Page 15 of The Stand-in Dad

14 MEG

62 Days Until the Wedding

Meg was tired. She had been up late the night before finishing an illustration project for a breakfast cereal brand’s new advertising campaign. She had been drawing pieces of cereal for so long she had become almost like a factory manufacturing line, and by two o’clock, because she was almost done and why not, she had stayed up another half an hour to finish.

Later that day, she knew she needed to fit in some time looking at Ramon’s taco truck branding. She’d talked about it with Gus, who’d said he’d been texting Ramon and when he mentioned it to him, he had been really keen. She was happy to help, now she’d confirmed the truck for the wedding, and said she’d draw up a couple of mood boards.

She needed to catch up with Hannah too; it was tough, her being away, and trying to make her feel like she was involved in all the decisions. Since she worked in events, her input was genuinely so helpful, and she knew at some point today she needed to update the wedding spreadsheet and send it to her.

David was picking her up at eight-thirty that morning, so, thinking back to all her work yesterday and the work that was to come, it was with heavy legs and tired eyes that she climbed into his van, heaving herself up the small step, careful not to make a groaning noise. Another thing for the list – she really needed to start learning to drive.

‘I brought you a coffee,’ he said, passing her one of the Savage Lilies-branded cups, bright green with striped lettering. ‘A flat white. Have I got that right? Oh it rhymes!’

‘Thanks so much,’ she said, taking it gratefully and balancing it between her legs. It was needed, and likely the only way she would make it through today’s appointments. She’d had two pubs in the area save the date for her, and she would pick between them when they had a chance to meet the owners. However, she was aware their idea of a simple wedding in a pub would need a level of decoration to feel simple, and so she had found Jacques, an interior designer and event specialist who had invited her and David to his home in order to talk through her ideas and what he might be able to offer. The appointment was free, he’d said on the phone, as it was important to make sure their ideas matched, and that they had synergy.

He lived in one of the new builds on the other side of town, in a huge area that Meg remembered going to on a school trip once when it was just fields, when they had been learning about local wildlife. When they arrived, they instantly knew which was his door, as it had the number of the house but a small plaque next to it, which read Jacques: Event Visuals and Interior Design.

Once inside, Jacques didn’t waste much time. Meg had barely taken in the design of the house itself before he had begun interrogating her about the wedding. Briefly, she took in wood panelling on one wall, a marble light fitting and, in the garden, a sunken conversation pit. It was in no way what you might expect from the uniformity you were greeted with from the road, and though the décor was loud, it was all very charming and fitted together.

‘So,’ he said. He was tall and thin, and was wearing a fitted shirt and chinos that were pin-straight down to his feet where he wore duck-patterned socks. ‘There are such simple things you can do to make a venue look great. Nowadays, it’s all about the visuals. You want every photo, every angle, to be perfect. You only get one shot at this, for all the shots to be flawless.’

It felt like a rehearsed line. He was evidently much more serious than the vendors they had seen before. David was refusing to meet her eye.

‘The visuals need to be unique, but comfortable on people’s eyes,’ Jacques said. ‘They need to let people know, you know, that this is a wedding. No, that this is the wedding.’

‘Exactly,’ David said, nodding.

Meg turned sideways and looked at him.

‘The things I’d like to focus on,’ Jacques continued, ‘with what you’ve shown me, is a photo wall. Not with flowers – that’s a bit passé – but imagery.’ David stiffened next to her. ‘Something different. We need to unite the space, so again, flowers, if used sparingly, could do that, but I’m more interested in linens, and cushions, and colour. The arch at the end of the aisle, that’s always really clearly setting out your stall. I’ll need to see what you’re wearing, and the outfit of who’s walking you down the aisle, to make sure everything matches.’

‘Erm yes,’ Meg said. She didn’t want to think about her dad still not confirming he was coming and therefore that he would walk her down the aisle. In front of Jacques, and for now, she just pretended. ‘Yes, that’ll be fine.’

‘Good,’ Jacques continued. ‘And again, that’s just more of the linens, the way I usually do them. If you hire in, that’s actually not too expensive. Linens look much better than anything else.’

‘But flowers are important, right?’ David said. ‘Sorry, I should have said. I’m her florist.’

‘Oh.’ Jacques paused. ‘People don’t usually bring their florists.’

‘Oh, he’s also my …’ Meg said ‘… friend.’

David smiled at her.

‘Flowers are great,’ he said, correcting himself. ‘Don’t get me wrong. We love a florist! Well done you. Florals can be very … impactful, when used sparingly.’ He was flitting about the room, grabbing different materials to show her. ‘You said about non-traditional weddings, well I like to use flowers slightly less than for a traditional service. I like to think of visuals as made up of, say, fifty things, rather than just flowers, like everyone else thinks of.’

Meg slightly got it, but she was in no way going to alienate David, and she could see how you could have multiple flowers alongside whatever décor Jacques would plan. Distractingly, Meg couldn’t count the number of times he had said the word visuals .

‘Look, let me show you,’ he said, sitting down between them with a big book with his name embossed on the front. ‘The pictures speak for themselves.’

Meg breathed in, perhaps expecting some kind of friction here over the differing tastes of the three of them, but from the first page of the book, she was hugely impressed.

‘These are …’ Meg began.

‘Amazing,’ David said, finishing her sentence.

Each page had a before and after, and he had managed to turn a lot of familiar locations across the city and its surrounding towns into bespoke, modern venues. There was a town hall where she’d been to birthday parties years ago as a child that had been turned into what looked like a sun-drenched Italian cottage, or there was an installation in the shopping centre Meg had spent countless weekends hanging around in that had turned a marble-floored concrete square into a bright cartoony beach. It was uncanny, the places of Meg’s childhood made into something completely different.

‘That one wasn’t a wedding,’ Jacques said. ‘I had to work with … a lot of children.’ He looked like he’d eaten something sour.

‘Oh, I love this one!’ Meg said, pointing at the book. It was a hotel near where her parents had once lived, and with just white, pink and blue, Jacques had turned the space into an elegant sort of room that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see, which was then transformed again when the lights went down, and fairy lights in opposing colours turned it into a kind of linen-draped club. Meg remembered having a tenth birthday party there, with an S Club 7 theme.

‘We can use that as the blueprint,’ Jacques said. ‘That’s within the budget you mentioned to me.’

‘Okay, perfect,’ Meg said, nodding. ‘Oh I’m so excited now! And it’s so important to me to support queer-owned businesses in the area.’ She turned and beamed at him.

‘You’re just assuming I’m gay?’

‘Oh,’ Meg said. ‘I—’

‘No, we didn’t—’ David started.

‘Because my sign says interior design?’ Jacques stared at both of them. He grinned. ‘I’m just playing, of course I am. Imagine the alternative!’

He laughed to himself and, relieved, Meg and David did the same. He was odd, this man, but Meg liked his work and was intrigued by him. The photos spoke better than he did. As they relaxed, she let her eyes wander around the rooms of his home, and she saw in the kitchen that he had a breakfast bar with hanging saucepans in a way that reminded her of a home completely different to this one, like an old farmhouse. It was clever, really clever, what he’d done with the place.

‘I should say then,’ David began, ‘I’ve started a queer small business network, Work with Pride. For us to share learnings, but also to recommend each other. Would you like to join?’

Jacques paused. For the first time since they had arrived, he’d stopped speaking and he looked genuinely thankful. ‘That’s a great idea,’ he said. ‘Thanks so much.’

‘No worries,’ David said, passing him a card. ‘I wondered too if you might come and look at the design of my shop? We could do with fitting more people in for events and there’s a few things that could do with a refresh.’

‘I’d love to!’

They discussed dates, costs and next steps, and before too long, David and Meg were back in the van, returning to start their days.

‘All this and it’s only nine-thirty,’ David said. ‘We’re doing well.’

‘Aren’t we just?’ Meg said. ‘I’ve got a few more work bits to do, then I want to try the Lido at some point. I keep meaning to go.’

‘So, Jacques.’ David turned off the main road onto the street before the High Street. ‘Did you like him? Happy to go ahead?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ Meg said. ‘I know he made that little joke but I liked how proud he was, you know, and I feel like he’ll do a good job. Not everyone who does something for the wedding has to be a new friend. Maybe we’ve just struck lucky so far.’

‘Maybe,’ David said. ‘He’ll do a good job, but don’t you dare cut back on any flowers.’

‘David,’ Meg said. ‘That idea is unthinkable to me, trust me.’

‘Good,’ he replied, pulling into his usual parking spot in front of the shop. Meg heard a squeak under one of the wheels but didn’t say anything.

‘Do you think Hannah will like the one I picked out?’ Meg asked. ‘I’ll check with her obviously.’

‘I can’t see why not,’ he said. ‘It’s simple but really nice, and it has a lot of colour like she wanted.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you tend to have the same taste?’

‘I think so,’ Meg said. ‘We always pick the same things for the house, so, yeah.’

‘Do you think you’re similar generally?’ David said. They were standing by the van outside the shop and with Ray inside manning the till. David seemed in no rush to leave. ‘I always wonder how different you can or should be as a couple.’

‘I think so,’ Meg said. ‘Hannah’s maybe more adventurous than me. I like going out and doing things but I love a home comfort, and I’m really happy at home with my things, having a quiet one. She needs a little more excitement – new people, new places, you know, which her work gives her. I guess we’re the same with the big picture though, like neither of us want to work ourselves into the ground. We like that we do something we enjoy for our careers but we still want work to fit into our lives and not the other way around.’

‘That makes sense. I try to be the same.’

‘How about you and Mark?’

‘I think we were more different when we were younger,’ David said. ‘Mark always wanted to stay till the end of the evening, and he was definitely always more demonstrative in public, which I never was. But with everybody, when you get older, your life slows down in a pleasant way, and we’re probably the same as you in terms of liking the simple things. We have a routine that has enough variation in it to be exciting but enough stability for us to feel really strong.’

‘And do you think you’re different?’

‘Our upbringings were very different,’ David said. ‘I rush into things, whereas Mark takes his time, which I guess … He was brought up with really involved parents, whereas I was left to my own devices. I’m not very used to getting everyone’s opinion; I’m more used to being a lone ranger. He has to stop me jumping into things quite impulsively, but I think we balance each other out, like that.’

‘Were his parents good when he came out then?’

‘Yes,’ David said. ‘He’s only told me that story maybe once, since it’s so boring! They both already kind of knew, and were supportive. Mine were awful, but you know that.’

‘Oh I’m so sorry, David. You’ve told me the basics, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.’

‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I know you get it, you know, how tricky it can be.’

‘Do you ever … ?’

‘No, I never got round to it and it’s not an option now,’ he continued. ‘They died quite young. I’d just met Mark and my mum got ill, a complication with her lungs, then she died so suddenly before I’d got my head around going to see them. Then Dad died really quickly after that. A broken heart, I think. I was devastated obviously, but kind of removed from it. It was only in the years after I dealt with it properly. Mark recommended a therapist.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Not much you can do about the past though,’ David said. ‘You can only affect the present. Like I do wish I’d gone to the funerals. That’s a big regret, but …’ He sighed. ‘What can you do?’ He looked up oddly at the shop, as if he was going to say something about it. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and relieve Ray because I can see he needs to go to the toilet but is too polite to ask or leave the counter. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

With that, the positivity back on his face, David was gone, and Meg was left feeling optimistic about the wedding but sad for her friend, and wondering about her own parents and her own regrets. How would she feel in twenty years if they didn’t come to the wedding?