The Ballroom Class by Lucy Dillon Read Free Book Online

eight-tier cakes, bridesmaids dressed up as rabbits, whatever you like – but you’re getting married at St Mary’s. You’re not getting married in the park.’ She raised her hands. ‘Isn’t that right, Irene?’
    ‘Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with going down a less traditional route,’ murmured Irene. ‘I mean, yes, a church is very nice, but it does rather limit you in terms of putting your own stamp on your special day.’
    Bridget looked stunned, but managed to keep a tight smile on her face. ‘But, Irene, it’s not just about the—’
    ‘It is only the once.’ Irene’s large blue eyes drooped sadly. ‘The one special day in a woman’s life, something to look back on and remember for ever. If I had my time again, I know I’d make every possible effort to have the day exactly the way I wanted.’
    Bridget softened. ‘Yes, well, wouldn’t we all, Irene, but  . . .’ She turned to Lauren. ‘You can do whatever you want for the reception, love – I’m sure we can have the whole thing as romantic and fairytale as you want, but for the service  . . .’
    ‘Mum, I can hardly do a romantic fairytale with Chris waking me up to symbolise the beginning of our lives together if the vicar’s going to make a big fuss about having a horse in church, can I?’
    ‘Well, if you think the horse is more important than the actual service, Lauren, then I see your point.’
    ‘You’re twisting what I’ve said.’ Lauren’s lip jutted out.
    ‘It’s not the same as it was in our day, Bridget,’ agreed Irene. ‘Things have moved on. Young people now, they want to make their own special day.’
    With horses, despaired Bridget. When neither of them can ride? The trouble about Lauren’s dream wedding was that it was just that – dreams. In her opinion, too many of these weddings set up the happy couple for the worst kind of reality check when they got home and the cake had gone and the bills started to come in. Not that Lauren and Chris were paying for this wedding; she and Frank were standing most of it, at Frank’s proud insistence. But then Frank seemed to think it would cost about the same as their modest sit-down-meal-and-one-round-of-drinks affair had done.
    Lauren was looking hopefully at her, still holding a magazine advertising Edinburgh Castle as a venue.
    It’s not real life, thought Bridget crossly. And we shouldn’t be encouraging her. But it was something she’d dreamed about so long, through all that teasing at school  . . .
    ‘Well, maybe I’m old fashioned,’ she said. ‘But if you ask me, there’s a lot to be said for sticking with tradition, and getting married locally, with your family, in a church.’ She paused, and pursed her lips. That hadn’t come out right.
    Lauren held her breath. The last thing she wanted was for her mother and her mother-in-law-to-be to get into some kind of massive fight even before they’d got the blessing venue booked.
    A tense silence filled the kitchen-diner.
    Is Irene going to cry? Lauren wondered. She looked on the verge of it. Poor Irene, she thought. It’s not that long since she lost her husband. This must be bringing it all back for her.
    It was Bridget who spoke first. ‘Oh dear. Sorry!’ she said, over-brightly, waving her hands in the air. ‘I’ve had a very long day. Don’t mind me. Now, what was that about dancing lessons? Eh? Maybe we should go along too, Irene? Brush up on the old foxtrot for the first dance. Frank’s not a bad mover, for all he moans about his knees!’
    Lauren winced – what was Mum thinking, being so insensitive? There’d be no father of the groom for her to dance with, but the tears had vanished from Irene’s eyes as if by magic. ‘I’ll look into it. Now, have we had any more thoughts about numbers?’
     
    On the way home in the car, bought and fixed up for her by Chris, Lauren drove too quickly for Bridget, and she knew her mother was trying to be diplomatic