“Mum, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I say awkwardly. “Luke and I will contribute to the cost—”
“Nonsense!” says Mum briskly. “We wouldn’t hear of it.”
“But—”
“We’ve always hoped we’d be paying for a wedding one day. We’ve been putting money aside especially, for a few years now.”
“Really?” I stare at her, feeling a sudden swell of emotion. Mum and Dad have been saving all this time, and they never said a word. “I… I had no idea.”
“Yes, well. We weren’t going to tell you, were we? Now!” Mum snaps back into businesslike mode. “Did Luke tell you we’ve found a date? You know, it wasn’t easy! Everywhere’s booked up. But I’ve spoken to Peter at the church, he’s had a cancellation, and he can fit us in at three on that Saturday. Otherwise it would be a question of waiting until November.”
“November?” I pull a face. “That’s not very weddingy.”
“Exactly. So I told him to pencil it in. I’ve put it on the calendar, look.”
I glance over at the fridge calendar, which has a different recipe using Nescafé for each month. And sure enough, there in June is a big felt-tipped “BECKY’S WEDDING.”
I stare at it, feeling slightly weird. I am going to get married. It’s something I’ve secretly thought about for so long — and now it really is happening.
“I’ve been having a few ideas about the marquee,” adds Mum. “I saw a beautiful striped one in a magazine somewhere, and I thought, ‘I must show that to Becky…’ ”
She reaches behind her and hauls out a stack of glossy magazines. Brides. Modern Bride. Wedding and Home. All shiny and succulent and inviting, like a plate of sticky doughnuts.
“Gosh!” I say, forcing myself not to reach greedily for one. “I haven’t read any of those bridal things yet. I don’t even know what they’re like!”
“Neither have I,” says Mum at once, as she flicks expertly through an issue of Wedding and Home. “Not properly. I’ve just glanced through for the odd idea. I mean, they’re really just adverts mainly…”
I hesitate, my fingers running over the cover of You and Your Wedding. I can hardly believe I’m actually allowed to read these now. Openly! I don’t have to sidle up to the rack and take tiny, guilty peeks, like stuffing a biscuit into my mouth and all the time wondering if someone will see me.
The habit’s so ingrained I almost can’t break it, even though I’ve got an engagement ring on my finger now.
“I suppose it makes sense to have a very brief look,” I say casually. “You know, just for basic information… just to be aware what’s available…”
Oh, sod it. Mum’s not even listening, anyway, so I might as well give up pretending I’m not going to read every single one of these magazines avidly from cover to cover. Happily I sink into a chair and reach for Brides, and for the next ten minutes we’re both completely silent, gorging on pictures.
“There!” says Mum suddenly. She turns her magazine round so I can see a picture of a billowing white and silver striped marquee. “Isn’t that nice?”
“Very pretty.” I run my gaze down interestedly to the picture of the bridesmaids’ dresses, and the bride’s bouquet… and then my eye comes to rest on the dateline.
“Mum!” I exclaim. “This is from last year! How come you were looking at wedding magazines last year!”
“I’ve no idea!” says Mum shiftly. “I must have… picked it up in a doctor’s waiting room or something. Anyway. Are you getting any ideas?”
“Well… I don’t know,” I say vaguely. “I suppose I just want something simple.”
A vision of myself in a big white dress and sparkly tiara suddenly pops into my head. Getting out of a carriage at St. Paul’s Cathedral… my handsome prince waiting for me… cheering crowds…
OK, stop. I’m not going to go over the top. I’ve already decided that.
“I agree,” Mum is saying. “You want something elegant and tasteful. Oh, look, grapes covered with gold leaf. We could do that!” She turns a page. “Look, identical twin bridesmaids! Don’t they look pretty? Do you know anyone with twins, love?”
“No,” I say regretfully. “I don’t think so. Ooh, you can buy a special wedding countdown alarm clock! And a wedding organizer with matching bridal diary for those special memories. Do you think I should get one of those?”
