Chapter 2
A short while later, wrapped up against the cold as our breath clouds in the air, we cross the pretty Christmas market lining Old Eldon Square in the centre of Newcastle.
It is bustling with shoppers as the aromas of mulled wine, cinnamon and sweet hot chocolate fill the air.
We follow the fairy lights wrapped around the wrought-iron railings and head down the stairs of the converted Victorian stone building into the warm atmosphere of The Wobbly Duck pub.
But instead of a wedding planner sitting waiting to greet us, the Dollz are gathered round, glammed up to the max and dressed as though the city is experiencing a sweltering heatwave, a plethora of Christmas shopping at their feet.
Once all the hugs, compliments on Ged’s new tache – which he grew for Movember and has kept going – and air kisses are out of the way, a fresh round of drinks is ordered as we pull up a seat.
‘A toast,’ says Tash, raising her crimson-red cocktail glass with berries and twigs poking from the top. ‘To the happy couple.’
We all cheer as she takes a long swig and puts her glass down.
‘Cherry, pet. You don’t have to minute that bit but do make a list of attendees and say that the board meeting starts from now.’
I frown. Board meeting?
Tash clears her throat. ‘Thank you everyone for coming. This meeting is to formally welcome you all on to the Ged and Liam Wedding Planning Committee. The first order of business is to come up with a hashtag for the wedding. Any suggestions? And before you go there, I already tried mashing their names together like Bennifer and Brangelina but it doesn’t work if one of you isn’t called Brad or Ben. ’
Tash has assumed chairwoman duties and is taking to them like a duck to water. A small chuckle escapes my lips, but she is perfectly serious. I survey the group. ‘Sorry… but what is going on here?’
‘It’s the inaugural meeting of the Ged and Liam Wedding Planning Committee,’ repeats Big Sue in her no-nonsense, try-and-keep-up manner. ‘We have twenty-one days to formulate, implement and deliver the perfect wedding.’
‘Tonight, we’re allocating jobs,’ adds Big Mand, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she puts down her pint. ‘Who does what and when.’
‘We’re going to determine the timescale within which we need to work in order to realise Ged and Liam’s fabulously impractical and unachievable dream,’ says Liberty, deadpan.
‘And I’m taking minutes so that there are no crossed wires,’ says Cherry, waving her iPad at me. ‘While creating a vision board at the same time… so that we’re all on the same page.’
My jaw slackens. They’re serious. The Dollz are going to plan and execute the wedding in only three weeks from now.
How will this even be possible? I recoil in panic.
Surely, Ged at least must be horrified. This is the biggest day of their lives thus far, excluding having their own naked butler for an entire week in Vegas.
Surely they will not want to leave such a monumental task in the hands of a bunch of cocktail-swigging booze hounds?
But Ged and Liam are nodding enthusiastically, their eyes lit up.
‘Thank you, ladies. This means so much to us, doesn’t it, Ged?’ Liam has his hands clasped in prayer.
‘Absolutely,’ agrees Ged. ‘Eight heads are better than one, as they say.’
‘Just to be clear,’ I butt in, finally finding my voice. ‘You’re all going to plan the wedding together? Yourselves?’
‘No!’ Tash laughs. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Thank the lord. For a moment there…
‘WE.’ She points a sparkly talon at me. ‘WE are going to plan it. And it’ll be fucking fantastic.’ She beams. ‘Here’s to slaying the shit out of wedding planning!’
I pause. Someone needs to be the voice of reason here.
‘We need an experienced wedding planner with lots of connections to potential venues in France… and who will have a much higher chance of pulling off a last-minute eccentric wedding. We can’t possibly hope to get it all done in time, even between all of us. Let’s be realistic.’
They stare blankly back.
‘Very disappointing attitude. Marriage has changed you, Connie,’ accuses Cherry. ‘Just like it did me. All the fun seems to drain away the moment that ring goes on your finger.’
A silence hovers over us.
‘True,’ Big Mand says with a heavy sigh. ‘We midwives see couples splitting up all the time.’
‘On the maternity ward?’ I ask. ‘That’s harsh.’
‘Life is harsh,’ Liberty says. ‘We just have to make the best of what we’ve got. Take me. God knows I’ve suffered more than my fair share of hot-girl problems.’
The mood is rapidly sliding downhill. Ged and Liam appear crestfallen. Am I the cause of this mood avalanche? Yes, it would seem so, by the way everyone is staring in my direction.
‘But there’s so much to do. How would we co-ordinate it all?’
‘It’s not rocket science, Connie, pet,’ Big Sue booms. ‘Between us and Pinterest, surely we can come up with a nice venue, a few flowers and a cake.’
Now that she’s said it out loud, it doesn’t seem so bad. Liam perks back up. ‘Thank you, guys,’ he gushes. ‘I knew I could count on you lot.’
‘So, Connie, you in?’ Ged asks firmly, his eyebrows raised to the max.
‘I suppose we could all take one little job each,’ I say, hesitantly. I’ve a terrible issue with saying ‘no’. It always seems to come out as a ‘yes’. ‘As long as it’s a little one. I’m terribly busy at the—’
‘Minute that as confirmation,’ Tash barks at Cherry. ‘But put Connie is backtracking. Just so we have it on record that she tried to pooh-pooh the idea first.’
Cherry nods dutifully.
‘I agree. One job each and we’ll have it done in no time,’ adds Big Mand as Cherry taps away on the iPad. ‘First, we just need to confirm the budget for catering, photographers, string quartet and the solicitors’ fees to process the paperwork to make sure everything is legal.’
I gulp.
‘And then all we need is bespoke stationery, personalised wax seals, promo, socials, wedding soundtrack,’ Liberty says, counting the items off her fingers. ‘Website, newsletter, blog posts.’
What the actual…?
‘And lasses, don’t forget to budget for new hair extensions, nails, eyelashes, eyebrows, Botox, fillers, collagen facials, and I might possibly try to squeeze in a quick trip to Turkey for a set of veneers,’ chips in Tash, making it a little bit about herself as she inspects her nails.
‘And colour-themed day outfits, evening outfits, shoes, underwear options, day-to-night-time, night-to-daytime, spa, swimwear depending on the hot tub situation obvs, soft furnishings and lighting. I think we can all agree that the correct lighting is very, very important.’ Big Mand finishes her pint and thumps it down on the table.
Shitty shit shit.
‘Where are the Bridgerton costumes being sourced?’ asks Big Sue. ‘Will they be expensive?’
Ged grins as he smooths his moustache. ‘I have a musical director friend whose period production is coming to an end. He is loaning us the full kit, costumes, accessories, staging, whatever we need before it goes into storage.’
‘How soon can we get them?’ asks Cherry. ‘I assume we’ll need to make a few alterations?’
‘They’re at the theatre, ready. Liam just needs to borrow the school minibus, and we’ll go and collect them.’ Ged and Liam exchange a proud look.
‘Okay, people. We need to diarise.’ Big Sue rolls up her sleeves. ‘I’ll drop a few dates in the WhatsApp group chat to vote on. We’ll meet at the theatre to choose costumes and do a fitting. Agreed?’
Cherry is rapidly typing away on her iPad.
‘Try on costumes before we are sure the wedding can even go ahead? Wouldn’t it be better to confirm a venue first?’ I ask, then immediately wish I hadn’t. Everyone seems keen to skim past this blip of common sense.
‘I’m bringing Sister Kev,’ says Tash. She and her bearded nun have been inseparable since Benidorm. ‘So he’ll need a costume.’
‘I’m bringing Eddie,’ says Liberty smugly. We are delighted that she managed to bag herself a billionaire during the Vegas trip. In fact, if it wasn’t for Liberty, Matteo may never have ended up working with Eddie on such a prestigious music project.
‘Just me on my own,’ says Cherry.
‘Oh, why’s that, babes?’ asks Tash.
‘Things haven’t been too good at home lately. I could do with a bit of a break,’ Cherry says in a serious tone. ‘It’s become very difficult. Lots of mind games, gaslighting, that sort of thing. Very controlling, very possessive, you know?’
Oh dear. Poor Cherry. Her husband sounds like a real piece of work.
Tash frowns. ‘But, babes, isn’t Clem only two?’
‘She’s three and a half and that little madam knows exactly what she’s doing.’ Cherry purses her lips and folds her arms as though daring any of them to contradict her.
Yikes.
‘So, I’m leaving the kids at home with Dom.’
For Christmas?
‘I’ll add retailer links to the wedding present lists,’ she continues amid our stunned silence. ‘And various menu options for fussy eaters.’
‘And will you be having a crystal healer, a shaman, and a spiritualist?’ Tash tilts her head to one side, interested to see what Ged and Liam have decided. ‘Hard to have one without the other, I suppose, wouldn’t you agree?’
I blow out my lips. What have we done? We have bitten off more than we can chew, that’s what we’ve done.
A wave of panic gushes through my veins.
We can’t possibly pull this off. I survey the group.
It’s almost my civic duty to rein this in before it goes too far.
‘We can’t do this ourselves. It’s way too much. ’
‘You forget I work at the university, I deal with people and their unrealistic expectations every single day. Trust me, you’re in good hands.
’ Tash beams at Ged and Liam. ‘Now, back to business. What are we going to call the wedding nuptials? We need a hashtag. Come on, people. Thinking caps on. We need an old money vibe. Something that feels utterly elegant and refined. Right, boys?’
I can’t believe the other Dollz and Ged and Liam are going along with it. It’s madness.
‘Time for a tinkle.’ Tash scrapes her chair back and, with some effort, heaves herself up as though we’ve been contributing to this think tank all night long.
Ged and Liam are gazing at her as though she is the head of British Aerospace.
She flashes them a bright, reassuring smile as she struts across the bar, attracting admiring glimpses from every table as she goes.
I can see why she’s put herself in charge.
She stops to tuck her long dark hair extensions behind one ear before pulling the hem of her stylish, tight denim dress back down to her thighs.
‘If someone gets another round in, mine’s a Wet Pussy,’ she announces over her shoulder, causing a small group of men to almost choke on their beers.
She lets out a filthy cackle. ‘The wetter the better. Isn’t that right, fellas? ’
Christ. Far too much information for chairing such a formal committee. Or any committee.
Three and a half hours later and we have not managed to push the needle any further forward. We have yet to decide on the official hashtag of the wedding. Never mind we have also failed to allocate the vast array of jobs that need to be done urgently.
‘I feel like we are focusing on the wrong things,’ I say, tentatively. ‘Perhaps if we allocate roles, define all of the tasks within each role and attach a deadline to each one, then at least we’ll have a plan going forward. Or we could… you know… keep searching for a proper wedding planner?’
‘The Ged-ium Wedding? Giam? Led? The Gliam Wedding? No, no, no,’ Tash mutters, ignoring me because she has become obsessed with getting one tiny and insignificant detail right at the expense of the entire board meeting. This is leadership operating at the lowest possible level.
This sparks another round of debate and ideas are tossed around that have already been pooh-poohed multiple times, until Cherry flips her iPad round to show us an example of a wedding website.
It shows a romantic close-up of a couple with arms wrapped around one another, touching foreheads, and a simple caption of their two names.
‘Ged and Liam,’ she states bluntly. ‘Ged and Liam’s Wedding… you know, simple, elegant.’
Liberty plonks another round of drinks down. ‘That’s that settled then. Great work Cherry, hun.’
Big Mand and Big Sue clink glasses. ‘Agreed.’
Tash is jubilant. ‘I knew we’d fucking get there in the end!’
I observe the messy table overflowing with empty glasses, crisp packets, four takeaway pizza boxes and numerous vape pens.
It is past midnight, and it has taken almost four hours for the committee to agree that Ged and Liam’s wedding will now officially be called…
drum roll please… hashtag Ged and Liam’s Wedding.