A Vintage Christmas. Trisha Ashley
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for a living,’ he said, smiling, and we clinked glasses again. ‘I’ve got a free weekend coming up so I’ll go down and tell them and they can either like it or lump it.’
I thought I could guess which way that one would go! But if having a monster-in-law like Pamela Kenyon was the price I’d have to pay to marry Matt, then I’d grit my teeth and bear it.
At least my own lovely mum would be pleased that we were finally going to tie the knot … and Dad would have been, too, had he still been around. He’d really liked Matt.
[#]
‘I’ve got some good news, Mum – Matt and I have decided to get married this winter,’ I announced. ‘In fact, he’s down in Tonbridge right now, telling his parents.’
‘This winter?’ she said, looking dismayed.
‘Yes, just before Christmas. Aren’t you pleased?’ I asked, puzzled. Matt and I had been together now for years, and I knew Mum adored him.
‘Of course I’m pleased,’ she said, rallying. ‘It’s only the timing that’s a bit unexpected. When I helped you with the deposit for the cottage out of the money your dad and I had saved for your wedding, you told me that you’d much rather build your business than get married.’
‘Well, that was true – and I did. What’s more, I’ve just heard that a big pet store chain is going to stock three of my designs for Christmas, so I’m going to have to take on more outworkers.’
‘That’s great news,’ Mum said, but she still looked troubled.
‘I thought you’d be happy we were getting married at last, so what’s bothering you, Mum?’
‘Of course I’m delighted, because you’re happy together and I love Matthew like a son. It’s just … your dad and I wanted you to have a dream wedding. That’s why we started saving for it when you were still a baby.’
‘I know, and I was really grateful you let me use some of that money for the deposit on the cottage.’
‘I knew it was what your dad would have wanted if he’d still been with us, especially when it already had that lovely workshop behind it, so you could stop renting one. But I’ve been putting money back into the wedding fund ever since and I thought I’d have till next summer, at least, to build it up.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, getting up and crossing the room to give her a hug. ‘And there was me thinking that because you were always economising on everything, even though Babs pays you a good salary, you must have been watching too many TV programmes about money-saving and turned into a super-scrimper! And all the time, you were cutting back to fund my wedding.’
‘It’ll be worth it when I see you walk down the aisle in a lovely dress, with all our friends and family around us. And then a big reception in a hotel with a proper sit-down dinner …’
Her expression went dreamy and I suspected that this was the sort of wedding she’d wanted herself, except that her parents hadn’t been able to afford it. But I’d always thought the pictures of Mum’s wedding, she and her bridesmaids wearing home-made dresses and carrying simple sprays of flowers, had looked perfect.
‘Mum, I wish you’d told me what you were doing, because even if Matt and I wanted that kind of wedding, which we don’t, we wouldn’t expect you to foot the whole bill! In fact, nowadays the groom’s family often contributes to the expenses, you know.’
‘I can’t see Matt’s parents doing that, can you?’ she said with a wry smile. ‘They didn’t even help with the deposit for the cottage, and I’m sure his stuck-up mother is still hoping you’ll break up, even after all these years.’
‘You’re right – but they’re going to be disappointed,’ I said.
‘I don’t know how Matt could have turned into such a nice boy, with parents like that,’ Mum said.
On the one occasion Mr and Mrs Kenyon had travelled north to see Matthew, I’d thought they should finally meet my mother and got her to invite everyone to tea. Big mistake – Pamela Kenyon had made it clear that a glassworker’s widow-turned-secretary was hardly the sort of person she normally socialised with.
‘Matt’s father isn’t so bad when you get him on his own,’ I said, ‘but he lets his wife walk all over him. Matthew says her father was a miner and she was brought up in a small terraced house in the North-east, so her background’s not that much different from ours, really.’
‘That’s what I thought the moment she came in, doing her Lady Muck act – all fur coat and no knickers,’ Mum agreed.
‘Yes, you told her so!’ I said with a reminiscent grin, because in retrospect the disastrous tea-party had been very funny. Matt’s mother had fired the first salvo, with a sugar-sweet remark on how she’d had to get rid of her own Royal Albert tea service some years before, because they’d got so dreadfully common, but Mum had more than held her own. In fact, looking back over the scene now, I thought she’d won on points, with a sharp, smiling riposte to every sally.
‘I wasn’t having her bad-mouthing my daughter and insinuating you’d snared her son, as if being a vet was a hundred times better than getting a first-class degree in fashion and textiles!’
‘I know, it’s so odd, because you’d think the pair of them would be able to appreciate the hard work I’ve put into building up my own business, having done the same themselves.’
Matt’s parents ran a flourishing children’s party supply business, though nowadays Mrs Kenyon’s social aspirations meant she liked to hint that she was Old Money and just running Crate Parties as a little hobby.
Mum had been pursuing thoughts of her own and now said firmly, ‘I’m determined you’ll have a proper wedding with a fairy-tale dress and a big hotel booked for the reception, because I’ll not have Matthew’s parents thinking we don’t know how to do things right. I’ll take out a small loan to make up the shortfall and if we have a buffet rather than a sit-down meal—’
‘No way will I let you take out a loan to give me a huge wedding, Mum!’ I exclaimed. ‘Especially when that’s not the kind Matt and I want anyway.’
But Mum seemed convinced I was only saying that to save her the expense, and nothing I could say would change her mind. She quickly became lost in a one-sided debate on whether the village church would be big enough for the occasion, or if we should instead book the large, old and beautiful one in nearby Ormskirk.
‘It’s so lovely when you’re home, darling,’ Matthew’s mother said, passing him a plate of cucumber sandwiches, which she never seemed to remember he detested. ‘Why don’t you find a veterinary practice down here and move back? Daddy and I would help to buy a partnership.’
‘Because I’m happy where I am now, and not only do I like living in West Lancashire, but Lucy and I love our cottage – and we’re getting married in December.’
His mother’s mouth fell open in dismay, exhibiting thousands of pounds worth of dental implants so white they probably glowed in the dark. ‘Oh, no! I was hoping your unsuitable infatuation was finally wearing off. You could do so much better than a girl who makes dog coats for a living.’
‘But if they’re happy together …’ began Gerry Kenyon timidly, only to be quelled by his wife’s gorgon look.
‘We are happy, Dad, and though at first we were ploughing money back into Lucy’s business, this last year she’s earned as much as I have and had to take on one of her college friends to help her in the workshop, as well as extra outworkers.’
‘That’s very hard to believe,’ Pamela snapped.
‘Believe it or not, it’s the truth. And what’s more, she’s just got a huge order from a pet supply chain store, so the business is booming.’
‘That’s excellent news –