28April
I cant believe what happened yesterday. Im still trembling as I write this, half stunned, half trying to make sense of the mess.
My best friend Claire nearly spilled her latte when she saw the dress Id picked out. Are you serious? Pink for a wedding? she exclaimed, eyes wide.
Its my colour, I replied, twirling in front of the mirror in the boutiques fitting room, admiring the soft, powderblush gown. It feels romantic.
Claire shook her head. Emily, youre thirtytwo! Pink is for teenagers.
Who said? I asked, turning to her. I want to feel like a princess on the only day Ill ever get married. I deserve that.
She sighed, sipped her coffee and said, Fine, its your wedding, your choice. If I were you, Id go for ivoryit suits you better.
The sales assistant was waiting patiently, holding a third dress. Ladies, would you like to try this one? Very elegant, with a full train.
Lets do it, I said, nodding.
I slipped into the ivory gown and stepped out of the fitting room. The dress was stunningstraight silhouette, offtheshoulder, long train. Claires eyes lit up as she circled me. Now thats what I call a queen.
I stared at my reflection; the dress fit like a glove.
Will Andrew like it? Claire asked.
Hell love it. Hows he holding up? Nervous about the wedding?
I shrugged, watching the delicate embroidery on the bodice. I dont know. Hes been oddly quiet this past week, very withdrawn.
Claire tried to reassure me. Men always get jittery before the big day. Its normaltheyre scared of the responsibility.
I bought the ivory dress. The shop assistant packaged it in a large box, and we left the boutique together.
At the café across the street, Claire asked, Everything set? The venue booked, the rings bought?
Yes, I said. The wedding is in two days, Saturday. Weve booked The Rosewood, the menu is finalised, and the band is confirmed.
Guests?
Almost everyone. About eighty people.
Claire whistled. Thats a proper celebration.
It was my mums idea. She wanted a big, lavish day. Shes more excited than I am.
What about Andrews parents?
My mother will be there. My father said he wont comeyour son makes his own decisions, hell live with the consequences, he said.
Its odd, Claire remarked.
Its a messy family thing, I dont get involved.
We finished our coffees and Claire went off to run her errands. The flat was quiet when I got home; Mum was at work, Dad was tinkering in the garage.
I texted Andrew: *Dress bought its gorgeous! Cant wait for Saturday.*
Twenty minutes later, a single word: Fine.
His reply made my stomach drop. Andrews never been a man of many words, but lately hed become almost mute. I called him.
Hello? his voice sounded weary.
Hey, its me. How are you?
Fine.
Andrew, whats going on? Youve seemed off all week.
Silence, then a deep breath.
Listen, Emily, I need to tell you something. Not over the phone. Can we meet?
What time?
Tomorrow, by the fountain in Riverside Park, sixp.m.
Okay, I whispered, feeling a chill creep over me. See you then.
He hung up. I sat on the sofa, phone clenched in my hand, wondering what he would say. Had he changed his mind about marrying me? Wed been together three years, everything had been planned, the rings bought, the venue paid for.
Later that evening Mum called.
Did you buy the dress?
Yep, Mum. Its beautiful.
Can I see it?
Ill show you tomorrow. Im exhausted, Ill be in bed soon.
Alright, love. Rest up. The day after tomorrow is the most important day of your life.
I lay in bed, not taking off my nightclothes, trying to picture the day. If Andrew backed out, what would I do?
The next morning I arrived at the park fifteen minutes early, perched on a bench beside the fountain, watching the water ripple. People strolled, children laughed, cyclists whizzed bya typical summer evening.
At precisely six, Andrew appeared, tall, darkhaired, in jeans and a shirt, his expression serious, almost grim.
Hi, he said, sitting beside me.
Hi. What did you want to say?
He stared at the fountain for a moment, then turned to me.
Im not sure how to put this, he began.
Just say it.
Im not confident Im ready for the wedding.
My heart seemed to stop.
What?
I need time to think. Maybe we should postpone?
Youre postponing? The wedding is in two days! The guests are booked, the venue paid for!
I know, but
Why? Weve been together three years! Weve planned everything!
He slipped his hands into his pockets, looking away.
Im sorry. I just cant do it right now.
Whats the reason? I asked, voice shaking.
I cant explain. I just cant.
I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me.
Are you joking? Is this a prank?
No.
Whats happening? Explain!
He shook his head.
Its not the time. I need to sort myself out.
He stood and walked away. I sat frozen, wondering if I was dreaming.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Claire.
Hes canceling the wedding!
What? Andrew?!
Yes! He just said hes not sure, needs time!
That idiot! Claire cursed. Where are you?
At the park, by the fountain.
Stay put, Im on my way.
Claire arrived half an hour later, wrapping me in a hug that brought tears I hadnt realized I was holding back.
What should I do? The wedding is in two days!
Cancel it, she said firmly. Call the venue and tell them its off.
What about the guests?
Ill message everyone, say its been called off due to unforeseen circumstances.
What about our parents?
Tell them the truth. The groom ran away it happens.
We sat on the bench until dusk, then Claire drove me home. Mum opened the door, saw my tearstained face, and instantly understood.
Whats happened?
Andrew called off the wedding.
Mum went pale.
How?
He said hes not sure, that he needs time.
Dad popped his head out of the garage.
You mean he called it off a day before the wedding?
Yes, Dad.
He muttered curses, something Id never heard from him before.
Where is he? Ill talk to him!
No, I dont want to speak to anyone. I just want to sleep.
I retreated to my room, lay on the bed, the emptiness louder than any sob.
The next morning Mum brought me tea.
Emily, get up. We need to call the guests and cancel everything.
I cant.
You can. Ill be with you.
We sat at the kitchen table, I phoned guests one by one, explaining the cancellation. Some were understanding, others were angry, a few just fell silent.
Dad went to The Rosewood to sort out the deposit. He returned looking grim.
The money wont be returned thats what the contract says.
How much have we lost? Mum asked.
About £2,000.
I covered my face with my hands. Two thousand poundsyears of savings gone in an instant.
Sorry, I whispered.
Its okay, love. Youre safe and healthy. Money can be replaced.
Saturday arrived, the day the wedding should have been. I stared at the ivory dress hanging in my wardrobe, tears welling again. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Andrew.
I opened it and my heart stopped. A photo: Andrew in a tuxedo, standing beside a woman in a white dress, both holding a red wedding folder, smiling. The caption read: *Sorry, I married her. Ive always loved her. I just never had the courage to admit it. Forgive me.*
I felt the world tilt. I rushed to the bathroom, my mind a blur. Mum burst in, horrified.
Whats wrong? she asked.
I handed her the phone. She stared at the picture, her face twisted with rage.
This this
Dont say anything, I whispered, sitting on the floor, clutching the phone.
Mum sat beside me, pulling me into a hug. Its not your fault, love. Hes a scoundrel.
The afternoon passed in a haze. Later, Claire arrived, eyes wide at the photo.
Ill kill him! Where does he live?
I dont know, I replied, wrapped in a blanket. He rented a flat, but never told me the address.
How could he do this after three years together? Claire asked, shaking her head.
Its a pattern, I think, I muttered.
Over the next week I barely ate, staying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Claire visited daily, bringing fruit, trying to cheer me up.
On the eighth day an unfamiliar woman called.
Emily?
Yes.
My name is Lucy Hart. Im Andrews mother.
I sat up, startled.
What do you want?
I need to meet you. Its important.
She explained that shed discovered her sons habit of courting women, planning weddings, then marrying someone else to claim half the deposits. She handed me a slip of paper with addresses of the other women hed duped.
I met her at the same fountain in Riverside Park. She was a stout woman in her sixties, with tired eyes.
Thank you for coming, she said, wiping a tear.
Hes a liar, a cheat, I whispered.
Shes been doing this for years. This is the fourth time, Lucy said. The woman in the photo is an actress he hired for a fake ceremony.
I felt a cold shiver.
What about the money?
He arranges with the venue to get back half the fee, Lucy explained. Hes taken thousands from families.
I left the park with the list of addresses, my mind racing.
Back home I showed the paper to Mum and Dad.
Dads face turned red with fury.
Im going to the police!
Dad, we need evidence. His word against ours, Mum cautioned.
Exactly, its fraud! Dad shouted.
Mum took the list, thinking of the other women.
Maybe they want justice too?
I dialed the first number.
Hello? a woman answered.
This is Emily. Did you date Andrew Saville?
Silence.
My mother gave me your number. I was also his fiancée.
My Im not alone, the voice said, firm. Lets meet.
We arranged a meeting at a café. Soon I was sitting with three other womenMegan, Lena and Oliviaeach with their own story of lastminute cancellations and lost deposits.
Megan: lost £1,500.
Lena: lost £2,000.
Olivia: lost £1,800.
I: lost £2,000.
We discussed options.
I went to the police, but they said theres no crimehe didnt take the money directly, Megan said.
Should we go to the press? Lena suggested.
It wont stop him unless we confront him together, Olivia warned.
I spoke up. What if we all meet him? Demand the money, or threaten to expose him publicly.
They agreed.
Lucy gave us the address of his flat. That evening four of us knocked on his door. He opened, eyes widening.
What are you doing here? he stammered.
May we come in? Megan asked. Or would you rather the neighbours hear what youre up to?
He let us in, looking terrified.
We know everything, I said. Your mother told us. We have your addresses, the photos, the contracts.
He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace.
What do you want? he asked.
Your money, Lena said simply. All of it, back to us.
I dont have it! he protested.
Youll find it. Or well publish every detailyour fake wedding, the stolen depositseverywhere.
He stared at us, fear flickering.
How much time? he asked.
One month, I replied. Then well all get our £6,800 back.
He nodded, pale.
We left his flat, our hands shaking.
Do you think hell pay? Claire asked later, as we waited at the bus stop.
Hes scared of being exposed, Megan said. Hell find a way.
The month dragged on. Andrew sent vague messages, promising he was gathering the money. On the final day he invited us to meet again. He handed each of us an envelope.
We opened them togetherexactly the £6,800 wed lost.
He looked relieved.
Dont ever do this again, I said, voice steady.
He nodded, eyes downcast.
Back home I gave the cash to Mum and Dad.
Heres what we lost, I said, handing over the envelope.
How did you manage this? Mum asked, astonished.
We banded together. All of us who were cheated.
Dad embraced me.
Proud of you, he whispered.
For the first time in weeks I truly smiled.
Six months later I started a new job, made new friends, and the wound from Andrews betrayal has dulled, though it never fully disappears.
Yesterday Lucy called.
Emily, thank you. Andrew got a proper job now, honest work. He says hell never scam anyone again.
Is that true? I asked.
Yes. You taught him a lesson.
I hung up, feeling a strange peace.
I never wore that ivory dress. I gave it to a friend whos getting married soon, and I actually enjoyed her wedding, cheering for her happiness.
My mother still says my own happiness is aheadjust have to be careful about who you trust and not be swayed by pretty words without proof.
