Week 2 - A Text From The Bride

Heather came from Bakewell near Manchester, but she denied this made her a ‘Bakewell Tart’. We started to chat as mates, but the more I looked into her green eyes the more I began to think that perhaps I would like to get to know Heather better. Heather had a smile that was slightly naughty and by 1am that night I just wanted to kiss her. One month later and six ‘sort of dates’ I finally did kiss that lovely fellow student. There were earlier chances but our friendship was becoming more important every day so I was scared of making a fool of myself. It was Valentines Day 1988 when we finally admitted to each other that we were ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. This was probably my first serious relationship and I even took Heather home to meet my parents and my friends. Heather showed me the joys of Bakewell and we discussed the names that we would give our children. It seems strange looking back but the two of us never argued about anything. Heather was a bit of a Tom Boy and in some ways the relationship was more mates than lovers. Sex often was a bit of a giggle and perhaps lacked passion, but this was Heather and she had become my best friend and companion. We helped each other through our degrees and I think we were both completely faithful. Until I met Becky I thought this was the perfect relationship. We started getting Christmas cards to ‘Heather and Jonathan’ even though we lived over 50 miles apart. At the end of the course we had to decide what was going to happen next. We were both only twenty-three and not really ready to make big commitments so we couldn’t decide where we wanted to live. I wasn’t ready to finally leave the joys of Sutton Coldfield and Heather wanted to stay near her mum. We decided that it was time to put things on hold but stay as mates for the time being. It didn’t really work because we kept getting back together, but eventually we started to see less of each other and then Heather accepted a marketing position in Paris for a year and we drifted further apart. Heather was special and I had seriously tried to get Becky to allow me to invite Heather and her new boyfriend Jean Pierre to the wedding, but Becky had made it quite clear that no former shags should be allowed at the wedding. As this meant she couldn’t invite the smarmy Michael I happily agreed, although Heather said she was disappointed not to see her mate get hitched. Surely she would have shred a few tears at the sight of her ‘ex’ getting married. I certainly wouldn’t want to see her getting married to Jean Pierre, although Becky might like the idea of a weekend in Paris. Becky is the Manageress of a Travel Agency in Lichfield and is multi-lingual. She could happily hold a conversation with Jean Pierre in French and also speaks fluent Spanish.

For the past three months Becky has spent Wednesday evenings studying Vocational Italian. As a surprise for Becky at the wedding reception I have also been learning Italian via a CD supplied in the Sunday Times. It isn’t my normal read but they had sold out of both ‘The People’ and ‘The Mail on Sunday’ that particular Sunday morning. I intend saying part of my thank you speech in Italian. With my lack of linguistic ability this is ambitious and I hope that Becky will recognise it as Italian.


The radio-alarm clock that used to wake me up with Simon Mayo in my 6th form days often with his First Love slot was now showing 03:08 so the time until I get to see Becky in her wedding attire is now less than eight hours. Less than a normal working day. The recommended amount of sleep you should have each night. Although with my alarm set for quarter to eight I wouldn’t be getting my full quota tonight. Going through previous relationships had kept my mind off thinking about the things I need to do at the wedding. Check Pete has got the rings, put a pack of polo mints in my pocket to make my breath fresher, make sure everyone has a lift to the reception at Moor Hall Hotel in Sutton Coldfield. I could see the outline of my suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe opposite. At least Becky will like this as she was with me when I, or was it we, or was it Becky, chose it. To be honest I thought it was a bit too trendy for me, but Becky liked it straight away and said it would go perfectly with her dress. There was a definite hint of green to it and the lapel was quite narrow. Pete had been impressed when he first saw them although he had talked about us wearing claret and blue suits. All my previous suits had come from Burtons or Fosters so it was a first for me to go to Marks and Spencers, a shop I had always associated with my Nan and Sunday afternoon scotch pancakes that we ate watching the ‘Goldenshot’. Hope my Nan behaves herself at the wedding. At my sister Karen’s wedding she was trying to dance to Bad Manners’ ‘Can Can’ and ended up accidentally banging the vicar on his head with her stick. It could be worse this time because her mind isn’t quite as good as it was and she has started to get confused. At the Carol Service last Christmas she sang ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ superbly and very loudly – just a pity everybody else was singing ‘In the bleak mid-winter’. My Granddad died seven years ago and after grieving for a year my Nan decided that life was for living and went on a world cruise where she met another lady in her seventies called Jessie. The two of them then became a trouble-some twosome going to lots of Tea Dances in the hope of meeting men. My Dad found it very difficult to cope with and was appalled when my Nan asked if she could bring her latest boyfriend to Karen’s wedding. He was more taken aback to find he was black and twenty years younger than my Nan. In the end Nan agreed to bring Jessie instead and ended up with the two of them drinking more than everybody else put together. With my Nan’s blood pressure tablets this wasn’t advisable, but she is quite a large woman and can be scary especially when armed with her stick. Of course, the real side is a very caring lady who totally adores her four grandchildren who can do no wrong. Even when Karen left her husband Toby last year my Nan took Karen’s side and said that Toby didn’t do enough to satisfy her. She said he couldn’t even manage to give her a great-grandchild so he probably wasn’t any good in the bedroom department. This is the same lady who until she met Jessie wouldn’t have her telly tuned into Channel Four because it was too raunchy. Jessie died two years ago whilst the two of them were holidaying in Crete. She was eighty-three and doctor believed she died of exhaustion. My Nan was never quite the same since and her mind started to go soon afterwards. It’s sad but she decided to put herself into a home about six months ago and the first thing my Dad knew about it was when he received a change of address card from her. It really upset him, but my Nan knew that it was a decision he would never have made for her. I go to the home about once a week and generally love talking to my Nan. Yes, we often have the same conversation six times in an hour, but she still cares about things passionately. Only last week she was saying what she wanted to do with her stick to Gareth Southgate after he missed that penalty for England in the semi-final. She still watches her football but gets confused as to which players are still playing. She says that Nobby Stiles should have taken that penalty. Becky loves my Nan and often comes with me. All of her grandparents died before she was ten and this always upsets her. Nan told Becky she could adopt her as her Gran. Becky had taken Nan out last week to buy an outfit for the wedding and had to persuade her that a pale coloured trouser suit was probably better than the little black strapless dress she was looking at. Nan had spent an hour a few weeks ago repeatedly telling me that Becky was keen on me and that I should get her married as soon as possible before some hunky bloke might come along and showed her a good time. I am glad my Nan is going to be there on my big day.

My thoughts were distracted by the bleep of my mobile phone. I had only had it a month and still it took me unaware. Becky had decided that since we were living together we needed to be in touch so she had bought us each these mobile phones. I seem to spend all my time looking for it or walking around with a large bulge in my left-hand trouser pocket. As very few people had my number and very few of my friends have mobile phones it must be text message off my bride or the signal that my battery was going flat. I felt around on the floor where the jeans I took off last night were lying. Eventually I located the phone and the screen said ‘Message Received’. The thought of a message off Becky was exciting. Obviously she couldn’t sleep either because she was too excited. I tried to imagine her lying in our bed with her wedding dress hanging by the side of her. The image also included her sister Jenny lying beside her in the bed in a rather unflattering long nylon flowered nightie. This was an image I did not want to focus on. I am sure Jenny doesn’t think I am good enough for her baby sister. Jenny has a first class degree in History and doesn’t really consider a 2:1 in Business Studies to count as a proper degree. Jenny and her husband Gareth have six year old identical twin daughters called Beatrice and Lorna, but I can never tell which one is which. They are going to be Becky’s two small bridesmaids that will follow the beautiful Becky and plain Jenny up the aisle.

What does the message say then? I’d better check and then maybe I could get some sleep. It said the message was off ‘Future Wife’ I had recently changed her name on my phone from ‘Naughty Rebecca’ because Becky thought people might get the wrong idea if they saw it. I clicked to read the message. I noticed there was no kiss which was unusual for a Becky message. It read just ‘Are you asleep’. There wasn’t even a question mark. Of course I wasn’t asleep or how would I be reading this message. Even if I had woken up at 8am and read the message I still would not have been asleep. As it was a very special day I avoided my usual sarcasm and just replied back ‘No, are you xxxx’. It was now 03:42 and within seconds came another beep from my phone. Quickly I check the message and it shocked me. It read ‘Sorry I can’t go through with it x’. Well at least I had got a kiss this time but it wasn’t really the message I wanted at this time on my wedding day. Something seemed wrong, what had happened? How should I play this? Surprisingly for me I was very calm and texted Becky back, ‘Are you sure? x’. I just lay there trying to make sense of everything. The birds were starting to sing now but it felt like the world had suddenly stopped turning and I was about to be pushed off. The radio alarm clock clicked around to 03:48 and then the dreaded bleep came. It was like I felt when I opened the envelope with my A Level results in or when I rang the vets to see if my cat ‘Silvester’ had come through the operation and also how I felt when Gareth Southgate stepped up to take that penalty. The waiting was over the text said simply ,‘Yes’.

Next Week : The wedding day drama