‘I’m sorry,’ said the bride-to-be, closing up the box and slapping my fingers. ‘I’m sure your food is awesome and we won’t even need to put these out.’ Even tired and irritated she had better diplomacy skills than anyone else I knew. ‘Oh, and by the way, my mom and my sister are coming.’
‘What?’
Surely not. Surely, surely not.
‘But you said your mum wasn’t coming,’ I pointed out, trying to stay calm. ‘Because, you know, she’s completely cocking mental.’
‘Don’t exaggerate,’ my friend replied, still concentrating on getting the peonies into the exact formation she was looking for and refusing to look me in the eye. ‘And I would have thought after yesterday’s stress, you’d be appreciative of the help. And hey, Sarah, Mom had an idea. Sounds kind of crazy, but how would you feel about going back to your natural colour for the wedding?’
Oh, Mom and her ideas.
‘Excuse me?’ Sarah reached up to her blonde topknot.
‘Yeah, because Mom was looking at some photographs, and since Maddie and my sister are both brunette and you’re a bottle blonde, she thought my photos would have more visual impact if I was the only one with light hair. What do you think?’
Without saying a word, it was quite obvious what Sarah thought.
‘You want me to dye my hair for your wedding?’ she asked.
Lauren shrugged and gave a big smile. ‘Maybe it would be a fun change for you.’
‘Maybe it would be a fun change for me?’
‘New start and everything,’ she said. ‘Fresh.’
‘Doesn’t Sarah’s flat look lovely?’ I said loudly. ‘Where did you get the throws from? They’re so soft.’
‘I’m not dyeing my fucking hair,’ Sarah replied.
‘Haven’t heard of that place,’ I said. ‘Is it in Dalston?’
‘OK, Sarah, don’t be such a drama queen.’ Lauren shrugged off her coat and threw it on the settee without so much as a glance at the lovely throws. ‘I think you’d look great as a brunette. Mom just likes to throw some blue-sky ideas in.’
‘I am going into the kitchen to check on my shit food,’ Sarah announced. ‘The other guests will be arriving very soon, I’m sure. I might just stay out of the way until they get here.’
Lauren looked at me and rolled her big blue eyes. ‘What got into her today?’
‘Oh, she’s probably feeling sensitive,’ I said, trying to be tactful as I picked up her coat and folded it tidily. ‘It’s a big deal for her to have a bridal shower in her flat this soon after Steve moved out. And telling her that her hair looks shit probably didn’t win you any points. Blue-sky ideas? You knob.’
‘So it’s not about the cookies?’ she asked, chewing her lip.
‘I don’t think they helped.’ I frowned. ‘Could you go into the kitchen and say something nice to her?’
Thoroughly chastened, she sucked in her cheeks and sloped off out of the room.
‘Your hair doesn’t make you look washed-out,’ I heard her say before turning my attention to my phone. ‘And your cookies are probably fine.’
Nothing from anyone at the office.
This meant one of two things – either I had completely got away with the Dickenson Debacle, or they were saving my punishment for Monday morning. I was definitely going to have to hit the Night Nurse if I wanted to get any sleep tonight.
‘OhmygodMaddieyouburntdownthehouse?’
Lauren flew through the living-room door, her face flushed, her eyes wide.
‘What?’ I held my phone tightly in both hands.
‘Did you burn down my dad’s house?’ she screeched at half the speed but twice the volume. ‘Sarah said—’
‘Sorry,’ Sarah shouted from the kitchen. ‘It just slipped out.’
‘Thanks,’ I shouted back. ‘Massive help.’
‘Maddie, the house.’ Lauren clicked her fingers in my face, definitely not a move that made me want to kick her in the vag. ‘Is it OK?’
‘The house is fine,’ I replied. ‘There was a slight incident with the margarita fountain and an absolute wanker who wouldn’t put his fag out, but it was never not under control.’
‘Tell her the bit about the rabbits going mental,’ Sarah said, hanging off the doorframe with a tea towel over her shoulder. ‘You may as well, now she knows.’
‘I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.’ Lauren looked as though she had just found out I was actually her mother. ‘I trusted you, Maddie. My dad’s gonna kill me.’
‘Your dad isn’t going to know,’ I said. ‘The house is fine, better than fine. It’s spotless and shiny and every bathroom is again full of toilet paper. If that isn’t a selling point, I don’t know what is. I’m sorry − I thought you’d have enough on your mind with the wedding.’
‘Yeah, as if that isn’t what’s freaking me out now,’ she said, pressing her hands to her face. She actually looked tearful. ‘Your first party and you basically blow up the house? Should I be concerned about my wedding?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I mean, I didn’t want to say anything when we had to save your butt on Friday,’ she said, hands on hips. ‘But do I need to, like, check things? Make sure everything is what I asked for? Am I going to be icing my own cupcakes at two in the morning next weekend?’
‘I reckon everything’s fine, Lauren,’ Sarah said, holding the tea towel in front of herself. ‘Maddie’s on top of it.’
‘Like she was on top of the baby party?’ Lauren asked. There was no stopping her.
‘And we’re not having cupcakes,’ I reminded her. ‘Cookie platters, remember?’
‘I’ve tried not to be on your arse about this, Maddie, because you’re supposed to be a professional …’
‘I. Am. A. Professional,’ I replied. It was happening again. Whatever had come over me in Shona’s office was creeping up on me again. I was two seconds away from Hulking out on my best friends. ‘And you haven’t just been on my arse, Lauren, you’ve been so far up it, I can hardly sit down. Pain in the arse doesn’t even cover it, and you haven’t said thank you once.’
There was a chance I was shouting.
‘There is nothing wrong with the house, and there is nothing wrong with your wedding,’ I told her in a voice that was a bit louder than necessary. All right, I definitely was shouting. ‘Everything has been booked, checked and double-checked and it was all out of the goodness of my heart. We would usually charge thousands for the work I’ve done, let alone the midnight texts and crazy requests. Do you know how hard it is to get actual 3D printed renderings of you and Michael for the cake toppers? Do you? No. Now I’ve had a properly shit few days and I would like to sit down, eat some cake and drink some drinks. Just for today, if that’s all right?’
I stopped. My heart was beating uncomfortably fast and my face felt hot, sweaty and red. There was a long pause. And then …
‘Sure, sit down, take a load off, enjoy your Sunday,’ she erupted, equally furious. ‘It sounds to me like you don’t have what it takes to get that event planner job. It sounds to me like it would be best if Sarah got it.’
My eyes opened so wide I thought they might fall out.
‘Eh?’ Came a voice from the side of the room.
‘Nothing,’ I said quickly. ‘Ignore her.’
‘Why would you get the job?’ Sarah asked, clearly not ignoring her.
‘Because Maddie −’ Lauren yelled, stabbing her finger towards me − ‘applied for it too, and she didn’t want to tell you.’
‘What?’ Sarah blinked at me. ‘Mads?’
‘Only because you’ve had so much going on,’ I protested. ‘I wasn’t not telling you just to not tell you. They asked me to apply at work. Matilda in HR told me I had to.’
‘So why did they interview me?’ Sarah looked confused. ‘And why would you give them my CV if you were applying for the same job?’
I looked at the floor and offered her a non-committal shrug, strug
gling to come up with a good excuse.
‘You did give them my CV, didn’t you?’ she asked. ‘And why would you lie to me?’ While Lauren still looked furious, Sarah just looked hurt, and that was the worst part by far. ‘If you wanted the job that badly, why wouldn’t you just tell me? Why would you lie?’
‘Why wouldn’t she tell me she tried to burn down my dad’s house when I was just trying to do her a favour?’ Lauren asked.
‘Oh, shut up, Lauren,’ Sarah snapped. ‘You’re not helping. This is not about you − can you get that into your head for once?’
Lauren’s face went red. And then white. And then red again.
‘I’m sorry I asked my best friend to help me organize the most important day of my life,’ she exploded. ‘And I’m sorry that I don’t trust her lying ass. It’s my wedding and I want it to be perfect.’
‘It’s not going to be perfect, is it?’ I pointed out. ‘It’s hardly going to be a dream wedding when half the time you don’t even want to get married in the first place.’
Apart from Sarah’s perfectly timed gasp, the room was silent.
‘Maddie.’ Sarah spoke first but I didn’t say a word. ‘Lauren, she didn’t mean that.’
‘Yes she did,’ Lauren said, staring me down. ‘Thanks, Mads.’
‘Whatever,’ I muttered. I felt sick. I felt tired. I felt weirdly hungry.
‘I think we all need to calm down,’ Sarah said, folding her arms around herself. ‘We’re all just stressed.’
‘What do you have to be stressed about?’ Lauren asked. ‘Go back to your shitty cooking and stay out of this.’
I did a double-take. Did she really say that?
‘I’ve got plenty to be stressed about, actually.’
And Sarah was off.
‘You’ve probably forgotten because your head is wedged so firmly up your own arse, but I’m in the middle of a divorce, and I did just find out my supposed best friend has been trying to shaft me for a job I really want, and my fucking cookies are not shit.’
‘Will both of you just pack it in!’ I screamed. ‘Honestly, I don’t want to hear it any more. I’m sick of it.’
They both turned to look at me, their mouths wide open, both revving up to start again.
‘No, don’t say a word,’ I said, grabbing my handbag off the settee. ‘I’ve done nothing but bend over backwards for the two of you for as long as I can remember and I’m done with it. I ask you to help me with one thing, and then you both just throw it back in my face. Yeah, I did apply for the events planner job, but only after they asked me to, and no, I didn’t tell you because I thought you were going through enough shit, to be honest. And I wanted it. I knew if I told you, you’d talk me out of applying, so I didn’t. And I thought probably you’d get it and I wouldn’t. That was selfish − I’m sorry. But it is my work and my only chance at a promotion, and I didn’t see, for once, why I should just hand it over to someone else just to be nice. I’ve been there for you every second, Sarah − I’ve made your tea and given you gin and my spare room is basically your bedroom now. I’ve answered every single middle-of-the-night phone call, I’ve sat up watching Challenge TV until four in the morning. This is the only time I’ve ever put myself first.’
Sarah busied herself folding her tea towel into a very small square.
‘And I’m sorry I said that about your wedding,’ I said to Lauren. ‘But I have worked my tits off organizing it and replying to texts also at four in the morning and pulling miracles out of my arse to get it all done on time when you were having a meltdown, so yeah, a thank you might have been more appreciated than you throwing me under the bus as soon as you heard about the baby-naming, panicking about your dad’s house, insulting me and implying I can’t organize shit. I’ve worked nights and begged any number of favours to get your three-month countdown wedding how you wanted it, when any other planner would have laughed in your face.’
I took a breath.
‘So from now on, you can sort it out, because I don’t give a shit any more. And thanks for all the support on the Will stuff. And Tom stuff. Silly old Maddie, what a fool she is.’
I pulled two beautifully wrapped blue boxes out of my handbag and threw them in their general direction, then burst into tears. ‘Matching necklaces,’ I said, heading for the door. ‘I thought they might be a bit silly, but hey, what do I know? Have a very lovely wedding and a very lovely life.’
I yanked the front door open to find Lauren’s mum, sister and the rest of the bridal shower guests standing wide-eyed on the doorstep. ‘Hello, Mrs Hobbs-Miller,’ I said, pushing past her and down the front path. ‘Bye, Mrs Hobbs-Miller.’
‘Well, what was that about?’ she asked loudly.
‘Your daughter is a selfish, spoiled cow,’ I shouted back from the street. ‘Congratulations, you must be very proud.’
Monday July 27th
Today I feel: Oh, piss off.
Today I am thankful for: Seriously, go away.
‘I imagine you know why you’re in here?’ Matilda sat across from me in the HR meeting room first thing on Monday morning.
‘Are you giving me some kind of prize?’ I asked, my hands clasped in front of me on the table in order to stop me crying.
Matilda did not crack a smile. Matilda looked as though she might not ever crack a smile again. And yet there was a plate of biscuits on the meeting-room table.
‘The incident at the Dickenson party,’ she said. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
I pushed my shoe around the floor. ‘Which one?’
I didn’t mean to be rude to Matilda, but after my showdown with Sarah and Lauren the day before, I was done. Done with everyone and everything.
‘Why don’t you just talk me through it?’ Matilda suggested. ‘From the beginning, so I have all the details.’
‘Well, I’m guessing you’ve seen the pictures, so I can keep it brief,’ I replied.
She had. I was fairly certain everyone in the office had. The photographer had emailed me a link to the look book late Sunday night. After I’d finished sobbing all the way home from Sarah’s house, I’d spent a good couple of hours wailing at photos of Seb and his baby on Facebook, then stalking Will and his girlfriend on Instagram, and finally, when I was catatonic on the settee, I necked half a bottle of gin and watched last year’s Downton Abbey Christmas special. And during all of that, somehow, a work email had managed to pass me by. Thankfully, Shona had been awake, had been in a far more productive mood, seen the email, downloaded all the photos and forwarded them to half the company.
‘The original venue cancelled on me the day before the event, meaning I had to find a new venue and several new suppliers at the last minute. Everything was in place on the day and the event was going well right up until some dickhead threw a lit cigarette into a fountain full of tequila – I’m assuming that’s the incident you’re referring to?’ I was angry and hoping it didn’t show.
Matilda nodded.
‘Well, that’s it, in a nutshell. Tequila is, curiously enough, very flammable. Turns out no one mentioned that when we hired the fountain or researched the idea. There was a brief fire risk, but between Sharaline, the fire extinguisher and a lovely British summer shower, it was out before anyone or anything could get damaged. We even got the full deposit back on the fountain. No one was injured, the fire was contained, it was just very unfortunate that the skies opened and rained on everyone as well.’
‘The Dickensons sent over a slightly more detailed email this morning,’ Matilda said, pulling a piece of paper out of her notebook. ‘They mentioned something about “demented storks terrorizing the party guests” and “rabbits that looked like they were covered in blood giving the children nightmares”.’
‘They asked for pink rabbits!’ There didn’t seem to be a lot of point in defending myself, but if you’d spent three hours dip-dyeing two dozen rabbits by hand, it would have annoyed you too. ‘The storks got upset by the rain, the storks upset the rabbits. As
I said, it was unfortunate.’
‘So it wasn’t the fire that upset the storks?’
I considered it for a moment. ‘Could have been.’
‘Maddie, you must agree this looks terrible for us as a firm. Your role is not only to deliver the clients’ dream event, but to make sure nothing gets in the way of a great experience for them. With all due respect, it couldn’t really have been worse.’ She paused, and held up a hand when she saw me open my mouth again, ready to protest.
‘The Dickensons have suggested they don’t feel comfortable paying the second half of their bill,’ she said. ‘Which as you know is a considerable sum.’
‘Oh, Christ, you’re not going to make me pay it, are you?’ I asked, visions of my overdraft spinning through my head. Lauren’s wedding had cost me a bloody fortune − I was almost stony broke.
‘No, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to terminate your contract with the company,’ she replied gently.
‘Oh,’ I whispered. ‘Bugger.’
‘We’re eliminating your position,’ she said. ‘There’s going to be a restructure, with Shona taking over as director of events and a new events manager reporting in to her and a team assistant. Mr Colton confirmed the plans this morning.’
‘Oh.’ I glanced across at the plate of cookies. ‘Then I think I will have a biscuit.’
‘Maddie, I get the feeling you’re not taking this terrible seriously,’ Matilda said, snapping out of HR mode for just a moment. ‘I pushed you for this. I honestly thought you were capable of it.’
‘I was,’ I said, taking a cookie anyway. ‘I am. I dealt with the cancellation of the first venue and I pulled off an amazing party. And now you’re telling me none of that matters because of something I had absolutely no control over. To be honest, Matilda, I feel like punching someone in the face, but I don’t think that would help right now, would it?’
‘Not really.’ Matilda looked doubtful. ‘What reason did they give you? For cancelling?’
‘They said the permits and insurance weren’t filed correctly,’ I admitted. ‘But they were. I checked them and double-checked them myself. I’ve done that same paperwork a thousand times over.’