Confessions of an Essex Girl

by Becci Fox

  Since I’d already been handy with the thread and needle, I said to Gem we should just hack the length off Emily’s dress so we’d all sort of look similar. I mean, Gem only had herself to blame for not checking the dresses before the big day, but I suppose what with the cheating and the wrist thing, she’d had a lot on her mind. Despite Emily’s protests, Gem let me loose on her. The hem wasn’t quite straight, but I’m not a pro, am I? We’d all have to make do.

  Our squabbles were silenced as soon as we laid eyes on Gemma in her dress complete with veil, tiara, Gina shoes, the bling sling and the bouquet. She’d gone for hair down and loosely curled, one side pinned up with a coral flower to match us lot. Now, I don’t want to brag, because I always source proper amazing fairytale dresses, but I’d outdone myself with Gem’s wedding dress. You can’t go wrong with a Wang. It had a classic tight bodice with what some would call a ‘meringue’ skirt, but, professionally, I would call it an asymmetric cascade of layers.

  Now, I’m going to get a lot of haters when I say this, but short girls don’t look good in meringue dresses. I’m sorry the truth hurts, but I’ve seen a lot in my time. If you’re only as high as the dress is wide, then you’re going to look like a giant snowball. But at five foot eight, Gem had been born for the meringue. The entire dress looked like it had been dipped in lace, but the floaty gazaar overlay had actually been hand-painted with a lace design which looked way more delicate than frumpy old lace. It didn’t even need crystallization because the design caught the light with every twist and turn. The sweetheart neckline also had a little ruffled corsage perched on one side. It looked uncomplicated until you got up close and saw it was brimming with drama, just like Gem. Most importantly, it looked proper expensive. I mean, it should have cost £3,000, but Gem paid nowhere near that.

  She just sparkled from top to toe, and I’ve got to admit, Ryan’s training sessions had paid off. Not counting Marilyn, there was only one show pony in town today.

  *

  Only a big fat Essex wedding would have a red carpet leading up to the church doors. They’d had to pin it down with rocks, though, which had really brought the glam factor down. Gem’s dad, Derek, hadn’t been allowed at the house so he’d had to meet Gem at the church. Let’s just say Linda has major issues with her ex-husband that none of us will ever know about but them. So there was already a bit of tension as Derek walked his youngest down the aisle with Linda giving him dagger eyes, but it got worse when Gemma lifted her veil.

  It should be a beautiful moment when the bride first sees the groom, but instead Gem goes, ‘Oh my God, what the fuck happened to your nose, Grant?’

  Now I looked, it was so obvious – he had this bloodied dent on the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Babe, don’t worry about it. It was just a little accident from last night,’ he said.

  Gemma did look a bit worried, but then stayed focused on the mission – get a ring on it. I won’t bore you with the service, but the vicar outed Grant for crying during the rehearsals, which so wasn’t cool. Then, as he carried on talking about the love he’d witnessed between Grant and Gem, I heard Grant’s mum whisper really loudly, ‘The bastard’s trying to make him cry again,’ which everyone heard, including the vicar. Awkward. And you know that bit where the vicar goes, ‘Do you promise to stay faithful to Gemma.’ I was literally boring a hole into the back of Grant’s head. He seemed to say the words with all sincerity, but he started tugging at his collar during that bit, so he clearly felt the pressure. When they were pronounced man and wife, the whole place erupted with clapping, stamping and whooping. Mr and Mrs Sweet had finally arrived.

  It was all systems go after that. Gem and Grant got driven off in a vintage Silver Ghost Rolls-Royce, which was pure class. Meanwhile, we got shoved in the back of Derek’s car, although it was an acceptable BMW. He always goes, ‘Call me Del,’ but I never want to. He thinks he’s a proper wheeler-dealer but I refuse to give him the Del accolade. Always Derek.

  When we got to the reception in Stapleford, Gemma and Grant were having their photo taken next to this gorgeous green MG with a white ribbon on its bonnet.

  ‘What’s all this about, then?’ I said to Gemma as soon as I got over to her.

  ‘Grant’s bought me this car as a wedding present,’ she screamed.

  ‘You’re joking? Are you being serious?’

  ‘One hundred per cent, and check out the number plate.’

  I walked round to the front and there it was: SW33T. I didn’t want to say, but it looked like ‘Sweat’ from where I was standing.

  ‘Oh my God, Grant, I can’t believe you done this for Gem. I’d have married you if I’d known this was part of the deal,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry, ladies, I’m now officially off the market. You all had your chance but you’ll have to wait till Gem pops her clogs now.’

  ‘Oh, charming,’ Gem said, whacking him with her bouquet.

  And the thing is, it wasn’t really a surprise because we all knew Grant could afford it. His parents were swimming in cash, which had been a major source of anger as far as this wedding was concerned. Grant’s parents hadn’t contributed a penny towards it. I’m not kidding you, and just to rub salt in the wound they were all tanned from the £10K world cruise they’d just got back from. Brooke kept telling Grant that he should put in the speech, ‘A massive thanks to Gem’s three parents, and zero thanks to my own,’ but that would have been a bit much. So Grant had pumped a lot of his own money into this day, but he could easily spare it judging by his wedding gift to his new wife. It really took the edge off the fact that he’d deformed his face for his wedding day. All he’d say was that he’d been at Sugar Hut the night before and he’d got home at 4 a.m. Who does that nine hours before they’re meant to be stood at the altar? Him and his nose, her and her arm . . . they looked a right pair.

  The photo stuff went on for quite a long time and I kept getting called back, so champagne had barely grazed my lips at this wedding. It was my own fault because I’d made Marilyn look too cute, so the photographer got a bit trigger-happy with my little guy. Like, there was one of him in the driving seat of the MG, one of him poking out from under Gem’s wedding dress, and, my favourite, one of him lying on his back with his legs open surrounded by all the bridesmaids’ bouquets. That was the money shot and it was just begging to be turned into a canvas.

  When our modelling duties were done, I had to make up for lost time. I swear I finished a glass of fizz every five minutes. It’s like water to me. We spied Brooke and Charlie canoodling under a tree in the garden, and I got to say, I didn’t feel any rage. If you’re up front with people, it turns out you can talk the rage out of your system. Who knew? And the safety word was totally working. I’d only had to Minge her five times since the hen do. I didn’t want to do that for the rest of our lives, but we needed boundaries in these early days. I mean, if I was still doing that on Brooke and Charlie’s wedding day, perhaps then you could accuse me of having denial issues. But you got to ease your way into these weird situations or it gets too much, right?

  I got to say Charlie looked pretty hot in his best man gear. I think that must have been the suit fetish rearing its head again, but the waistcoat and tails were really doing it for me. I honestly don’t still have a thing for him.

  I find line-ups at a wedding a weird thing. I’d already spent the morning with Gem and her parents, I’d talked to Grant loads and I’d never ever met Grant’s parents. None of us could think of a word to say. They should do away with these silly formalities because it’s such a downer to a wedding day. But right at the end of the line there was one joy, and that was Gem’s Nana Lily. I love this woman to death. It’s not often you get a nan in the line-up, but like I’ve said, Gem’s family are like the Mafia and Nana Lil is the matriarch of the Cox clan. Like, I’m a bit scared of her, but she’s inspiring too. Her and my nan are as thick as thieves because they’re both East End girls and got the same ideals. Proper no-nonsense grafters, but they know how to
have a good time.

  I see all this stuff about old people being ignored and lonely, but I honestly don’t think this is the case in Essex. People make out Nanny Pat’s this rare find, but I’m telling you, we genuinely respect our nans here and they’re at the heart of every Essex family. Although my nan’s not out in the clubs like Nanny Pat seems to be. Why’s she always down Sugar Hut when she should be at home in her slippers? Anyways, respecting your nan is a beautiful thing, and I’ve seriously learnt a thing or two off the old girls. Nana Lil was on form when I finally reached her. She goes, ‘Darlin’, you look beautiful. Vera’s coming later, ain’t she?’

  ‘Course, Nan wouldn’t miss a knees-up with you. Look at you all scrubbed up nice in your fancy dress,’ I said, and I wasn’t lying. She has an amazing figure for a 77-year-old. Four years older than Nanny Pat, but she’s a proper glam nan. Then she whispered to me, ‘I’m glad today’s gone ahead, but if Grant puts one foot wrong, he’ll have me to answer to.’

  Oh my God, she can be proper menacing. I hope she hadn’t whispered this to everyone at the end of the line-up.

  *

  By the time we sat down for the wedding ‘breakfast’ in the late afternoon, I was hammered. I’d missed all the canapés because of the photos, and I’d been downing champagne and Pimm’s for two hours solid. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at a wedding while sober. Why do people spend money feeding their guests when a bag of chips would do? The only thing I remember about lunch was me and Ryan having a right old barney because he wouldn’t fill up my wine glass, which resulted in me knocking over a bottle of red on the girls opposite us. We weren’t popular.

  And at the next table, Gem’s Auntie Carol (you can tell she’s Paula’s mum, and I don’t mean that in a good way), kept crying and running off to the toilets. I don’t know what that was all about, but sitting next to her ex-husband must have had something to do with it. Honestly, I don’t think Gem put a lot of thought into the dynamics of her seating plan. I mean, me and Ryan had been separated from the others and seemed to be on this weird singles table. It would have been alright if she’d put some eye candy there for us, but it was disappointing. One guy never said a word to me except to introduce himself and then he just stared at me the whole time. What a fucking freak. Had to have been one of Grant’s mates. Then we got talking to this nice-looking bloke on Ryan’s left who looked twenty-five but talked like he was forty-five, banging on about house prices in West Essex and the minute details of his dull job. We only realized he was height deficient too when we all stood up to toast the bride. Me and Ryan actually spat our drink out in shock. Seriously, his upper body was deceptively normal, but I’d never seen such short legs. He must do a lot of talking to women when sat down. I’m telling you, there’s something in the bloody Essex water.

  Talking of toasting people, the speeches were interesting, to say the least. Gem’s dad decided to reveal his current inner monologue instead of preparing a speech. It was basically a ramble of put-downs aimed at Gem’s mum, and he didn’t exactly praise Gemma either. It’s people like him who make me thankful to have Don Fox as a father. She should have got her step-dad to do it, but Gemma didn’t want to rock the boat. I honestly don’t think Derek would have cared, since he clearly had major issues. As Nan said, he could turn milk he’s so sour. I felt relief when Grant stood up and ended Derek’s rant by taking the microphone off him. The mood was awkward, but as soon as Grant started his speech, everyone forgot about Gem’s arsehole of a dad. If anything, it went the other way and all got a bit emotional.

  ‘I just wanted to say, Mum and Dad, I know I’ve made life difficult for you sometimes, but thanks for sticking by me,’ he said, stopping to clear his throat. ‘Things looked like they were going downhill after school, but you never said nothing. Just gave me your unconditional support, so thank you.’ (No mention of their lack of financial support.) ‘I also wanted to thank my new family, the Coxes, who basically sorted this whole reception for us. The day I showed up here as Gem’s boyfriend, they welcomed me into their home like their own flesh and blood.’

  His voice wobbled, the tears started to roll and then he suddenly blurted out the words ‘Jelly Tots’. It was fucking weird, like he had Tourette’s or something. Everyone in the marquee started murmuring. Then he went, ‘Sorry, Charlie told me to use a trigger word if I started getting emotional, and you can’t get upset if you think about Jelly Tots . . .’ His voice trailed off as he realized he’d lost his audience.

  ‘Anyway, what I am trying to say is this. Linda and her husband Allan have been there for us through thick and a lot of thin, so while you’ve embraced me as family today, there’s no need because you already made me feel a part of it eight years ago. Fuck it, Jelly Tots.’

  It went on like this for another ten minutes with him Jelly-Totting all over the shop. I suppose he’d just used my safety word technique, but I never had to say Minge in front of two hundred people. Then he goes, ‘I never truly knew how much I loved Gemma until she came back from Marbs with one arm. It made me realize that I’d be inconsolable if anything happened to her. Like, I pictured a world without Gem in it and it wasn’t a world worth living in. Shit, Jelly Tots. Gem, you’ve never looked more stunning than you look today, and I just want to thank you for choosing to spend the rest of your life with me. Jelly Tots.’

  Oh my days, I was sobbing it up big time. Jelly Tots actually became a really moving word after a while. That was until I found out from Charlie that it was a reference to some filth that had happened in Amsterdam with a pole dancer. I said, spare me the details, hun. Ignorance is bliss sometimes.

  So while Grant’s speech had us reaching for the tissues, Charlie’s speech had everyone on the floor. He didn’t even need to mention the handcuffed dwarf. Turns out not only had Grant asked Charlie to be his best man before he’d even asked Gem to marry him, but he’d also confirmed beforehand what weekend the boys could do the stag on. Gemma properly kicked off. She smacked Grant round the head with her good hand and went, ‘You fucking pig.’ Awww, we witnessed their first marital fight. I wonder if Charlie had asked Grant to be his best man when we were going out? Do all blokes secure them early like this?

  Somehow during the speeches I’d managed to sober up a bit, but Ryan had gone the other way. When I saw he’d been drinking rosé wine, that explained it all. He can’t take it. He’s fine on red and white, but rosé sends him doolally. We all left the marquee so they could fix it up for the night, but Brooke had to help me drag Ryan out because he was just being irritating. And then my cousin Russ rocked up with Rob. Weirdly, Gem had agreed to pay them to DJ that night. I didn’t know they could DJ let alone had the equipment, so I was proper unsure about that decision, but Gem couldn’t resist their mates’ rates. Russ claimed he just had to play songs off his iPod, but surely it’s more complicated than that or we’d all being doing it?

  Anyways, it was once the music started pumping that the true dramas unfolded. For starters, my family showed up for the evening do, even my little Lola, who had come dressed as Cinderella. Interesting outfit choice. Gemma had insisted on it because she said they were like her second family. Who was I to stop her? Nan had really pushed the boat out with a pink dress. I swear she looked like Jackie Kennedy. Me and Gem are always praying we’ve inherited our nans’ genes. When they go to bridge nights, those two pull all the lads (what’s left of them).

  But as they arrived, I saw Gem’s dad drive away. I asked where he was off to and Gem went, ‘He said he needs to pop home to feed the dog.’ Seemed feasible. His loss, because he missed out on Gem’s first dance with Grant. I can never remember anyone’s first dance so don’t ask, but halfway through it, Gem held out her unbroken hand to her step-dad and they danced the rest of the song while Grant grabbed Linda. Allan was chuffed to bits and Linda nearly fell out of her dress when Grant dipped her. It was a beautiful moment.

  I gave my family the once-over to make sure no one was up to no good. Tasha and Tony were being
quite affectionate with each other, which was a first. Jake was trying to chat up Emily, which was expected. At one point he came over to me and yelled in my ear, ‘The birds fucking love it when you get them a drink. But it’s all free! Kudos without the expense!’ Don’t know if you can tell, but Jake hasn’t been to a lot of weddings. Nan was stood by the buffet table which hadn’t even been laid out yet. She’s always one step ahead, that one. And then Jackie and Don were dominating the dance floor as usual. Even though I was livid that Mum had nicked my unworn Grecian white dress from Karen Millen, I couldn’t be mad at her because she looked so beautiful. I felt proper proud, if I’m to be honest, but I did wonder if she was allowed to wear white to a wedding. Aren’t there rules? No matter, things like that don’t bother Gemma.

  And things got a bit tense between me and Gem’s sister. I was stood outside the marquee with Mum and Lola early on in the evening when Karen came out all guns blazing. Proper tanked-up. She goes to me, ‘What the fuck are you doing out here?’

  ‘Talking to my family, if you must know,’ I replied.

  ‘You are unbelievable. Gemma’s in there dancing all alone. Call yourself a bridesmaid?’ she said, all manic. Despite the Botox, even Mum was able to raise her eyebrows in astonishment at this little outburst. I wasn’t going to stand for that, so I played the emotional guilt card.

  ‘Listen, Lola asked if I could take her to the toilet, so that’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘I don’t care if Lola needs the toilet. Get back in there and start dancing,’ Karen yelled.

  Now she’d properly riled me, so I just stormed in there to find shit-loads of people dancing. I honestly don’t think Karen could see straight any more. Then she comes up to me ten minutes later and goes, ‘Look how many people I got on the dance floor.’ She’s so screwy. Since when did bridesmaiding get so competitive? And since when was forcing people to dance on my list of duties?