Page 9

8 MEG

83 Days Until the Wedding

Campbell Park was about twenty minutes from Meg’s, right in the centre of Milton Keynes. It sat just down from the shopping centre and the main blocks that made up the city and, in contrast to the grey industrial vibe of the city centre, all concrete and road, the park was lush and green, manicured into sections and pathways, and, mercifully for David, the parking was easy.

Meg was walking with David down into the middle where there was a small business and street food festival happening over the next few weekends. Already, Meg could smell some sort of tomato and cheese scent on the air, and offset against the calm natural green of the park’s trees were bright, loud neon signs, sizzling food and booming speakers.

Meg had wondered whether she had dreamed the last three weeks. She wondered whether she might wake up tomorrow and her parents would be knocking on her door, and everything would be as she hoped. Instead, she’d had occasional messages from David, reminding her about their appointments and asking if she had thought about certain things, like veil weights or table plan signage or colouring books for any children attending. She had nothing, no emails, texts or calls, from either of her parents, and she still didn’t want to be the one to message first.

Hannah was gone again, in Madrid and then to Rome for ten days in total, and Meg felt a renewed sense of purpose in her role of giving them both the wedding day they deserved. Today, they were to have a general browse for smaller details and the main mission was to look for food options for the day, and David also wanted to find more recruits for his queer business network, now called Work with Pride – Mark’s brilliant idea. There was pressure, given how little time they had until the wedding, and often Meg wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew, but when she said this to David, he seemed to mellow out the more neurotic parts of her brain.

‘People need to be fed, watered, and for you two to be there,’ David explained. ‘Then it’ll all fall into place. The basics are nearly there. That’s all people care about – nice wine and decent music. Trust me. At fifty-four, I’ve been to quite a few weddings.’

‘Oh God, I forgot we need to find a DJ!’

‘One thing at a time,’ David said. ‘Let’s think about food.’

‘You’re always thinking about food.’

‘And so will your guests!’

The pubs they were choosing between couldn’t do catering for the number of people they wanted, so David had suggested a food truck being a fun way of serving all their guests easily. They were walking together, but his path kept veering towards a big hut that served something called a cragel, a hybrid creation of a croissant and a bagel.

‘Shall we get a coffee and take a walk round, first?’ Meg said. ‘It’s a little overwhelming.’

‘Okay,’ David said. ‘My third of the day, then I’ll have to stop.’

Meg wondered if coffee ever affected David. He seemed level and alert no matter what time of day it was. Not wanting to change his mind, since a nice cappuccino would help keep her warm, they found a coffee cart, painted beige and brown, and Meg realized she didn’t know her friend’s coffee order. She turned to him. ‘What would you like?’

‘Cappuccino please,’ David said, adding ‘of course’ when the man asked if he’d like chocolate.

‘And a flat white for me please,’ Meg said.

‘I’ve had to get to grips with flat whites,’ David said. ‘They’re the new thing right?’

‘Kind of,’ Meg said. ‘I feel like they’re better at waking me up.’

Now she had the comfort of a warm paper cup in her hand, they wandered through families and couples, all browsing and tasting and sitting on picnic benches to enjoy what they’d bought. There was a young girl in a green dress trying to do a perfect cartwheel, and her parents clapping every time, regardless of her result.

They wandered through the stalls, tried a free piece of fudge each, and stood by a candle stall.

‘These are lovely,’ David said to the owner, sniffing one of them. ‘What’s the scent?’

The woman sitting behind the stall in a fold-up chair stood and began to explain each candle – the ones made of sage and patchouli, and lime and honey – and Meg watched as David listened attentively, learning all about the techniques they used for the different shapes. He smelt every single one, offering them to Meg too.

‘My friend here is getting married,’ he said.

‘Congratulations!’

‘Thank you,’ Meg said.

‘Do you need candles, Meg?’ he said. ‘I think that was on the spreadsheet.’

‘Probably a few for the tables,’ Meg said. ‘But not with an overwhelming smell. What do you recommend?’

The woman talked Meg through the two options she’d recommend, linen and rose, which she said were subtle scents that would not overpower the room, and she suggested having one for every eight people along the table. She said she’d had the rose at her own wedding.

‘I’ll think about it,’ Meg said, taking the business card from a small stack the owner was holding. ‘I’ll chat to my partner and get back to you.’

‘No worries, sweetheart.’

‘I’ve got a card too actually,’ David said, offering a small rectangle from his rain jacket’s pocket. ‘I’ve started a queer local business network called Work with Pride. As the name suggests, you don’t have to be queer yourself, just an ally perhaps, and I thought we could all help each other out. I run Savage Lilies, in Woburn.’

‘Oh yes I know of you,’ the woman said, smiling. ‘I’ll join for sure. That’s a great idea.’

Meg was stunned at how easily David seemed to win people over. They kept wandering, looking at small embroidered bags, children’s clothing, and a company that framed old photos.

‘Did you not like them?’ David said. ‘The candles.’

‘Yeah, they were nice,’ Meg said. ‘I just need to think about it.’

‘I wouldn’t go for the sage …’ David said. ‘That one smelt too much like stuffing.’

‘You told her it was your favourite!’

‘I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Meg said. ‘I could do with some food now.’

‘Go on then.’

They walked back up the hill towards the row of food vendors.

‘If you want to try a few, to get a sense of who you might book, well I guess that’s okay with me,’ David said. ‘I’ll make room, somehow.’

‘Why don’t we start from the left and do any we think would work? Ooh tacos!’ Meg pointed towards a rounded-edge van with a tall basic sign that just read TACOS. ‘Does what it says on the tin.’

‘They smell good,’ David said. ‘I’d buy their candle.’

They walked up to the till, and the young man inside smiled widely at them. He had dark hair and skin, and was wearing an apron and a hairnet. When he spoke, he gestured widely with his arms, and he spoke with a thick Mexican accent. He was very attractive, and she could tell David thought the same.

‘My first customers of the day!’ he said. ‘What do you want? It’s on the house.’

‘Oh you don’t have to do that!’ David protested. ‘We’re not that special!’

‘No but I want to,’ he said. ‘It’s a little tradition.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’ Meg said. They deliberated over the menu, both being much more expressive about how great everything looked, owing to the man’s nice gesture. Meg felt like she couldn’t order anything too expensive, so she suggested a standard taco each, rather than the more expensive quesadillas and dips. David chose the chicken and Meg asked for the tofu, and while the man heated up the fillings on a hot plate, he asked what brought them to the festival.

‘I’m getting married,’ Meg said. ‘Do you do weddings?’

‘Yes, we do!’ he said excitedly. ‘I haven’t yet, I mean … we’ve done … sorry I probably shouldn’t have said that. We haven’t before but I would like to!’

‘That’s okay,’ Meg said, finding this man’s nervousness utterly charming. ‘I’ve never planned one before either! What’s your name?’

‘I’m Ramon.’

‘I’m Meg, and this is David.’

‘When is the wedding?’ Ramon asked. ‘And what is your partner’s name?’

‘She’s called Hannah,’ Meg said, glad for the recognition, rather than the automatic jump to ‘his’ or ‘groom’.

‘And are you … how do they say it? Father of the bride?’ Ramon asked.

David laughed.

‘No, no,’ Meg said. ‘Well, kind of a father figure.’

‘Sorry, my mistake,’ Ramon said, holding up his hands. ‘Here, take my number and get in touch if you want. No pressure at all.’ He had finished compiling the tacos and he handed them over, and Meg took his number down in her phone. ‘I’ve not been open long, but the food’s great. If you like it, message me.’

‘Do you do this full-time?’

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I work in the shopping centre during the week, but I’m trying to get this to take off.’

Meg looked up at the sign, and the menus printed out from Word and posted on the flaps of the van that opened up. She instantly envisaged how she might help him and draw a logo that enticed people, but she could always offer to help him later, if they booked him. You couldn’t exactly take a free taco and then critique somebody’s business model.

‘Okay, thanks, Ramon.’

David handed him his card too and quickly explained the concept of the network. Ramon looked delighted to have been asked.

They walked away to find a picnic bench where they could sit and enjoy the food and Meg immediately made a noise with the first bite.

‘Wow,’ said David.

Meg was staring at the gooey inside of the tacos. ‘These are really, really good.’

‘They’re great.’

‘Good to have different options for veggies too,’ Meg said.

‘And he was nice,’ David said. ‘Which you want, you know, nice people at the wedding.’

‘I worry my parents would expect a traditional sit-down meal.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ David said. ‘You only get married once, and you said you and Hannah love Mexican. It’s your day, not anyone else’s.’

‘Do you think people like tacos?’

‘I’m sure they do,’ David said. ‘And how could anyone resist these?’ David had already finished his portion and was putting his box in the bin.

‘They’re great,’ Meg said.

‘They were absolutely incredible.’

Afterwards, they wandered to some of the other food places, and tried a small pot of ice cream and then some crackers, which were being given out as samples.

‘Ice cream doesn’t count as a sweet, right?’ Meg said. ‘I can’t betray Angie.’

‘If you see her, head down, keep walking,’ David said. ‘I’m not joking.’

One of the vendors from the jacket potato stand had been particularly pushy about the wedding. She was asking for dates, and a number of guests, and almost pinning Meg down to confirm, on the spot, with a queue of four people behind her.

‘I need more time to decide,’ Meg had insisted, as firmly as was natural to her, and David started to lead her away, while the woman muttered something about getting booked up very quickly in the summer. She noticed that David had tactfully not offered her a card for Work with Pride.

They walked far away to the other side of the park. Here, next to another coffee cart and a bar, there was a small stage, with a screen either side. They inspected the line-up of local artists who would be performing from four o’clock, in a couple of hours’ time.

‘David Fenton!’

Before Meg knew it, a woman was hugging David from behind, squeezing him so tight she was sure he was going a little red.

‘Oh, it’s my second favourite Martha,’ he said, hugging this woman who was clearly his friend. She had short blonde hair, shaved round the back and sides, and she was wearing a sleeveless denim vest and jeans. Underneath was a red T-shirt, with a slogan on that said something about America. She seemed familiar, and yet Meg was struggling to place her.

‘Who’s the first?’

‘Martha Stewart of course! She always shares her recipes.’

Martha rolled her eyes. ‘I’m Martha,’ she said to Meg. ‘Are you Meg?’

‘Yes!’

‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘I’ve told Martha about you,’ David explained.

‘Good things I hope,’ Meg said. ‘Well David’s been a big help to me already. How do you two know each other?’

‘We go quite far back, don’t we?’ Martha said.

‘Martha was one of our first neighbours when we moved to Woburn,’ he said. ‘She popped round to say hello and we’ve been friends ever since. Martha does some stuff for the youth club, sometimes.’

‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you,’ Meg said.

‘We’ve not met before, have we?’ Martha said. ‘You look familiar.’

‘I was going to say …’

‘Well,’ David said. ‘Meg grew up here, maybe you taught her?’

Meg looked at the woman again, and David was right; that was it.

‘You taught music at St Helens!’ Meg said. ‘Mrs …’

‘Miss Apoline.’ She smiled at Meg. ‘I remember you now,’ Martha said. ‘You briefly tried the piano.’

‘Unsuccessfully.’

Meg pictured Martha in school, looking completely different to now. In Meg’s memory, she was wearing jeans or a long skirt, and plain shirts. It was amazing how little you really knew of your teachers outside of school hours; she could never have imagined a teacher, even a substitute, in double denim. She may well have had a different haircut at the school too. She remembered kids whispering about Miss Apoline and her aloofness, the fact she might have been gay. Meg remembered just listening and saying nothing whenever the kids were mean. Of course, even as a child, she had recognized parts of the woman in herself, and the way people had mocked her scared her greatly. Now, an adult and a proud gay woman herself, it was so effortless to recognize one of her own.

‘Do you still teach?’

‘I’m part-time now,’ Martha said, smiling. ‘Which is a blessing. What do you have left to sort for the wedding then?’

This woman would definitely remember that Meg’s parents taught at the school, and maybe David had mentioned her situation. Tactfully, she seemed to be moving the conversation on. Suddenly, Meg was struck by panic. What would she do if she bumped into her parents today?

‘Oh,’ David said, putting on his reading glasses and checking the list on his phone. ‘Trying different foods.’

‘Of course,’ Martha said, laughing. ‘You must be hating it, David.’

‘Candles we might go back to; tablecloths you were after. We need a DJ too.’ David looked around as if he might see Sara Cox standing behind one of the stalls.

‘You know I DJ now?’

‘No, you don’t!’ Meg said.

‘I’d completely forgotten that!’ David said. ‘Wait, have you done weddings yet?’

‘Only a couple, but they’re my favourite,’ Martha said proudly. ‘I can show you some reviews. I’ve been teaching myself, have done a couple of events. Did one christening. Never again. But yes, weddings! Everyone’s there for a good time. Let me know. I’m not charging while I practise, but you can literally give me the songs you do and don’t want. I promise I won’t play all the straight songs, like “Sweet Caroline”, and “Mr Brightside”. Unless you want me to!’

‘Oh, are you sure?’ Meg said. ‘I mean that sounds amazing, and I did want queer businesses and people involved.’

‘Well that’s sorted then!’ David said, pretending to cross it off his list. ‘Tick!’

‘Will you give Meg my number and we can sort it, David?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’m starting a queer business group as well, for us to all promote each other. I’ll add you to that too, for DJing and for the music lessons.’

‘Thanks, David,’ Martha said. ‘God you’re good at stuff like that.’

‘We’re racing through this,’ David said. ‘We’ll be done soon. Anyway, Martha, what food have you tried? Any chance of that banoffee pudding recipe? I’ll buy you a candle.’

Another hour later, and a quick trip had turned into a full day out. It was after they’d had a second lunch of dumplings and spring rolls that Meg spotted her secondary school boyfriend, Angus, the one her parents still talked about, the one she had barely really dated. He was on his own, standing in front of the ice cream truck, deliberating, hands in the pockets of a huge oversized Taylor Swift hoodie. He was taller than she remembered, taller than most people around, and she wondered if he’d had a late growth spurt after they’d stopped speaking.

‘Hello, you,’ she said, coming over to him, arms outstretched.

‘Meg! Oh my God!’

They hugged, and whereas Meg had expected a brief hello, he was holding her tight so she relaxed back into the hug. He pulled back, and she saw his huge genuine smile, and smelt his aftershave, which had developed from the Lynx Africa of twelve years ago to something subtle and sweet-smelling. ‘It’s so nice to see you.’

‘This is my friend David,’ Meg said, introducing David and they quickly shook hands.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Angus said.

‘How do you know Meg?’ David asked.

‘Well …’ Meg said. She didn’t feel embarrassed; it just felt like an odd thing to say.

‘We dated, briefly, in school.’ Angus took charge of the situation. ‘Very briefly, and we both turned out to be gay, so not a perfect match.’

‘But then we were friends,’ Meg said.

‘Why don’t I leave you both to catch up?’

‘Are you sure, David?’

‘I was going to spy on the flower stalls anyway.’ David started walking away. ‘You two don’t need to see me tutting at what other people do with chrysanthemums. I’ll do a lap; take as long as you need.’

Meg was slightly unsure about being left alone with someone she hadn’t spoken to in over a decade, but in David’s spirit of meeting new people in what was now her community, she felt it was the right thing to do. Angus had always been great and she felt bad about how their friendship had ended. She’d been considering messaging him when they moved back, but she’d been too scared of being ignored. Maybe, she thought, this meeting was a sign.

‘Oh my God,’ Angus said, grabbing her left hand. ‘Are you engaged? When did that happen?’

He screamed with excitement for her, and suddenly she was back to being seventeen and gossiping with him in the school corridors. The twelve years since they had finished school, when they had vowed to remain friends forever but hadn’t made it past Meg’s first year of university, all melted away. Maybe if she had messaged when they moved back, they might have rekindled a friendship. But, her ex-boyfriend jumping up and down at her news seemed to erase the last few months into nothing, and she felt the pull of home, in its own unique way.