by Unknown
I’ve been up to my eyes and ears at work. I’ve been working with the health and safety manager to create risk assessments for the escape-and-evasion trip, which include things like risks of drowning, broken bones, falling from great heights and claustrophobia. I’m now considering writing a risk assessment for myself on the subject of writing risk assessments, as they seem to be bringing me out in a mild panic attack each time I look at them.
I’ve also got Beth, my little gambling charge, to worry about. She’s started attending the support group more frequently now, which is a good thing. Although I still get the impression that she’s not being entirely honest with me.
Then there’s the blog, and whilst Henri’s wedding is fairly time minimal at the moment, I’m still spending a lot of time online. It takes a surprising amount of time to keep up-to-date with what’s going on in the wedding industry and with the article in Bridal Dreams coming out in a couple of months, I need to make sure that the site looks as good as it can. The magazine sent me my first couple of agony aunt questions through and I spent a lot longer than expected on the responses, as I wanted to make sure that my answers were perfect.
I walk down the stairs and into our living room where Mark is waiting for me.
‘What the hell are you wearing?’ he asks.
I do a quick spin for him so he can get the full effect.
‘What? Don’t you like it?’ I ask.
‘Um, Penny, we’re going bowling.’
‘And that’s what I’m dressed for. Haven’t you ever seen Grease 2?’
‘No. Why on earth would I have seen that? I can’t even believe they made a second one.’
‘Well they did, with Michelle Pfeiffer, and it was a classic. There’s this big scene where they go bowling, and one of the characters wears trousers like these.’
For everyone that isn’t Mark, I’m wearing skin-tight gold trousers just like Paulette’s. Unfortunately, I don’t have a pink lady jacket, so I’ve teamed it with a pink cardigan.
‘Didn’t you buy those for a fancy-dress party?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ I pout.
‘Well, doesn’t that make them not wearable in everyday life? I don’t go around wearing my Superman costume, do I?’
‘No, but you should.’
I’d forgotten that Mark had that tucked away somewhere. I can still remember the tautness of the fabric on his bum. Hmm, maybe we should do fancy-dress bowling.
‘Penny, why don’t you go and change? We’ve got an hour before the lane’s booked anyway.’
‘I’m perfectly fine in these,’ I say.
*
An hour and a half later, and I’m not perfectly fine in these gold leggings, but I daren’t tell Mark. No one likes to hear ‘I told you so’. Not only are the leggings forcing my thong into places that I’m going to need tweezers to remove, but every time I go to shoot the ball down the lane I worry that they’re going to split at the seams.
The motive had been to get Mark to notice my lovely curvy behind, but actually it’s backfired and now I’m worried that everyone’s going to notice my lovely curvy behind when it comes flying out from behind the safety of my leggings.
‘We should do this again,’ says Mark as he comes back from throwing a ball.
‘Yes, we should.’ And next time, I’ll wear more appropriate clothing. And perhaps get a bit fitter. I’m actually working up a little bit of a sweat rolling the balls. It might be due to the fact that I’m almost dying from heat exhaustion as these Lycra leggings are taking no prisoners, and for a mid-June night it’s actually surprisingly hot. ‘Or we could have a Wii tournament, save us leaving the house,’ I say. That way we really could do it fancy dress and then Mark might wear his sexy Superman costume and I could wear my Princess Leia outfit again.
‘I guess. Either way, it’s just nice to spend some quality time with you,’ he says.
‘But you see me all the time.’
‘I know, but you’re always on the computer, or knackered from work.’
The pins have re-set and it’s my go. As much as I want to defend myself, I also want to kick Mark’s arse. I take my turn as quickly as possible, eager to get back to the conversation. Surprisingly, I hit more pins hurtling the balls down and hoping for the best, than I usually do.
‘I can’t help it if my work’s busy at the moment; you told me that I should prioritise the promotion,’ I say as I walk back to Mark. I try to not fall off the plastic seats as I sit down, my bum sliding across the shiny plastic and my sweaty Lycra leggings offering no resistance.
‘I’m not talking about your work, but you’re not resting when you come home because you’re always doing your blog or wedding stuff.’
‘I’ve got to build up the website before the edition of Bridal Dreams with my article comes out.’
‘You don’t have to do that. You do it for fun.’
I watch as Mark goes up and rolls his penultimate ball. I can feel my heart start to beat faster as he’s beginning to piss me off. There’s something slightly annoying about having a difference of opinion when you’re bowling as one person has to get up and stand just out of earshot and bowl whilst the other sits watching, slowly fuming about what’s just been said.
The only upside is that it turns me into a better bowler and in my last two goes I get a strike and a spare, meaning I beat Mark. Perhaps not the best strategy when I’m trying to appease him.
‘Do you want to go to the pub across the road and grab a drink?’ asks Mark when we’ve finished.
‘Yes.’
I’m relieved to be leaving the bowling alley, and the stinky shoes. I’m amazed that I’m leaving with my trousers in one piece and if I could just relieve my bottom, then that would be perfect.
We walk into the pub. It’s of the family Beefeater type and I haven’t felt as exposed in an outfit since I went out for Halloween dressed in a boob tube that barely kept my modesty. The fact that it was supposed to be a bikini top might just clue you in on how small it was.
I’m entirely sure that it isn’t my imagination, and that people are actually staring at me.
‘Mark, are people looking at me?’
‘Probably, Pen. Your trousers look like they’ve been spray-painted on.’
‘Thanks for being so blunt about it.’
‘What do you expect me to say? I said you might want to change before we left the house but you told me you wanted to look like Pauline.’
‘Paulette,’ I say.
This is not how I want our night to go. Our first date night in weeks and we’re fighting. I’m wishing that I’d stayed at home, and that’s not what I should be thinking when we’re spending quality time together.
‘Whatever. You’re just lucky you’ve got a cute bottom.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, smiling. I’ll take any compliment at this stage.
‘Now, sit your bum down and I’ll get us a drink.’
When Mark comes back, I feel that the tension from before has gone and, for a while, we stick to safer conversation topics like our shared excitement about the impending The Apprentice final and we talk about where we might want to go on holiday next year. Me: Maldives, Mark: Canada. Slightly different in terms of wardrobe needed, but we’ll get there eventually.
‘Have you sorted out which suit you’re going to wear to Henri’s wedding yet? I’m getting my dress dry-cleaned so I’ll take the suit at the same time if you like.’
I’m thrilled that since Mark hit it off with Henri and Nick, they’ve invited us both to the wedding. It will be so much better than Lara’s, where I had to bugger off when all the fun started. Although it will mean that I’ll be on-call if anything goes wrong.
‘I’m going to wear my Ted Baker, I think.’
‘Nice choice. You’ll have to try it on to check it still fits. In fact, you should probably try it on when we get home.’
‘Oi, are you saying I’ve put on weight?’
‘No, I just thought
you might want to. You know you look hot in that suit.’
‘Oh, I see. Between your trousers that are leaving nothing to the imagination and me in my suit, I see what you’ve got planned, Mrs Robinson.’
‘Well, we are trying for babies.’
I lean over and give Mark a quick kiss. I don’t quite mean for it to be as slow and sexy as it turns out and I come over all hot and flustered. Then I remember we’re in the middle of a family pub. I probably already look like a hooker; I shouldn’t go acting like one too.
‘I’m looking forward to going to the wedding with you. It’ll be our first wedding together since ours.’
‘Let’s hope it has a better start,’ says Mark smiling.
‘I think Henri would physically kill Nick if he wasn’t there when she arrived. Anyway, not much chance of that; don’t forget Henri knows all about Nick’s gambling.’
‘Speaking of secrets, Henri and Nick’s wedding is going to be the last one you’re planning, right?’
‘Yes, I promised you it would be,’ I say sadly. I know it was a bit of a nightmare to start with and it didn’t quite go to plan with my no-contact-during-office-hours rules, but actually I’ve loved helping Henri realise her dreams.
‘And then you’re not going to get sucked into another one?’
It takes all my resolve to say no. I’d love to take on one or two weddings a year, but I know I can’t.
‘Good. I’ve enjoyed meeting Henri and Nick, but I don’t think you’d be that lucky to get such a laid-back bride the next time.’
If only you knew, Mark, I think to myself. I have to admit that I might not have told Mark just how many emails I used to get from Henri in the early days of the planning.
‘And then are you going to scale back the blog?’
‘I don’t know why you hate it so much. I mean it’s much better than me gambling.’
‘That’s like saying it’s OK smoking a little hash as you’re not shooting up heroin. All I’m thinking is that you might want to do less work on it.’
‘Why would I do that?’ I ask taking a sip of my wine.
‘I thought you weren’t going to do it for ever. It’s been over a year since our wedding, I thought it was supposed to be helping you ease the transition from planning the wedding to normal everyday life.’
‘It was at first. But I can’t stop it now, it’s just getting big and with the column coming out and the magazine article, I’d be foolish to stop it now.’
‘Do you not think it’s too much? I mean, look at us, it’s been weeks since we last went on our date night.’
‘We went out on Saturday night.’
‘For dinner, with my boss and his wife, that’s hardly the same thing. And it wasn’t what I’d call an enjoyable experience. I’m talking about us actually doing stuff as a couple.’
‘You sound like a big girl,’ I say laughing, attempting to lighten the mood.
‘Penny, I’m being serious. Are you going to keep your wedding blog going even if you get the promotion? Look at how much longer your days have got and you haven’t even got the extra responsibility yet.’
‘But I find the blog relaxing, it’s not like work. I don’t want to go back to not having anything to do in the evenings. Don’t forget that you were doing your accountancy stuff in the evenings for years, and you never used to think about me having nothing to do. Perhaps you’re the one who’s bored and you miss studying? Maybe you should set up your own blog.’
‘What, neglected husband dot com?’
‘Mark, you’re sounding ridiculous,’ I snap.
‘I know, it’s just … it’s just that a wedding nearly ruined our lives once, I don’t want the same thing to happen again.’
‘Mark—’
‘I’m serious, Pen. I just think that you’re spreading yourself a little thinly, and what about your mentoring? You’ve been late home from work twice this week because you’ve been to see your gambling friend.’
‘I can’t let B down, Mark.’
‘I’m not saying you have to. I’m just saying that perhaps you need to think a little about what you are doing. At the moment you’re making time for Henri and for this B character, but you’re not making time for me.’
I hadn’t really thought of it like that. I couldn’t be resentful towards Mark when he was doing his course as he was doing it to better himself for our future happiness. What am I doing Princess-on-a-Shoestring for? To distract myself from gambling? To fill my time? To help brides on a budget get their princess day?
To be honest, I don’t know why I love blogging, but I do. I love weddings. I thought it would fade after my own but it hasn’t. In fact, it’s got stronger. It’s like by getting married and realising what a wedding should be about, I’ve got a greater degree of clarity. And I want to share that vision.
But I guess Mark is right, it’s not like I’m doing it to kickstart a second career or anything. I can see why he thinks it’s eating up my time.
‘So do you think I should give up blogging then?’
‘I don’t want you to give it up, I just think you need to spend less time on it. Can’t you get help? If your site is getting so big, why don’t you take on some contributors? Delegate some posts?’
I don’t know quite how I feel about sharing my little baby, but I guess that would be a compromise. I’ve never thought of asking someone else to come on board, but that’s not a bad idea.
‘I guess that could work.’
‘Look, Pen, I don’t want to be the big, bad husband, but these last couple of months have been really shit for me at work, and I’ve needed you and you haven’t been there.’
That’s news to me. I mean, I know he’s looked a bit more tired and black around the eyes and he has been getting back from work later than usual, but he hasn’t said anything.
‘What’s been going on?’
‘Clive gave me another one of his clients and I’m drowning. I can’t work out what’s going on, but I feel like I’m being punished for something.’
‘Like what?’
‘I made that mistake with the Hiscock account last year, I guess it could be that.’
‘Surely they’d just tell you if there was a problem.’
‘Clive has a vindictive streak, you know. The only other thing I can think of is that he’s trying to force me out.’
‘Mark, that’s crazy. They love you over there. Clive wouldn’t have taken us out for dinner if he was trying to get rid of you, would he?’
‘I guess not,’ says Mark.
‘Mark, you should have told me about this, you know I would have made time for you.’
‘I know, but you were never around and then when you were you always seemed so knackered I felt bad bringing it up.’
I feel terrible that I’ve missed this and that Mark’s been getting steadily more and more pissed off with me. It’s typical him, he keeps everything to himself until eventually it snowballs and suddenly it’s a huge issue.
‘Mark, you’ve just got to tell me what’s going on.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry to be so down about your blog. I’m proud of what you’ve done, really I am. And I’m sure that Henri’s wedding’s going to be brilliant. I just want to make sure that I see you, too.’
‘I probably shouldn’t be upset that my husband wants to spend time with me. Does this mean that you’re going to watch less sports then, if I’m going to put the computer down in the evenings? If we’re going to have quality time together, then we need to have the TV off.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far—’
‘Mark, if you want my undivided attention, then I want yours.’
‘I guess I walked into that.’
‘I think you did.’
‘I’m sorry, Pen, for being a grumpy bastard.’
‘And I’m sorry for neglecting you.’
I lean over and give Mark a kiss. ‘What shall we do on our date night next week then?’
‘Anything that do
esn’t involve skin-tight trousers. We’ve been getting odd looks since we got here.’
I give Mark a playful punch on the arm.
‘What about going to that new Japanese restaurant?’
‘OK.’
‘I love you, Mark.’
‘I love you, too, Mrs Robinson.’
‘So how about we go home and you get me out of these trousers.’
‘Penny, I’ve been trying to do that all night.’
As we get up and leave, I take Mark’s hand and squeeze it hard. I might have to give up my dream of having the best wedding blog ever, as this is what’s important; right here in my left hand.
chapter sixteen
princess-on-a-shoestring:
Ask Penny!
Dear Penny,
I can’t afford to hire a photographer and I’ve asked a relative to do it instead. Other friends have told me I’m crazy and I’ll regret it. Are there any other solutions?
Clueless one
Dear Clueless one,
I too didn’t hire a photographer and got my hubby’s brother to take our photos. The pictures were lovely as he’s a pretty good amateur photographer. I’m sure your friend’s photos will be fine. You can always set up an account on a wedding photo-swapping website, they’re free and, once registered, people can upload their photos to the site. Simply place a card with your wedding details on each of the place settings and then all your guests can upload their best photos. That way I’m sure you’ll get some crackers.
Good luck!
Pen x x
I was supposed to be meeting Beth and Cat, Mark’s cousin, fifteen minutes ago. I thought it might be good for Beth to meet someone who’s still at uni to try and inspire her. Only it’s not going to plan as I’m sitting here alone outside the coffee shop. I’m beginning to wonder whether I’ve got the date wrong, when a girl comes up in front of me.
‘Hey, Penny,’ she says.
I do a double-take. There, in front of me, is Cat, only she’s changed a lot since I last saw her at Christmas. Her ash-blonde hair has been replaced by dip-dyed black-and-red shoulder-length hair. Her arms are covered with the most intricately designed tattoo sleeves that I’ve ever seen up close, and where once she had dainty child-like earlobes, she now has massive tunnels.
