Maddy’s Christmas Wedding (Little Duck Pond Cafe #37)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I was due at work by ten, so I phoned Ellie and explained what had happened. She hadn’t seen it on the news and she was horrified.

‘Take the day off,’ she said. ‘You need to get it sorted . . . work out what you’re going to do.’

‘I can’t leave you in the lurch.’

‘We’ll be fine. Really. Actually, it’s just the excuse I need to do a shift myself. Zak’s being far too protective, wanting me to rest up now there’s a baby on board.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’

‘Of course I’m sure. If you start phoning round, maybe you’ll get a cancellation somewhere.’

‘Maybe.’ I appreciated Ellie’s optimism but I knew it was highly unlikely.

‘Let me know what happens, okay? And Maddy?’

‘Yup?’

‘It’ll all work out.’

‘Thanks.’

I ended the call feeling wrung out and exhausted – and we hadn’t even started phoning round to try and get a venue . . .

*****

By mid-afternoon, Jack and I were lounging at each end of the sofa, feeling utterly spent, having spent the day trying to find an available venue and getting absolutely nowhere.

We’d been told we’d ‘probably’ get at least some of our deposit back, although it still wasn’t certain. I’d phoned Marcus, panicking that he might already have paid the huge catering bill, but to my relief, he hadn’t. He’d been planning to do that later in the week. He was shocked at the news and said he’d try and think of a solution, call in a few favours, although later he phoned to say he’d had no luck. Everywhere was booked solid for Christmas.

We’d spent the day phoning all the hotels for miles around – with no luck at all – and we’d then resorted to calling all the village halls in the area, but of course they were all booked up with Christmas activities. My spirits rose hopefully during one conversation – a lovely, helpful woman said that the hall was free on Christmas Eve, but then she told me the reason why: they’d recently had a flood and the place needed redecorating, so the am dram panto had relocated to another building.

We tried all avenues. But when I found myself wondering if maybe we could borrow some stepladders and redecorate the flood-damaged village hall ourselves, I realised my desperation for a solution had taken me into slightly farcical territory!

‘That’s it.’ I let my phone fall onto the carpet. ‘I give up.

Jack looked similarly fed up. ‘What do you want to do?’

I shrugged, close to tears. ‘There’s nothing we can do. Is there? We’ve tried everything.’

‘We can still get married. We’ve still got the booking at the registry office.’

‘True.’ I smiled at him, but I knew he’d be able to tell from my sad face that not having a proper reception – with all our friends and family there – was never going to be an option for me.

I really wished I could be happy with a registry office wedding and maybe a nice dinner for close family afterwards. But I’d been looking forward to my wedding day since I was a little girl and I didn’t think I could do it that way. I wanted to feel like a princess for the day, however superficial that might seem. I wanted all the glitz and the glamour and the gorgeous dress. It probably meant I was a shallow sort of person, but I didn’t care. I wanted what I wanted. Everyone deserved to have their dreams come true on the biggest day of their lives, didn’t they? (And apart from anything else, all the restaurants would be booked up already for Christmas Eve, so even a meal out after tying the knot at the registry office would be impossible.)

I sighed heavily. ‘I think . . . we should probably cancel the registry office.’

‘I think you’re right.’ Jack looked as sad as I felt. ‘We should postpone it. Hopefully get the deposit back and then find ourselves a new venue. In the spring, maybe?’

‘Or next Christmas?’ A winter wedding had always been on my wish list and I was unwilling to abandon the idea just yet. ‘Can I leave that up to you? Because I don’t think I can face phoning the town hall and saying I’m not getting married, after all.’

He nodded and reached out, pulling me over so we were lying together on the sofa.

My tears leaked into his jumper. But I knew I had to put on a brave face. We were going to have to contact all our guests to let them know the wedding was off, which was a horrible thought. But I couldn’t afford to just crumple in a miserable heap on the floor and remain there.

The news had to be delivered.

A brave face would be very much needed . . .