Mother of the Bride

‘Ollie?’

‘Yeah, head gardener and chief slave driver. I’ve got to water the walled garden. How about you ring me later to sort out when you’re coming over?’

‘Ok, I’ll talk to Mum.’

Jess didn’t really have much chance to think about the revelation that Max was down in Hampshire until she came off the phone, and then it hit her.

‘Bastard,’ Jess hissed as she wandered back into the house. Why on earth had he lied to her?

Molly looked up from the piles of lists. ‘Sorry?’

Jess waved the words away. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

Molly smiled back at her. ‘So how was Max?’

‘Absolutely fine, just off to lunch,’ Jess said, trying to sound matter of fact. ‘Now where were we?’

‘Lunch,’ said Molly, handing her a plate. ‘And how’s his work going?’

‘Just fine,’ lied Jess, sitting down at the kitchen table, not quite meeting Molly’s eye. ‘And it looks like we’ve got a cake and possibly a venue.’

‘Great,’ said Molly, peering at her. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, just hungry,’ Jess said. The last thing she wanted was to talk about Max, because she knew that it wouldn’t take much to make her cry. What the hell was he thinking of? Old-fashioned or not, surely it wouldn’t have hurt for them to have gone down to see his parents together.

Chapter Seven

The day just went on and on and so it was almost eight by the time Jess and Bassa finally left for the drive back to Swaffham.

Molly was exhausted. They had spent all day looking at wedding magazines and websites, and drawing up endless lists. They had eaten dinner in amongst a pile of wedding plans. Nick had been an absolute star; he’d fed them, oohed at all the pictures Jess had pushed under his nose, said all the right things in all the right places and was now busy packing the dishwasher.

Not for the first time Molly marvelled at her good fortune in finding a man like Nick after all these years, a man who loved her and her children – who repaid the compliment by loving him right back – and who loved her in ways so numerous and so palpable that she couldn’t imagine what life had been like without him.

‘Right,’ said Nick, handing her a mug of tea and settling himself down alongside her. ‘Hit me with it.’

‘Well, Jess’s idea is that we plan everything all in one big go, present it as a fait accompli to Jonathon and Max and then just get it all booked and organised, maybe with a couple of tweaks en route. Which sounds perfect in practice but in reality everything we looked at gave Jess something else to think about.’

‘You want more champagne? I think there’s another bottle in the fridge.’

Molly groaned. ‘Give me a break.’ She felt as if she had been mugged by a froth of organza and baby’s breath. She pushed the pile of magazines and notes and torn-out pages to one side of the kitchen table and slumped forward, head on hands.

‘Thank God she’s gone.’

‘You were brilliant.’ Nick grinned. ‘Don’t flag now – I’ve got a night of wild passion planned. Blindfolds, baby oil, furry handcuffs.’

His grin held until Molly laughed.

Nick aped rejection. ‘Don’t tell me; what you really want is a hot bath, and an early night?’

‘What would I do without you?’ asked Molly.

Nick considered the possibility for a moment. ‘Have all of the duvet yourself and get to watch what you want on the TV?’

Molly nodded. ‘There is that. You know that the next few weeks are going to be total hell, don’t you? And this is even before my nearest and dearest start moaning that they haven’t got an invitation or it’s too far away or on the wrong day.’

‘You’ve done the guest list already?’

Molly pulled a sheet of paper out from the pile. ‘More or less. Actually I don’t think there is much we haven’t taken a stab at.’

Nick moved behind her and rubbed her neck and shoulders, thumbs working into a great raft of knots and creaks, making Molly groan with a mixture of pain and relief.

‘Any woman who can deal with a juggling bear can cope with organising a wedding.’ He pulled Molly’s notebook back across the table and scanned down the list. ‘Registry office, followed by a humanist wedding at Vanguard Hall, wedding dress by Helen, invitations by Jess, Max’s mum to organise the cake, a ceilidh, food, photos and bar TBA.’ He paused. ‘There, you see. Fantastic. You’ve already done most of it.’

Molly looked up at him, loving his naïve optimism. ‘That’s provisional. We’ve got about a million other things to organise.’

Nick bent down and kissed her tired, weary lips. ‘TBA,’ he said. ‘Piece of cake.’

Which sparked something deep in Molly’s fuddled brain. ‘Oh God, yes, cake,’ she said, grabbing a pen and pulling the notebook towards her. ‘I’ve got to buy cake boxes to send to the people who can’t come.’

Max arrived at Jess’s cottage at around the same time as she did; the difference being that Max looked fresh as a daisy, was freshly shaved and was carrying a huge bunch of flowers and a helium balloon, whereas Jess had Bassa, a bag full of wedding magazines and the makings of a really good headache.

‘I’ve come to say that I’m sorry,’ he said, as she locked up her car and headed inside. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you today.’

Jess waved the words away and carried on walking. ‘You didn’t upset me, Max, you lied to me, there’s a huge difference. ’

She dipped into her pocket to retrieve her house keys, getting tangled up with her bag and Bassa’s expanding lead as she did.

‘Here, do you want me to take Bas and your bag?’ he offered as she struggled to unlock the front door.

‘No, you’re fine. It’ll take longer than doing it myself.’

He leaned in closer. ‘I didn’t think you’d understand.’

Jess sighed. ‘You didn’t give me the chance to understand. And since when have I been the kind of person that flies off the handle?’

Max held the flowers out towards her. ‘Pax?’ he said. They were her favourites, sunflowers and the purplest of purple irises.

Jess smiled despite herself and shook her head. She had already got her hands well and truly full with the bag and the dog. ‘Max, the flowers are lovely but for future reference, please just tell me the truth, even if it hurts, rather than any number of lies. If you had told me about going to see your mum and dad I would have been fine about it.’

They stood awkwardly in the hallway, Bassa eager to be in, Jess half in and half out of her door, Max still holding the flowers out in front of him like a shield.

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s ancient history but my ex, Lucy, was always jealous of how well I got on with my parents,’ Max said. ‘She was always telling me that I neglected her.’

‘Well, I’m not Lucy,’ said Jess. ‘And I’m close to my parents too.’

‘Is it all right if I come in?’ he asked. Jess hesitated, just long enough for him to look uncomfortable.

‘I thought you were going to have an early night. Didn’t you tell me that you’d got to be in to work by five today and tomorrow?’ said Jess, in a low voice.

Max looked contrite. ‘Just tomorrow. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Really – I’m crap at relationships. ’

He looked so deflated that Jess stood to one side. ‘Come on in. Just don’t lie to me again. All right?’

He kissed her. ‘Okay.’ As he stepped past her Max switched on the lights and then bent down to unclip Bassa, who belted off into the kitchen. ‘He looks pleased to be home. How did it go with your mother?’

Jess lifted a hand to silence him. ‘Wait, while we’re on the subject of the truth, Max, I need to be honest with you too.’ Now she had all his attention.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, looking anxious.

Jess reached into her pocket and pulled out the little pouch with her engagement ring in it. ‘I’ve been trying to think of ways to tell you without hurting your feelings.’

Max’s face turned ashen. ‘What?’ he murmured and Jess realised with a start that he thought she was giving him back his ring, changing her mind. Her expression softened.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said gently. ‘I was only wondering if you would mind if we changed my engagement ring?’

Max sighed with what she guessed was relief. ‘What, is it too big? I thought it fitted perfectly?’

‘It does, but it’s just that I’m not very keen on the design. It’s quite big and cumbersome, and I’d really like to have a ring I want to wear all the time. It would be nice to have something that we’d chosen together. Don’t you think?’

‘Oh,’ he said, sounding a bit put out. ‘But I thought you really liked it.’

Jess wasn’t quite sure what to say next; she had rather assumed that Max’s reaction would be something along the lines of okay, sure – let’s go and change it, not to have to justify why she didn’t like it.

‘It’s not my kind of thing. The design I mean,’ she said, feeling increasingly awkward. ‘And it’s a bit big for my hands, don’t you think?’ She spread her fingers to make the point. ‘Especially once I’ve got a wedding ring on as well.’

‘Well, if you don’t like it, you should have said something when I gave it to you,’ he said.

Jess tried out a smile and a different tactic. ‘How would that have sounded? Yes, of course I’ll marry you, but I hate the ring?’

He was about to say something but Jess decided that it might be better if she kept on talking. ‘I was so excited and so blown away by how romantic and how lovely it all was,’ she said gently, ‘The whole thing on the beach was so perfect, that the ring was – was –’ She felt around to find the right word without saying something that would make things any worse.

‘Almost secondary?’ suggested Max.

‘Something like that,’ said Jess. ‘It was such an amazing moment that I wasn’t really thinking about the ring at all, I was thinking about us – the future – all those things.’

‘So what kind of ring would you prefer? I want you to have something you like, obviously.’

‘Couldn’t we go and choose it together?’

Max looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, not really – I bought it from this little independent jewellery designer in Cambridge. Everything they make there is a one off. I’m not sure when they’re open. How about if you tell me the kind of thing you’d like and I’ll bring a selection of rings home and you can choose one?’

‘Or maybe we could call them, arrange to take a trip over there.’ Jess looked up at his face. ‘Surely they won’t let you just bring a tray of rings home?’

Max shifted his weight, looking ill at ease. ‘I’m almost certain they won’t mind. They know me there. I’ve bought quite a few things from them over the years, cufflinks and presents for friends and things for my mother. Christmases, birthdays. They’re very good. And I want it to be something special, not just picked from hundreds of others, massproduced, from any old jewellers.’

It struck Jess that Max didn’t want her to know how much the ring cost; that had to be why he didn’t want her to go and choose one for herself. The thought made her smile; he could so old-fashioned at times, bless him. Maybe this was the time to gratefully accept without pushing him any harder.

She took a deep breath. ‘That’s a lovely thought, Max, and I do appreciate it. If they’ll do that, then of course. Okay – it’ll be lovely.’

‘So what sort of ring would you like?’

Jess held out her hands for him to look at. ‘Something more delicate, not quite so chunky, maybe tiny diamonds or a solitaire. And maybe white gold? I’ve got quite small hands. What do you think?’

Max nodded. ‘Yes, of course, yes, you’re right.’ And for the first time since she had seen him by the car he smiled. ‘I promise I’ll sort that on Monday. And I’m sorry.’

‘For?’

‘For lying to you, for not choosing the right ring and I can see exactly what you mean about it not being right for you.’

‘You can?’

He nodded and then he kissed her gently. ‘I’ll put it right, I promise. Now I don’t know about you but I’m famished. How about I order us a take-away while you tell me all about how it went with your mother today?’

Molly meanwhile had settled back into a bath with only her head above the water. Nick had put bubbles in it that he’d bought her last time he was in Paris and the water smelt of freesias and honeysuckle.

She had a glass of wine on the go and was listening to Nina Simone’s voice rising up the stairs from the hi-fi in the sitting room below, the music as perfect and smooth as spun silk. ‘If we ever get married I’d like to have this at our wedding,’ Molly said.

‘I thought you were bored with organising weddings,’ said Nick from the other end of the bath. He’d got himself a margarita and a book propped up precariously on the soap rack.

‘Yes, but ours would be different. I wouldn’t have to worry about asking what anyone else wanted for a start.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ he said, pretending to take the hump. ‘So, I don’t get an opinion?’

‘You know what I mean – we could have just what we liked.’ She paused. ‘It seems so weird. My baby is getting married.’

‘So you said. It could be worse,’ Nick said. ‘She could be making you a granny.’

Molly ignored him. ‘And we don’t really know anything about Max.’

‘We don’t have to.’ Nick topped up the hot water.

‘It doesn’t seem fair that all those years have gone. One minute they’re just babies and then they’re at school and getting jobs and before you know it they’re getting married,’ said Molly, feeling the tears welling up. ‘It’s all gone too quickly. I’ve never organised anyone else’s wedding before. Looking at all those lists today, what exactly does the mother of the bride do?’

‘By the look on your face, mostly cry and panic.’

‘I totally misread this thing with Max and Jess – I didn’t think she was that serious about him.’

‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’

‘I don’t really know him,’ said Molly with affected coolness.

‘Molly?’ Nick looked sceptical.

‘Well, we’ve only seen him a couple of times, haven’t we? He just doesn’t seem Jess’s type at all.’

‘Maybe he’s her grown-up choice – like there’s a moment you stop going for gooey puddings and take the cheese and biscuits or start thinking that broccoli and broad beans are really nice?’

Molly raised her eyebrows. ‘So Max is Jess’s pick from the adult menu?’

‘Just a thought.’

Molly wasn’t convinced. ‘I suppose at least it means that Jessie is over Glenn.’

‘The one who went off to America?’

‘Broke her heart. I was really worried that after he went she might get back with Will – you remember the one who used to shred beer mats and tissues?’

‘Or go to Goa with Beano?’ said Nick.

‘Oh God, I’d forgotten about that. Beano is lovely though. He always reminds me of a daddy-longlegs; he’s so skinny and gangly.’

‘And can drink, smoke and snort his way through life with an enthusiasm that startled even the most robust of us. So, when’s Jess moving in with Max and do we need to hire a van?’

‘Apparently not, they’re waiting until after they’re married to move in together.’

‘A bit Victorian, isn’t it?’ said Nick.

‘Max is having his place redecorated, but the lease is up on the cottage Jess’s renting so she’s got to find somewhere. Mr Petrovsky, her landlord, is really nice, but he needs her to move out so that he can move his daughter and her husband and their new baby in.’ Molly sat up. ‘You don’t think that’s why Jess is marrying Max, do you? To get a house?’

‘Don’t be silly; she’s got loads of friends and places to stay if she needed to. She could move back here for a few weeks until she found somewhere if she wanted to.’

‘I already told her that.’ Molly settled back in the bath. ‘Married,’ she murmured after a few seconds. ‘It sounds such a big thing for Jess to be doing.’

Nick peered at her. ‘Before you say anything we’re not getting married, all right? So don’t ask.’

‘Oh, spoilsport,’ Molly teased. ‘I was thinking we could maybe have a double wedding. Me and you, Jessica and Max.’

‘I can’t see Jess wearing that one, can you?’

Molly laughed. ‘No, me neither, although all my friends think it’s high time you made a respectable woman of me.’

‘It’d take a lot more than getting married,’ Nick said. ‘And besides I like what we’ve got. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, is what I say.’

‘They want to buy hats.’

‘Uh-huh, and now that Jess is getting married they’ll have their chance.’

‘You’re all heart,’ said Molly. She took another sip of wine and slipped back amongst the bubbles.

‘So what are you thinking now?’

‘Here’s to marriage.’

Nick winced and topped up his glass. ‘Here’s to spending the rest of my life living in sin with you.’

Molly lifted her eyebrows. He grinned and so Molly relented. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll drink to that,’ she conceded, lifting her glass. ‘Although if we are ever going to get married can we do it before I look like ET in the wedding photos?’

It was Nick’s turn to lift his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to speak but Molly cut him short. ‘Don’t you dare say it,’ she said.

Nick, still grinning, sunk down beneath the water like a great hairy whale.

Meanwhile in the sitting room of Jess’s cottage, Max was finishing off the last of the Singapore noodles and nodding as Jess came to the end of the edited highlights of eight solid hours of planning and a lifetime’s worth of imagining what her wedding day might be like.

‘So, what do you think?’ she said breathlessly. ‘Assuming we pass on the radio station’s offer of following us around every step of the way, and my dad arm-wrestling everyone for discount.’

‘What’s Vanguard Hall like?’

Jess smiled. ‘Absolutely lovely. Really quirky and magical. Me and mum have been there loads of times to look round the gardens. It would be perfect – you’ll love it.’

Max tipped his head, suggesting to Jess that he wanted to hear more.

‘It’s near Holt and the estate is owned by a guy called Bert, who’s part eco-warrior and part crusty old aristo. There’s the farm, which is huge, and then the main house, which is this weird Gothic pile with all sorts of odds and ends tacked on, and they’ve got greenhouses, a fantastic walled garden – the farm is organic – and there’s this amazing old Tythe Barn which Bert says we can have for the reception. They use it as a tearoom in the summer – it’s got this spectacular beamed roof. The whole place is like something off a picture postcard. Jack’s worked there as a gardener since he left horticultural college. He’s got this tiny little cottage in the grounds that looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel.

And they’ve got the most fabulous gardens designed by Bertie’s wife Freya, a bluebell wood, a lake and loads of deer and they’ve got sculptures in the woods that Freya and her friends made – they are amazing, magical. Bert opens it up to the public two or three weekends a year for charity. It will make the most perfect place for a winter wedding. Trust me, you’ll love it. And we need to get moving. I’ve got a list.’ Jess leaned over the side of the sofa and pulled out a notebook. ‘We haven’t got that long to sort it all out.’

Max pulled a face. ‘I’m not really sure about all this dippy-hippy business.’

Jess stared at him and laughed. ‘What dippy-hippy business?’

‘Well, the whole Tythe Barn, bluebell wood, humanist wedding thing. I thought we’d just have a proper traditional church wedding.’

‘Max, you’re divorced and I’m an atheist.’

Max looked perplexed. ‘And?’

‘And so the best we could probably hope for is a church blessing and I’m not sure how likely that is when I tell the vicar I don’t believe in God.’

‘You could always lie.’

Jess stared at him, trying to work out whether or not he was joking.

‘I mean, what would it matter?’ Max continued. ‘Surely not everyone who has a church wedding is a regular churchgoer or a devout Christian? And in your case God can’t write it all down in a big book and use it against you later, because you don’t believe in him.’

‘And you do?’ snapped Jess.

‘Well no, not really, I believe in something, but my parents –’ he began.

‘I am not lying on our wedding day. And at a humanist wedding we would still have vows and make promises and we can choose readings and music – it’s just more personal. We help to write them.’

Max looked even more sceptical.

‘All right, how about we just go for a straight registry office do?’

Max shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, do you? And I also think we ought to think very carefully before we decide against the idea of getting the radio station involved.’

Jess laughed. ‘Tell me you’re joking. You are joking, aren’t you?’

‘I’m just saying maybe we ought to look into it. And it would be fun, don’t you think? It could work in our favour.’

Jess waited to hear just how Max thought that might work out.

‘Maybe you should talk to your mum about it,’ he said, scraping the final nest of noodles into his mouth. ‘The same with the chance of discount. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?’

Jess shook her head. ‘What about your parents? I thought they were raving traditionalists – wouldn’t they hate all that kind of thing?’

Max looked hurt. ‘Just because they’re old-fashioned doesn’t mean they’re not broad-minded.’

Jess sighed. ‘They’ll need to be if they’re working with Mum’s lot.’

Chapter Eight

The following weekend Jonathon was sitting at Molly’s dining table, having eaten a huge Sunday lunch, waxing lyrical about the virtues of media sponsorship and the free market economy.

‘I think that making a radio feature about the wedding would be a splendid idea,’ Jonathon said to Max, while topping up his wine. ‘And why not see what we can sort out discount-wise?’ Turning to Molly, he added, ‘And of course it would be nice to have it recorded for posterity, as well. Obviously. What sort of thing has your marketing department got in mind?’

Molly took a deep breath but Max was ahead of her.

‘I agree with Jonathon,’ he said. ‘It would be wonderful to have it recorded for posterity.’

The day was not going well. It had started going downhill at around half past eleven – half an hour earlier than planned – when Molly had looked out of the kitchen window and seen her ex-husband parking his Mercedes across the drive. Wiping her hands on a tea towel she had hurried outside.

‘Jonathon, do you mind not parking there? Jess and Max haven’t arrived yet. Could you bring it in? You’re blocking the whole driveway.’

The window of the brand-new Mercedes glided silently downwards and framed her ex-husband in the driver’s seat. He was balder and fatter and ruddier-faced than the last time she had seen him, and was wearing a paisley cravat with a cream linen jacket and a horrible pale lilac shirt. No doubt a Marnie makeover.

Jonathon said, ‘It’ll be fine here. They can park on the verge. It’s too tucked up round the back. I’ll scrape the paintwork on all those bloody bushes.’

Molly was about to protest when she noticed that Marnie was in the passenger seat and there was someone else sitting in the back. Nick meanwhile had come out to watch Jonathon’s manoeuvres. Currently Jonathon was making a great job of ruining their grass as he shunted the car backwards and forwards until he was satisfied with his positioning. When he climbed out the drive was completely blocked.

‘I see Jonathon’s arrived,’ Nick said somewhat unnecessarily. ‘Any particular reason why he wants to blockade us in?’

‘Probably so we can’t make a run for it,’ said Molly grimly, turning back towards the house. ‘He’s brought reinforcements. ’

‘Not the missus, we are honoured,’ said Nick.