A Beginner's Guide To Saying I Do

by Jennifer Joyce

  ‘Doesn’t he always?’ Carrington checked her reflection in the mirror, swiping an imaginary smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. ‘He has Daddy’s genes.’

  ‘Winnie showed me your photos. You looked radiant, Trina.’

  Ginny’s compliment washed over Trina. ‘Winnie has our photos?’

  ‘Yes, wasn’t that quick?’ Carrington started the engine and pulled smoothly out of the parking spot. ‘We were surprised too.’

  ‘But we were supposed to pick them up.’ And how dare Winnie look at them first! And show them to other people? Who else had seen her wedding photos before Trina?

  ‘Oh, Mother doesn’t mind. It was no trouble.’ Carrington flashed a reassuring smile through the mirror. ‘She sent Mrs Timmons.’

  The housekeeper had picked her photos up from the photographer? Had she had a good look at them too?

  ‘How very thoughtful.’ Rory gave Trina’s hand a squeeze. ‘That’s one less job for us to do.’

  Trina’s eyes filled with tears. Rory made it sound like a chore, but she’d been looking forward to picking up the photos. She’d planned a whole day around it. First, she and Rory would go somewhere nice for lunch before they picked them up from the photographer. Then they would go home and pore over them together, taking time to study them and remember their day. She’d bought a gorgeous album for them, and she’d been looking forward to choosing their favourites for the oversized frame they’d hang in the hall.

  But that special day had been snatched away from her.

  ‘Mother says you’re to have supper with us tonight,’ Carrington informed them. ‘She didn’t think Trina would be in the mood for cooking after the flight. Mrs Timmons has left some sliced ham in the fridge and stocked up your cupboards in case you get hungry before then.’

  But Rory had already switched off from the conversation and was tapping away at his phone.

  ‘That’s very nice of Mrs Timmons,’ Trina said.

  ‘She’s such a doll.’ Carrington swung out of the car park and drove Trina and Rory home to start their married life.

  Fifteen

  Ruth

  My cousin Trina and her new husband Rory were starting their married life in the annexe of Rory’s parents’ property. They hadn’t lived together before the wedding, so the annexe was a temporary measure until they found their dream house. Now, I know what you’re thinking – or at least what I was thinking. Annexes – or granny flats – are little single-storey buildings tacked on to the side of a house. They’re quite dainty but contain everything the occupant or visitor may need.

  Trina and Rory did not live in any sort of annexe I had imagined. Far from it.

  ‘Did you find us all right?’ Trina asked. ‘Those country lanes can be a bit tricky.’

  Tricky was an understatement. The bus had dumped me in a little nearby village and I’d had to navigate my way along the roads (some of which were little more than dirt tracks) until I found the Hamilton-Wraiths’ property tucked away behind an orchard.

  ‘I would have picked you up in the village, but Carrington’s car is in for a service and Rory said she could borrow mine.’ Trina led me along the hallway towards her sitting room. The hallway was wide, with an oak staircase leading to the upper floor. Four doors led off the hallway – the kitchen, dining room, sitting room and downstairs loo. Yes, Trina’s ‘annexe’ was better equipped than my flat – and the downstairs alone was quadruple the size.

  ‘Come on through.’ Trina led me into the sitting room, and I stared at it in awe. The room was light and airy, with French doors leading out to a decked area and garden beyond. The garden stretched so far into the distance, I wasn’t sure where it ended and the countryside began. ‘Can I get you something to drink? Diet coke? Tea? We did have some champagne left over from the wedding but Rory’s sister and her friend polished it off.’

  ‘Diet coke will be fine, thank you.’

  The so-called annexe was so grand, I assumed Trina would summon a butler to fetch the requested drinks, but it was Trina herself who toddled off to the kitchen. I sat on one of the sofas – there were three set around the fireplace – and took in my surroundings. I suppose this was quite normal for Trina. Aunt Gloria had accumulated quite a lot of money through her several marriages and divorces, so Trina was used to the finer things in life. Not that Trina was a snob. Unlike her older sister, Tori. Trina had always been sweet and down to earth, and I’d loved spending time with her when we were younger. Since I was eight years older than Trina, she’d looked up to me, trusted me, and basically thought that I was the bee’s knees, which was a nice feeling. I’d take Trina (and Tori, if I really had to) to the local playground whenever they visited, or we’d hang out in my bedroom, listening to music and giggling. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, so I liked having Trina around, even if she was just a little kid. We didn’t see a lot of each other once she went away to boarding school, so it was a relief to see she was still the same Trina I’d known and loved whenever we did meet up again.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve come to see me.’ Trina joined me on the sofa, placing two cans of diet coke on the coffee table before pulling a MacBook onto her lap, pulling her bare feet under her skinny-jean-clad bottom. ‘I was thrilled when Mum phoned to tell me you were engaged. I’m so happy for you, Ruth. You’ll love getting married. It’s the best!’ Trina opened the MacBook. Her wedding photos were already set up, the slideshow ready to begin with the tap of a finger. ‘You’ll be the first person in my family to see these photos.’

  ‘Haven’t Aunt Gloria and Tori been round to see them yet?’

  ‘Ha! As if!’ Trina gave a little giggle, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. I knew for a fact that we wouldn’t be able to stop Mum visiting as soon as Jared and I were back from our honeymoon. She’d probably be waiting on the doorstep for our arrival. ‘Mum’s on a Caribbean cruise with potential ex-husband number six and Tori’s sulking. She thinks, as the older sister, she should have married first.’

  I sort of understood Tori’s point. I’d been more than a little peeved that my younger cousin was getting hitched before me.

  ‘Tori hasn’t even got a boyfriend, never mind a fiancé. Was I supposed to wait forever?’ Trina shook her head, her wavy blonde hair flapping around like a shampoo commercial. Her hair had turned almost white in the sun and her skin was a lovely golden colour.

  Trina tapped at the MacBook and the slideshow began. ‘These photos are a mix of the professional photos we had taken and family snaps.’ The first photo was obviously taken very early in the morning of Trina’s wedding, judging by her groggy eyes and unruly hair as she emerged from her bedroom.

  ‘I meant to take that one out. Tori took it just to be cruel. Oh! Here’s Aidan working his magic.’ Trina’s hairdresser friend was pinning her hair and they were laughing about something, eyes crinkled and mouths wide, completely uninhibited. I found my own mouth stretching into a smile, the joy they felt at the time spreading all these weeks later. ‘He really is great. How he managed to turn that bedhead into such a stylish do I’ll never know.’

  ‘Have you known Aidan long?’ The photo changed to one of Trina and Aidan toasting the successful hair-do with champagne.

  ‘He’s been my stylist since I was sixteen. I was his very first paying client. Somewhere along the way, we became friends. He’s such a sweetheart.’

  The slideshow continued, telling the story of Trina’s big day, from a sumptuous breakfast to the beautiful ceremony and ensuing celebrations. The slideshow then moved on to Trina and Rory’s honeymoon.

  ‘It looks gorgeous.’ I took a sip of coke as I watched one photo morph artistically into the next. ‘But you and Rory don’t appear to be in many photos together.’ I’d counted two so far: a selfie taken at the airport on the way out and another as they prepared to come home again.

  ‘Rory didn’t venture out of the hotel much. He said it was too hot so he spent most of the day under the shade of a tre
e with his book. I did a lot of sightseeing, though, and I met some really interesting people.’

  Mostly young, bronze-skinned men with sculpted bodies, judging by the photos.

  ‘Are you looking forward to your big day?’ Slideshow over, Trina closed the MacBook and placed it on the antique coffee table in front of us. ‘You’re going to make such a stunning bride. You’ve got such a pretty face and excellent style.’

  I suspected Trina had been hitting the champagne a bit too hard since the wedding and impaired her judgement. ‘I’m not sure about that, but I am looking forward to the wedding. There’s so much to do, though, and I haven’t even scratched the surface yet.’

  Trina placed a hand on my arm. ‘I completely understand. I’m lucky that I had a super-efficient wedding planner, but even then everything seemed to take forever. The waiting list for Durban Castle is at least five years, but luckily Mum had connections.’ Did she have any connections with St John’s church in Woodgate, by any chance? ‘I’m so grateful Winnie hired the wedding planner for us. I wasn’t too keen at first – Troy and Winnie completely took over and made most of the decisions for us – but they did put a lot of work into it.’

  ‘I don’t think a wedding planner is quite within our budget.’ It would take more than a two-and-a-half-year engagement to save up for such an extravagance.

  ‘I still have the file from my wedding if you want to borrow it. It has all the notes and plans Troy made.’

  ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

  Trina beamed at me before she hopped off the sofa. She left the room, returning a few minutes later with the file. It did nothing to ease my qualms at all. Rather than the slim manila file I was expecting, it was in fact a huge lever arch file stuffed to the gills. How was I supposed to sift through all of that and create a wedding of my own? I don’t say this very often, but Mum had been right; the two and a half years to wait didn’t seem sufficient all of a sudden.

  ‘Thanks for this. I really appreciate it. Oof.’ Trina dropped the file onto my lap and I was sure I heard something crack. It’d be a trip to A&E I’d require, not the church, at this rate.

  ‘It’s no problem at all. Keep it for as long as you need.’ Trina giggled. ‘I certainly won’t need it again. Unlike Mum, I only plan on getting married once.’

  I opened the file and had a quick scan through the first couple of pages. There was so much to take in. ‘Do you have any advice?’

  Trina toyed with her sun-lightened hair as she mulled over the question. ‘Go to as many wedding fairs as you can. There’s so much on show under one roof and you can make loads of useful contacts. I was really looking forward to going to some, but Troy already knew everything so I didn’t need to.’ Trina looked momentarily glum but soon brightened. ‘But choosing a dress is so much fun! You’ll feel like a princess, I swear.’

  I struggled to my feet with the hefty file. How was I going to lug this home on the bus? ‘I should be getting home. But thank you, Trina.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Come and see me any time. Rory works so much, it gets quite lonely out here at times.’

  I pulled my cousin into a hug, promising I’d see her soon, before I dragged myself (and the file) back through to the village and onto the three buses that would take me back to the flat, which now seemed tiny and inadequate after I’d spent the afternoon in the annexe.

  Sixteen

  Erin

  It always amazed Erin every time she stepped into her boyfriend’s parents’ house. Not because it was huge and flashy (which it was), but because the house belonged to Kelvin Shuttleworth, the general manager of H. Wood Vehicles. If you’d told her a few years ago that she’d be spending her Saturday afternoons at the Big Boss Man’s house, she’d have laughed in your face. Mind you, she would have laughed her socks off if you’d told her she’d end up with the Big Boss Man’s son too. As much as she loved Richard, there was no denying that he wasn’t her usual type. Erin didn’t normally go for straight-laced ginger men with stalker-ish tendencies, but life was funny like that.

  And Richard wasn’t really stalker-ish. He simply had fabulous taste in women and a stubborn streak. As Erin’s manager in the sales and marketing department of H. Woods, Richard had chased her relentlessly until she eventually caved in and agreed to a date. Inexplicably, she’d then agreed to another date, and another, until eventually she found herself at the Shuttleworths’ home to discuss wedding plans. Yet again. It seemed as if they’d gathered in Susan and Kelvin’s dining room every weekend since Lindsay had announced her engagement. The dining room, though quite large, was packed with wedding participants, with most of them standing as the chairs had all been taken by Lindsay and her parents, the groom’s parents and Susan’s sister (who wasn’t even part of the wedding party but had invited herself along anyway to be nosy). Ingrid, the wedding planner, had been offered a seat, but she’d declined. Probably because she didn’t feel quite so powerful and able to lord it over the others while seated.

  ‘I’ve set up a meeting with the photographer for Wednesday at seven o’clock. Frank will make that meeting, won’t he?’ Ingrid cast a severe glance in Lindsay’s direction, who cowered slightly under her glare. Ingrid wasn’t pleased that the groom had missed a ‘crucial’ meeting, while Erin thought what a lucky bastard he was to have given it a swerve. As well as Erin and Richard and the bride and groom’s parents (plus Richard’s nosy aunt Diane), the other seven bridesmaids and groomsmen had been summoned by Ingrid, who was holding court in the Shuttleworths’ dining room, clipboard in hand, while she barked out her orders. As Lindsay and Frank’s wedding drew closer, Ingrid’s voice became harsher. Right now, with a month to go, she was at Drill Sergeant level – who knew where she’d end up by the big day? Somebody ought to slip the woman some Strepsils or something.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Lindsay’s voice was low and her eyes darted everywhere, not wanting to meet Ingrid’s glare. ‘Frank has a very busy training schedule. I’ll have to speak to him about it.’

  ‘You do that.’ Ingrid consulted her clipboard. ‘Did you and Frank manage to decide on your wedding vows?’ She arched an eyebrow, as though silently adding Or is Frank’s training schedule too important for that too?

  ‘I bet their vows are beyond cheese,’ Erin whispered to Richard. Lindsay and Frank had decided to write their own vows, which she could only imagine were going to be cringe-inducing.

  ‘Don’t worry. When we get married, we’ll go with some old-fashioned pre-written vows.’

  Erin hoped Richard was joking. She’d made it pretty clear that marriage wasn’t for her. The fact that she gagged every time the W word came up was a big indicator. Plus, she’d said several million times that she never, ever wanted to get married, which was a whopping, elephant-sized clue.

  ‘I’ve mocked up a seating plan, as per your specifications.’ Ingrid pulled a sheet of paper out of the clipboard and unfolded it on the table in front of Lindsay. Susan whipped it away before Lindsay could get a look, and squinted down at it. Her nose was practically touching the paper in a bid to see what was printed on it. Susan was supposed to wear glasses but refused to, due to vanity. Erin thought her lack of sight explained some of her fashion choices.

  Susan shook her head, a satisfied smirk on her face. One of her favourite pastimes was finding faults and pointing them out, especially when it came to Lindsay’s wedding. She seemed to resent Ingrid’s involvement and tried to trip her up whenever possible. As amusing as it was for Erin to see Ingrid thwarted, it did make these meetings drag on even further.

  ‘You can’t put Brian and Hugh together,’ she said, jabbing a finger down on the seating plan.

  ‘Why not?’ Lindsay asked. ‘They’re brothers.’

  ‘Because Hugh is now married to Brian’s ex-wife, Marcia.’ Susan scanned the seating plan again, grinning when she spotted another flaw. ‘And you can’t put Great Aunt Rosamund that close to the bar. There’ll be no drink left for the rest of us. And why is my moth
er seated so far away from the top table?’ She turned to Lindsay with wide eyes. ‘Don’t you want to share your big day with your grandmother?’

  What all this had to do with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Erin didn’t know. Richard was missing out on spending precious time with the children for this. Amanda had almost rubbed her hands together with glee when he’d had to cancel their afternoon together.

  ‘We really cannot make any further changes after this.’ Ingrid made a few notes before she folded the seating plan and returned it to her clipboard. ‘A hair and make-up consultation has been scheduled for Sunday morning.’ Sunday morning? Sunday mornings were made for lie-ins and leisurely sex, not fannying about with hair and make-up. ‘All the bridesmaids must attend.’ Was she looking directly at Erin when she said this? ‘Plus the mothers of the bride and groom, flower girls and of course the bride herself.’ Ingrid ticked that point off her agenda before continuing. ‘The final dress fittings for the bride, bridesmaids and flower girls is in two weeks. Please don’t miss it under any circumstances.’ Ingrid eyed the bridesmaids, her look seeming to linger on Erin before she consulted her clipboard once more. ‘The suits will be ready for collection next weekend. The best man will be taking care of that, yes?’ Ingrid’s beady eye roamed the dining room. ‘Where is the best man?’

  ‘He’s also training,’ Lindsay said. She looked as though she’d quite like to slip under the table and spend the remainder of the meeting there in safety.

  Ingrid looked as though she was about to explode. ‘Does he at least have the address?’

  ‘I think so.’ Erin wouldn’t have been surprised if Lindsay had popped her thumb into her mouth for comfort as Ingrid gritted her teeth and fiercely scribbled something on her agenda.