Frontwards

Sunday March 3rd, 2006.

I am getting married tomorrow. Fuck.

I only met Frank 4 months ago and have only known him properly for seven weeks. This can’t really be love, can it? Is it possible to love somebody with all your heart after such a short amount of time? I was so sure of it this morning but I’ve been thinking about it all day and there are a thousand reasons why this is all stupid.

I am still so young. I haven’t started my career yet. I’m ravaged by hormones and can’t think straight. I haven’t travelled the world. Maybe I want to help build schools in India or find new species of birds in the Tanzanian rainforest. I mean, I don’t, obviously, but what if I did want to at some point? I won’t be able to once I have a husband. Shit.

Getting married is a huge thing. Massive, actually. In fact I think I’ve said that before. But it still matters, so I’ll just repeat it. Am I really ready to be somebody’s wife? Fuck, I don’t think I’m even ready to be somebody’s mother and it is all going to happen very soon. I’m going to be a young mother with a husband who travels the world with his band while I stay at home covered in puke and with all these responsibilities and no money.

Fuck all of these swirly whirly thoughts going round and round my head.

Without even noticing it, my breathing was starting to quicken. I was fast becoming terrified because there are so many reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this. Oh god. Why am I letting myself go crazy right now? Why on earth did anybody think it would be a good idea to leave me alone with my thoughts tonight?

I used to like having a double bed to myself but right now it feels empty and cold and alien to me. There is too much space for little old me, even with my fat pregnant belly. I wonder if Frank is in his own bed right now – our own bed – and thinking the exact same thing. I wonder if it feels as weird for him as it does for me. If he’s having the same doubts I am.

My eyes won’t stay shut. Inevitably, they keep drifting over to the dress hanging on the back of the door. All the lights are out but it’s just so white that it is almost glowing in the darkness. It’s beautiful, of course. But every time I look at it I feel this jolt of fear course through me. As if somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I know that this can’t be real. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Of course they don’t. How silly of me. Every time I close my eyes I expect to open them again and be back in England with my cat purring loyally by my feet and the far-away rickety sounds of trains rumbling away through the night.

Yet it doesn’t happen. I’m still in this hotel room and I’m still alone.

If movies and TV are anything to go by, then my incessant thinking and worrying and doubting are all quite normal. Every bride-to-be goes through these stages, right? Even if everything is perfect and you are one thousand percent sure that you are about to marry the man of your dreams and everything is going to be wonderful forever, you still worry because it’s a big deal and everything is going to change. It’s normal to panic. Right??

I don’t know. Maybe Frank is the man of my dreams. He certainly looks like it. And sounds like it. He looks after me. He says he loves me and I believe him. Perhaps it really is that simple.

Oh, fuck it all. Sighing heavily, I sat upright and flicked on the bedside lamp. I’m not even tired yet, that’s the problem. It isn’t even midnight. Foolish of me to think sleep would come easy, tonight of all nights. What on earth was I thinking?

I rubbed my hands over my face before putting my glasses on. Kate and Alice would still be awake, surely, and they were only a room away. So I made the decision to go and bother them.

Opening the door to the corridor, I suddenly felt very exposed in my pyjama shorts and vest top, so I nipped back inside to slip a hoodie on before venturing across to room 102. Before even knocking I could hear giggling coming from within. I took a deep breath and gave a short series of light knocks, so as not to disturb anybody in the surrounding rooms.

Kate answered within a couple of seconds, poking her gorgeous face around the door and seeming quite surprised to see me. I don’t know who she was expecting. Nelson Mandela? Madonna? Sir Ian McKellen? Nope. Just little old me.

“Oh, hey fatty,” she smiled, standing aside to let me in. “What’s up? Not enjoying life in the honeymoon suite?”

I shook my head and padded inside. I noticed now that I had failed to put on any shoes. But I didn’t see that it mattered. Damn, this carpet is soft.

“I can’t sleep,” I grumbled, lowering myself onto the end of Alice’s bed. She cocked her head at me as Kate closed the door and headed over to us. “I keep thinking too much.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You idiot,” were her comforting words. “What are you doing that for?”

“I can’t help it!” I replied with a shrug. “Every time I try to sleep some voice in my head comes along and tells me that I’m making a huge mistake and it’s my last chance to just run away.” I paused for a second. “Is that crazy?”

“Yes,” Kate and Alice said in unison, before starting to giggle again. Comforting.

Alice leant forward to put her hand on the top of my arm. “Frank loves you,” she told me firmly. “And you love him. And you’re having a baby. And getting married is what people who love each other and have babies do.”

“Though not always in that order,” Kate piped up helpfully.

Alice shook her head and smiled. “You know you’re doing the right thing,” she said softly. “You’re perfect for each other.”

“You really are,” Kate agreed. “It’s disgusting, actually.”

Oh, how I knew I could count on her to make me feel better.

I chewed on the skin around my thumbnail, still quite unsure. “I think I need to talk to him,” I decided aloud, gauging their reactions. Alice nodded and Kate merely rolled her eyes.

“So call him,” Alice shrugged.

That made sense. I nodded and wiped away the tears that had collected in the corner of my eyes. When did that happen? Silly Daisy. Probably those damn hormones again. Yes, hormones. Let’s say that.

So I wandered back over to my empty honeymoon suite. Well, it wasn’t empty, obviously. It had a bed and furniture and whatnot. Very nice furniture, actually. Fancy. But you know what I mean. Frank wasn’t there. He was a couple of miles away in his own house. And I had been given the treat of staying in the hotel tonight. Lucky old me.

Three rings before he answered. What took him so long?!

“Hey, babe.” He sounded sleepy and it made me feel bad. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Um. No. I don’t know. Did I wake you up?”

There was some shuffling audible from his end of the line. I guessed it was him sitting up. “No, you didn’t. What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Instead of laying out all of my worries logically and calmly, because I am me, they all sort of came blurting out at once. “Do you love me? Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Are you having second thoughts on this marriage? I don’t know if I’m ready to be married, Frank. We are both so young. I haven’t been to India yet. What about the birds? I haven’t even got a job. And this dress is so white.” Mumbling nonsense as usual. Nice one, Daisy. I could probably have continued all night, as well, if Frank hadn’t stopped me.

“Daisy,” he said, softly and calmly as anything. “Relax.” I relaxed. His voice has always been able to calm me down. What he said next was just perfect: “I love you, Daisy. You are everything in the world to me. I know that even if we weren’t doing it now, you and I would be getting married in the future because we’re in love and we always will be. We are perfect, Daisy, and you know that as well as I do so I don’t know why you’re worrying yourself so much.”

There was a pause as I considered this. “You’re right,” I sighed. Of course he was right. He’s always right. Or perhaps I’m just always wrong. Either way, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

“Of course I am,” he replied, and I could hear him smiling.

“Yeah, yeah,” I smiled. “Okay. I’ll go to sleep now.”

“Okay. Goodnight, gorgeous. See you tomorrow.”

Butterflies started swimming in my belly. Do butterflies swim? No, of course they don’t. They flutter by. But either way I’m sure you get my gist. I just couldn’t wait to see him standing at the altar in 12 hours time. And I knew that all my worrying was for nothing because I wanted to marry him so badly it hurt. “Goodnight, Frankie. Thanks.”

“No problem. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I slept pretty soundly after that. Which is probably a good thing because my make-up lady was facing enough of a challenge as it is.