He grinned. ‘You’ve already looked into this, I see.’
‘Haha! For Lucy.’
‘So we’ll go to Vegas and get Elvis to marry us.’
‘Not in a million years.’
‘New York?’
‘As fabulous as that sounds, you seem to be forgetting that I’m out of work. Planes cost money and it still doesn’t address the problem that you will have to tell your parents. It’ll be fine. I promise!’
Wednesday December 27th
It was not fine. Louise is willing to overlook my non-Catholic persuasion but favours a June wedding in Dublin. Also their local community centre is perfect for our reception and she’ll start making enquiries this week. I tried to distract her by telling her that Daphne the dog was pregnant, but she’d already put the phone down to go and find her mammy’s wedding band in the drawer.
‘I told you,’ Oliver said, shaking his head. ‘She’s like an unstoppable force.’
I flopped down on to the couch and sighed. ‘I saw all the crap Lucy had to put up with and I can’t be arsed with any of it. I don’t want the big dress and the big venue and the big breakdown which occurs halfway through the planning. I don’t want to have to compromise to keep everyone else happy and I don’t want to drag this shit out for years either. I just want us.’
‘Fuck it,’ he mumbled under his breath before opening up his laptop. ‘Pass me my wallet, will you?’
Saturday December 30th
From the moment Oliver booked the flights and hotel on Wednesday, it’s been a bit of a blur. Unlike Lucy who spent months planning her perfect day, we’d been rushing to apply for a wedding license online, hunting for appropriate ID, finding out when City Hall was open over the holidays, and of course breaking the news to my parents. They couldn’t have been happier.
‘Oh darling, that’s wonderful!’ Mum gushed. ‘How exciting – married in New York!’
I heard Dad yelling his approval in the background followed by a faint bark from the dog. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ I replied. ‘We’re spending a week there so we’ll have lots of photos . . . Listen, I’m sorry we’re not having a big family wedding but—’
‘That’s not important,’ she said. ‘We have you for the rest of our lives – this day is for you and Oliver.’
It was great to have their support but I had no doubt they’d be happy either way. They also offered to pay for our hotel for the week we were staying; a gesture we gratefully accepted.
My friends, of course, were disappointed that they wouldn’t be there, but they took the news well when I had them over for lunch.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Lucy asked, looking at Hazel in disbelief. ‘I would never have gotten married without you there. This is entirely selfish behaviour.’
‘Aw, don’t be like that,’ I pleaded. ‘I feel terrible enough. We’ll all get together when we get back, I promise.’
Hazel was far more diplomatic with her disappointment but I could tell it was there. Although I never imagined getting married in the first place, the reality of now doing it without my friends’ involvement made me more than a little sad. I think it’s the first major thing Lucy and Hazel haven’t been involved with since I met them. Christ, they drove me to hospital when I went into labour at Lucy’s house during dinner; Hazel calmly navigating traffic while Lucy called Oliver and told me repeatedly to ‘fucking breeeaatthheee’.
I know Oliver would have liked his sister to be there, but there’s no way she’d have kept quiet to the rest of his family, and having them guilt-call us every ten minutes wasn’t an appealing thought.
Still, this time next week it’ll be all over and I’ll be a married woman. Haha! Holy shit!
Sunday December 31st
New Year’s Eve began with the sound of a snoring Irishman and the tired grumps of an equally-exhausted, soon-to-be flower-girl who’d just spent nearly fifteen hours travelling from Glasgow, including a three-hour stopover in London. I was too excited to sleep. Not only was I getting married, but I’d never been to New York. To be honest, I wasn’t sure which prospect excited me more.
I sat back in my seat, staring at the small television screen without paying attention to the in-flight movie. I envied Oliver’s ability to pass out – my brain was swarming. The plan was to turn up at the City Clerk’s Office on Tuesday after the holiday to get our license, then return on Thursday to wait in line to get hitched. We’d need a witness but apparently getting one there was easy enough. Oliver had packed his best suit to wear for the ceremony but I still had to buy dresses for Molly and me. Nothing too outrageous or expensive but something I felt special in. Also, was I going to change my name? We gave Molly Oliver’s surname when she was born but Hazel was right – Phoebe Webb has too many B sounds. Phoebe Henderson-Webb? Do I want a double-barrelled name? Do I want Oliver’s name at all?
My thought train came to a halt when the captain announced that we’d be landing at Newark shortly. As I leant across Molly and looked out of the window, my stomach back-flipped with excitement. God, this was thrilling. This time last year I was buying ugly potatoes and enjoying a sexless relationship, now here I was, flying over New Jersey on my way to get married! Was that the Manhattan skyline in the distance? I nudged Oliver to wake him up.
I felt his hand press on my leg as he peered over me to catch a glimpse of the view, waiting for him to marvel with me at the skyline before it disappeared. I wanted us to have a little moment while Molly slept.
‘Wow . . . is that IKEA down there?’
Moment denied.
