Chapter 3
Three
Maddy learned very quickly that people had a lot of questions about her upcoming nuptials.
Family members, friends, fellow librarians—everyone was absolutely full of them: Do you have a theme?
Are you doing a hen do abroad or keeping it local?
Church or civil ceremony? Big guest list or something small and intimate?
Open or cash bar? (People asked that last one a lot.)
It felt like she’d been shoved onto Mastermind with someone else’s specialist subject.
Now, sitting at her mother’s kitchen table, hands around a mug of tea that had gone stone cold, she prepared herself for another round of interrogation about what she was starting to think of as an expensive and unfun party.
‘So,’ her mother, Kelly, said, drawing the word out. ‘Have you thought about dates?’
Maddy blinked. ‘Dates?’
‘For the wedding,’ Kelly said, smiling. ‘Spring would be lovely. Or early autumn. Not summer. People get too hot.’
Maddy nodded. ‘Spring sounds fine.’
Kelly’s smile widened. ‘I knew you’d say that. You were always a spring person.’
Maddy had no memory of ever expressing that preference.
Kelly reached for a notebook on the table, already open to a page filled with neat bullet points.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Kelly continued, tapping the pen against the paper, ‘that we should start looking at venues sooner rather than later. Things book up so fast now.’
Maddy swallowed. She’d been proposed to two weeks ago, and somehow, she was already behind.
Kelly glanced up at her. ‘Are you okay, sweetheart? You look tired.’
‘I’m fine,’ Maddy said automatically. ‘Maybe Adam should be asked these questions? He’ll be there too.’
‘Yes, but… Well, it’s not really a man thing, is it?’
‘No?’
‘No. Your dad basically just showed up on the day,’ Kelly said with a light chuckle.
Maddy smiled, nodding, but secretly she thought that was terrible. She couldn’t say that aloud. You weren’t supposed to say bad things about dead people.
But was it really still like that? No expectations of the man who’d set this entire thing in motion? Surely things had moved on a bit.
But she knew in her heart that if she asked Adam whether anyone had grilled him about chairs or napkins or cake tiers, he’d look at her blankly.
Kelly studied Maddy for a moment. ‘It’s a lot, I know. But this is supposed to be happy. This is your dream.’
Was it? Had she said that once? Had she felt it once? Again, she didn’t think so.
But it was best not to shine a light on her mother’s casual relationship with reality. It got you nowhere.
‘I am happy,’ Maddy said, because that was the easy thing to say.
Her mother nodded and jumped back into logistics. ‘I was thinking ballgown for the dress. Classic. You don’t want anything too modern, or you’ll look back and feel dated.’
Maddy’s chest felt tight. Could you have a heart attack at thirty-three? It would be a great way to end this conversation. You couldn’t argue with a cardiac event. I’m sorry, Mother, but I simply can’t talk about dresses as I’m actively dying.
But her heart went right on pumping healthily, the shit.
Maddy tried to picture it. The dress. The venue. Herself walking down an aisle toward Adam, smiling while people watched. She tried to feel what she was supposed to feel.
Nothing came.
‘Maddy?’
Maddy looked up. ‘What?’
‘You haven’t said anything.’
‘I’m just listening,’ Maddy said. She tried to smile like a person who gave a shit about poofy dresses.
Kelly sighed. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ Maddy said quickly.
‘Are you?’ Her mother asked, puzzled.
‘I’m trying,’ she said, and then the tears came. They surprised her with their speed. One moment she was holding it together, the next she was wet-eyed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, mortified.
‘Oh,’ her mother said, immediately standing and moving around the table. ‘Oh, love!’
She wrapped her arms around Maddy. Maddy stiffened, then sagged into it, the effort of holding herself upright suddenly too much.
‘I don’t know why I’m like this,’ Maddy said into her mother’s sweater.
Kelly rubbed her back. ‘You’re overwhelmed.’
Maddy nodded because that explanation was easier to accept than the alternative. She was scared. She’d always known that one day this would happen. You stayed with someone; eventually, they were going to propose. So why had it shocked her so much? Why did it feel so terrifying?
‘Wedding planning does this to people,’ her mother continued soothingly.
‘I know it’s nice to get married, but it can be a lot for someone like you.
I remember your sixteenth birthday at the ice rink.
It was exactly what you asked for, and you still burst into tears when everyone started singing happy birthday. ’
That was true. She’d wanted a big bash because that meant she was popular and functional. Yet come the night, it was all too much. So embarrassing watching thirty people fade out on the third line of ‘Happy Birthday to You.’
She simply wasn’t good at being the centre of attention. And now it was coming for her at a hundred miles an hour.
‘I thought I’d be better at this,’ Maddy said.
‘Excitement looks different for everyone,’ Kelly said briskly. ‘Some people get giddy. Some people get anxious. It’s all normal.’
Maddy pulled back, wiping at her face. ‘It is?’
‘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.