“Because… because…” I close my eyes briefly. “Suze, you have to see it. We’re going to have a great big string orchestra, and caviar, and an oyster bar… and Tiffany frames for everyone on the tables… and Cristal champagne… and the whole place will be this magical enchanted forest, and we’re going to have real birch trees and songbirds…”
“Real birch trees?” Suze pulls a face. “What do you want those for?”
“It’s going to be like Sleeping Beauty! And I’m going to be the princess, and Luke’s going to be the…” I tail off feebly to see Suze staring at me reproachfully.
“What about your mum?”
There’s silence, and I pretend to be preoccupied unhooking my basque. I don’t want to have to think about Mum right at the moment.
“Bex! What about your mum?”
“I’ll just have to… talk her round,” I say at last.
“Talk her round?”
“She said herself I shouldn’t do the wedding by halves!” I say defensively. “If she came and saw the Plaza, and saw all the plans—”
“But she’s done such a lot of preparation already! When we were there she could talk about nothing else. Her and — what’s your neighbor called?”
“Janice.”
“That’s right. They’re calling your kitchen the control center. There’s about six pin boards up, and lists, and bits of material everywhere… And they’re so happy doing it.” Suze stares at me earnestly. “Becky, you can’t just tell them it’s all off. You can’t.”
“Elinor would fly them over!” There’s a guilty edge to my voice, which I pretend I can’t hear. “I mean, they’d have a fantastic time! It would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them too! They could stay in the Plaza, and dance all night, and see New York… They’d have the most fabulous holiday ever!”
I’m trying desperately to paint a picture that, deep down, I know isn’t true. As I meet Suze’s eyes I can feel shame pouring over me, and I quickly look away.
“Have you said this to your mum?”
“No. I… I haven’t told her anything about it. Not yet. Not until I’m 100 percent sure.” There’s a pause while Suze’s eyes narrow.
“Bex, you are going to do something about this, aren’t you?” she says suddenly. “Promise me you’re not just going to bury your head in the sand and pretend it isn’t happening.”
“Honestly! I wouldn’t do that!” I say indignantly.
“This is me, remember!” retorts Suze. “I know what you’re like! You used to throw all your bank statements into the trash and hope a complete stranger would pay off your bills!”
This is what happens. You tell your friends your most personal secrets, and they use them against you.
“I’ve grown up a lot since then,” I say, trying to sound dignified. “And I will sort it out. I just need to… to think it through.”
There’s a long silence. Outside, I can hear Cynthia saying “Here at Dream Dress, our motto is, you don’t choose your dress…”
“Look, Bex,” says Suze at last. “I can’t make this decision for you. No one can. All I can say is, if you’re going to pull out of your mum’s wedding, you’re going to have to do it quickly.”
THE PINES
43 Elton Road
Oxshott
Surrey
FAX MESSAGE
TO BECKY BLOOMWOOD
FROM MUM
20 March 2002
Becky, darling! Wonderful news!
You might have heard that Suzie spilt her coffee all over the wedding dress. She was devastated, poor thing.
But I took the dress to the cleaners… and they worked miracles! It’s as white as snow again and you’ll be able to wear it after all!
Much love and talk soon,
Mum xxxxxxxxx
Eight
OK. SUZE IS right. I can’t dither anymore. I have to decide.
The day after she’s left to go home I sit down in my fitting room at lunchtime with a piece of paper and a pen. I’m just going to have to do this logically. Work out the pros and cons, weigh them all up — and make a rational decision. Right. Let’s go.
For Oxshott
1. Mum will be happy
2. Dad will be happy
3. It’ll be a lovely wedding
I stare at the list for a few seconds — then make a new heading.
For New York
1. I get to have the most amazing wedding in the world
I bury my head in my hands. It isn’t any easier on paper.
In fact it’s harder, because it’s thrusting the dilemma right in my face, instead of where I want it — which is in a little box at the back of my mind where I don’t have to look at it.
“Becky?”
“Yes?” I look up, automatically covering up the sheet of paper with my hand. Standing at the door of my fitting room is Elise, one of my clients. She’s a thirty-five-year-old corporate lawyer who’s just been assigned to Hong Kong for a year. I’ll quite miss her actually. She’s always nice to chat to, even though she doesn’t really have a sense of humor. I think she’d like to have one — it’s just that she doesn’t quite understand what jokes are for.
“Hi, Elise!” I say in surprise. “Do we have an appointment? I thought you were leaving today.”
“Tomorrow. But I wanted to buy you a wedding gift before I go.”
“Oh! You don’t have to do that!” I exclaim, secretly pleased.