny!’ says Lou, as she opens the door. ‘What are you doing here? Did we have plans? Did I forget?’
‘No, no. I was just passing and thought I’d pop in. Unless now isn’t convenient?’
I peer down the hallway, straining my ears in case I can hear the chatter of her exciting new friends, but alas it is all quiet on the western front.
‘Um, I guess now is fine. Russell’s gone food shopping.’
And yet I’m still standing on the doorstop. I can’t just barge past her so I smile and raise my eyebrows.
‘Sorry, come on in. Did you want a cup of tea?’ she asks.
‘I would love one, thanks.’
I follow Lou into the kitchen and I look subtly around for any clues that Russell isn’t living here any more. After all, I still don’t know she is actually pregnant; until she tells me, all my conspiracy theories could be plausible.
‘So how have you been?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, fine. Busy.’
‘Oh?’ I say, trying to dig a little deeper. Lou has her back to me and is busying herself preparing the cups with tea bags while the kettle boils.
‘Yeah, work and stuff. How are the wedding plans?’
‘Good.’ How long is it going to take her to tell me her news? Maybe I should try and hurry things along. ‘I’m thinking of serving prawns for the starter, with Brie.’
‘Sounds delicious,’ she says.
Hmm. Is she trying to bluff her way out of it? I’m trying to get a sneaky look at her belly, but she’s wearing a hoodie from our college days that should have been thrown out years ago. And just like we used to wear them to look cool and cover our puppy fat, it is doing a good job of being oversized and I can’t tell what’s hoodie and what’s belly.
It looks like I’ll have to try harder. She puts the cup of tea in front of me and sits down at the table. Now she has to look at me.
‘I really could do with us going bridesmaid-dress shopping.’
She sighs and keeps stirring her tea. ‘You know, things are quite busy.’
‘Yes, so you keep telling me. Look, if you don’t want to be a bridesmaid you can just say. I can always ask someone else,’ I say in a tone that was not nonchalant like it was supposed to be. It sounded more like I was a stroppy five-year-old. The truth is I don’t want anyone else and she knows it.
‘Of course I want to be your bridesmaid.’
‘Then what’s the problem with dress shopping?’
Lou is looking very intently at her tea and doing a very good job of stirring it.
I look down at mine and then I notice it is a really odd colour. ‘Why is my tea so funky looking?’
‘It’s Roobios.’
‘Roobios? For goodness’ sake, Lou, will you just tell me you’re pregnant.’
Finally, for the first time since I arrived, she is looking me directly in the eye. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘I knew it!’ I say. I’m just going to gloss over the fact that I had a number of other theories too.
‘I thought you’d guessed at the wine tasting. Was it the lack of wine or the chocolate cake?’
‘Neither. I didn’t put two and two together. It was Mark who guessed.’
‘Mark did? Who knew he was so perceptive?’
‘I know, go figure. But why didn’t you tell me?’
‘We were going to. We’d just had our scan and we’d planned to meet you for drinks and then you got engaged and those drinks turned out to be your engagement drinks.’
Oh no. I hijacked Lou’s big news night.
‘You should have said; it could have been a double celebration.’
‘Russell and I both knew how excited you’d be that Mark had finally proposed. We couldn’t steal your thunder.’
‘But you were drinking that night,’ I say, trying to turn my mind back to that night in January.
‘Nope, I wasn’t. You were though. You were drunk before we even arrived.’
Ah, the perils of drinking too much and not noticing anything around me.
‘Well, you still should have told me,’ I say, folding my arms defensively.
‘I didn’t want you to be mad at me.’
‘Why would I be mad?’
‘Because what if I’m the size of a whale at your wedding?’ she shrieks.
‘So, why would I mind that?’
‘Because it’s your wedding. You know, your wedding that you’ve been planning for years. I know how you’ve planned every little detail to a T. I didn’t think a fat me would feature well in the plans.’
‘Are you kidding? You can stand next to me and make me look uber skinny.’
‘Ha, thanks,’ says Lou, laughing. ‘It’s all your fault anyway.’
‘Hang on, what have I got to do with it? You were supposed to be waiting until we tried for stage six at the same time so we could be preggo and on maternity leave together.’
‘I know. That was the plan. I came off the pill last year as it kept giving me headaches and Russell and I thought it would be good for when we did want to try. And then Mark finished his exams and you were so convinced on that night out he was going to propose to you.’
‘Yes, but that was stage four, not stage six,’ I say, trying to keep up.
‘Mark and his bloody stages. But don’t you remember that night? You were so convinced he was going to pop the question that you bought bottle after bottle of Prosecco and you made me tell everyone how Russell proposed to me. And all the bubbles had gone to my head, and I was feeling all loved up. So by the time we got home one thing led to another and we forgot to use protection. Ha, me at thirty with an accidental pregnancy.’
I don’t know if I quite want all the details.
I hate thinking about that night in November. It was so embarrassing. I was all dressed up, expecting Mark to ask me at any second. I kept making sure that my lips were freshly glossed and my make-up was flawless, so that the photos that came post-proposal would be perfect. But by the end of the night I was a sulking and crying mess. It was good to know that at least someone’s life changed for the better that night.
‘Well, that’s pretty cool. Congratulations, by the way.’
‘Thank you. I’ve been dying to tell you.’
‘I wish you had – I was beginning to think you’d got new friends.’
‘Don’t be daft. You know if I was going to drop you I would have got rid of you during your purple hair phase.’
I shudder. Lou knows better than to talk about that. I’ve only just got my sister to stop calling me Vimto. Thank goodness that tragic hair choice was just before I met Mark or else I don’t think he would have fallen for me and we wouldn’t now be at stage four.
‘So can you, you know, still be my maid of honour?’ I ask.
‘Of course I can, if you still want me.’
‘Yes, of course I bloody do.’
Oh my God. Are those tears in Lou’s eyes?
‘I’m sorry,’ she splutters as she wipes her eyes and laughs at the same time. ‘Bloody pregnancy hormones. I used to think they were a myth, but they’re really not.’
‘Ah, come here and give me a hug.’
We hug and even I get a little choked up. Lou, my bestest buddy in the whole world, is going to give birth to a little person. There is going to be a mini Lou and Russell.
I can’t believe that Lou would withhold this magical news just because of my impending wedding.
‘I still can’t get over that you were scared to tell me,’ I say.
‘Jeez, really? Don’t you remember at my wedding when your sister got pregnant? You told her she was inconsiderate and that she should have waited as she wouldn’t be able to drink on my hen do?’
‘I said that? Wow.’
I have some vague recollection of something of a fuss with Becky about Lou’s wedding but I’d forgotten what it was about.
‘And then you said to her that she had better get her baby-making out of the way before you and Mark got engaged, as you didn’t want her to ruin the aesthetics of your photos.’
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I really have been planning this wedding for a long time. I can’t even laugh this off like I was joking as I probably wasn’t, not even in the slightest.
‘I’m sure that’s why she gave birth to Ethan and Lily so close together. She was probably fearing your wrath,’ says Lou.
I look up at Lou and now it is me that is starting to cry.
‘Hey, hey, don’t cry, Penny. You’re not pregnant too, are you?’
‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I just can’t believe that my best friend wouldn’t tell me the biggest thing to happen to her because she was worried that I would be a complete cow about it. Lou, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I haven’t really told many people as even though it has been almost six months it’s taken a bit of getting used to.’
‘I can’t believe you’re going to have a baby.’
‘I know Russell and me as parents – what a scary thought!’
‘I think you’ll be great parents.’
They will be too. I just know it.
‘Ha, we’ll see. So now we’ve got that out of the way. Tell me, aside from the bridesmaid dresses, how are the wedding plans coming along?’
Ah, the wedding. It always comes back to the wedding whenever I see anyone now. I don’t want to tell them that I’m barely anywhere with it. I’ve done all the big things, but that is it. And it’s always the little things that make weddings memorable.
‘It’s going OK. I’ve, um, oh I’ve sorted out the flowers since we last spoke,’ I say.
‘That’s great. And you’ve got the wine sorted?’
‘Yeah, kind of.’
I know which ones I want, I’m just currently stalking the wine website waiting for special offers. Fingers crossed it will be soon, as the closer it gets to the wedding, the more I’m starting to develop a nervous twitch about it.
‘That’s great. It’s going to be amazing, I’m sure. I remember the last time I saw your mood board, and all that pretty fabric. Oh, you can tell me about your dress now that Mark isn’t here. Is it huge and princess-like? Are you going to be able to fit in the toilet?’ asks Lou.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
‘Oh my God. You are pregnant, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. The tears are really coming thick and fast now. ‘It’s such a mess.’
‘What is?’
‘The wedding. It’s all going so badly.’
‘But I thought you’d done all the big things. And you always knew what you were going to get and you saved so hard for it.’
‘That’s the problem. I spent the savings.’
‘Already? Well, how much more have you got to pay for? I’m sure Mark would give you a bit extra.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I spent most of the money before we’d even got engaged.’
‘On what? Don’t tell me you’ve been buying shoes and hiding them from me.’
‘Ten thousand pounds would have got me a lot of Jimmy Choos,’ I say, laughing. For a brief moment I’m lost in a walk-in wardrobe where I’m surrounded by ten thousand pounds’ worth of Jimmy Choos, aka heaven.
‘So what did you spend it on?’ asks Lou. ‘Pen?’
‘Bingo.’
I close my eyes tight so that I can’t see the look of disgust on Lou’s face, but all I can hear is laughing.
‘That’s funny, Pen. Nice joke.’
‘It’s not a joke. I spent just over ten thousand pounds on bingo. I was trying to get the money for a bigger wedding, and now I’m organising our wedding on a shoestring budget. And I go to a gamblers’ support group every Tuesday.’
I can’t believe how good it feels to get that off my chest.
‘Fuckity Fuck. Suddenly my bump at the wedding seems quite small in significance. I think you’re going to have to start from the beginning.’
So as Lou puts on the kettle for another cup of funky-tasting tea, I tell her the whole sordid story from A to Z. I tell her about the bingo rush, the bank account, how Mark doesn’t know, and I tell her about the gambling support group and Josh. I tell her, I cry, I eat biscuits and she cuddles me.
When Russell comes home he gets banished to the kitchen and we go into the lounge so that we can talk more.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ says Lou. ‘I really can’t. I’ve been so jealous of you with your sensible saving for your wedding. But hey, you’re just as screwy as the rest of us.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Why don’t you just do what me and Russell did and put it on the credit card?’
‘Because Mark would wonder why I was eternally poor.’
‘Well, it sounds like you’re doing a good job so far coping with your budget. I would never have known that the venue was so cheap.’
‘I know. It’s amazing.’
‘But what I really don’t get is why you don’t tell Mark. He’d support you through it.’
‘I can’t. He’d be crushed. He’s so good with money.’
‘What if he finds out, though? You’re going to be married to him for the rest of your life. What if it just slips out?’
‘It doesn’t matter as we’ll be married by then and he doesn’t believe in divorce.’
Lou is pulling a face in horror at me.
‘OK, so I haven’t thought that far ahead. But if I do a good job with the wedding then he’ll never know,’ I say.
‘I still don’t agree with you not telling Mark, but I’ll help you with the organising if you like.’
This is why I love Lou. She’s not only fun to be with but she’d do anything for anyone.
‘Thanks. I might have to take you up on that offer.’
‘So what have you got left to do?’ she asks.
‘Favours, music, bridesmaid dresses, transportation, photographer, cake, suit hire.’
‘OK. Wedding favours on a budget – yes?’
‘Uh-huh. I’m not averse to making them. Amy, who’s doing my flowers, suggested something edible.’
‘OK, how about gingerbread hearts?’
‘Gingerbread?’
‘Yes, it’s practically all I’ve been eating over the last few months. I’ve been making it too. It’s pretty good.’
‘And easy?’ I ask, as gingerbread to me is just a little too close to the cake family.
‘Uh-huh. We can make it a couple of days before.’
Done. Wow. If only I’d told Lou sooner, I bet we could have had everything ticked off by now.
‘What’s next?’
‘Music. You don’t happen to know a DJ or a band that will play for free?’ I ask.
‘Why don’t you just do an iPod DJ? You can make a play list.’
I had thought about that. I didn’t think my mixing skills would be up to it.
‘I don’t have anything against it, but I sort of feel like you need someone to get the music going. You know, react to the crowd. Drop a big one when needed.’
Yes, I still listen to Radio 1. I sometimes think I am down with the cool kids, and I know that I am not. I know I am too old for the target demographic.
‘Oh my God. I have the best idea,’ says Lou.
‘What?’
‘Do you trust me?’
Now, you’d probably expect me to say yes to this question. But I’ll give you a little background. When Lou last asked me this question, I said of course; the next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital with my leg in plaster after Lou had pushed me down a hill in a shopping trolley. In her defence we were steaming drunk.
‘You promised you’d never ask me that again,’ I say.
‘Ah yeah, I forgot. But it is different now. I’m all responsible. I’m going to be a mum. I promise there will be no more broken bones or shopping trolleys on the horizon.’
‘OK then. I trust you. Why?’
‘Because I’ve had the best idea for a DJ and I’m not going to tell you. You’ve got your “don’t tell the groom”; I think we need a “don’t tell the bride”. Let’s just say it will last about an hour and will fit in perfectly in the middle of two sets of something.’
‘Should I be worried?’ I ask, wincing.
‘No, it will be awesome.’
‘It doesn’t involve you singing, does it?’
‘No, I don’t want to scare anyone.’
‘Good,’ I say. There are cats that can sing better than Lou.
‘So all I need to do now is find a band that will play for buttons.’
‘I’d play for buttons.’
‘Can you play?’ I ask hopefully.
‘No. But there must be someone we know that has a band.’
‘I’ve racked my brains and I can’t think of anyone.’
‘Ask around. Someone must know someone.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘We’ll think of something. Oh, this is fun. It’s like Challenge Anneka. What else do we need?’
I smile at Lou. I can’t believe how differently I feel from when I arrived over two hours ago. It’s like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Not completely off, it’s still there, but my shoulders definitely feel lighter.
I’ve got that little kernel of hope back that with Lou on my side I may actually pull this off after all.