‘Of course it is. You just need support.’
Kelly walked back to her chair and sat across from her again, resolute now.
‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ Kelly said, tapping the notebook. ‘And I’m sure of it now. I’ve decided. I’m going to get you a wedding planner.’
Maddy blinked. ‘A…’
‘A professional. Someone who will take the pressure off you. Handle the details. Make sure everything is perfect. It’ll be my gift to you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Maddy said carefully. ‘That seems like a lot.’
‘You need it,’ her mother said forcefully. ‘That’s obvious now.’
Maddy forced a laugh. ‘Right.’
‘This will fix things,’ Kelly said with confidence. ‘You’ll see. Once the planning is under control, you’ll feel better.’
Maddy nodded. Yeah, maybe she was right. Maybe if she didn’t have to do the actual planning, it wouldn’t feel so bloody big.
‘Thank you,’ she said, because gratitude was expected.
Kelly smiled, relieved. ‘Beryl from Bingo’s daughter used one, said she was brilliant. I’ll get her number.’
Maddy smiled. ‘That sounds great.’
Her mother squeezed her hand, satisfied, and started to text Beryl while Maddy microwaved her tea.
As the seconds on the microwave counted down, Maddy stared at the ring on her finger.
She told herself that her mother was right. That this was just stress. That once things were organised, she’d feel normal. Happy.
The microwave pinged. Maddy took out her mug and took a sip of tea. It burnt her tongue.
Four
Eva was in the corner booth of a tiny Italian restaurant, yelling at a florist on the phone. The cheeky bugger was trying to add a ‘venue access coordination’ fee of 50 quid to a contract that had already been signed.
‘So, if I’m to understand correctly, that’s because someone from the venue rang you at five minutes past business hours and asked you what time you’d be delivering.’
‘That’s correct,’ the florist said shamelessly.
‘We won’t be paying that,’ Eva told him flatly.
‘Well, I’m afraid it’s not optional,’ he said with a horrid chuckle.
‘Itisoptional. You picking up the phone past business hours wasalsooptional.’
The man paused. ‘I had to. What if it was an emergency?’
‘A florist emergency? What does that look like, exactly? Are you considered a first responder? Do you race to accident scenes and wave gladioli under people’s noses to revive them?’
‘You’re being sarcastic now,’ he sniped.
‘Yes, that’s right. That was a joke. And so was your charge. I understand the usual wedding grift; I just expect it to staywithin the standard range. If it doesn’t, I’ll be placing my clients elsewhere. Clear?’
There was a pause. ‘Fine.’
‘Good.’ She hung up. She looked across the table at her aunt Sarah. ‘Sorry about that.’
