The Importance of Being Married: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  Helen smiled sympathetically.

  “Fine,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “So, Jess, try asking Anthony. See what he says.”

  I nodded uncertainly. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

  “Yes, you will,” Ivana agreed. “But if it no work, we need plen.” She looked at me seriously, then smiled, gold teeth appearing in her mouth like little stars. “You know, you not doing so bed,” she said graciously. “Better than I think you do. So, congratulations, yes?”

  She looked around the room, holding up a bottle of champagne and bringing it to her lips.

  “Yeah, congratulations,” Sean agreed.

  “To Jessica Wild,” Helen said, grinning. “Or, rather, to Jessica Milton.”

  On Monday morning, the moment I walked tentatively through the doors Gillie came rushing over (it turned out she could spot an engagement ring at ten paces) and screamed at the top of her voice.

  “Sean!” she squealed. “You’re marrying Sean! He won you back! Oh my God—was it the barbershop quartet that did it? Or the flowers? Oh, will you look at the size of that diamond. Marie, come over here. Quick!”

  Marie duly rushed over and they both sighed reverentially as I held up my left hand for inspection.

  “Actually, it’s not Sean,” I said.

  “Not Sean?” Gillie’s eyes opened wide. “You dark horse. Who gave it to you then? And do you have any other rich suitors tucked away somewhere to pass to me? I wouldn’t mind getting flowers every day, I tell you!”

  I swallowed nervously. Ever since Anthony had gone home on Sunday morning (he’d been up for staying all weekend, but I’d made my excuses; as Helen had pointed out, an engagement wasn’t a wedding and I still needed some expert tutelage from Ivana and Sean), I’d been half expecting him to call the engagement off, to look at me sheepishly, tell me he was drunk when he proposed, and suggest that maybe we should cool things for a bit. But he’d texted me already today asking how his favorite fiancée was so, assuming the favorite bit was a joke and that he didn’t have a whole bevy of future wives tucked away somewhere, it appeared that the wedding was very much on.

  “Darling, hello!” Anthony swept out of his office and planted a kiss on my lips. “So, what d’you think of the ring?” he asked Gillie, a big smile on his face. “Impressive, huh?”

  I watched Gillie’s face contort with confusion.

  “You? And you?” she asked, looking from me to Anthony and back again.

  I nodded, not daring to speak.

  “Seriously? You and Anthony?”

  I nodded again.

  “Getting married?”

  “That’s right,” Anthony said, grinning.

  Gillie shook her head in amazement. “But…” she said, helplessly. “But I never…I mean, you never…I never knew!”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” I said tentatively.

  “Long enough though,” Anthony said, as Gillie looked at my ring again.

  I nodded awkwardly. Me. Engaged. It still took a bit of getting used to.

  At that moment Marcia arrived through the double doors. Her eyes widened as she took in Anthony’s arm, Gillie’s rapturous face. Then she saw the ring. A look of uncertainty flicked across her face, but then she smiled, and took my left hand in hers. “You’re getting married?”

  “We certainly are,” Anthony said happily.

  “How very romantic. Quite the whirlwind romance.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “It was quite quick,” I agreed.

  “And she took some convincing, believe me,” Anthony said.

  “You knew about this?” Gillie asked Marcia incredulously. “You knew they were an item?”

  Marcia smiled smoothly. “Of course I knew. Oh dear. Don’t tell me that you were the last to know, Gillie. How awful for you.”

  “I did know,” Gillie said stiffly. “At least, I guessed.”

  “Really? Only you look like you’ve been run over by a high-speed lorry,” Marcia said. “Anyway, I suppose congratulations are in order. So congratulations.”

  She smiled again, and I stared at her. I didn’t know quite what I’d expected from Marcia, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  “Yes, congratulations,” Gillie said immediately. “This is so exciting. But you need to start planning. Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Places book up quickly, you know. Ooh! You should have a wedding like Liz Hurley’s. Different locations. Three different dresses. And what about bridesmaids? Got it all sorted, have you? Oh, I love weddings, me. You need any help at all, I’m your woman.”

  “Great! Thanks, Gillie!” I said, a fixed smile on my face. “But really it’s very early. I mean, we haven’t really had time to think about any of that stuff yet. Have we, Anthony?”

  He smiled indulgently at me. “I suppose we haven’t. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start, does it? You tell me what you’d like, Jess, and let’s take it from there, shall we? Summer or winter wedding?”

  I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and I blushed slightly. Now was my chance. But how could I suggest getting married in under a month? “Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual and relaxed. “I mean, we could wait and plan something for well into the future, or we could…maybe…you know, do it quicker?”

  “Quicker?” Anthony frowned.

  “Sooner, I mean,” I said quickly. “You know, just do it.”

  “Just do it. You mean like Nike?” He was laughing at me, and I found myself blushing.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Marcia said suddenly. “I mean, over-planned weddings are so boring.”

  Surprised to have Marcia as my supporter, I smiled and nodded at her. “Exactly. Far better to…you know, be impetuous.”

  “To be impulsive?” Anthony said, his eyes lighting up. “To keep the element of surprise?”

  “Exactly,” Marcia said triumphantly.

  “But what about the planning?” Gillie said uncertainly. “I mean, how quick are we talking here? A few months?”

  “Or…” I bit my lip hesitantly. “Or a few weeks?”

  Anthony thought for a moment, then grinned. “A few weeks. Brilliant. We can book a register office, throw a little dinner afterward—it’ll be brilliant.”

  “A little dinner?” Gillie snorted. “Anthony, you can’t get married and just have a little dinner. You have to do it properly. Come on, you’re Anthony Milton. People are going to want to see photographs. I bet Advertising Today will put you on their front cover again.”

  “You do?” Anthony looked at her curiously for a moment, then nodded. “You know, I think you’re right. Maybe we should think big for this wedding. Get some PR going?”

  “PR?” I asked, falteringly. “Really? Won’t it be expensive? I mean, a dinner would be fine, really…”

  “No it wouldn’t,” Anthony said, firmly. “And don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay. It’ll be an investment. Gillie my dear, you’re a genius. But how are we going to organize a huge wedding in a few weeks?”

  “A few weeks?” Max emerged from his office and wandered over. “What’s happening in a few weeks?”

  I felt myself reddening self-consciously. “The wedding,” Gillie said, rolling her eyes. “Keep up, Max.”

  “Wedding?” Max frowned. “Whose wedding?”

  Anthony winked at me; my blush deepened. “Just thought of something,” he said conspiratorially. “Give me a second.”

  He disappeared into his office as Gillie shook her head impatiently at Max. “Jess and Anthony’s wedding, of course. Do you know nothing, Max?”

  Max grinned. “Gillie, one day I really hope to understand your sense of humor. In the meantime I must confess to being completely baffled by it.”

  “But it’s not a joke,” Gillie said with a sigh. “Ask her yourself.”

  “Jess?” Max was staring at me in bewilderment. I swallowed with difficulty.

  “We’re…we’re getting married,” I said, trying to make it sound less significant. “Anthony aske
d me on Saturday.”

  “It’s true, Max,” Marcia said archly. “Quite the dark horses, aren’t they?”

  “Look at her ring,” Gillie agreed, rushing forward to hold my left hand out. “Nice, don’t you think?”

  Max looked at the ring, then opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

  “Surprised us all,” Gillie said conspiratorially. “Except me, of course. Nothing surprises me. Nothing at all.”

  “You’re…you’re getting married? To Anthony? Seriously?” Max looked at me intently. I could feel myself getting hot, feel myself wanting to say, no, no, not really, but I steeled myself.

  “That’s right.”

  “And you really think this is a good idea?” Max’s eyes were boring into me; I could feel his disapproval at the bottom of my stomach.

  “Yes, I do,” I said defensively. “I think it’s a very good idea.”

  “Right,” Max said, nodding, his face suddenly closed, disinterested. “Right. Well. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be…very happy.” He turned to walk back to his office, but he was stopped by Anthony, coming out of his office.

  “All right, campers. Do we think we can organize a wedding in three weeks?” he said, turning back to me, a big grin playing on his lips.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Max said immediately.

  “Three weeks?” Gillie asked, her mouth falling open. “Where are you planning to do it? In the local park?”

  “Actually I was thinking about the Hilton Park Lane. There’s a lovely church around the corner for the ceremony, then we can pack everyone into the Hilton for a huge reception.”

  “The Hilton?” I looked at him uncertainly. The Hilton Park Lane was one of the largest, most glamorous hotels in London. “Really?”

  “Really!” Anthony said happily. “They’re a client. I just spoke to the chief exec.”

  “And they’re not booked up?” Gillie demanded.

  “Of course they are. They’re usually booked up years in advance. But they had a cancellation. Some bride got cold feet, apparently. But her fiancé’s loss is our gain!”

  “But three weeks? You can’t organize a wedding in a month!” Gillie exclaimed. “It’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible,” Marcia said, shaking her head. “Is it, Anthony?”

  Anthony winked. “Of course it isn’t.”

  Max stared at him. “Anthony, are you insane? Three weeks? You don’t think that maybe you might be rushing things slightly? You don’t think that marriage is a rather major commitment that should be thought about, planned, prepared for?”

  I felt my heart beginning to thud loudly. I was so close, so close to everything working out. So why was I willing Max to persuade Anthony it was a bad idea.

  “Strike while the iron’s hot, that’s what I say,” Anthony said quickly, turning away from Max. I caught his eye as he did so, and thought I saw a look of unease, but immediately he grinned, and I realized that it must have been my unease, not his.

  “Jess, you don’t think we’re rushing things, do you? You’re not scared to rush in where fools fear to tread?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all,” I said, wishing I felt as sure as I sounded.

  “A shotgun wedding,” Marcia said. “How romantic.”

  “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Anthony grinned. “So, Jess. You wanted a quick wedding. Three weeks quick enough for you?”

  I nodded. “Three weeks sounds great to me,” I managed to say.

  “Well. Good,” Max said tightly. “I’m very glad for you both. And if three weeks is long enough for you to plan a wedding, then I’m sure that three minutes is long enough for you to prepare for our Project Handbag meeting.”

  I looked at him uncertainly, then looked down at my watch. It was 8:57 AM.

  “Oh, right,” I said, suddenly remembering that we had a meeting at 9 AM.

  “Yes, right,” Max said, then turned around and marched back to his office.

  Chapter 22

  I SAT DOWN at my desk and turned on my computer. Everything was going according to plan. Everything in my life was coming together seamlessly. I was happy. The funny feeling in my stomach was happiness, I was sure of it.

  “So, you’re ready for the meeting, right?” I looked up to see Max, striding toward me. “Because it’s now. Like, right now.”

  He looked at me expectantly, and I found myself looking away. “Sure,” I said lightly. “As far as one can be ready for a meeting.”

  “What?” Max frowned. “What on earth do you mean? Of course you can be ready for a meeting.”

  God, he had no sense of humor.

  “I mean it’s fine,” I said. “Just chill out.”

  “Chill out?” Max’s face twisted in distaste. “We have a meeting with Chester Rydall and you’re asking me to chill out?”

  “Max, for God’s sake, Jess has got other more important things to worry about,” Marcia said, standing up suddenly. “Jess, ignore him.”

  Max looked at her for a moment. “I think you’ll find she’s already mastered that skill,” he said levelly, then stalked off toward the meeting room. Sighing, I rolled my eyes at Marcia and followed him.

  “Jessica Wild!” Chester, who was standing next to Anthony, grinned broadly at me as soon as I walked in. “I hear congratulations are in order!” He stood up and enveloped me in a bear hug. “I’m sure the two of you are gonna make a wonderful couple.”

  I smiled as brightly as I could. “Thanks, Chester. Thanks very much.”

  “Not at all. And I have to tell you, I’m very excited about this presentation. Folks back at the office are all waiting with bated breath to see what you guys have come up with.”

  “They are?” I asked happily, shooting a triumphant look at Max. “Well, I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “Shall we?” Anthony said, winking at me and motioning for everyone to sit down. “So, Jess—the future Mrs. Milton—let’s hear all the exciting developments on Project Handbag!”

  He grinned at me and I felt myself going slightly pink. “Of course. Thanks, Anthony,” I said brightly. “What I wanted to do today was to revisit our thoughts on the campaign and to really establish what it is we want to do.”

  Chester looked at me quizzically, then laughed. “Oh, it’s a joke,” he said.

  “A joke?” Now I was the one looking confused.

  “Yeah. Like you’d bring me here after all this time just to recap. Come on, Jess. I know you like a bit of drama when you’re presenting, but give us the meat. The research, the strategies. I’m real excited to hear it all.”

  I cleared my throat. “The meat. Right.”

  “Come on, Jess,” Anthony said encouragingly. “Tell us all about it.”

  “Of course!” I said brightly. “Absolutely. Well, we’re here to discuss Project Handbag, so let’s get right to it. I’ve got some logos here for people to look at and lots of ideas on the campaign itself…”

  I managed to pad it out for ten minutes or so, handing around the logos that Max had shown me, flanneling for all I was worth. And actually, I thought it went pretty well. I was Jessica Wiiild, after all. I smiled (no teeth), I flicked my hair, and I managed to sound (in my opinion at least) pretty convincing, even if I had nothing to say, even if I hadn’t actually managed to do anything on the account whatsoever.

  “So,” I said to Chester expectantly, when I’d finished. “Do you have any thoughts?”

  Chester rubbed his chin.

  “Actually, I do,” he said, his brow creasing slightly. “I’m just not sure quite what I’ve learned today, to be honest.”

  I nodded. “Learned?” I asked. I was getting a bad feeling in my stomach.

  “I guess,” Chester said, a slightly pained look on his face, “I was hoping for more…detail, today. You know, facts and figures.”

  “Facts and figures,” I said nervously. “Okay. Tell me what you want to know.”

  “Great.” A look of relief
filled Chester’s face. “Can you tell me, in terms of spend, what’s the proportion of print advertising we’re planning versus web advertising, and are we expecting direct results from this or just awareness raising?”

  I smiled brightly. “Well, that’s a good question,” I managed to say.

  “And what about take-up?” Chester continued. “What actual numbers are we aiming at in months one and two, and what kind of levels of investment? Because that’s going to help us crunch the costs of this.”

  I cleared my throat. “Um, again, a very good question…”

  “Also, I’d like an update on the celebrity endorsement you mentioned at the pitch meeting. What’s the state of that?”

  Everyone looked at me and I felt myself getting hot.

  “Right, well, yes, that’s a good point.”

  “A point to which you have an answer?” Chester was looking at me curiously.

  “Yes, absolutely,” I said, swallowing nervously. “Of course I have. Maybe I could e-mail it to you later today?”

  “E-mail it?” Chester frowned. “I thought we were holding this meeting so we could discuss these things now.”

  “Yes, we are. I mean, we were,” I found myself saying. “But…” I looked around the room. Anthony was looking at me with a slightly fixed smile on his face; Marcia was doodling on her pad. I didn’t even dare look at Max. I could feel his irritation from the other side of the table.

  Suddenly Max pushed back his chair and I was forced to turn to him. “Chester, you’ve asked some important questions,” he said seriously. “Questions that we have been working through the answers to over the past couple of weeks, although without reaching firm conclusions yet. The truth is that before we present the detail to you, it would be far more worthwhile if you would tell us what it is that Jarvis Private Banking would like to achieve in terms of numbers, and then we can use that to plan the advertising spread. We know, for instance, that you are looking for a growth curve over the first six months as awareness builds—this isn’t a cut-price credit card, after all, but a sophisticated financial product that will take time to embed in people’s consciousness, but really we need a steer from you on exact numbers.”