Don’t tell the Boss Page 4

  I’m trying to avert my eyes so we don’t have that awkward eye-meeting moment where he recognises me. It’s sort of an unwritten rule we have in the group that if you’re with company, you don’t acknowledge each other. Or, as I learnt the hard way, it lands you in all sorts of hot water when you try and explain to people how you know the other person.

  It’s a shame though; I haven’t seen Nick for ages because he now goes to the splinter support group on a Thursday night. It would have been lovely to have caught up with him.

  I’m suddenly vaguely aware that there’s someone standing over the table and I have this awful feeling that it’s Nick. I look up at him and I try and do the ‘not now’ eyes at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking very intently at Henri.

  ‘Darling,’ she purrs, ‘you’re here!’

  I watch in horror as Henri rubs Nick’s arm and he pulls out the spare chair.

  ‘Darling, this is Penny, the wedding planner.’

  Nick sits down and turns to me and then he noticeably freezes. It looks like his eyes are going to pop straight out of his head. He starts making noises like he’s choking, which he tries to disguise in a cough.

  ‘Darling, are you all right?’ asks Henri. She leans in close, like she’s a puzzled child investigating him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ squeaks Nick. He clears his throat and tries again. ‘Fine,’ he says again in an overly compensating deep voice. ‘Penny, how lovely to meet you.’

  I was wondering whether Nick was going to confess to knowing me. I know we’re not supposed to ‘out’ each other publicly, but in this instance I wouldn’t have minded.

  ‘Lovely to meet you too. Sorry I didn’t catch your name,’ I say to him, not wishing to be caught out before we’ve even started.

  ‘Er … Nick,’ he says. He’s obviously not used to this do-we-know-each-other-or-not sketch.

  ‘I’m sorry, Penny, I should have introduced you two. Nicholas Eves, this is Penny Robinson.’

  It’s a bit weird to learn Nick’s full name. Up until that point, he’s just been Nick: Nick from the group. Although we know bits and pieces, we know very little personal information. It’s like looking at a black-and-white painting of someone’s life, all the little details: where they work, who they live with, what their favourite food is, are all a mystery. But here now, seeing Henri sitting next to him, stroking his hand, Nick’s painting is suddenly coming into colour.

  I’d always assumed Nick was already married; he’s got that dependable two-point-four children, family man look about him. Funny how wrong you can be.

  ‘Penny was just asking me questions about what type of wedding we want.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ says Nick. ‘Yes, the wedding! Have you been wedding planning for long, Penny?’

  ‘No, in fact, this is my second wedding.’

  And quite possibly the last. I don’t think my heart is up to all this shock and excitement.

  ‘Right. Henri, dear, do you think we should get a wedding planner with more experience?’

  ‘Nicholas! Don’t be so rude. You should have seen the beautiful wedding that she planned Lara and Ben, and they had more limited funds. I’m sorry, Penny, I don’t know what’s got into him,’ says Henri, as if she’s talking about a naughty toddler rather than her fiancé.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Don’t worry, Henri, I know exactly what has got into him.

  ‘No, it’s not. Nick, apologise.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Penny,’ he says, sighing.

  I’m now connecting the dots between Henri’s budget wedding and Nick’s gambling habit. It’s not just Nick who suddenly doesn’t want me to plan this wedding, I’ve got a sick feeling in my stomach about it too. It’s making me think back to my own wedding when I kept my gambling habit a secret from Mark. I hope that Nick’s been more honest with Henri. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of that situation again.

  ‘That’s fine, Nick. But I don’t want to force you into this. If you’d feel comfortable getting a planner with more experience, I would completely understand.’

  ‘Come on, Nick. It was your idea to organise it on a budget. And we need help if we’re getting married this year. If you hadn’t dragged your feet all these years,’ she says, laughing.

  I smile awkwardly. I can guess why he’s been slow to pop the question.

  ‘Henri’s right. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job, Penny.’

  ‘Great,’ I say lying. ‘So, why don’t we have a quick chat about what kind of a day you both envision having. Do you see yourselves getting married in a church or having a civil ceremony?’

  ‘Church,’ replies Nick.

  ‘Civil ceremony,’ replies Henri.

  What a fabulous start. Henri and Nick give each other curious looks and then they look back at me.

  ‘Right, I guess you two can have a chat about that and let me know when you’ve chosen. How about types of venue, are we thinking a classic hotel-type day or somewhere a bit more off-beat?’

  ‘Hotel,’ says Henri.

  ‘Off-beat,’ says Nick.

  ‘OK,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s get back to basics. When were you thinking?’

  ‘August,’ says Henri.

  ‘December,’ says Nick.

  Oh, dear goodness. I’m almost afraid to ask them anything else.

  ‘Have you not talked to each other about what you want?’ I say gently, trying not to come across like a shrink.

  Henri sighs heavily. ‘We’ve tried to, but it always comes back to us arguing over what we want versus what we’ll be able to afford.’

  On reflection, maybe my ‘don’t tell the groom’-themed wedding was inspired genius. I had no one but myself to be angry at or frustrated with what I was choosing.

  ‘OK. Well, look, we don’t have to sort out the nitty-gritty today. I think it would be best if you took one of my budget forms away with you, so it gives me an idea of the kind of proportions you want to spend on each aspect of the wedding. It covers things like food, entertainment and the venue. Then we can have a look at it together and we’ll be able to see what things are more important to you. Don’t worry if you go over your budget, I just want to get an idea of your priorities.

  ‘And I also think that you really should talk about whether you want to get married in a church or have a civil ceremony location. That will help us when we start looking for venues. It would be especially useful if you’ve got a particular place in mind in terms of where you want to get married. We don’t want to start finding a reception venue that’s hours away from the church.’

  Henri’s nodding her head enthusiastically and Nick looks like he’s wondered just what he’s got himself into.

  I take the wedding budget form out of my folder and hand it to them.

  ‘You might want to browse through a couple of these wedding magazines too, as they could give you a few ideas. Now, these are generally aimed at more high-end weddings, ones that would cost two to three times what you have to spend. But don’t be put off. I’m sure if there’s an idea you like, if we think creatively we can probably find a budget way to do it.’

  ‘What about us leaving the venue in a helicopter? I always fancied that,’ says Nick, looking hopefully at me.

  I shoot Nick a warning glance. I’m masquerading as a wedding planner, not a miracle worker.

  ‘Perhaps I can live without a helicopter.’

  ‘Probably wise,’ I reply. ‘Well then, you’ve got plenty to talk about. Why don’t I leave you to it? Now, as we’re probably not going to have much time to plan the wedding if, Henri, you’re thinking of August, we should meet again in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘That sounds super,’ says Henri.

  ‘Great then.’

  I start putting on my coat, ready to leave.

  ‘Perhaps we should go too, Henri,’ says Nick.

  ‘Really, don’t you think we should stay here to talk about the wedding?’ says Henri.

  ‘No, let’s go home and I ca
n curl up with a scotch and you can tell me about the wedding we’re going to have.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ says Henri.

  ‘Do you need to run to the bathroom before you go?’

  Nick is sounding just a bit like someone’s mother. I’m desperately trying to get up and away from this conversation but my bag’s tangled in my chair.

  ‘I think I’ll be fine,’ says Henri.

  ‘Really? With your bladder?’

  I’d die if Mark ever said that to me in public. I’m trying to keep my eyes fixed on the table, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that Henri’s turned a little bit pink.

  ‘No,’ she says, ‘I’m fine.’

  Nick is looking not at Henri but at me, with pleading eyes. I realise that that little exchange was supposed to get Henri out of the way so that Nick could speak to me alone.

  ‘Now, then,’ I say, picking up my bag. ‘Remember, you can both call me if you have any questions or worries about anything,’ I say raising my eyebrows in a conspiratorial manner to Nick. ‘Nick, it’s probably a good idea for us to swap numbers, you know, in case there are any emergencies or decisions that affect the groom rather than the bride.’

  ‘Excellent idea, Penny,’ says Nick, nodding.

  I thought he’d like that, much better than creating fictitious bladder conditions. He takes his phone out quicker than a gunfighter whipping his gun out at the O.K. Corral. We swap numbers and I swear he gives me a wink, but it is so quick and stealthy that I can’t be sure.

  ‘I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, folks.’

  I leave the coffee shop and breathe a sigh of relief to leave them behind. They’ve got some tricky conversations ahead. I should count myself lucky that I didn’t have to go through that with Mark. The only part that he helped plan was the guest list, and that caused enough arguments.

  As I reach my car, my phone beeps and I wonder if it’s Nick texting already, but it’s Henri.

  Thanks for the lovely meeting. I’m super-excited that you’ve taken us on. You’ll have to forgive Nick, that’s his business brain coming through. He’s a teddy bear, really, and he’s just as excited as I am that you’re on board. Already looking forward to our next meeting!

  I read the text and smile. I wish I shared Henri’s excitement, but since the revelation of the identity of the groom, I’m starting to feel uneasy about the whole thing.

  chapter four

  princess-on-a-shoestring friend or foe:

  The Wedding Abroad.

  I love the idea of getting married abroad: those magical photos on the beach, the sea lapping at your feet. The pluses are numerous: you can almost guarantee the weather you want, the photos will look amazing, and often they can be more intimate which allows you time to really celebrate with your guests. A lot of people think that it’s the cheapest option, which it might be for you, but what about your guests who will have to fork out for their flights and accommodation? Not to mention using their precious annual leave and having to have a holiday where you want to get married!

  If you’re thinking about going down this route, then talk to your friends and family first and sound them out. If you do go ahead, don’t be disappointed if some people can’t come - and do try and have a party for those that get left at home! What do you think - are weddings abroad friend or foe? Are you planning one - or have you attended as a guest?

  Tags: wedding abroad, destination wedding.

  Since Giles told us the wonderful news that Shelly and I were going head to head for the potential new job, the atmosphere at work has become a little odd. Funny that. I don’t think an outsider would notice a change. You certainly can’t detect anything in the way we speak to each other. I don’t think even Marie, who sits with us, has noticed the tension that is bubbling under the surface. But I’m aware of the new behaviour.

  For example, the eleven a.m. snack break that we always take. Usually Shelly and I would share something like a Kit Kat or a Twix. Not now though. This morning, at approximately 10.42, Shelly opened and ate a Drifter. A Drifter! Our favourite of sharing treats. It was like she was flaunting it right in front of my very eyes. And I had to watch, pretending I wasn’t bothered at all, when really inside I was drooling. Then, at eleven, I had to eat the whole of my Breakaway bar by myself. So disappointing.

  And, yesterday morning, when it was her turn for the tea run, she asked Giles if he wanted a hot drink, despite the fact, he’s not usually included. She full-on knocked on the closed door and asked him if he wanted anything. And when he said he’d have a coffee, she didn’t just go and get him one of the crappy machine ones that taste like tar and burn your hand through the painfully thin plastic cups. No, yesterday, Shelly set the precedent of buying Giles actual coffee from the proper coffee machine from the canteen that actually uses real coffee beans and costs four times as much. Of course, the rest of us all got the crappy machine stuff. I’m surprised she didn’t get him a muffin to go with it. Talk about apple for teacher.

  Then there’s me; I’ve started to forgo my little web searches during the day. I’m not too worried that Giles will catch me in the act, instead I’m having to keep the one eye I’d usually have on the ASOS website trained on Shelly and what she’s up to. It hasn’t escaped my attention that if you take the h-e-l out of Shelly, you’re left with sly.

  Oh, hello. Giles’s door has opened. I’ve got a slight advantage over Shelly, as her back is to the door. I sit up a little straighter and furrow my brow over my emails to make it look like the one I’m writing is very taxing. It’s actually a very simple enquiry that I get on an almost daily basis. It requires an answer that a monkey could give, but right now my forehead looks so furrowed that it looks like I’m trying to work out what bonus I’d need to get to buy the entire spring collection of Louboutin’s.

  ‘Ah, Penny, I’m just off to see Bob in Finance, can I have a word with you on my way back?’ asks Giles.

  I look at my watch, it’s twenty past twelve, I was planning on lunching in ten minutes, but I guess I can forgo my mooch to the canteen and back. Although I had bought the latest copy of Heat magazine at the petrol station this morning and was looking forward to a lunchtime read. But, as Mark says, I really should put my best foot forward at work to get this promotion. I’m sure giving up reading ‘what’s hot and what’s not’ is exactly what he meant.

  ‘Great, I’ll be here waiting,’ I say smiling away, like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. I glance over at Shelly. She’s staring at her computer screen, but I can see her nostrils flaring in rage.

  ‘I wonder what that’s about,’ I say as I watch him disappear over to the ‘dark side’ of the office, aka the Finance Department.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,’ says Shelly, unblinking.

  I’m not worried, I want to say to Shelly. It’s true, for once in my work life, I’m not worried. Not this week anyway. I haven’t been this conscientious since, well, I first started. But now, doubt is starting to creep into my mind. Maybe Giles has changed his mind since our meeting. Maybe he’s realised that he doesn’t need an HR department in the UK office after all. Or maybe Shelly’s jealous that Giles called me in and not her. Is she playing mind games with me?

  I’m distracted from my fears by my mobile buzzing. I smile as I see it’s a text from Mark.

  Haven’t seen you much this week. Fancy going out for a curry tonight?

  I mentally run through the evening I had planned: writing a blog post and going over Henri’s budget sheets. But Mark’s right, we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately. I guess I could always get up early tomorrow before work and write the blog post. I reply before going back to worrying about what Giles wants to talk to me about.

  By the time that I see his lofty head appear over the open-plan office, I’m fraught with nerves. Shelly has got a smug-looking smirk on her face which makes me think that she can sense my developing anxiety. It’s not escaped my attention that she didn’t go to lunch either, an
d instead she’s been eating soup from her flask.

  I’m about to get out of my chair to meet Giles at his office door when my phone beeps. I pick it up, thinking I’ll respond when I get out of the meeting.

  Wedding emergency! Call me ASAP!

  I know I told her that she could call me in a dire panic, but what kind of wedding emergency can Henri possibly be having? She hasn’t even set a flipping date. Unless the emergency is that she’s decided to get married this lunchtime and she’s on her way to Gretna Green, in which case there’s nothing I can do anyway. And now is definitely not a good time.

  I speed-text my reply as Giles is getting worryingly close and I don’t want to appear like I’m texting instead of being hard at work. Although it is after one and I should be looking at ‘torso of the week’ and tucking into my tuna baguette right now. I hope Giles will realise how dedicated I am, working through lunch, when he hears my stomach growl.

  Just in meeting, will call after.

  I look up and Giles catches my eye and gives me a finger point. It looks a little ominous, but I think it’s too much to expect Giles to manage a friendly wave.

  I get up reluctantly and smile at Shelly as I go. He did, after all, single me out, which means I feel a little like the chosen one. The stupid thing is that back when nice Nigel was our boss, we both would have been in and out of his office all day long. I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if Shelly had gone in at nine a.m. and come out at five. There were no cloak and daggers or handbags at dawn then.

  I walk into the office and Giles closes the door behind us. The whole thing feels like a clandestine operation and I wonder if I’m going to be trained up for some secret mission. Maybe I’m not being fired after all. Maybe I’m going stealthily into the organisation. Like Undercover Boss. Maybe they’ll make me dye my hair and put on some dodgy facial hair. This is probably fairly unlikely as I’m not big or important in the company. Unless it’s something like undercover underling and I have to go and snoop around the management. That would be awesome.