by Unknown
‘Nick’s taken his precious time getting me up the aisle, and you’d be right.’
I take my lead from Henri, who’s laughing, and I laugh uncomfortably too.
‘We better get out to the boys before they wonder where we’ve got to,’ I say.
Henri goes out first and I try and whisper to Lou. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’
‘What?’ she hisses.
‘What’s that?’ asks Henri looking round.
‘Nothing. I just had toilet paper on my shoe,’ I say, lying.
We walk back over to the table just as the starters are beings served.
‘I’m starving,’ says Lou as she sits down.
I silently say a quick prayer that Lou will sober up and not blurt out her amorous suspicions about Nick and start my food.
‘This looks fantastic,’ says Henri. ‘It’s like something you’d get in a Michelin-starred restaurant. I just hope it tastes as good as it looks.’
I know that look in Henri’s eyes, it’s the one I used to get when I was planning my budget wedding: the ‘please work out as it’s all I can afford’ look.
‘Oh my God, it’s delicious,’ says Henri after her first mouthful.
‘It certainly is. If the rest of the food is as good as this, then perhaps we’ve found our wedding caterer,’ says Nick. ‘Well done, Penny.’
I blush at the compliment. Mark gives me a smile and then I catch Lou out of the corner of my eye and she’s just staring at Nick, not eating.
‘Is your food all right, Lou?’ I ask, trying to jolt her into remembering where she is.
‘It’s fine. Thank you. How’s your food, Nick?’
‘It’s lovely, thank you,’ he replies.
‘Great, do you like things on the side then?’
I almost drop my fork in horror.
‘I’m sorry?’ says Nick, looking up at her.
‘I said, do you like things on the side,’ repeats Lou. ‘You see, you’ve got your salad on the side,’ she says, pointing at his plate.
The rest of the table are squinting at Lou, trying to work out what on earth is going on.
‘Oh right, yes, Lou. I like salad on the side,’ says Nick in clarification.
‘So Mark was telling us yesterday about your DJ set at their wedding,’ says Henri, clearly trying to change the subject.
‘DJ Loopy Lou, in the house,’ says Lou posing in what can only be described in a rapper pose pulled by your mum.
I subtly try and move Lou’s wine glass out of reach, but she’s on it like a rocket. She grabs it out of my hand and the next thing I know she’s thrown red wine all over the starched white tablecloth.
‘Oops,’ says Lou. She lunges for Henri’s white wine glass to do the classic counteract, but I intervene, grabbing Lou’s hand and summoning over Billy the waiter. After some wiping down with damp towels, the heavily stained tablecloth is no longer dripping all over the floor.
‘I can’t wait to see what my main is like after that,’ says Mark putting his knife and fork down, pretending that catastrophe hasn’t just hit the table.
‘Me neither. I’m especially excited about the dessert,’ says Lou.
‘Me too, I’ve gone for the passion fruit panna cotta,’ says Henri. ‘Sounds heavenly.’
‘What about you, Nick, or let me guess, you’re going for the tart?’ says Lou, snorting with laughter.
‘Lou, honey, did you want to check on the babysitter?’
‘I’m sure my mum will be fine, Russell,’ says Lou laughing him away. ‘Honestly, you fuss more than I do.’
‘Actually, Lou, I think we should phone her, just to make sure. Why don’t I come with you?’
‘I think she’s fine,’ says Lou, shaking her head to the rest of the table as if Russell is the one acting like a crazy person.
‘Louise, outside now,’ orders Russell. I haven’t seen him get this authoritative since the time that Lou and I got really drunk and we tried to put butterfly clips in his hair. It was all Lou’s fault: she told me he let her do it when it was just the two of them at home.
With Lou away, the conversation naturally gravitates to Henri and Nick’s wedding. It warms the cockles of my heart just how much Nick dotes on Henri. By the time Lou and Russell come back from their phone call, Lou looks a whole lot better. The fresh air and a stern word seem to have done the trick as she’s now as quiet as a mouse.
Billy the waiter soon brings over the main courses and just as we’re about to tuck in, I’m worried that Lou’s little outbursts are back.
‘Fish and chips,’ she says, pointing at Nick’s gourmet presented plate.
‘Yes, Lou,’ says Nick nodding.
Finally, I can see it’s clicked in Lou’s mind and she looks horrified. She must have remembered where she met him – after we’d finished filming the video he went and bought us fish and chips. She goes to open her mouth and I manage to catch her eye and shake my head gently. She seems to get the message and she goes back to her lamb. Hopefully I won’t have to be on tenterhooks for the rest of the evening.
*
By the time we make it home, I’m exhausted. It’s gone midnight on a Thursday and I’ve got a busy day at work tomorrow to get through. The good news is that Brett and Henri hit it off, so he’s agreed to cater the wedding. I just need to arrange a meeting at the cricket club to finalise out all the details.
‘So why didn’t you tell me that Henri’s Nick is from your gambling group?’ says Mark out of the blue. I stop wiping the make-up off my face and look at him in horror.
‘You knew? All along?’
‘Of course I knew. I don’t have that bad a head for faces.’
‘I didn’t think you’d recognise him. It’s just that Henri doesn’t know that I know about Nick’s gambling.’
‘So Henri doesn’t know that you’re a gambler?’
‘Nope.’
‘Don’t you think you should tell her that you already know Nick? We of all people know how dangerous it is to keep secrets.’
‘I know, but Nick’s adamant and it’s not my secret to tell.’
‘But Henri knows about Nick’s gambling, right?’
‘Right. You’re not going to say anything, are you?’
‘No. You could have told me though. We are supposed to trust each other.’
‘I know, I just didn’t think it was my secret to tell.’
‘Well, I respect your loyalty. I won’t mention anything to Henri, but maybe you should get Nick to tell her. It’s not nice being kept in the dark. I should know.’
‘I guess,’ I say. I know Mark’s right, that Henri should know too. The more I’ve got to know her, the more guilty I’ve felt about being privy to something so personal to her. I feel we’re almost becoming friends, and I’m not so sure that I should be keeping secrets from her.
chapter thirteen
princess-on-a-shoestring cost cutters:
Flower Power
Cut out your floristry fees by growing your own flowers. If you’re organised and work out your flowers and what’s in season when you’re going to be married, you can plant them in either your own or a family member’s garden. Imagine a lovely, colourful bouquet of handpicked sweet peas. This option is not for the fainthearted – the blooms have to be picked the day before, and they do need tending to and a little bit of TLC in the run-up to the wedding. This is where a mother-in-law with green fingers comes in very handy. For more info check out the Green Fingered Brides’ Blog.
Tags: green fingers, growing, flowers, garden.
‘Hello,’ I say into the phone. My heart is racing as I try and talk through my nose to disguise my voice.
‘Hello, is that Linda?’
‘Yes,’ I say lying.
‘It’s Indy here from Bella Cheese Imports. I understand from your answerphone message that you wanted to place a large order?’
I look at my watch. It’s 3.42 p.m. I can’t believe she’s phoned back now. I know she’s at work today. We also ch
ecked with her manager before leaving the message to see what her hours are today, and she’s due to be here until five p.m.
‘That’s right. I’ve been on your website and I’m especially interested in the Romano cheese.’ My mouth is practically watering. I’m going to have to nip to the supermarket to get some cheeses tonight, I hope Mark’s in the mood for a cheeseboard dinner.
‘That’s one of our most popular products. When you say that you wanted a large quantity, how much are you talking?’
Bugger. I have no idea.
‘Um, hang on a second.’ I cover the mouthpiece and count to five. ‘Indy, would you mind if I called you back in a bit? One of our suppliers has just turned up and I’m the only one here.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll speak to you soon.’
Sooner than you think.
‘Great, thanks, Indy.’
I end the call and instantly feel awful for having been deceitful, but we needed to confirm that when Indy was disappearing round the corner to answer calls, that they were relating to her business.
I walk over to Giles’s office to tell him the news, waiting patiently as I knock.
‘Come in,’ he barks.
I walk in the office and sit down on the uncomfortable plastic chair.
‘Indy just phoned me back about my cheese order.’
Giles whips his glasses off and I see a smirk appear across his face.
‘Excellent, so we have her phoning you on your mobile number, which we can get the call record for. And it’s not even four. Right then, there’s nothing else for it. Time to go over and confront her.’
I look up at Giles. It’s four p.m. on a Friday afternoon. What a crappy day and time to go and fire someone. Not that there’s ever a good time to fire someone.
Personally, it sucks for me as there goes any hope of me sneaking out of work early. I felt like I needed it after crawling into bed after midnight last night. It might have been a great dinner at the college but I’m not used to going out on a school night.
I watch as Giles picks up the phone and arranges for Indy and her manager to meet us in one of the conference rooms.
‘Right, Penny, go and get your files.’
I nod and make my feet cooperate. I pick up the huge wodge of paper spilling out of a manila file and follow Giles across to the conference room. We settle ourselves into our chairs and it isn’t long before Indy and her manager turn up and join us.
‘Hello, Martin, Indy, thanks for coming,’ says Giles.
I look up at Indy and she’s still smiling happily. She’s clearly oblivious to what’s coming her way.
‘Indy, it’s come to our attention that you have your own company and you’ve been working on it during office hours.’
I watch Indy’s smile fall from her face. Her bottom lip drops and I can see it wobbling as her eyes widen in surprise. But she remains silent.
‘I’m sure you’re aware that we take a rather dim view on that type of thing here.’
I swear Giles is enjoying this.
‘We have pulled your IT records and have reason to believe you’ve used your computer for personal use on a frequent basis. Other people in your department have also reported absences where you’ve been on your mobile for long periods of time too. Now might be a good time for you to say something.’
Indy rubs her eyes and I’m not sure if she’s blinking away a tear or not. She shakes her hair back and tries to compose herself.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she says, looking down. ‘I mean, I do a good job, don’t I?’
She’s looking up at her boss with desperation in her eyes. Oh God. That could just as easily be me sitting there, pleading with Giles that my wedding planning doesn’t interfere with my job. I mean it doesn’t. Unlike Indy, I’ve only taken a few personal calls at work and answered a couple of Henri’s emails. But my cheeks are still starting to burn and I’m starting to perspire.
What if I’m just like Indy? What if that’s how it starts? The odd email here, the odd phone conversation there and suddenly we’re staring at a huge file of evidence from IT. Mark would kill me if I got fired.
‘Indy, we’ve never been unhappy with your work, but even I’ve noticed that your focus hasn’t been there lately. You’ve been late to meetings, which is unlike you and you’ve gone close to the wire on the last two deadlines,’ says her manager.
‘But other members of staff don’t even turn up to meetings sometimes.’
‘I know, but it’s out of character for you. Plus, when you add that to the paper trail that Penny and Giles have put together, it is pretty damning.’
‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I mean other people check websites all day long, how come I’m being singled out?’
Why is she looking directly at me? It’s like she can sense that I’m a frequent web surfer. Although I’ll freely admit that I won’t be surfing anywhere near as much now I know what IT records. I mean, I knew they were all-seeing, but they record absolutely everything. And it’s amazing how those little fleeting glances to websites add up timewise over a day.
‘You’re not being singled out, Indy. It’s not a little slap on the wrist over some web surfing, although you should know from our IT policy that you’re not allowed to do that.’
‘So if it isn’t a little slap on the wrist, what exactly is this?’ asks Indy in a quiet voice.
‘I’m afraid, Indy, that we have grounds for dismissal,’ says Giles.
Indy’s face crumbles.
‘Over a little bit of web surfing?’ she says, struggling to maintain her composure.
‘Come on, Indy, we both know it’s a bit more than that. It states in your contract that you’re supposed to declare any second jobs or business interests. At the very least you should have told us you were running your cheese importation company.’
‘So can’t I just declare it now? I mean, I run it jointly with my husband in my spare time. I don’t do anything relating to it when I’m at work.
‘We’ve got records from IT to suggest otherwise,’ says Giles. ‘Plus we know you’ve been answering your phone during office hours.’
‘Well, my mum’s been ill, I’ve been on the phone to her, that’s all.’
‘Actually, you made a phone call to Penny here just a few minutes ago.’
I look up at Indy and her eyes are burning into me. I can see Giles out of the corner of my eye, nodding at me as if I’m supposed to elaborate.
‘Yes, um, Indy, I’m afraid I’m Linda, the one that phoned about the Romano cheese order.’
‘You’re Linda? Surely this is entrapment?’
I wonder if it is, but it was merely for us to be sure we were right.
‘Look, Indy,’ I say. ‘I know this is hard, but we’ve got enough grounds for dismissal from the evidence we’ve collected from IT. We only left you the voicemail to see whether you did respond to them during your working hours here.’
‘I don’t do it all the time,’ says Indy. ‘It’s just that the company grew so quickly. It was only supposed to be a few clients and we’d be able to manage it in the evenings. But lately it’s gone crazy. I didn’t mean for it to interfere with my work. I honestly thought it hadn’t.’
Indy’s tears are falling thick and fast now and even though this is the first time I’ve met her, I want to reach across the table and give her a big hug. Obviously I’m not going to as that would be weird and unprofessional, but I really want to.
Being involved when people are getting fired is one of the major downsides to my job. No matter how awful the person is or what they’ve done to mess things up, I always feel terrible for them. But this time, with Indy, it just seems so much worse. It’s like I’ve got too much empathy with her. Although I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not her. Yes, I haven’t declared my wedding planning business, but that’s because mine’s not really a proper business, is it? I’ve only had two clients and I’m not taking on any more. My situation is completely different to
Indy’s.
But as Giles reads over the process for dismissal and her rights regarding appeals, I can’t help feeling hot under the collar and like I’m the one being dismissed. The only thing I can do is take this as a wake-up call and make sure that I keep my business separate from my day job. I don’t want to be sitting on the other side of that table with Giles dismissing me.
From now, on I’m going to have to put my foot down with Henri and her emergencies and make sure that I don’t give Giles any reason to start investigating me.
chapter fourteen
princess-on-a-shoestring friend or foe:
Chair Covers
Now, I actually love chair covers. I love the bows, I love the clean lines and I love the look it creates before anyone comes into the venue. But do you know what? By the time people sit down and you lose that clean look, you don’t notice them. I mean, can you tell me what weddings you’ve been to that have and haven’t had chair covers? They’re one of those little extras that are a nice icing on the cake but not essential. And for us budget brides, you don’t want your chairs to be more dressed up than you are! What do you think about chair covers: are they a wedding essential or a wedding extravagance?
Tags: chairs, ribbons, covers.
‘Keeping you up, are we Penny?’
I look up mid-yawn to see Giles hovering over my desk – I hadn’t noticed him come out of his office. I think that perhaps being up until the small hours last night writing my article for Bridal Dreams has caught up with me.
I still can’t believe they picked me to write for them. They’re re-jigging their magazine from next month and they’re going to create a different themed section each issue. The first theme is dedicated to vintage weddings; I can’t wait for that to come out. But, more excitingly, for me, the second month will be about low-budget weddings and keeping down the costs. I’ve written them an article about my blog and my top ten budget-busting tips. I’ve had a few weeks to write it, but as the deadline was this morning I couldn’t stop myself from tinkering with it last night.
I’m just dreaming of buying the magazine and staring at my little picture and a byline, when I remember that Giles is standing over me.
