Don't Tell the Groom (8 page)

‘Well, I sort of did. It was mostly my fiancé's money.'

‘Oh yeah, that's true.'

That's just great. I'm a gambler and a thief. I hadn't thought of it that way before. This is getting off to a swell start. I really hope that my mentor has other tips and wisdom to make me feel better about my gambling addiction.

Oh no, here come the tears. I just can't control them.

‘Whoa there, don't cry. You're getting help. You're doing the right thing.'

He rubs my arm with his very manly hands. It is times like this that I wished my diamond weighed down my hand a little more, just to remind me about my fiancé, Mark.
Mark
. Focus on Mark and not Josh with his dreamy blue eyes.

‘So what's your story?' I ask before I start to drift into a wedding fantasy, and this time Josh is in danger of making
a star appearance at the altar.

‘I was addicted to online poker. I won almost twenty thousand pounds.'

‘Holy crap, that would have paid for my dream wedding.'

Maybe I could get Josh to play a few hands for me to help me.

‘Yeah, but in the end I lost fifty thousand pounds. My partner, Mel, found out and gave me the “it's the gambling or me” ultimatum. And at that point I realised that I had a problem and I got help.'

Partner. God dammit. Of course Josh has a girlfriend. I bet she's perfect and wouldn't gamble away their wedding fund.

Mark. Mark. Mark. What is wrong with me? I have a fiancé.

‘And now you don't gamble at all?' I ask, trying to concentrate on what is going on.

‘Nope. I barely use the computer outside of work. It's just easier that way.'

Imagine not using the internet out of work! I don't think I could cope with that. It would be one thing to go cold turkey from the bingo but it would be another not going on the ASOS website for a little shopping every so often.

‘How does this work then, with you and me? I mean, you being my mentor.'

I don't want him to think I mean ‘you and me' in a couply
way. I'm just going to play with my hair so he can clearly see my engagement ring and then he'll know I'm not trying to flirt with him.

‘So, OK, we swap numbers and you call me or text me if you want to play bingo. We'll chat or arrange to meet.'

‘And if I'm not tempted to play bingo?'

‘Then we'll check in with each other at the meetings on Tuesday. Just think of me as a safety blanket. You don't want to have to use me, but you know I'm there if you do.'

I like Josh. I like him a lot. I take back that I got cross with him when he called me a thief.

‘Great.'

‘So get your phone out and I'll give you my number.'

Putting Josh's number in my phone suddenly freaks me out. What should I put him under? Anything like ‘mentor' might seem just a bit suspicious. And I can't put ‘Josh' in case Mark sees his name and wonders who he is. I know, I'll put him down as Glinda, like the helpful witch in
The Wizard of Oz
.

‘Well, you should mingle with some of the others. Like Mary said, it helps to get to know the group.'

‘Thanks, Josh.'

I look around the room and everyone else still seems to be talking to their mentors. I can't go back and talk to Josh as he is now deep in conversation with Mary. The trouble with this
mentor thing is that everyone is in personal conversations and I can't just go up and butt in.

I'll go and pour myself a nice cup of coffee instead. And just when I think I'm going to die of awkwardness by myself the White Stuff woman comes up.

‘Penelope, isn't it?'

‘That's right.' I'm trying to smile and make myself look as friendly as possible.

‘I remembered because it was like Penelope Pitstop.'

‘That's who I'm named after. Something to do with my dad's crush on a cartoon character.'

‘That's sweet. I'm Rebecca.'

‘Nice to meet you, Rebecca.'

‘It's strange this, isn't it? I was terrified I was going to come here today and bump into one of the mums from the school run.'

Up to that point I hadn't considered that these people here have proper families and children. What are we all doing?

‘I wasn't too sure what to expect either,' I say.

‘I'm glad I came, though. I've got a nice mentor. I think I'm going to try and go cold turkey.'

‘That's great, Rebecca. I'm hoping to as well. I just need to figure out how to stick to a budget for the wedding.'

‘Oh, that's right, you're the one that's getting married. How exciting.'

‘Yeah, well, it would have been. I haven't got the money any more and I'm terrified that Mark – that's my fiancé – is going to find out.'

‘You haven't told him?' she asks.

I shake my head. ‘I keep hoping I'm going to fix it somehow. You know, plan it with five grand and make it our dream wedding.'

‘You still could.'

I almost laugh at her, but then I realise that, just like the woman from the Citizens Advice Bureau, she's serious.

‘I know things are a bit different from when I got married. But you know, it isn't all about the money. I'm sure if you got creative you'd figure out a way. And no matter what the wedding is like, it will still be the best day of your life.'

I wish that was true. All the brides I've known have said it was the best day of their life, but then all the brides I've known have had the wedding of their dreams.

‘Anyway, I'll see you next Tuesday. I've got to get home to the babysitter.'

‘Good luck with the cold turkey,' I say, realising I've got my fingers crossed together in some cheesy motion.

Luckily Rebecca must have taken it to be sweet and she does the same.

The rest of the room is starting to thin out and I have the familiar feeling of palpitations rushing over me as I realise the magnitude of the task I have ahead of me. I decide to quit while I am ahead.

I wave at Josh and his beautiful eyes as I leave. He waves back and I hope I'll have a reason to call him. No. I must stop thinking like that.

I do not want to call him this week or else that means I'll have been a dirty little gambler.

No, I will not call Josh.

At all.

No matter how blue his eyes are.

Now I'm going to go home and see my fiancé. Wonderful, wonderful
Mark
. And I'll try not to look too guilty as once again I tell him nothing about what is going on in my life.

Today is the day that I am sorting out the wedding venue. I am. Really. Just because I've now been engaged for almost a month and I haven't booked anywhere, despite it being three months to the potential wedding, does not mean I've been burying my head in the sand.

No, I've been sorting myself out. I've deleted the bingo apps from my phone, yes,
occasionally
I used to use them. And I've also put parental locks on my laptop and put all the bingo sites I could remember the names of on the banned list. The bingo sites were already banned by our firewall at work, along with Facebook, external mail sites and Net-a-Porter. I made IT add the Net-a-Porter site, telling them one of our workers had an addiction to it. In reality it just means that I now actually
leave my desk at lunchtimes and don't drool over handbags and clothes I can't afford.

So far blocking bingo out of my life has been working. I haven't lunged for the virtual dabber pen and I've managed to stay on the straight and narrow. Although I did nearly go and play actual bingo when I took a trip into town this morning. I had a moment of weakness as I walked past the bingo hall and then I saw an old woman with a blue rinse and it scared me that Mark's nan Violet might be there.

I also had a bit of a moment on Thursday when I nearly gambled but that was more to do with remembering how blue Josh's eyes were and I just wanted to see them again. But then I remembered that with only five thousand pounds left I couldn't risk losing any more.

‘You surfing for wedding stuff?' asks Mark, sitting down in the armchair. I have a quick smell under my armpits just to make sure I'm not smelling really bad, as why else would he choose to sit on the opposite side of the room from me?

‘Uh-huh.'

‘Thought so; you've got the furrowed brow look. Don't worry, I'm not looking. I just wanted to watch the footie. Is that OK?'

‘Yeah, fine.'

Phew. I don't smell after all. He's right about the furrowed brow, though. I've got to make sure that the wind doesn't
change or else I'll have a permanent state of confusion plastered across my face.

I'm looking at those lovely, gorgeous wedding venues that Jane found. I've been trying to be all sensible and do my sums but the only way we could afford to spend £125 a head would be to only have forty guests. And the venue has a sixty-guest minimum. And then we'd have no money for anything else other than the venue and the food.

There has to be a cheaper way. Perhaps I could do some inventive Googling:

Oh, abroad. Just me and Mark. How romantic, just us on a beach at sunset. I'm starting to get so swept up in the fantasy that I can feel the sand beneath my toes, the warm water lapping at my feet. But the daydream stops after the ceremony. What would we do after? I know what we would do
later
- I have a lot of fantasies about that. But I'm talking immediately after. Would we have dinner, just the two of us?

‘How open are you to the idea of a wedding abroad?' I ask as nonchalantly as possible, so that he doesn't think it is our only option.

‘Where?'

‘I don't know. I was just thinking, you and me on a beach together. Just the two of us.'

‘What about our parents? And Nanny Violet? I don't think that's a good idea.'

Stupid family ruining everything. Mark is of course, right. I do want our family to be there. Or else imagine what my mum would write about me in the Christmas card. Not to mention I'd probably get written out of the will if I deprived my mum of the opportunity of being able to buy a new hat for the wedding.

Time for a change of approach. I Google:

Bingo! Oh, that is a poor choice of words. I just wanted to express that I seem to be on to something. There are absolutely loads of forums full of suggestions.

This is more like it. Although I don't think the community centre where I'm currently going to my gambling meetings
would really cut it. For that to work I'm imagining a twee village hall with bunting and fairy lights. Croquet on the lawn. Afternoon tea. Make that champagne afternoon tea. With a barbershop quartet.

Nope. I can't imagine that I could get all that for five thousand pounds, especially not around here.

See, there are loads of people doing this kind of thing on a budget. I just need to start thinking outside the box.

‘What about Gretna Green for our wedding?'

‘Too tacky. Look, is the pressure getting to you? Do you want me to help you organise this wedding?'

‘No!' Oops, that was practically a scream. ‘No, I'm fine thanks, honey. I was just trying to throw you off the scent.'

There we are, there's the side head-tilt that is fast becoming Mark's signature move. He's been doing it a lot lately. He thinks I'm deranged. Who can blame him?

Perhaps the budget wedding search term is taking me down the wrong path.

I'm amazed at how many sites are popping up in the Google listing. There are a number of blogs alone that are dedicated to unusual venues. Seems from my scan reading that doing something unconventional is the trendy thing now.

Maybe that's what I can say to people. I didn't want a princess wedding as I thought it was all a bit too clichéd. I'm just uber trendy and ahead of my time.

The website I've landed on is perfect. There are loads of suggestions about where you can have the wedding reception. Old discarded railway stations, steam trains, boats. Sensing a theme here at all?

There's even a whole tab for museums. Who would want to get married in a museum? What with all the scary mannequins and old stuff? I click on the tab anyway, just to see what kind of a wedding you can have among the glass showcases.

Hello! I've spotted a massive website fail. I secretly love spotting errors on things like this. It's a bit of a howler as next to the text about the Surrey Military Museum, which sounds like a stuffy old museum, there's a picture of a beautiful old manor house.

Where is that manor house? It looks lovely. Maybe if I click on the picture it will take me to the right website.

There must be some sort of broken link as I've ended up on the website for the Surrey Military Museum.

This is a museum dedicated to telling the diverse and interesting military history of Surrey, including the story of those regiments stationed in the county during the Second World War
 …

Yada, yada, yada. Where's the bit about weddings? Ah, here we are.

Housed in an old officers' mess, the museum now caters for exclusive wedding receptions
.

Oh, my goodness. The museum is the place in the picture. That place is gorgeous. Nearly as gorgeous as The Manor that Jane showed me.

I just want to find out how much it costs, but it's one of those annoying websites where there are only two pages and all it really tells you is how to get there.