Page 7 of Going Overboard

You really can’t beat the Yorkshire countryside. The rolling green hills, the trees, the drystone walls – it’s iconic.

I’m noticing, as I’m driving to Al and Kira’s wedding venue – a hotel just outside York – that the cows are lying down. They say that means rain, don’t they? I don’t know who ‘they’ are, or if it’s true, but I really hope it isn’t because I’m going to a wedding under a marquee in the hotel grounds.

Al and Kira are great. She’s kind of a rock chick, he’s a former Mr Universe (or similar – one of those where you layer on the fake tan and pose in tiny trunks, rather than the one where you throw a washing machine while pulling an HGV), and you would think they wouldn’t work together but they really do.

I think it’s good, sometimes, when you have two people in a couple who are so different.

Although with Todd I always used to say that my weaknesses were his strengths, and vice versa.

You know, my weaknesses like maths, and his weaknesses like staying in our relationship.

Ugh. Every bend I drive around – and this is one windy road – pisses off the butterflies in my stomach, and they’re not in a good mood today as it is.

Unsurprisingly the thought of seeing Todd has me feeling like I’m going to throw up.

My brain is going here, there and everywhere, thinking about what will happen, running all these different simulations – Will he talk to me?

Will he ignore me? Will he be rude to me?

I’m actually arguing with him, in my head, imagining him saying horrible things and thinking about how I’ll reply.

To be honest with you, it’s making me even more mad at him, and it’s not even a real conversation.

Glancing at the satnav, I can see that I’m only ten minutes away now.

It’s just a reception, without a ceremony, because Al and Kira got married on a beach somewhere (and didn’t demand everyone they know join them), but they still wanted to have a traditional wedding so it will have everything else.

The outfits, the cake, the speeches, tossing the bouquet – probably to me, because I’m not even sure who else we know who isn’t coupled up.

Maybe I’ll hide in the loos for that part of the proceedings.

My palms feel sweaty – it’s an extra effort to keep them in place on my steering wheel, and driving my Fiat 500 through a drystone wall is not going to make today any easier.

Then again, I’m sure it will get me out of the inevitable moment towards the end of the night when I find myself sadly swaying to ‘Mr Brightside’, all on my own, in the middle of the dance floor.

Still, it’s not all bleak, I’ll probably get some cake.

Let’s focus on that… Except I can’t focus on that, because it’s only been two weeks.

That’s just fourteen days, since he dumped me in such a spectacularly cruel fashion.

I know, there’s no ideal time to dump someone, but surely on the dance floor at a wedding is the worst?

I’ll never understand why he did it, then and there, and as much as I want to ask him to satisfy my curiosity, I don’t think any good can come from me having an answer to that question.

Well, I’m here now, there’s no turning back, I suppose.

Wow, the hotel is picture perfect, like something out of a bridal mag with a headline above it saying: Most perfect wedding venues in Yorkshire.

It’s an old stone building with those tiny windows you often see in older properties, but then there’s an ultra-modern extension that seems more practical.

Still, with it being all glass, it reflects the countryside around it, making it appear almost invisible.

That’s one of Todd’s favourite tricks. Fuck, it annoys me so much that I keep talking about him, like he’s still mine.

There’s a large fountain (that looks oddly inviting on a scorcher like today – not that I plan on getting in it) that acts as a sort of turning circle for cars, and with no idea which car park I’m supposed to go in I decide it’s best I drive up to the hotel entrance and see if there are any signs, saying where wedding guests should go.

Oh, okay, this place really is fancy because it has valet parking.

There’s a man standing in the doorway, next to a sign that says ‘wedding parking’ and has an arrow pointing right at him.

He’s wearing a jacket with a name badge on, not that I can make it out from here.

I’ve never had anyone park my car for me before so I’m suddenly self-conscious of all the empty food wrappers (never turn up at a wedding hungry, you will never eat enough to last to the end of the day otherwise) and the fact that Busted is playing on the stereo. Perhaps we’ll turn that off.

I jump out of my car and walk up the couple of steps to where the man – Ryan, I can see from his badge – is standing, but just as I reach the doorway I notice him, Todd, standing in reception.

Oh, and he looks infuriatingly good in his suit.

He looks mentally good too, like this break-up hasn’t affected him in any way.

Looove that for him. He’s talking to a hotel employee, laughing his head off, clearly having the time of his life.

He looks great and I probably look like crap from the sweaty drive. My plan was always to go to the loos and touch up my make-up so he absolutely cannot see me until I have done that, because I need to look good too, like I have my shit together, not like I’m losing it.

Okay, let’s not panic, let’s just give the man the keys and then make a shifty dash to the toilets before Todd sees me, because right now I’m a sitting duck out here. Getting in the fountain might actually be a good option for me.

I practically thrust my keys into the valet’s hands. He looks taken aback by my abruptness – I’m not surprised, I’ll bet the clientele here is usually much less flappy.

‘Sorry, I’m in a rush,’ I explain, because I just offloaded my keys to him like they were a grenade with the pin pulled.

‘I’m with the Al and Kira wedding party.

The wedding. I think I’m late so I’ll just grab the keys from reception later, yeah?

I’m Jessa, by the way, if you need to put a name to them.

Again, sorry, just rushing – and don’t worry about the light that comes on when you turn left, it’s been doing that for ages, no one knows why. ’

The man blinks at me as the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. Okay, yeah, he’s never had to deal with a hot mess like me before.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ I say as I dash off.

‘Enjoy the wedding,’ he calls after me.

Ha. Chance would be a fine thing. At least I’ve managed to get away from Todd though, even if it is just for now, if it means I can top up my warpaint then great, anything that might help.

Perhaps I could nip to the bar too, seeing as though I do actually have time to spare.

I could have a drink now, take the edge off – well, I’m going to be here all day, so it will be long out of my system by the time I can get away with ducking out.

Yep, a hasty makeover, a cheeky cocktail – then all I need is Kelsey, my wingwoman, and I’ll be fine.

It will all be fine.