Yours Truly

by Kirsty Greenwood

  But she does none of those things. She pulls out a big wad of twenties and peels off five notes.

  “Love, my feelings are not easily hurt. I'm sorry you didn't like the job I did. You should have told me. Here's your money back.”

  And then she hands me a hundred quid.

  What? Just like that?

  I look at her. She doesn't appear to be upset. Or have hurt feelings. In fact she looks like this is something that has happened to her before which, let’s face it, probably has.

  “Oh,” I say like an idiot. “Well, thanks. I'm glad that's sorted.”

  “Can I do your bloody chignon now?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Barbara!”

  The chignon turns out to be exactly what I wanted. Twisted elegantly at the nape of my neck and with a few beaded clips dotted here and there. It's a shame I'll have to ruin the effect with the dress of horrors, but that's what you get when your wedding is called back on at the last minute, I suppose.

  When I've done up my bra, I slip on my dressing gown and call out to Mum, who’s been waiting outside the bedroom door with my dress, that I'm ready to get changed.

  She comes in, her face flushed with pleasure, and unzips the huge garment bag she's holding.

  I get the shock of my life when what she pulls out isn't the dress of horrors, but an elegant, corseted dress with a soft flippy skirt and lace sleeves.

  “What? How?” I gasp, unable to take my eyes off one of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.

  “It's the same dress!” Mum bursts out excitedly, like she's been waiting to show me for ages. “I adjusted it.”

  “Adjusted? Are you mental! This is a complete overhaul!”

  I can't believe it! The diamante has been unstitched and replaced with tiny glass beads, the top is still corseted but a brand new sweetheart neckline has been added. The reams of netting underskirt have been totally removed!

  Mum blushes and brushes her fringe out of her eyes. “Well, I had a little think and I realised that maybe we were a bit pushy with the dress. You were right. It really wasn't you. Dionne maybe. But definitely not you. I've been working on it for a few weeks. You know. Just in case...”

  I do a little jump up and down. I can't believe I'm going to get to wear this dress.

  “Thank you, Mum,” I say, leaning in to give her a squeeze.

  “You're welcome, darling,” she says, squeezing back just as tightly.

  Bull is driving us to the church in his flashy yellow car with the blacked out windows. Now, the only thing I know about Bull is that he's a bit of a gangster with fingers in many dodgy pies and contacts with some of the most dangerous mastermind criminals in the country. So I must admit I'm surprised to find that his appearance is less Jason Statham and more Pee Wee Herman.

  Bull is a geek. No two ways about it. He's dressed in a black tuxedo with a yellow cummerbund and a matching bow tie. Dionne flings herself at him and smothers him in kisses. He blushes, but kisses her back all the same, commenting how wonderful she looks in her black tutu. They are a very cute couple.

  “Hello, Natalie,” Bull says in a softly spoken cockney twang. “You look beautiful. It's nice to meet you. Your sister says nuffink but great things about ya.”

  “She does?” I chuckle as Dionne pokes her tongue out at me. “It's good to finally meet you too.”

  “What are we standing here like plebs for?” Mum interrupts, bustling out of the front door behind us. She looks lovely and bright and decidedly un-frail in a deep purple shift dress, matching jacket and hat. I feel a glimmer of pride.

  “Come on then, everyone. Let's get this show on the road!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  It all seems to have happened so quickly. I can't quite believe that this is it. I'm getting married!

  We stop outside the church for a few moments while Irene from the shop's husband, Bob, takes some photographs of me, Mum and Dionne.

  I take a deep breath, re-apply some lip gloss and then it's time to go.

  I get to the entrance of the church and Mum hurries in before me. I hear her saying hello to all the guests.

  Oh God. This is it.

  Dionne is next to me, looking exactly like the Black Swan from Swan Lake. She straightens my dress and pats down my hair.

  “You're gorgeous,” she says.

  “Thanks. Have you got a tissue? I'm sweating.”

  Dionne pulls a hanky from out of her cleavage and hands it over. I dab at my forehead.

  We stand there and wait for the music to start playing, my cue to walk down the aisle to Olly.

  “I can't wait until I get to do this with Bull!” Dionne beams, her eyes sparkling at the very thought.

  “He's lovely!” I say approvingly. “Not at all what I expected. You go very well together.”

  “I know,” Dionne says making heart eyes. “We're sooooo in love.”

  All at once I stiffen.

  My stomach drops and my ears ring.

  “W- What did you just say?” I ask, feeling the colour drain from my face.

  “Um. We're soooo in love?”

  Oh God.

  “Ask me if I'm in love with Olly?” I say, my heart speeding up.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because no one asked me that when I was under the truth-telling spell. They all asked me if I loved Olly. And of course I do. Of course I love him. But no one asked me if I'm IN love with him.”

  “Calm down,” Dionne scolds. “This is classic cold feet. Besides it doesn't matter if I ask you, you're not hypnotised anymore. You don't need me to ask you the question to know the truth.”

  She's right. But...

  “Just do this for me, Dionne. Ask me! Please!”

  She sighs and rolls her eyes.

  “Are you in love with Olly?”

  The answer comes back at once. Not forced through my mouth because of a spell cast upon me by some crazy old man with weird powers. But in my heart. And I'm sure. I've never been more sure.

  “No. No I'm not in love with him.”

  Dionne gasps. I gasp.

  And then the organ strikes up with the wedding march.

  Massive balls.

  What is someone supposed to do in a situation like this? I don't know how it works. They don't tell you about this in the wedding blogs and magazines.

  I can't marry Olly. I can't marry somebody I'm not in love with.

  Dionne does a squeak and pushes me further towards the church entrance.

  “You're being silly. You don't know what you're talking about.”

  She pushes me again. I stumble forward and then I'm inside the room. Crammed full of guests of whom I only know about half.

  Shit. I have no choice. I can't back out now. Not after I've messed everyone around. They've all put in so much effort. I feel like I'm in a bad dream. The worst dream.

  I start to walk.

  There's Auntie Jan, looking resplendent in her brand new burgundy trouser suit, she's supposed to be singing later. And Irene from the shop who worked through the night to do pie and peas and some egg mayo sandwiches and spring rolls for a buffet.

  I carry on walking.

  There's Barbara the hairdresser who decided to support me at my wedding even though we don't know each other and I called her a bad hairdresser.

  And Meg! There's Meg at the front of the room, looking windswept and happy, Robbie by her side. She made it! Behind her sit Alan and Alfred. They must have flown her over in the Hobbscopter. Haha!

  I spot Mum. My mum. Who truly believes that Olly is the right man for me. Who has a frail heart and has been looking forward to my wedding for so very long.

  And finally, there's Olly.

  Lovely, sweet Olly. Who forgave me my behaviour and still - after all this shit - wants to settle down with me.

  Settle down.

  Settle down

  SETTLE DOWN.

  But. But.

  I'm not ready. I haven't lived! We're not sexually compatible. He wants me to
lose weight and stop dreaming about being a chef when being a counter assistant is perfectly fine.

  I can't settle down yet. I can't settle down when I’ve never ever been up. I can’t settle down for the rest of my life when I haven't lived!

  I halt. Right there on the aisle. Dionne bumps into me.

  “Natalie?” Olly says, eyes narrowed. “Come on!” He laughs nervously and rolls his eyes at the crowd as if I'm being silly.

  Silly Natalie.

  From behind I feel Dionne push me a little further forward. I stand my ground.

  I have to tell the truth.

  I glance at Mum, fully expecting her to have a face like thunder, or worse, another angina attack. And though she looks disappointed, she shrugs and smiles sadly at me.

  “I love you,” she mouths.

  Her blessing gives me a fresh burst of confidence.

  “I can't do this,” I say to Olly, quietly.

  His face crumples.

  “What the fuck?” he hisses.

  “Mind your language,” the vicar frowns, tugging uncomfortably at his bedazzled dog collar.

  “I'm so sorry, Olly,” I say, as clear and calm as the frozen waterfall in Little Trooley. “But... I'm not in love with you.”

  Oh goodness, I feel awful. But surely it's more awful to lie and to let him marry someone who doesn't want to be spend their life with him?

  His eyes water and he furiously blinks away angry tears.

  Oh God. What have I done to him?

  “You selfish bitch.”

  He spits it with such venom I have to take a step back.

  “Now now,” Alan from Little Trooley stands up, “you do not talk to a lady that way.” Alfred pills him back down.

  “Olly, I’m so -” I start.

  “You know how lucky you are to have me?”

  “I kno-”

  “You think you can treat me like this after all I’ve done for you?”

  I start to cry.

  “I can’t lie to you Olly! I just couldn’t -”

  “You’ll never find anyone else like me, Natalie. Someone who’ll put up with your fat arse and your fucking battleaxe misery guts mother and -”

  “Olly stop this!” I plead. “You’re being horrible!”

  “No wonder your Dad left. Maybe you’re actually doing me a favour.”

  I look at him shouting , his face red and suddenly, not quite as handsome as I always thought it was. He’s mean. Olly is mean. And weak. And controlling. And he is too short. And BAD in bed. He’s sooo not the one.

  “I’m sorry Olly. I am. I’ve got to go now.”

  “You what? You’re not actually going to leave - you fucking -”

  “Oh do shut up Olly!!”

  It’s my mum. She stands up from her place in the front pue. Alan from Little Trooley rushes over to take her arm and hold her steady.

  “Natalie.” She turns to me and does her most stern teacher voice. “If you don’t bugger off on out of this church right now I will be very upset indeed. Do you hear me?”

  I smile at her. I never could argue with my mum.

  And so I do as she says.

  I go.

  I spin around and, ignoring the shocked murmurs and wailing echoing around me, I leg it out of the church and into the sunshine.

  I stop my escape jog when I get out into the church grounds. Partly because I need to catch my breath but mostly I just want to look around to see if anyone has followed me out. I kind of expected that they would, but no one has.

  “You didn't go through with it then?”

  It's Riley.

  Whaaaaaat?

  He looks like a bloody mess. He's panting and red faced like he's been running. He’s wearing a thick green snow suit, there are scratches on his face and his hair is all over the show. I don't understand.

  “What are you doing here?” I cry, my knees wobbling precariously. How the hell did you even get here?”

  “On Wonky Faced Joe's tractor,” he says. “It kind of took me all night.”

  “I thought it was broken?” I say, fighting an ill-timed urge to laugh.

  “It is. Hence the all night thing. I broke down four times and got stopped by the police twice.”

  “Why are you here, Riley?” I ask. “What do you want?”

  “I. Um. I was kind of coming to stop your wedding.”

  What the fuck?

  “Stop my wedding?” I echo disbelievingly.

  “Yes. I was going to break in and make sure you didn't marry Olly.”

  “Well, you're too late. I've already not married him.”

  I stalk off across the grass of the church grounds and then stop and turn back.

  “You didn’t reply to my text message,” I say grumpily.

  “I’m replying to it now.”

  “Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. It’s probably both eyebrows.

  “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “Wanted to tell me what?”

  He edges closer, takes my hand and leads me to a quiet corner of the church grounds shaded by shrubs and trees.

  “Natalieeeee,” he starts to sing, his voice cracking with nerves. “I want you to come back with meeeeeee…”

  “To Little Trooley?” I interrupt.

  He nods and stops singing. His voice becomes serious.

  “I like you. A lot. A very lot. Pretty much more than I’ve ever liked any other thing in my whole life. Even more than I like Colour Me Badd.”

  Oh my gosh.

  I can’t help the grin that stretches across my face. It makes my cheeks ache.

  “I like you a lot too,” I murmur, my heart leaping with pleasure at his words. “Even more than I like bread.”

  He laughs gleefully, pulling me to him. He places his lips softly on mine.

  Zing!

  This is how it should feel. It should feel amazing. It should feel unquestionably right.

  “But -” I say, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

  “But?” he asks frowning.

  “I'd love to come to Little Trooley with you, Riley. I would. But... I kind of have to do something first. And it might take a while.”

  “What is it?” he asks, looking really, really confused.

  I take a deep breath and exhale steadily.

  “I want to live a little,” I say simply, truthfully.

  And then, not entirely sure whether running away from the man I AM in love with is the new most ridiculous thing I've ever done in my life - I hitch up the skirt of my wedding dress and I run out of the church grounds and far away.

  It feels like flying.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Two Months Later

  I’m in Paris. Can you imagine? Me. Natalie Butterworth the homebody of all homebodies, in Europe's most exciting city!

  After the wedding of disasters I decided I needed to get away from everything. Figure things out. Figure me out.

  I went straight to Mum’s from the church, packed a suitcase and headed straight to the airport. From there I called the Braithwaites. Morag was only too happy to lend me the use of their holiday home here for as long as I needed. Her way of apologising for Barney, I suppose. So, still in a daze, I booked a ticket, got on a plane and I’ve been here for two months.

  “Natalie! Le cheesecake pour la table deux!”

  The voice of Maurice, my boss at the restaurant I’m waitressing in, interrupts my thoughts.

  “Oui, chef!” I call back, picking up a slice of cheesecake from the counter and taking it over to the customer.

  Working at Le Café de Maurice is great. My French isn’t wonderful, but I’m learning, and the people here are nice. We socialise and it's fun getting to know everyone. Despite the language barrier, I’m starting to make some new friends.

  “Merci, Natalie,” Maurice calls from the kitchen, his caterpillar eyebrows knitting together in a grin. “Dépêchez-vous maintenant ou vous serez en retard.”

  He just said: ‘Thank you, Natalie. Now hurry or you wi
ll be late.’

  See? My French is getting rather good.

  I smile back at him and untie my apron, before collecting my bag from the cloakroom.

  “Au revoir!”

  “Au revoir, Natalie! Bonne chance, good luck!”

  I wave and leave the café, setting off down the Rue St Honore towards Avenue de la Opera, which is where I need to be.

  I take off my cotton scarf, enjoying the chilly February wind against my face. It’s refreshing after the hot atmosphere in the café. I walk at a steady pace, in time with the queues of people going in the same direction as me. We all have places to be.

  I get back to thinking.

  I’ve not heard from Olly at all. I tried to call him a few times when I first got here but he won’t answer. It’s still raw, I suppose.

  I understand that.

  Dionne tells me that he’s started seeing a girl called Bunny, a personal trainer at his gym. I hope it works out for him.

  Dionne married Bull, by the way! After I left the church Olly told them that they might as well go ahead and get married instead of us. The food, flowers, cake, people were all there. Of course Dionne and Bull obliged. They called a few of Bull’s friends, all of them computer geeks, none of them gangsters and took their vows.

  I’m sad that I wasn’t there, but apparently an amazing day was had by all.

  I've been emailing with Meg religiously. She's doing a tour of Europe with Robbie and is having the time of her life. Apparently there's a huge buzz about their band and a record is even in the pipeline! She really is going to be a pop star! The next stop on their tour is Paris, so I'll get to see her in a few short weeks. I can't wait.

  Things have been better with Mum. We speak to each other on the phone every day and it’s never awkward. In that sense the truth-telling worked wonders. I no longer feel the need to lie to her. I told her the truth about my feelings, about our childhood and about not wanting to be tied to home for the rest of my life. It was hard at first, but she’s coming round. In fact, I think she’s a little bit proud of me. Proud that I’ve taken the plunge and left Manchester on my own. She says I’m brave. That makes me happy. And she’s happier now too. She’s got an admirer in the shape of Riley’s uncle Alan. He sends her his shampoo (soon to be available in Harrods!) and boxes of vegetables - his version of an overture, I guess - on a regular basis, but Mum says she’s taking a leaf out of my book and learning to be independent. I don’t know how long that’ll last for though. From what she’s told me the chemistry between them is smoking hot! Eeeeeeew.