Cold Feet novel Chapter 11

VIOLA

I do not sleep well at all through the night. My mind is too full of the possibilities of what might happen. To be honest I am expecting the worst but praying for a miracle.

Since I can’t sleep, I finally move to the couch and turn on the television. I tune into the local news channel and things go from bad to worse. I thought it was simply a local story that would pass quickly but I thought wrong.

I suppose there’s some young ‘wannabe great reporter’ at the station who’s decided that this story might just be their ticket to something bigger. They have dug up more information about the wedding and, more importantly, my business. I listen as the latest news about the story is broadcast and feel sick. If only it was morning sickness, it would surely be better than this.

The reporter is a young woman, blond and pretty with a captivating smile who seems only too happy to be telling the world about me and my business.

“…it would seem that the world of the wedding planner is no longer about ensuring that couples have the best day of their lives when they get married. It seems that behind the scenes of the wedding planner’s business, it’s all about the commercial aspects that generate as much cash as possible. Wedding planners are in big demand with wedding locations that offer wedding planners discounts or incentives to host their clients’ weddings at their location. Other suppliers do the same, including cake suppliers, clothing suppliers, gift suppliers, virtually anyone and everyone who has a role to play. The happy couple is no longer the important client but wedding planners have become the royalty in the wedding business. Everyone bows to them and offers them more and more incentives without their clients being any the wiser and to make matters worse the incentives given to wedding planners are seldom passed on to their clients. The people deriving the greatest benefits from planning weddings for customers are the wedding planners themselves who are getting wealthier and wealthier as wedding costs are being inflated, costs which are all passed on to the wedding couple and their families to fit the bill. In the wedding which went so disastrously wrong this evening, a new aspect was brought to light. The wedding planner for this wedding employs a ‘cold feet’ counselor, someone whose job it is to coax brides and even grooms through their pre-wedding doubts which are commonly referred to as cold feet. It has been brought to my attention that the bride at tonight’s disastrous wedding expressed her doubts to this specialist employed by the wedding planner and the specialist pushed the bride to ignore it, and even tried to make her believe that she was wrong about believing her husband to be was cheating on her before the wedding. We all know now what the outcome was. The groom was literally caught with his pants down in a compromising situation with the bridesmaid. They were caught in the bathroom at the wedding reception as depicted by this video shot at the time by a wedding guest. Who in this situation is guilty? Is it the husband? Well, he is guilty of one thing but, would this have happened if the bride and never been pushed to go through with the wedding in the first place? Should the public be calling for the wedding planning industry to be regulated by law? Is the wedding planner, Viola Holt going to be sued by the bride and her family?

I’m Sandra Brown and I’ll keep you updated as this story develops…”

I mute the television. I have the sick feeling that I am watching my death as it is happening. I look at my phone. There were no messages. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Right now, I long for someone, anyone, to text me. Anyone regardless if they tell me I am the most useless, selfish, manipulative, greedy bitch they have ever known. I would prefer an instant message from a friend offering a shoulder to cry on but lacking that I would settle for the former option. Anything to keep my mind away from its thoughts of what the day will bring later when the rest of the world wakes up from its slumber.

I decide to return the family’s money. All of it. Not just the profits as I had planned to do. Everything. I can afford it. It will hurt me but what more can I do?

Under the circumstances, it’s the best thing to do. At least I can let Trish and her parents feel as if they have not been cheated financially.

I eventually fall asleep on the sofa watching a reality television show about couples’ weddings. I know the show well and I even hoped to be featured on the show at some point but I am now pretty sure that dream has gone up in smoke. They wouldn’t touch me with an Instamatic camera much less feature me on their television series.

My sleep is troubled and at some time I must have woken up and turned off the television. When I finally wake, I realize that my body decided to reclaim the hours of rest it needed but had was denied by my mind the night before.

It’s nine am.

Damn! I jump off the sofa and almost run to the bathroom where I shower and brush my teeth in record time. I dry myself, get dressed, and apply very little makeup. I check my look in the mirror and decide that I am dressed down well enough. I do not wish to appear to be too smart and expensively dressed when I met Trish’s parents. I am sure they have heard the news by now and I do not want to give that reporter woman, Sandra’s accusations any vindication.

I leave home and head to Trish’s parents. It takes me thirty minutes to reach their home. When I stop outside there’s a five series BMW parked outside. I wonder who it belongs to. It most certainly isn’t the family’s car. I’ve been here enough times during the course of preparing for the wedding to know it’s not their vehicle.

I take a good look at it as I walk up the drive and reach the front door. I ring the bell and wait nervously for the door to open chastising myself for not dressing better.

The door is opened by Trish’s father, George. He looks at me coldly.

“Good morning,” he says omitting my name as if saying it would be distasteful, perhaps even poisonous.

“Good morning, sir,” I say. “May I come in?”

“After last night’s fiasco, you are the last person I expected to see. You’re not welcome but I suppose we do have something to talk about. We are busy with another meeting though, so if you don’t mind waiting in the entrance hall until we are finished…”

“Certainly. I understand,” I reply. George steps back and lets me in.

I hold my handbag as I wait patiently in the entrance hall. I can hear soft voices in the living room but I can’t hear what they’re saying. From the tone of the voices, I gather that they are nearly finished. I am right. George reappears a short while later escorting their guest to the door.

When I see him, I feel as if my blood starts boiling instantly. I know my face is flushed and it’s not from the brief period of intimacy we shared but because of my anger at him.

Rick. I should have known. He sees me, smiles and winks, and then his face becomes serious as he shakes his head almost imperceptibly with what I believe is disappointment. I have never seen someone try on so many expressions so fast. I feel my gut twist. I’m sure he is here because of me, and I’m sure he’s coming for me. I feel sick as I feel myself flush like a child scolded in public even though no-one has said anything.

George greets Rick and shakes his hand. He watches him leave before closing the door and then waves to me indicating I should follow him as he heads back to the living room.

We enter the living room and my eyes meet Emma. She seems to have aged overnight. She looks at me with sadness. I see the pain of someone who feels betrayed in her eyes.

George crosses to Emma and gently takes her hand. They sit down on the sofa together and George pats her hand reassuringly.

“Please have a seat,” George says looking at me.

I sit down but only on the edge of the single-seater sofa, behind me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Benton, I came here to tell you how truly sorry I am for what happened last night. I expect that you’ve heard the news by now. You must…”

Emma looks up her eyes suddenly hard. “What were you thinking?” she asks her voice rising steadily as she speaks. “What in heavens name made you believe talking anyone out of cold feet when they’re getting married was a good idea?”

“Experience has shown me that people get cold feet. When the bride or groom or both get cold feet, they do eventually get married. I did what I did because I know how hard it is to get people to come from so many different places at such an expense only to be disappointed if the wedding doesn’t go ahead.”

“Do you think I care?” Emma asked. “Do you think I care about the cost? I care about my daughter. She is everything that matters.”

“I understand Mrs. Benton. Trish is the most important person in this situation and I am truly sorry…”

“It’s easy to say sorry after the damage has been done. Sorry makes nothing right. Trish will live with the scars of yesterday for all of her life.”

“I know. I am truly sorry. I was wrong. I can’t go back and change what happened and I am truly sorry. Please forgive me…”

“…forgive you? Forgive you?” Emma’s voice rises as she speaks. I see spittle fly from her mouth as she turns a lighter shade of purple. “You dare to come in here and make this about you? How dare you ask for forgiveness? You knew… you knew Trish had doubts and a valid reason for those doubts and yet you pushed her to go through with it. How embarrassing do you think it is to stand in a reception full of guests who toast you and your husband only to be in the front of the same people ten minutes later when the groom is caught with his… his… fucking dick in that… that tart?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.…”