‘I need to be earning my own money. I know it’s hardly anything, and the work is a slog and embarrasses your family, but I need some independence. That is non-negotiable. Plus, if I don’t work, I’m going to end up bored out of my mind. Planninga wedding and being on the HCC committee isn’t a full-time occupation. I’m not about to spend my life having manicures, planning centrepieces and shopping. It’s not me.’
‘Couldn’t you find something better, though? You used to manage the whole events team at the club. Why go back to being just a waitress?’
‘Okay. Firstly, there is no such thing as just a waitress. Being a waitress saved my life. Secondly, I can’t manage the responsibility of a full-time job with Sam. This works. I choose this. Please respect my choice.’
I hadn’t told Perry I had no qualifications, or that HCC had told me to resign or be sacked, with the promise of no references. I felt ashamed of both those things, and to begin to explain the reasons why would open a truckload of worms I didn’t want to go near.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It just seems pathetic for you to have to work a double shift to earn what I can make in less than an hour.’
‘Thanks. That makes me feel better.’
‘Sorry! I’m sorry.’ He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. ‘You are an amazing, intelligent, talented woman and I hate thinking about how that catering manager treats you like a skivvy. What can I do to make it up to you and demonstrate how much I respect your choices?’
I considered that. Ghost Web. Wedding service. Reception.
‘Anything?’
‘Well… within reason.’
Right, then scrap the possibility of the Ghost Web and HCC being booted out of our wedding.
‘There’s a church I want you to look at. It’s really important to me. My mum used to go there.’
So, here we were, looking almost like a normal, happy couple choosing a church for their wedding.
Dylan met us at the door, his jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt a striking contrast to Perry’s tailored suit. As we wandered through to the main hall where the service would be held, I couldn’t help seeing the building through Upperton eyes. Even with Marilyn’s decorations, it would appear too drab, too simple, too small.
‘I’ll give you a few minutes to look around. Come through to my office when you’re ready,’ Dylan said, smiling as he left us to it.
Perry was not smiling.
‘Faith, what…? I mean, I know your mum used to come here, but, well… it’s horrendous.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘We can’t possibly get married here, darling. You must see that.’ He went to take hold of my hand but I pretended not to notice, pressing the hand to my flushed neck.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s tiny, for one thing.’ He shook his head in frustration.
‘So we invite fewer people to our wedding. What are the other things?’
‘The other things don’t matter because we can’t invite fewer people. I don’t want to invite fewer people. I’m not going to cull the list, or offend anybody, or make it look as though we have a reason not to have as many people as possible see you become my wife.’
‘What does that mean?’
He sighed. ‘Nothing. It means nothing. It means this church is too small.’
‘I’m not picking a wedding venue on the basis of you having a point to prove about not being ashamed of me,’ I said.
‘Faith!’ He glanced over at the door to the office before lowering his voice. ‘It is not about that. This is the twenty-first century. Nobody thinks like that any more. But this room can’t seat more than a hundred. I have thirty-eight relatives I want to celebrate my wedding with, and that doesn’t begin to cover friends, or guys from the office. How is that going to work if we only have room for fifty guests each?’
‘I don’t need room for fifty guests. You take ninety and I’ll have ten,’ I said, wrapping my arms around me.
‘That’s ridiculous. You can’t have ten guests. And I’m sorry, but this place just isn’t what we want,’ he snapped, like a managing director instructing his underling.
‘What who wants? I want this place! And I’ll invite however many guests I like.’
