Pervicacious (adj.) – Stubborn; extremely wilful; obstinate
Shelley had offered to get us out of Melbourne’s busy grid system of roads and do the first leg. I was in charge of reading the map and Cara had been tasked with entertainment.
‘Oh God, there isn’t even an aux cable for me to plug my phone in!’ Cara moaned. ‘I made us a road-trip playlist that was beyond amazing.’
That wasn’t all that was wrong with this car. The ripped leather seats bounced, the radio was sketchy and there also wasn’t a mobile phone charge point in the tatty cigarette lighter, but there was air con, although we decided to keep the windows down to try to air out the tangy smell of fumes fogging the front.
‘Was there a problem with money or something?’ Cara asked. ‘I mean, we should be the ones being paid to drive around in this heap of junk.’
‘What?’ Shelley shouted over the engine as she changed gears.
‘I mean that I transferred the cash to you that you asked; Georgia, did you?’
‘Yeah, that was ages ago, did you get it, Shell?’
Shelley nodded distractedly. ‘Yeah, we’ve all chipped in the same amount and it’s all gone on this trip, why?’
‘I just don’t get why we couldn’t have hired a modern car that actually has a sense of style.’ Cara tutted, wiping a finger across the sheen of dust on the windows.
‘You heard that guy, this was all they had,’ Shelley said hurriedly, then peered at the windscreen. ‘Anyway, it is what it is, I need to concentrate on this bit.’
Cara muttered that we’d totally been conned by Itchy Mitch and spread herself across the back seat, shutting her eyes. As sleek as this car wasn’t, it just needed to get us from A to B. We were going to be travelling some distance over the next few days, but looking at the map of this enormous country, our long route only covered a speck. Bill Bryson would probably say a freckle, more like a freckle on a fly.
‘It’s so good to see you.’ I patted Shelley’s arm, which was rigidly fixed to the enormous steering wheel. ‘You really gave me a fright the other day, you know!’
Shelley wiped her forehead and concentrated on changing lanes before answering. ‘Ah, it’s bloody great to see you too. Yeah sorry about that, I’m feeling a little more in control after we last spoke. Jimmy’s been amazing since then. I’ve even had him superglueing fake flowers to ribbon for one of the decorations.’
‘Wow! So, you must be nearly there, though, with it all?’ Surely to God. It felt like she had been talking about this day non-stop for the past few months.
She sighed. ‘You’d think so, but we’ve still got to decide about loads of things.’
‘Really? Like what?’
‘Well, the guest book for one.’
‘The guest book?’ I repeated. ‘Oh, well, that’s easy, you can just order one online, or I’m sure most stationery shops stock them, then that’s another thing off your list.’ I heard Cara scoff at this suggestion. ‘What?’
‘People don’t really do guest books like that any more,’ Shelley said softly, as Cara leant her head through the gap in the headrests to be involved in the conversation.
‘She’s deciding between guests signing a personalised globe, adding a fingerprint to a picture of a family tree, making a Polaroid scrapbook where everyone takes a selfie then writes a message under their photo, writing a note on some rustic driftwood, or on strips of ribbon that create a piece of art for their home afterwards,’ Cara listed in one breath, ticking things off on her long, delicate fingers.
‘Oh, don’t forget the message-in-the-bottle idea,’ Shelley added, then turned to me. ‘We ask all the guests to share some marriage advice or date ideas then fold it up to pop into a big glass bottle that we smash on our first anniversary to read what people said. Doesn’t that sound like such a cool thing to do!’
I was surprised she hadn’t mentioned the option of adding a drop of each guest’s blood to a piece of sacred linen from the underwear of a virgin.
‘Oh right, well, that sounds nice. They all, err, sound nice,’ I stuttered, wondering why she was making it harder for herself when she could just get an actual guest book online in about ten minutes. What was wrong with pen and paper?
‘Yeah but which one to go for? I mean, you can only choose one otherwise it’ll be overkill.’ Cara rolled her eyes, without a hint of sarcasm.
‘I guess whichever will look better on the photographs,’ Shelley said decisively. ‘I want the whole day to be totally Instagrammable.’
‘Speaking of that, did you decide which hashtag you wanted?’ Cara asked.
‘There’s a hashtag?’ My voice went up a few levels in astonishment. When I was planning my wedding, hashtags weren’t really around, but still, did a wedding need one?
Shelley mistook my shock. ‘Of course. The thing is that I can’t decide which I like the most.’ She looked seriously flummoxed by this life-changing decision. ‘Do we go with #Hitchedwithoutahitch or #MrandMrsPriors?’
She didn’t give me the chance to share my idea of #OTT before she was off talking about food stations – something else that had been giving her sleepless nights.
‘Food stations? I thought your wedding was being catered by the venue that you chose?’ Again, Cara let out a snort of laughter at my ignorance, making me feel even more out of the loop.
‘Well, yeah, they are, but it’s important to offer guests some choice,’ Shelley explained patiently. ‘We just can’t decide what to go for.’
‘My friend had an ice-cream sundae station, where guests could get a cone of their favourite flavour along with all these adorable sauces and toppings like crushed-up Tim Tams in cute little jam jars,’ Cara said, making Shelley’s eyes light up at the thought.
‘Ooh, that sounds good. I’m still trying to get Jimmy to agree to a pimp-your-Prosecco stall. It’s where we have all these cool liqueurs and fruit for guests to add to their glass of fizz.’
‘You could get a biscuit bar, a pie station, or even a doughnut stand!’ Cara suggested excitedly.
‘Is it not a bit over the top though?’ I dared to ask.
I noticed Shelley huff and fidget on her seat. ‘I’m only doing this once so I want it to be perfect. I mean, imagine if a few weeks later I go to someone else’s wedding, wishing I’d been the one to have a tequila bar. It would ruin everything if I missed out on that.’
I stared at her as if she’d lost the plot. It was official – my best friend had been taken over by wedding fever and FOMO at its finest. I was waiting for her to crack into her signature throaty giggle, but there was no punchline to this joke.
I tried a different tack. ‘But it must add up, all these extras, I mean.’
‘God, tell me about it,’ Shelley sighed. ‘It’s like just saying the word wedding makes everyone’s eyes light up with the thought of the extra zeros they can add to your bill.’
‘You doing all right for money? For the budget, I mean?’ I asked quietly.
She paused and peered at the fuel gauge. ‘Yeah. Fine, yeah.’
I thought back to when I was planning my big day. So much money I’d worked hard to save up that was spent on making it the day of my dreams. So much money that was subsequently lost as Alex left me before I got to walk down the aisle. They don’t cover ‘cold feet’ as a valid excuse to refund you. It had been one hell of a learning curve.
‘Has she told you about Lars yet?’ Cara asked me.
‘Lars?’
‘Yeah, Lars. The wedding planner du jour,’ Cara said in a crap French accent, making Shelley laugh. ‘He’s probably the campest man I’ve ever met; I couldn’t believe it when you said he has a wife.’
Shelley had a wedding planner?
‘Erm, no, she didn’t say,’ I said slowly.
‘I thought I’d mentioned him. Lars was an early wedding present from Jimmy’s mum, Johanna,’ Shelley hurriedly added.
Jimmy’s mum was widely known to be a bit of a diva. An Essex WAG wannabe, who swanned around spending her husband’s money and who hated Shelley for taking her baby boy to live on the other side of the world.
‘Well, he might be good but it still hasn’t stopped you doing a lot of the wedding stuff yourself.’
‘I just want it to be perfect.’
I smiled along, not really sure what to say to this. I thought it was weird that Shell hadn’t told me about having this extra help, but I guess if her mother-in-law was paying, then why would you turn that down?
I rubbed at my itchy eyes, trying to shake the tiredness that was making me feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.
‘So, when are Jimmy’s parents flying over?’ I asked, wanting to change the subject from money and wedding planning. The atmosphere was already stale enough in here with the pongy interior.
‘The same day as Ben actually.’
I’d only met Jimmy’s parents once, briefly, at Jimmy and Shelley’s leaving do, but I hadn’t been able to chat with them as Marie’s waters had broken and we’d had to rush her to the hospital. I’d picked up on Johanna’s snide remarks that a pregnant lady shouldn’t be out of the house, let alone in a bar, and had instantly disliked her. I knew Shelley had a, let’s say, tumultuous relationship with her.
‘I’ve never met the woman and already she’s got on my nerves. Seriously, Georgia, you should read some of the emails she sends Shelley. She’s about to get lumbered with the mother-in-law from hell. Thank God she lives on the other side of the world, that’s at least one saving grace,’ Cara piped up. ‘Plus, she’s a Londoner.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ I asked.
‘The first thing Uncle Keith, Shelley’s dad, will ask you is if you’re from London.’
I gave her a blank look.
‘He has a thing about Londoners, thinks they’re all posh numpties.’
‘I bet that went down a storm when you first introduced Jimmy to him?’ I laughed.
‘Don’t remind me.’ Shelley groaned. ‘I’ve already told him you’re from Manchester, but it’s Jimmy’s parents that I’m more worried about him meeting.’
‘What’s his beef with London?’
Shelley rolled her eyes. ‘Lord knows. He’s never even been!’
‘Pfft.’ Cara made a wet noise with her lips. ‘He just reckons everyone from London is preoccupied by cash. All he’s heard about Jimmy’s family is how tightfisted they are, even though they’re not short of it. I mean, his parents have managed to tack on a pretty nice holiday out of coming here for the big day. After spending time in Australia doing the main sights, they’re taking in New Zealand and even Fiji!’
‘Oh, Johanna’s not that bad!’ Shelley let out a shrill laugh.
‘Come off it! She’s so bloody obsessed with being part of the planning process because she doesn’t have anything else going on in her life.’ Cara pursed her lips.
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Shelley blushed slightly and gripped the steering wheel tighter. ‘Family politics, hey!’
‘Well, she can’t be so bad if she’s sorted out this Lars dude for you,’ I said.
‘Ha, yeah, I guess. Right, it must be time for another coffee break. Cara, keep your eyes peeled for the next services,’ Shelley called out over the tinny radio, thus cleverly changing the subject. I stole a glance at her, feeling like there was something she was keeping from us.