The Importance of Being Married: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  I squirmed slightly. “Hen night? Uh, no. And I don’t want one, thanks very much.”

  “But you have to have a hen night,” Helen said immediately. “In two days’ time you’re going to be married. You’re going to be moving out.”

  “I am?” My heart quickened. “I mean, yes, I am.” I didn’t know why the fact hit me like a bolt out of the blue; Anthony and I had already had the conversation. I’d be moving in with him after the wedding. Fenella had even offered to have his place redecorated. But it had all felt a bit surreal, like I was talking about someone else—about Mrs. Milton, not Jessica Wild.

  “So this is our last night in the flat as…flatmates,” Helen continued, her voice cracking slightly.

  “Um, yes. I guess it is.” My throat was constricting again.

  “So then we need to have a party. Giles, can you be a girl for the night?”

  Giles looked at her uncertainly then shrugged, grinning. “Sure. Who am I kidding. I am a big girl. I’m a florist, for God’s sake.”

  “Jess? Any objections? Not that I’ll accept any, but do your best anyway.”

  I looked at her for a few seconds, then grinned. “Fine. But I can’t get too drunk,” I said sternly. “And no strippers.”

  “No strippers,” Helen said, seriously, then winked at Giles. “Giles,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I think we’re going to need more gin.”

  We didn’t have strippers. We did have Ivana, though. And Sean. And lots more gin, Kylie Minogue, and dancing. Lots of dancing. At one point I was dancing in my wedding dress. Actually, I fell asleep in my wedding dress with Ivana next to me. We woke up at the same time, our eyes opening to find themselves gazing into each other’s, just an inch or two apart. Immediately we both pulled away and stared at each other warily; a second later we realized what had woken us up as the intercom buzzed again. Sleepily, I ran toward it and picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Jess, it’s me,” a familiar voice said curtly. “In the car. Ready?”

  I looked down at my watch in alarm. It was already the middle of the afternoon.

  “Fenella! Hi! Um, give me a minute, okay?”

  “A minute? Jess, we don’t have a minute. There are things to do, checklists to check…”

  “Just wait there.” I put the intercom down and turned around. A sleepy-looking Helen was mooching toward me. “Who was that?” she asked, yawning.

  “Fenella. It’s the rehearsal today. I’m meant to be ready.”

  Helen looked me up and down. “You’re wearing your wedding dress,” she pointed out. “I don’t think you’re meant to wear that to the rehearsal.”

  I looked at her levelly, then pulled a face. “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. And help me get out of it.”

  Twenty minutes later, dress back in its bag, smelling, admittedly, slightly of gin, my clothes packed, me washed, and Ivana safely in the kitchen, I hugged Helen good-bye.

  “You’re sure you can’t make the rehearsal?” I asked imploringly. Helen had managed to shift her job interview forward a day; she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sadly. “But I’ll be there first thing tomorrow. And you’ll be fine. Honestly you will.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Hel. For…for everything,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t be silly. You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

  “You can still come and live with us, you know. When we’re married.” My voice caught slightly, and Helen’s eyes widened.

  “I keep forgetting you’re not going to be living here anymore,” she whispered, then bit her lip. “You’re going to be married. You’re going to be Mrs. Milton.”

  We reluctantly disentangled ourselves and I made my way downstairs where Fenella was standing, her mobile phone clamped to her face. She looked up at me irritably, then forced a smile.

  “Okay, time to go. Otherwise we’ll be late!” she said, her voice slightly shrill.

  “Sorry. Just…you know, last-minute stuff,” I mumbled apologetically, putting my bag in the boot and jumping into the passenger’s seat.

  “Jess!” I turned around to see Helen running toward me, her face white, her expression anxious. “Mr. Taylor’s on the phone,” she said, her voice barely audible. “He says it’s urgent.”

  I gulped. “Mr. Taylor?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell him I’m out,” I whispered. “Tell him I’m going away for the weekend.”

  “I did,” Helen said, her eyes wide. “But he just said it was really important that he got to talk to you today. He said I had to track you down. He mentioned the W-word.”

  “W?” I asked, confused.

  “Wedding!” Helen mouthed. I felt my heart beginning to pound in my chest, and I moved out of Fenella’s earshot. He knew. He knew everything.

  “You have to do something,” I whispered desperately. “You have to keep him away. He could ruin everything.”

  Helen nodded seriously. “Leave it with me,” she said. “I’ll…I’ll tell him the wedding’s in Manchester. That should keep him busy.”

  “Manchester,” I said, grabbing her to give her one last hug. “Or, you know, Scotland. Scotland’s even farther away…”

  Helen nodded. “Scotland it is,” she said forcefully. “Absolutely. You leave it to me. No problem at all.”

  Chapter 29

  PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 42

  To do

  1. Do not think about Max.

  2. Do not talk to Max.

  3. Or look at Max.

  4. Actually, keep as far away from Max as possible.

  The reception room was a hive of activity and looked utterly beautiful—table upon table covered in crisp white linen, with gold and red upholstered chairs surrounding them.

  “Right, I need to find Anthony,” Fenella said as soon as we arrived. “There are some problems with some invoices I need to clear up.”

  “Sure,” I said vaguely, as she marched off, her mobile phone pressed to her ear. I was standing still at the doorway, taking in the vision before me. My wedding. My wedding to Anthony Milton. Tomorrow. I felt slightly faint.

  “Jess! Hi!” I looked up to see Marcia walking toward me, a large pair of sunglasses positioned on the top of her head, a huge grin plastered across her face. “How exciting—bet you thought this day would never come.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, hoping against hope that Mr. Taylor was on his way to Scotland at that very moment.

  “So, last day of being single,” she said, winking.

  “I guess,” I managed to say. Everywhere I looked, people were carrying things, rearranging things, discussing tomorrow’s events in low, urgent voices. All for me. All for my wedding. Jessica Wild, the girl who always insisted she’d never get married, and look at me.

  “And then I guess everything will be different,” Marcia continued. “I mean, you’ll be a Mrs., won’t you? You’ll be Mrs. Milton…” She trailed off, then smiled again. “Just like I’m sure you’ve always wanted to be,” she finished.

  “Right,” I said, looking at her slightly strangely.

  “You’re not getting wedding jitters, are you?” Marcia said, laughing slightly. “Not going to do a runner are we?” Her eyes were glinting slightly.

  “Of course not,” I said too quickly, shaking my head. “Why would I?”

  “Good.” Her eyes rested on me for a few seconds. “Well, see you later.”

  I nodded. Wedding jitters. Maybe that’s what my churning stomach was all about. It would calm down, I was sure of it. I was just worried about losing my independence. It was perfectly normal.

  “Jessica!” I looked up sharply to see Max at my side. “So, coming to the church?”

  “Church?”

  “For the rehearsal,” Max said, looking at me curiously. “You okay, Jess?”

  I nodded. My legs were feeling slightly weak. “Me? Fine. Really fine. So, yes. Church. Let’s…Only I should probably wait for Fenella.”

  “Fenel
la?” Max raised an eyebrow. “The girl with the hair?”

  I giggled, immediately feeling better. “She’s actually very nice when you get to know her. At least she’s okay. I mean, she means well…”

  “She means well? Are you sure about that?”

  “Fine, I’ll come,” I said, grinning. “I’m sure she’ll find me if she needs me.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Max said, holding out his arm. The church was just around the corner from the hotel.

  “So, excited?” Max asked as we walked.

  “Terrified,” I said before I could stop myself.

  He laughed. “Can’t be that bad,” he said.

  “No, no of course not.” I bit my lip. “I meant that I’m terrified in a good way. You know, like any bride.”

  “Jess, it’s okay to be nervous, you know,” Max said gently. “Marriage is a big deal.”

  “I know,” I said, wishing it wasn’t. “So how come you…I mean, did you never think about getting married yourself?”

  Max shook his head. “No. Not for me.”

  I remembered saying that myself. Before…well, just before. “You mean you don’t ever want to…?”

  “Never say never,” he said, winking. “I just…well, it would have to be the right person, wouldn’t it? I mean, you can’t rush into these things.”

  He met my eye and blanched slightly. “I didn’t mean you’re rushing into things,” he said quickly. “I know that you and Anthony are doing the right thing.”

  “You do?” I asked, uncertainly.

  “Yes. I think you’re going to make a great team.”

  “Really?”

  Max nodded and pulled my arm around his more tightly; it felt nice. Felt reassuring. I hadn’t felt reassured like this in a long time. With Anthony I felt excited sometimes, felt like Jessica Wiiild, but I didn’t feel…comfortable, necessarily. Didn’t really feel like I could relax. “You’ll have fun together,” Max continued. “And support each other. Be there for each other. You know, all the things married people do that single people like me pretend don’t matter. Even though they do. Very much.”

  “Right.” I nodded, aware that my chest was constricting slightly. We would have fun, I told myself. We would support each other. Wouldn’t we?

  “Jess? Are you okay? Jess?” Max was looking at me, concern splashed all over his face, and I realized I was holding his arm in a vise-like grip.

  I let go immediately. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Although…”

  “Although?”

  “Although not all marriages are the same, are they?”

  “No, I suppose they’re not,” Max said.

  “Right. So there’s no right or wrong way.”

  “Of course not. So long as you love each other, you can make it up as you go along.”

  “Love. Right.” My heart was clattering in my chest and I took a deep breath.

  “Jess?” Max stopped walking. “Jess, what’s up? What’s going on?”

  He was looking at me intently, and I felt myself weaken. “What I mean is,” I said, looking down at the ground, “that some marriages are based on…other things. You know.” Like money, I was thinking. Like lies. I thought of Grace. Like not letting someone important down.

  “I suppose,” Max said. He sounded confused.

  “Right,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as anyone. “And ends justify the means, don’t they? You know, generally.”

  “I guess so.” Max frowned.

  I nodded. “Yes. You see, sometimes you do things that may not seem entirely like the right thing, but they are because if you don’t do them then you’ll be doing the wrong thing. Right?”

  I looked up at him hopefully; his face crumpled slightly. “I’m not entirely sure I’m following you. Can you be more specific?”

  “I mean that right and wrong, well, they can be interlinked, can’t they?” I gulped slightly. “And sometimes what seems to be the right thing is actually the wrong thing and what might feel wrong is actually right…”

  “It is?” Max looked perplexed. “Jess, are you having doubts?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not. I mean…”

  “You mean?” Max was looking at me intently.

  “I mean, no…” I started to nod. “Well, maybe…”

  “Jess? Oh, thank God, there you are. Look, the rehearsal is about to start and I’ve lost Anthony.”

  It was Fenella—at the sound of her voice I went bright red.

  “Fenella! Hi!” My voice was slightly too high to sound natural.

  “I was chasing him for some payments—apparently the hotel’s invoices haven’t been paid—and he said he was going to call his bank and now he’s disappeared,” Fenella said agitatedly. “Do you know where he is?”

  I shook my head. “No. No, I haven’t seen him. Not since we got here.”

  “Wonderful.” Fenella sighed. “A rehearsal with no groom.”

  She peered at Max. “You. Who are you?”

  “This is Max,” I said, forcing a bright smile onto my face. “You met him at the engagement party, remember?”

  “Max.” Fenella looked at her list. “The best man?”

  “I like to think so,” Max joked, but Fenella didn’t even attempt a smile.

  “Well, Max, could you go and see if you can find Anthony? Perhaps you’ll have more luck than I did.”

  “I could…,” Max said tentatively, his eyes still on me. “But…”

  “But?” Fenella sighed.

  His eyes were boring into mine. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying I’m fine,” I assured him, suddenly feeling foolish for wanting to get his approval, for having such a moment of weakness. I was having far too many of them. And always around Max. “You go and get Anthony. Thanks, Max.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” he said.

  “Quite sure.” I nodded.

  “God, it’s like herding cats,” Fenella sighed as Max disappeared back toward the hotel. I felt his absence as if a comforting blanket had been whipped off me. “Now come with me and meet the vicar. He’s…not what I expected, but I’m afraid he’ll have to do.”

  She led me into the church. “So, here we are,” she said. “Have a wander around to familiarize yourself with the layout. Aisle is here, obviously, altar over there. There’s a room at the back for Anthony and the best man tomorrow morning. You’ll come through these doors and when you do, the organ will start to play.”

  I followed her as she took me on a brisk tour, doing my best to keep up, doing my best to take in what she was saying. Then, eventually, she steered me toward a small, squat man with a big bushy beard, pale blue jeans, and a dog collar. He didn’t look much like a vicar, I found myself thinking as he held out his hand.

  “Vicar, this is Jess. Jess, this is the vicar.”

  “Jess. Great to meet you.”

  “Hi!” I said uncertainly. “You’re the vicar?”

  “Call me Roger.” The man grinned. “I prefer to keep things informal if that’s okay?”

  “Sure.” I noticed Fenella’s expression—it appeared that informal was not at all okay as far as she was concerned. “I mean, great!”

  “Of course, he’ll be in his robes, tomorrow,” Fenella said, smiling tightly. “Won’t you, Roger?”

  Roger winked. “Oh, I’ll see what I can do,” he said jovially. “Who knows, I might even mention the Bible in my sermon. What do you reckon?”

  Fenella raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to the doors—which were opening to reveal Max, rather breathless.

  “I…I can’t find him anywhere,” he said. “Anthony, I mean.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Fenella said irritably. “Are you quite certain?”

  Max nodded. “He’s not in the bar, or the reception, and he’s not in his room, either.”

  Fenella took out her mobile and dialed a number. “Anthony? Fenella. We’re waiting for you in the church. Please
call me the second you get this message.”

  Then she turned to me and stared at me accusingly. “Do you know where he is?” she asked. “Do you?”

  I shook my head. “He was at the bar a few minutes ago. Marcia saw him.”

  “And where’s Marcia?” Fenella asked, looking at me accusingly, as though I’d hidden them both on purpose.

  “I don’t know,” I said redundantly.

  “Of course you don’t.” Fenella sighed. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to go back to the hotel to look for him myself.”

  “Good luck,” Max said levelly. “Because I can promise you I had a good look.”

  “Everywhere?” Fenella looked unconvinced.

  “Everywhere.” He nodded firmly.

  “Okay, well, guys, we may have to think of a Plan B, because we’re going to have to clear the church for the evening service soon,” Roger said, clapping his hands together.

  “Plan B?” Fenella looked at him in alarm. “There is no Plan B. We need to have the rehearsal. We have to wait for Anthony.”

  Roger’s brow wrinkled. “Thing is,” he said apologetically, “evensong doesn’t really wait, if you know what I mean.”

  “But we have to rehearse,” Fenella said, the stress evident in her voice. “We have to have a run-through.”

  Roger shrugged hopelessly.

  “Fine,” Fenella said, crossing her arms. “Max, you’ll have to stand in for now. I’ll wait outside and usher Anthony in if I see him.”

  “Max? Stand in for Anthony?” I gulped.

  “Only for the rehearsal,” Fenella said irritably. “It’s no big deal. Come on, people.”

  Max looked at her uncertainly. “Really?”

  “Makes sense to me,” Roger said. He winked at Max. “Of course, it is the best man’s job to stand in for the groom if he goes missing, you know.”

  Max caught my eye and I blushed. He shook his head, then shrugged. “Well, okay, then. If I have to. So, what, I just go…”

  “To the altar,” Roger said. “And Jessica, you go to the door. That’s right. Okay, so cue the music…” He started to whistle a badly out of tune “Here Comes the Bride” as everyone else took their places.