Page 2 of The Wedding Cake Wish
‘He’s going to have to.’ She groans. ‘Kid stuff has actuallytaken over our whole life. I told Harry I needed to “go potty” the other dayand he looked at me as if I’d gone mad. Which I probably have.’
‘Ah, the joys of parenting,’ I murmur. ‘Can I have that hatback? It goes really well with the feather boa.’
Jaz plops it on my head. ‘I used to send Harry sexy littletexts on his way home from work, like, “Need some explosive stress relief? Pickup massage oils.” Now it’s “Stress levels exploding. Pick up baby wipes.”
We laugh, and Ellie says, ‘I can’t see your mum allowingwilly-shaped balloons at your wedding, can you, Fen?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ I flick my eyes to the ceiling. ‘She’shad some pretty wacky ideas recently. Most of which I’ve managed to head off,thankfully.’
Ellie nudges me. ‘Never mind. Cheer up. You’re gettingmarried to the love of your life in less than five weeks’ time.’
I nod, wheeling out myyes-and-I’m-so-excitedsmile,which I’ve had many chances to perfect during the past few months of mymother’s escalating madness. With September just a few days away, the countdownto the wedding – at the start of October – is now well under way. I should beover the moon with joy...
We emerge from the fun photo booth to a wedding fair buzzingwith the low hum of excited chatter. There’s glamour and sparkle everywhere youlook. A bride-to-be’s version of heaven. So why am I thinking it’s my idea ofhell?
I glance around the function suite feeling slightly dazed,which seems to be my default setting these days.
‘Aw, look, Fen.’ Jaz grins, pointing at a stall. ‘You canget yours and Rob’s initials made into a romantic monogram and have itinscribed on absolutely everything at your wedding.’
I stare at the stall. The example they’ve used is a curly‘H’ and an extravagant, loopy ‘W’, bound together in such sugary pink cuteness,my teeth hurt.
‘Horace & Waynetta?’ suggests Ellie.
Jaz grins. ‘Hedwig & Willy Wonka?’
I snort with laughter. ‘Jaz, you’re obsessed with willies.Just imagine, though. R & F stamped on everything from the menus to thecupcake favours to the vicar’s cassock.’
‘F & R flows better,’ points out Ellie.
‘Yes, except that it stands for something that’s quite theopposite of romantic,’ points out Jaz.
‘Oh? What?’ Ellie frowns, thinking.
‘Well, you definitely wouldn’t utter the first word inchurch and the second word is “run”?’
‘Ah.’ A light goes on above Ellie’s head and she laughs. ‘Ofcourse. You don’t want a wedding monogram that’s shorthand for a one-nightstand, Fen.’
I stare at them in confusion. ‘But I still don’t under...ah!’I giggle, red-faced, as the penny finally drops.
Mum sweeps in at that moment. ‘Oh, look, what a wonderfulidea!’ She picks up one of the leaflets and murmurs ‘F & R. I can see itnow.’ She smiles. ‘Perfect.’ And she pops the leaflet in her bag.
As she buzzes off to the next stall like a bee scenting awhole roomful of pollen fabulousness, I shrug helplessly at my friends. ‘Seewhat I have to contend with? She’ll have everything monogrammed by tomorrow.I’ll have to hide Rob’s underwear.’
Jaz laughs. ‘You need to tell Marjery you hate the idea.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I will. It’s just that Mum has a specialway of talking me round. She keeps on and on about how amazing it’ll be, like astuck record, until I’m so flipping exhausted I give in just to get somepeace.’
‘She’s a determined woman,’ agrees Ellie. ‘I’m not sure I’dbe great at telling her “no”.’
I nod gloomily. ‘Especially since she’s so hyped about thewedding. Honestly, to hear her talk, these really are the nuptials of thedecade. She actually mentioned the Beckhams’ thrones the other day.’
Jaz and Ellie turn in horror. ‘Nooooo!’ they protest inunison.
I laugh at their faces. ‘Don’t worry. I put my foot down andevenMarjeryagreed that might be a little bit...um...tacky.’I stare over to where Mum is now having an in-depth discussion with a womanfrom a company called Salsa Sensations, who – weirdly, if you ask me – are paidto give your wedding guests on-the-spot dance lessons. ‘What on earth is shedoing? I thought we’d decided on a sophisticated wedding, not a drunkenknees-up at the pub.’ I shrug. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with a drunkenknees-up at the pub. In fact, it sounds like pure bliss from where I’mstanding.’
My two bridesmaids snort with laughter, possibly trying toimagine Mum downing pints and doing the hokey-cokey down the local.
‘No, I’m serious,’ I protest. ‘In fact, eloping to GretnaGreen is looking like a really solid option these days. Rob’s keeping out ofthe chaos – very wisely – but I’m guessing he’d say yes like a shot if I saidwe should elope.’
