Don’t tell the Boss

by Unknown

  I open the little bag, and it’s a bracelet. A really gorgeous bracelet from Goldsmiths jewellers. That makes me smile as I know it means Henri’s still been reading my blog as I did a post a few weeks ago that talked about how you could use your Tesco’s Clubcard points there.

  As Henri finished her tearful thank yous, she passes the microphone over to Nick. I couldn’t tell you what he said in his speech about Henri as I was too busy staring at the bracelet. Lost in my own thoughts, trying to process everything that happened in the last hour.

  Number one on my list was trying to work out where my new-found gambling habit had come from.

  chapter twenty-five

  princess-on-a-shoestring friend or foe:

  Miniature guests

  Deciding whether to invite kids to a wedding can be a very controversial topic. It’s nice to see children running around on the day, but when all of your friends have kids it soon adds up and it can seem like you’re almost having more children than adults at the wedding. At my wedding, I let close family bring their little ones and I asked friends to leave theirs behind. I think that most of the parents actually liked having a child-free day as they got to let their hair down without worrying that their child would somehow cause havoc in the service and/or wreck the reception venue. Do you think a wedding is a place for kids?

  Tags: kids, controversial decisions.

  As soon as the speeches are over, I head outside. I’m in desperate need of fresh air. I wonder briefly if I should find Mark, but I’m still cross at him for not listening to me and I’m no further forward in making sense of what happened.

  I walk over the muddy green to the duck pond and I sit down on a bench not too far away from the infamous black-eye moment. I look over at the marquee and a wave of pride washes over me that I did that. Here are two people on the happiest day of their life, with the most wonderful wedding and I’m responsible. Only I know more than others how that happiness doesn’t always last and the thoughts of Mark and the credit card statement soon come to the forefront of my mind.

  I take out the credit card bill again and stare at it. It’s all here in black and white, ten pounds here, twenty pounds there, running up to thousands. Only it hasn’t just been happening this month, it appears that it’s been used before that as I’ve been charged a late fee and interest.

  I bring the Bill Hall website up on my phone. I don’t even think I ever went on the site when I was in my bingo hey-day. They’re a site more known for sports betting, so why is it on my credit card bill?

  I scroll up and down the page. It’s offering the latest bets on today’s test match cricket, Rugby League games, and today’s racing from Doncaster and Kempton Park. If Mark had even looked at the site, he would have realised that this wasn’t me. And that’s when I see the sparkling banner at the bottom of the site and I suddenly know exactly what’s happened.

  *

  ‘Penny, are you all right?’

  I find Beth sitting down behind the marquee on one of the spare hay bales, just where Brett said she’d be taking her break. She’s still dressed in her black-and-white uniform, only now it’s covered in a few food stains and strands of her hair are falling out of her ponytail. If I wasn’t ready to kill her for stealing my credit card, I’d feel proud that she had the look of a hard day of work about her.

  ‘Hi, Beth. No, not really.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She’s clearly sensed that all isn’t right with the world and she’s stands up.

  ‘Mark and I had a fight,’ I say, trying to keep my anger at bay.

  ‘Oh,’ she looks confused. ‘Do you do that often?’

  ‘No. I guess we bicker, but I think that most couples do that. But we really fought. He’s mad at me. He thinks I’ve been gambling.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Then why does he think that you have been?’

  ‘He opened my credit card bill and he saw lots of payments to Bill Hall.’

  Beth is looking down at the floor. I had hoped that by telling her this much she would confess that she had used my card, but she’s being eerily silent.

  ‘Beth, is there anything you want to tell me?’ I sound remarkably like my mother when she was trying to press confessions out of me when I was a teenager.

  Beth’s silent, but tears have started to roll down her cheeks.

  If she’s not going to confess properly, then I’m going to have to go all Miss Marple on her arse.

  ‘You used my credit card, didn’t you?’ I say slowly. ‘That’s how you could afford to keep on gambling, because you stole my card details. After all I’ve done for you, Beth. I’ve tried my best to get you to stop gambling. I popped round to see you even though I’d been incredibly busy at work. I got you to meet with Mark’s cousin to try and give you something to look forward to, and I got you this job.’

  I’m aware that we’re just behind the main marquee and that I need to be careful with how loudly I’m speaking, but I’m too mad to keep my voice under control.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ I say looking directly at Beth, but her eyes are fixed on her shoes.

  ‘I couldn’t help it.’

  ‘When did you steal my card details?’

  ‘When I came over to yours for cake that time.’

  ‘That was months ago. All that time? All that time you’ve been attending meetings with me and you’ve been spending my money and getting me into debt. Do you know how much interest I’ve accumulated because the bills haven’t been paid?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Penny. I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, and I’ve done this.’

  ‘Were you ever going to tell me you’d done it?’

  ‘I was going to. I mean I wanted to pay you back. I was going to pay you back with my winnings.’

  I laugh out loud. God, gamblers sound so pathetic when they chase the win. I should know, I was pathetic once.

  ‘You’ve nearly ruined my marriage. Mark thinks I lied to him.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I just was so angry when I met you as I didn’t think I needed help. Then, at your house, you were trying to be all fake nice and give me cake, but behind your back I was laughing at you.’

  This is great. This is just what I want to be told. Way to make me feel better, Beth.

  ‘I took your credit card details and I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d give up like everyone else does with me.’

  ‘But what did you think would happen when I found out?’

  ‘To be honest, I thought you giving up the gambling all sounded a bit too easy, and I was sort of hoping that you were still doing it and then you wouldn’t notice it.’

  ‘I’ve heard enough of this,’ I say as I walk off, dismissing Beth.

  ‘Penny, wait,’ says Beth as she comes after me. I have to admit I have no idea where I’m headed to, I just want to be anywhere but here.

  ‘Penny, look. I stole your credit card before I knew you. Before you did all those nice things, and no one’s ever done stuff like that for me. And you got me this job, and I was going to give you the money from this.’

  ‘And how far was that going to get you? What are you getting paid for today, fifty quid? My credit card bill is over two-and-a-half thousand pounds. You’re going to have to do a lot of shifts to make that up. Not to mention that you owe your mum five grand. Sooner or later, Beth, you’re going to have to start taking responsibility for your actions because I don’t think you understand exactly what you’re doing. You’re ruining people’s lives.’

  Beth’s tears are coming thick and fast now and I’m wondering if I’m taking out my anger with Mark on her. Maybe I am a little bit, but I’ve done everything I could to sort this girl out, and look what she’s done for me in return. Hopefully this will shock her into stopping gambling, as it’s going to get her into deep trouble.

  ‘So you were going to tell me?
’ I ask.

  ‘Eventually,’ says Beth.

  That’s the Beth I know, the one that looks like a guilty liar.

  I turn round to storm off again, only it’s not so easy to storm off when you’re wearing cowboy boots with little grip on the sole.

  ‘I’m sorry, Penny,’ she calls after me.

  Sorry? What good’s that? My marriage is in ruins and I’m thousands of pounds in debt. Suddenly the word sorry coming from a teenager doesn’t sound sincere at all.

  I’m storming round the front of the marquee and if I was cross before, I’m absolutely raging now. How did Beth ever think she was going to get away with what she did? And now, armed with the truth, I’m even crosser at Mark.

  I’m so pre-occupied with the mental argument I’m having in my head with him that I fail to realise that I’m heading back to the entrance of the marquee.

  ‘Penny.’

  I freeze, as I know instantly the voice belongs to Giles.

  ‘Penny Robinson, what are you doing here?’

  I look up at Giles, and for the first time today I don’t avoid eye contact. I look at him open-mouthed and wonder just what it is I’m supposed to say. I wonder if I should lie, saying that Nick and I go way back, which isn’t exactly lying. Or I could learn from my mistakes and tell the truth.

  But before I can do either, Henri struts up, armfuls of orange-tinted wedding dress in each hand and, before I know it, the cat’s out of the bag.

  ‘Daddy, I’m thrilled that you’ve met Penny, the wedding planner. Didn’t she do the most fabulous job? We were so lucky to get her, she’s that good she even writes for Bridal Dreams.’

  ‘Is that so?’ says Giles, looking at me.

  If it wasn’t bad enough being outed as a wedding planner, the declaration of me writing for Bridal Dreams just feels like the final nail in the coffin.

  Despite my mute status, I’m still maintaining eye contact with Giles and I’ve managed to see his eyes widen in horror and recognition of what has gone on. I can only think of Indy and her cheese business and I know what will be coming next.

  ‘Oh look, there’s Aunt Rose, I must go and see her,’ says Henri dashing off in her cowboy boots.

  I look round wondering if there’s some long-lost aunt I can pretend to dash off and see but, alas, I’ve got nowhere to run to.

  ‘So, Penny. You’re the top wedding planner then? You’re the planner that Henri’s had on speed-dial twenty-four/seven. The one who snuck off from her work trip to get bridesmaid dresses.’

  ‘Giles, it’s not what you think,’ I say. After all that’s happened to me today it feels like this confrontation has knocked the stuffing out of me and I can barely put up a fight.

  ‘Let’s not go into it now. It’s my daughter’s wedding, that I have to admit you’ve done a wonderful job organising. But, Penny, you know my view on moonlighting. I expect to see you in my office at nine a.m. sharp on Monday.’

  ‘Yes, Giles,’ I say.

  He heads over to join Henri and Aunt Rose. I’m left bashing my head against the side of the marquee. This time yesterday I thought that the promotion was in the bag after a great team-building trip. Now, far from getting the promotion, I probably won’t have a job on Monday.

  If ever there was a moment where you look at your life and wonder just how you’ve ended up in such a mess, this was it for me. I, Penny Robinson, have fucked everything up, royally.

  chapter twenty-six

  princess-on-a-shoestring cost cutters:

  Feeding the Five Thousand

  Chances are, your mum has told you that you need to have an evening buffet, but just think about your timings before you commit to one. If you’re getting married mid-afternoon then you’re probably not going to sit down for your wedding breakfast meal until around five p.m., which means by the time you’ve had your three courses you might not be finished until six or seven. It’s definitely worth thinking about timings when it comes to an evening food option – will most of your guests do anything more than pick at the buffet if it hasn’t been long since they’ve eaten? Things that work wonders are bacon sandwiches or cheese boards. Or you could go Marie-Antoinette style and just let them eat cake!

  Tags: cheapskate, evening buffet.

  I’m standing outside the marquee and, as I see it, I’ve got two choices. I could say my goodbyes to Henri – or I could stay and get drunk. And, like Bridget Jones, I choose vodka. After ordering myself two large vodka cranberries, I walk back into the marquee, just as Henri and Nick are just finishing their first dance to the band’s rendition of ‘It Had to Be You’. And remember how Henri found out about mine and Nick’s secret meeting and Nick had to plan Henri a surprise? Well that’s up next. I’m determined to get a good seat for that, so I position myself at the side of the dance floor.

  The dance comes to an end and, much to Henri’s embarrassment, Nick walks up to the stage.

  ‘Now, my gorgeous bride over here wanted a wedding band and I thought that was a little safe. I know Henri and I know that she likes to throw memorable parties, so I hired something a little bit different. Henri, I hope you can forgive me. Take it away, boys.’

  I look at Henri’s bemused look and it just about brings a smile to my face until, that is, I see Giles standing at the front of the stage taking photos and it quickly falls away. Instead I bring the vodka to my lips.

  I hold my breath as Nick launches into his rendition of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.’ At least he can sing. I dread to think what the rest of the wedding guests will sound like when they get up to the microphone later. You see, Nick has kicked off this evening’s first karaoke performance. I told him over and over again that karaoke at a wedding was going to be one of two things: legendary or a massive flop. It wasn’t going to be anything in between. But watching Nick up there, with the band rocking it behind him, he may have just pulled it off. When I told him he needed to plan a surprise for Henri, this had been his first idea.

  In the time it takes Henri to serenade Nick with a scarily seductive version of ‘Don’t Cha’ by the Pussycat Dolls, which made me and Henri’s grandma both blush, and for Henri’s friends to sing the Spice Girls, I’ve downed my two vodkas.

  I’m pleased that the karaoke seems to be a hit and they’ve got a steady stream of willing participants. I walk back towards the clubhouse in search of more vodka. I know that I’m going to regret all this booze tomorrow morning, but the mood I’m in, I don’t care.

  ‘Penny.’

  I look up and see Mark standing in front of me, or at least it takes a moment for my eyes to focus and confirm that it’s him. Talk about being a lightweight.

  ‘I don’t want to see you at the moment,’ I say slightly slurring.

  ‘Pen, Beth told me everything.’

  ‘Well, that’s just great. So now you know that I didn’t gamble.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I just saw the statement and I saw red and I—’

  ‘And you what? Jumped to conclusions without giving me a proper chance to explain? Well, I’m sorry, Mark, but it hurts me that you wouldn’t even listen to me. I mean we’re supposed to have trust in our marriage, and we don’t. You don’t trust me.’

  ‘Pen,’ he says.

  I don’t want to hear it, I’m angry and I’m upset.

  ‘Pen, how can I make it up to you?’ he says.

  ‘I don’t know if you can,’ I say, crying. Oh, yes, I know I’m being overly dramatic, and actually Mark’s apologised to me. The logical part of my brain thinks I may have acted the same if the boot had been on the other foot, but the irrational, vodka-soaked part of my brain doesn’t want to hear it.

  I walk off back to the marquee. I sit down and listen to a woman murder ‘Dancing Queen’ and wonder what I’m going to do. For one thing I realise I shouldn’t be sitting here, pretending my life isn’t falling apart.

  I spot Henri having a shimmy on the dance floor and I go up to say my goodbyes.

  ‘But we haven
’t had a dance together yet,’ says Henri pouting at me. But not even her puppy-dog eyes are going to be able to persuade me. I’ve barely slept in the past three days, I’m exhausted, not to mention emotionally drained.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of people to dance with,’ I say.

  ‘But you can’t go,’ says Henri, grabbing my arm.

  I wonder just how long this ‘you can’t, yes I can’, Punch and Judy routine is going to go on.

  ‘I can, and I am,’ I say defiantly.

  ‘But you can’t when Mark is up doing karaoke,’ she says, pointing up at the stage.

  ‘Ha,’ I say wearily, ‘you’ve got someone mixed up with Mark. He would never in a million years do—’ I trail off as I see Mark standing on the stage as bold as brass. If I wasn’t so mad at him, I’d be drooling at the fact that he’s looking pretty hot up there. His suit undone, his hair a little messy. He’s holding onto the microphone stand with one hand and turning round to talk to the band. He looks like a rock star.

  What an earth is he doing? In the eight years I’ve known Mark, the only time I’ve seen him on a stage is if he’s delivering a deadly boring work-related presentation. And he has never, ever, done karaoke, despite us getting really drunk in Spain once and me trying to get him to duet with me on ‘You’re the One That I Want’. In the end I had to sing it with some balding, fat man from Glasgow. He was definitely not the one that I wanted, but it made Mark laugh for the rest of our holiday.

  ‘I’d like to dedicate this to my wife Penny,’ says Mark as he holds his hand up to block the lights, and he tries to search the dance floor for me. Henri makes his job pretty easy for him as she pushes me forward, right to the front. I get a few ahs and oohs from Henri’s friends around me.

  I’m standing here like a right lemon wondering what the hell he’s going to sing. Everyone’s convinced he’s going to do a romantic serenade like Henri and Nick have done to each other, but top of my list of songs that he could possibly do are ‘I Hate You So Much Right Now’ or whatever that song is called. Actually, maybe that’s top of the list of what song I’d sing to him.