Читать книгу Mother of the Bride - Kate Lawson - Страница 13

The following weekend Jonathon was sitting at Molly’s dining table, having eaten a huge Sunday lunch, waxing lyrical about the virtues of media sponsorship and the free market economy.

‘I think that making a radio feature about the wedding would be a splendid idea,’ Jonathon said to Max, while topping up his wine. ‘And why not see what we can sort out discount-wise?’ Turning to Molly, he added, ‘And of course it would be nice to have it recorded for posterity, as well. Obviously. What sort of thing has your marketing department got in mind?’

Molly took a deep breath but Max was ahead of her.

‘I agree with Jonathon,’ he said. ‘It would be wonderful to have it recorded for posterity.’

The day was not going well. It had started going downhill at around half past eleven – half an hour earlier than planned – when Molly had looked out of the kitchen window and seen her ex-husband parking his Mercedes across the drive. Wiping her hands on a tea towel she had hurried outside.

‘Jonathon, do you mind not parking there? Jess and Max haven’t arrived yet. Could you bring it in? You’re blocking the whole driveway.’

The window of the brand-new Mercedes glided silently downwards and framed her ex-husband in the driver’s seat. He was balder and fatter and ruddier-faced than the last time she had seen him, and was wearing a paisley cravat with a cream linen jacket and a horrible pale lilac shirt. No doubt a Marnie makeover.

Jonathon said, ‘It’ll be fine here. They can park on the verge. It’s too tucked up round the back. I’ll scrape the paintwork on all those bloody bushes.’

Molly was about to protest when she noticed that Marnie was in the passenger seat and there was someone else sitting in the back. Nick meanwhile had come out to watch Jonathon’s manoeuvres. Currently Jonathon was making a great job of ruining their grass as he shunted the car backwards and forwards until he was satisfied with his positioning. When he climbed out the drive was completely blocked.

‘I see Jonathon’s arrived,’ Nick said somewhat unnecessarily. ‘Any particular reason why he wants to blockade us in?’

‘Probably so we can’t make a run for it,’ said Molly grimly, turning back towards the house. ‘He’s brought reinforcements. ’

‘Not the missus, we are honoured,’ said Nick.

Molly flicked him with the tea towel.

Marnie, size six, spray-tanned and dressed as if she was out for a day at Ascot, waited for Jonathon to help her out of the car. She was wearing a black and white sleeveless silk dress, with a little jacket thrown over her shoulders, along with high-heeled strappy white mules and a matching clutch bag. All her jewellery – earrings, bracelet, necklace, everything – matched.

There was nothing remotely cuddly or welcoming about the second Mrs Foster. Marnie looked for all the world as if she had been made by stretching chamois leather over a wire coathanger. Assisted by Jonathon, she picked her way across the gravel as if she were tiptoeing through a lake of raw sewage.

‘Marnie, how nice. We weren’t expecting you,’ said Molly, painting on a polite smile.

Marnie smiled back, or at least she bared her perfectly capped teeth. ‘Molly,’ she purred, looking her up and down. ‘I told Jonathon that he really ought to ring but he didn’t think you’d mind my coming, you know what he’s like. The more the merrier, he said.’

Molly watched Marnie’s immobile, wrinkle-free face. There was nothing even remotely merry about Marnie.

‘Jonathon thought it might be useful if I came along to help out, give you all a hand. We don’t want any disasters on JJ’s special day, now do we?’ she said.

No one amongst their immediate family or friends had ever called Jessica ‘JJ’. It was Marnie’s attempt to show Molly that she had some sort of special relationship with her daughter. And all the while Molly kept on smiling, making every effort to hide just how much Marnie irritated her.

‘Oh, by the way, this is Noonoo Jacobson,’ Marnie continued as a woman the size of a bull eased herself carefully out of the back of the car. ‘Noonoo was the wedding co-ordinator for my daughter Mimi’s wedding.’

‘Do any of these people have proper names?’ said Nick sotto voce as Noonoo, who was carrying a large portfolio, made her way across the mangled verge on tiny, tiny feet.

As she reached them Noonoo swung the strap of her chic black carrying case up over her shoulder, and extending both tiny hands in presidential fashion gave Molly the limpest, warmest, most moist handshake she had encountered since she had interviewed Boris the gay tag-team wrestler back in ‘89.

‘I’m delighted to meet you, most people just call me Noo,’ she simpered, from a Cupid’s-bow mouth balanced above a stack of chins. ‘I’m absolutely sure that together we can make JJ and Max’s the most perfect wedding experience. I’ve heard so much about you and JJ, oh and you must be Nick,’ she said, little moist hands moving on to clasp him to her bosom.

‘Actually,’ said Molly, ‘Jess and I have already sorted a lot of it out –’

But no one was listening.

Nick smiled and wriggled free. ‘If you’ll excuse me I need to get back inside. I’m in charge of the food,’ and then to Molly, he added, ‘I’d better go and put some more potatoes in.’

‘Marnie has become a real friend,’ said Noonoo to no one in particular.

‘Looks more like her lunch,’ said Nick under his breath, as Molly guided everyone through into the kitchen. It was quite crowded, and despite Molly’s best efforts, no one seemed to want to go through into the sitting room or the dining room; instead they grouped round the kitchen table and generally got in the way.

Gamely Molly started on a round of social chitchat and offering people drinks. Nick was about to start peeling more potatoes when Noonoo announced that she and Marnie were both on a diet – remarkably the same one, so that there was no need to go to the trouble of preparing extra food. The diet involved eating only orange foods on Sunday, and some kind of strange combination of colours and supplements the rest of the week. Victoria Beckham was very keen on it apparently, and Noonoo had been taught the principles by a Taoist convert called Alan.

Not thoroughly enough, thought Molly darkly, as Noonoo squeezed past her.

Both women had brought along little pots of parboiled carrot sticks and steamed pepper to nibble on and, as Nick observed as he disappeared off to set the dining-room table, presumably Noonoo could top up in the week by snacking on her clients.

Jonathon had brought a couple of bottles of champagne, which he wanted someone to put in the fridge. Noo wanted to explain why they could drink it, despite it not being orange, Marnie wanted to nose around Molly’s house so she could sneer and Molly was getting hotter and more stressed.

Jess and Max showed up just before twelve. Jess arrived first, carrying two bottles of wine and a big dish of homemade tiramisu.

‘Some idiot has parked right across the drive,’ she said crossly, as she slid dessert onto the kitchen table. ‘We couldn’t get in. Max has had to park up the road.’

‘Jessica, Puss,’ said Jonathon, coming over to greet her before Molly could explain. ‘Did you see the new car?’

‘I could hardly miss it,’ grumbled Jess. ‘We nearly ran into it. Why did you leave it there?’

Jonathon hugged her. ‘And where is this man of yours?’

‘Halfway up to the bypass. Why don’t you buy a car you can park?’

Marnie laughed, air-kissing for England. ‘JJ darling, how lovely to see you. You know how your father loves his cars.’

Jess shook her head in frustration, while Marnie set about introducing Noonoo. Jess gave Molly a wild panicky look as Marnie started to explain who Noo was.

‘I’m not sure that we’d thought about having a –’ she began, but Marnie wasn’t planning to be thwarted.

‘Noo is an absolute angel, sweetie. And having a planner takes all the aggravation out of the arrangements and obviously nothing’s settled yet, so why don’t you just hear what she’s got to say and then you can make your mind up?’

‘Actually, Mum and I –’ But any protest was whisked away by the arrival of Max with Bassa on his leash. Bas was wildly excited to see everyone and started to yip and bark and wag.

Molly was putting the tiramisu in the fridge when Marnie started whining. ‘Oh darling,’ she complained stepping back, holding a hand to her face. ‘You know that I’m allergic to dogs.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jess, catching hold of the lead and reeling Bassa in. ‘Sorry, sorry – we didn’t know you were going to be here.’

Jess glanced across at Molly, who held up a hand. ‘We’ll put him in the conservatory with Milo; I’m sure he won’t mind sharing his bed and biscuits.’

‘Oh, do you have a dog too?’ asked Noonoo, staring down at Bassa as if there was a fair chance that he might explode. Bassa had his own reply in mind. Giving Molly a knowing look he wandered across the kitchen, cocked his leg, and peed all over Noo’s precious portfolio. It took a split second for everyone to register what he’d done.

Noonoo shrieked, ‘Oh, my God, oh, my God! It’s handtooled leather!’ while Molly leapt in with kitchen roll, struggling with an altogether inappropriate fit of giggles, as she started to mop up the spreading puddle; good old Bassa, she couldn’t have put it better herself.

Picking up the portfolio Jess started machine-gunning apologies, while Max scooped up Bassa and bundled him through into the conservatory. In amongst it all Nick appeared with a tray of glasses. ‘Anyone like a sherry?’

Once calm had been restored and they had all eaten, Noo got to her feet and started to unpack her portfolio, arranging things on an easel, which Jonathon had brought in from the car. It wasn’t exactly how Molly had expected lunch to end, nor come to that how she had expected her discussions with Jonathon about Jessica’s wedding to go, but the way the day was shaping up Molly decided it was pointless fighting it.

‘Where’s the ring?’ asked Marnie conversationally, as Noo finished her arranging. ‘Or isn’t a ring what you do these days? I know fashions change – although personally I’ve never thought that diamonds date.’ She laughed.

Molly looked up, wondering what Jess would say. Jess smiled coyly. ‘Well, we’ve chosen it. It was wonderful – the jeweller let Max bring a tray of rings home so we could choose it together – but I haven’t got it at the moment. It was a bit big so Max took it back to have it altered.’

‘I’m going to pick it up when it’s been resized,’ explained Max.

Molly smiled. ‘What’s it like?’ she asked encouragingly.

Max glanced at Jessica, who beamed. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. It’s white gold with this lovely twist in the metal, a bit like a wave, and in the curve of the twist there is a solitaire diamond. It’s lovely and I’m so pleased with it.’ And as she spoke Jessica’s gaze met Max’s, who reddened furiously and caught hold of her hand.

‘It’s perfect, just like Jess,’ he said.

Molly felt herself smiling.

‘We wanted something that Jess loved and would wear every single day – something really special.’

Jess’s smile held. ‘And it is,’ she murmured. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Molly felt the tears welling up and for a moment she glanced across at Jonathon, whose eyes were glittering. Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. Even if they didn’t love each other anymore they both loved their precious girl. Eyes twinkling, Max pressed Jess’s fingers to his lips. Molly had never seen Jess look so happy.

‘Sounds like the perfect time for a toast, I reckon,’ said Jonathon, sniffing away the emotion. ‘I think we should open the champagne.’

Nick obliged by bringing in the glasses and handing the bottle over to Jonathon so that he could pop the cork.

Once everyone had settled down Noonoo stood up, taking a second or two to compose herself and wait for hush before she opened up a flip chart. On the first page in a fancy font it said, ‘Welcome to your Perfect Wedding’.

A look went round the table between Molly, Nick and Jess.

‘My name is Noo Jacobson, and I’m a wedding planner and civil partnership co-ordinator,’ said Noo, as if no one could have guessed.

For one glorious moment Molly thought Noo was going to add, ‘And I’m an alcoholic,’ which, while it wasn’t particularly funny in itself, struck her as hilarious. Across the table she caught Jess’s eye – apparently a bizarre sense of humour was some sort of genetic failing because she too was rolling her eyes and trying to suppress a giggle.

Molly bit her lip; obviously Noo was going to give them the whole show whether they wanted it or not.

‘I successfully completed my training four years ago after a successful career in retail management – I have a wealth of experience and a solid track record in co-ordinating weddings alongside many other private and personal family events. Some time ago I realised I had a natural gift for creating the perfect wedding scenario for my clients and have specialised ever since.’

Molly felt her heart sink. This was a carefully rehearsed presentation more suited to an audience of fifty rather than the six of them gathered around Molly’s dining table. Alongside Jonathon, Marnie was saying, ‘I really wish that I’d known about Noo when we organised our wedding.’

Jonathon smiled wryly at no one in particular. ‘Me too, it would have saved me hours of listening to you agonising over every last detail and spending God knows how much on dresses and all the accessories, shoes, bags, hats – I mean how many outfits did you end up buying in the end? Five, six?’

Marnie shushed him furiously, while Noo continued, ‘I can provide my clients with almost any service, anything they require, both in the UK and abroad, including up-to-date advice on local customs, residency rules, legalities and visa requirements. So far I’ve arranged weddings in the Canaries, the Caribbean, Cyprus, the Maldives and Wales. My clients and I go on a voyage of discovery together, almost a spiritual quest to achieve their perfect day – and we often end up as friends, in fact one couple actually invited me to join them on their honeymoon.’

Molly closed her eyes; it was an image too far.

‘Anyway I’m here today to introduce you all to Joyful Heart Weddings,’ she said, hands together in front of her as if she was about to give a sermon. ‘We offer a wide range of traditional and concept weddings to a very discerning clientele. Marnie was kind enough to suggest that I come and talk to you about our service today.’ She nodded at Marnie, who smiled graciously.

‘First of all the obvious advantages to a busy working woman and her family, where everyone has numerous commitments with little time to spare, is that I can take all the hard work out of the wedding event for you. I have access to a wide database of suppliers, services and ideas. We can search out all those special little touches you’d like for your perfect day and present them to you in a complete managed package for one inclusive price with no hidden extras. We can stage-manage the entire event for you as well, offering peace of mind with our fully bonded all-inclusive insurance. And should you require it, besides the venue, the catering and all that wedding arrangements entail, we can even arrange that special honeymoon if you would like us to.’

Noonoo, mid-flow, flipped the page on the chart to a picture of a traditional wedding, the bride and groom standing in front of a church with their family. Molly heard Jess groan.

‘Can we just stop a minute here please?’ said Molly, jumping into a split second’s silence between the words. ‘I mean, I appreciate that this all looks very impressive and I hate to rain on your parade, but Jess and I have already spent hours planning the wedding.’

‘Yes, we’re more or less there,’ said Jess.

There was a little pause, during which Marnie looked daggers at Molly. Jonathon said, ‘Molly, I know you mean well but Marnie went to an awful lot of trouble to arrange for Noo to come over today and I think we should at least look at what she has to offer. Marnie said the service Noo provided was very good – you have to admit Mimi’s wedding was wonderful.’

Marnie was nodding.

Yes, who could forget the unfortunate Mimi stuffed, corseted and magic-knickered into a shiny satin dress that showed every crease, wrinkle and roll of what lay beneath, a dress that would have looked fabulous on Marnie but was terrifying on someone shaped like an American refrigerator.

Mimi, who apparently suffered with her glands, had had her lank, greasy hair scraped up under a tiara the size of the Taj Mahal and clutched a bouquet shaped like a swan, a nod apparently to the ugly duckling made good. Everything had been swan-shaped, now Molly came to think about it.

The church had had so many flowers in it that guests could barely breathe for pollen and perfume, and the bridal couple and their twelve bridesmaids – having been driven to the church in a fleet of vintage Rollers – had been whisked away to their honeymoon in a hot-air balloon, from which Mimi had thrown her bouquet, nearly blinding the video cameraman when it hit him square in the lens.

Molly had a photograph of the happy couple grinning at the camera, Mimi arm-in-arm with a short, skinny, ginger boy with bad skin, buck teeth and a bulbous nose. They lived in Wales now; apparently he was something big in animal feed and a real catch. Molly remembered thinking if she’d caught him, she’d have thrown him back.

She would have felt sorry for Mimi, if Mimi hadn’t been a spiteful, selfish, peevish creature, who had tortured Jess from the moment they’d met.

‘What do you say, Max?’ asked Jonathon, the sound of his voice breaking into Molly’s thoughts. ‘Noo sound like a good idea to you?’

‘It’s fine by me,’ Max said. ‘I’ve already told Jess that she can have anything she wants. After all, it’s her big day and she already said that she and Molly are very busy. And I’m up to my eyes.’ He turned to Jess, who was staring at him open-mouthed. ‘Well, you said you needed help,’ he pointed out. ‘And now you’ve got it.’

Noo took that as a cue and launched straight back into the script. ‘While our main business is in the traditional market, we’ve done a lot more themed weddings in the last few years and have several more in the pipeline. A theme helps set the tone and establishes a style for the whole event, as well as making your wedding stand out from the crowd. It’s also more fun for your guests.’ Noo flicked over another page. ‘The discerning couple are becoming more and more adventurous. This summer we did our first Guys and Dolls wedding, followed by Gangsters and Molls.’

Molly stared at a wedding party all dressed up in mobster gear, the guests arranged around a 1930s V8 Ford complete with running boards. The bride and groom looked like extras from ‘Bugsy Malone’.

‘And we’ve just done our first Glenn Miller wedding.’ Noo flipped the page again to show the grainy interior of an aircraft hangar hung with bunting and banners. The buffet table, set with sausage rolls and jugs of squash, looked like it was laid out for VE Day. ‘These days your wedding celebrations can be almost anything you can imagine. Next year we’ve got a Teddy Bears’ Picnic wedding and a Moulin Rouge civil partnership – you should see the outfits.’

While Max, Jonathon and Marnie appeared to be totally enraptured by Noo’s presentation, Molly, Nick, and Jess stared at each other in a mix of disbelief and horror.

There were railway weddings, pantomime weddings, colour-themed weddings, football team weddings, weddings for the over 50s and finally what Noo referred to in hushed tones as the traditional family package which seemed to involve smiling plump girls marrying jolly bald men dressed in grey morning suits.

‘So you can arrange for us to have a church wedding?’ said Max enthusiastically.

Noonoo, tiny hands still clasped, nodded. ‘Certainly, if that is what you want. I mean if you’re prepared to pay we can do more or less anything.’

‘See,’ said Max triumphantly.

‘Well, there we are then, seems to me that we’ve got the perfect solution,’ said Jonathon, topping up his champagne. ‘Takes all the sweat out of it. Nonoo can arrange the wedding and all the details,’ Jonathon turned to his daughter. ‘I was thinking around a hundred guests. I appreciate I’m going to have to take the lion’s share of this – Now about the radio station, Molly, what do you think they can offer us?’

‘Us?’ Molly stared at him. ‘Jonathon, we are arranging our daughter’s wedding, not negotiating a contract for an engineering company.’

He looked puzzled.

And then Jess said, ‘Dad, please don’t think I’m being ungrateful but I really don’t want a themed wedding. I spoke to Jack last week and Bertie, who owns Vanguard Hall has offered to let us use it for the recepion, and my friend Helen is going to make my dress. And then the guys in the design studio where I work said they’d print all the stationery as a wedding present –’

Marnie looked totally aghast and to be fair Max didn’t look much better.

‘Jess,’ said Max.’ You heard your father. And you saw how lovely all those weddings that Noo’s arranged are. I thought we’d agreed that we want the whole thing to be really special, didn’t we?’

‘Of course I want it to be special,’ snapped Jess, ‘but I’m not getting married in a church and I don’t want to end up at some bloody hotel dressed up as Vera Lynn while someone from EAA records the whole thing for bloody posterity with commercial breaks to sell double glazing.’

‘You’re getting overwrought,’ said Marnie. ‘It’s understandable, we’ve all been there, darling. There is a lot of pressure when you’re getting married.’

Jess looked around in frustration. ‘I’m not overwrought – I’m just telling you what’s going to happen.’

‘It all sounds very cut-price to me,’ snipped Marnie. ‘You’ll be asking me to help out with the sandwiches next. And if it’s going to be on the radio, we don’t want to let the side down, do we?’

And then Max said, ‘Jess, my parents are very traditional. If we don’t have a church service then they won’t think it’s a proper wedding. And I suppose I was thinking traditional too – white lace, doves, orange blossom and morning suits. A real wedding.’

‘It’s a shame you didn’t say all this before when I asked you what kind of wedding you wanted,’ growled Jess.

‘I just want a proper wedding. I thought you understood that.’

‘With me dressed up as a meringue?’ said Jess grimly.

Max smiled. ‘No, you just being as beautiful as you always are.’

‘Ahhh,’ Noo sighed. ‘Isn’t that lovely.’

Molly suppressed the desire to lean across the table and punch her.

‘So a classic white wedding it is then,’ Noo continued. ‘I have to say that in my opinion, it does take some beating.’

Marnie clapped her hands together in what Molly took to be pure delight. ‘Well, that’s that sorted out. Oh, I’m so glad that we came over. This is going to be such fun, JJ. Noo and I found the most wonderful dress for Mimi from this lovely shop in Norwich – they’ve got a branch in Bond Street and they are just so good.’

Noo was nodding. ‘We found that it’s easiest if we book an evening in the shop. Wasn’t the lady who owns it a sweetheart, Marnie? She couldn’t have been kinder. And they provide canapés and champagne. It was a completely lovely experience, wasn’t it?’