Your wedding will happen, but Im not needed there, the daughter snapped, eyes glued to her phone.
Are you kidding me? Did you forget to pay the council tax again? Maggie Hargreaves hurled the bill across the kitchen table, the papers fluttering like startled birds.
Its not my fault, I was held up at work, her husband, Ken, muttered, shoulders slumped. I swear itll be settled tomorrow.
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! The bills due today!
Dont shout, love. Pop is asleep!
She isnt sleeping, shes glued to that phone, like always! Maggie stalked into the bedroom. Twentyfouryearold Pop lay on the bed, face lit by the screen, a distant smile frozen on her lips.
Pop, are you up for dinner?
Silence.
Pop!
Aye, the girl replied without turning her head.
Whats aye? Are you coming for dinner or not?
I dont know.
Maggie sighed and drifted back to the kitchen. When Pop was small, theyd been inseparable. She remembered the little girl sprinting home from nursery, flinging herself into Maggies arms, spilling stories about everything under the sun. Then school, university, and now a stranger lived in the next room, speaking only in fragments.
Half an hour later Pop slipped into the kitchen, perched on a stool, still typing on her phone.
Pop, could you at least put the phone down while we eat? Maggie pleaded. Lets talk like normal people.
Whats there to talk about?
Hows work? Anything new?
Everythings fine.
And that bloke, James? You still seeing him?
Pop lifted her gaze from the screen, a flash of irritation crossing her eyes.
Mum, Im twentyfour. I dont have to give you a report on my love life.
Im not asking for a report, just curious.
Yes, were still together. Thats all.
Maggie poured herself a cup of tea, ready to ask more, but hesitated, fearing another sharp edge.
By the way, Pop suddenly set the phone aside. Theres a wedding in May.
Maggies tea stopped midway to her lips.
A wedding? Youre getting married?
Yes. James proposed, I said yes.
Pop! Maggie lunged forward, trying to hug her daughter. This is huge! Why didnt you tell us earlier?
When? Pop shrugged. He asked me just yesterday.
But still! You could have mentioned it this morning, or at least dropped a hint!
I forgot.
Maggie sank back into the chair, the word forgot echoing in the empty room.
Alright, she forced a smile. The important thing is youre happy. Whens the date? Where? How can we help?
In May. We havent picked a day yet. Itll be at a restaurant.
And the dress? We could go together to pick it! Remember how you used to love looking at my wedding photos as a child and said you wanted a dress just like that?
Mum, Ive already chosen. I went with Jamess mum, Helen Whitaker.
Megans mum? Maggie asked.
Yes. She paid for the dress, so we went together.
A sting pierced Maggies heart. Every girl dreams of choosing her gown with her mother, yet Pop had gone with her future motherinlaw.
I could have gone too, Maggie whispered. We could have done it together
Theres no point. Youd still clash. Id want something simple, and Helen would push for something extravagant.
I dont want simple! I want it to be perfect for you! Pop rolled her eyes.
Mum, enough. The dress is bought. Thats that.
What about the guests? How many are we inviting? I need to compile a list for our side
No need. Helen already has a list. Shes handling everything.
But Im your mother! I should be involved!
Why? Helen has the best venue, a topnotch DJ, a brilliant photographer. Shes got connections, experience. What can you do? Call the village hall and ask for a polka band?
The words cut Maggie like a knife. She went pale.
How can you say that, Pop?
Its the truth. You have no money, no connections, no taste. Helen has all that, so why bother us?
I’m your mother
So what? That doesnt give you the right to meddle where you dont belong?
Maggie rose, fled the kitchen, and shut herself in the bedroom. She sat on the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks, untouched.
Ken peeked in a few minutes later.
Maggie, whats wrong?
Pop is getting married.
No way! Thats wonderful! Why are you crying?
Because Im not wanted there, Ken. Do you understand? My own daughter thinks Im a spare part at her wedding.
You cant be serious!
Maggie recounted the argument. Kens brow furrowed deeper.
That cheeky girl! Ill talk to her.
Dont. Itll only make it worse.
But its not right! Shes your daughter, youve been there for her all her life! And she tells you youre not needed!
Please, stop shouting. Im exhausted.
Ken wrapped his arms around Maggie, and they sat in heavy silence.
The next morning Maggie awoke with a weighty head. Shed spent the night replaying the previous nights words. Pop had already left for work, leaving a stained mug on the table.
She dialed her friend, Tara.
Tom, can I come over?
Of course! Whats happened?
Ill tell you when I get there.
They met at the café opposite Taras flat. Maggie ordered a coffee and poured out the whole thing.
Tara shook her head.
You youngsters have no respect, no sense of duty!
Tom, maybe Im wrong? Maybe Im clueless about weddings, restaurants?
Girl, youre a mother! You dont have to know every detail. Just be there, supportive, happy! Let Helen handle the money, if she wants to. Youre the cornerstone!
But Pop doesnt see it that way.
Then tell her straight: either you help with the preparations, or you dont attend at all.
Maggie shivered.
Not attend my own daughters wedding? Tara, are you serious?
Exactly. She doesnt value you! Let her see what its like without a mother.
no, I cant. This is her day, the most important day.
Which shes arranging without you, Tara snapped. Dont let her trample over you.
Maggie returned home, upset. Taras words lingered: letting her mother be stepped on. Could it really be true?
That evening Pop came home late. Maggie heard her slip into her room and finally knocked.
Yes? a voice called from behind the door.
Maggie entered. Pop sat at the computer.
Pop, I need to talk.
Im busy.
This is important.
Pop turned in her chair.
Fine.
Maggie sat on the edge of the bed.
Listen, about the wedding. I get that Helen has more resources, but I also want to be involved, even a little.
Mom, Ive already explained
Hold on. Let me finish. I could help with the invitations, the décor, or just put together a guest list for our side. Im not asking for the spotlight, just a part.
Pop sighed.
Alright. You can do the list, but no more than twenty guests.
Twenty? Why so few?
Jamess side will bring fifty. The venue holds eighty. That leaves us with the remainder.
But I have family, friends! Your godmother, your cousins!
Godmothers are a thing of the past. Cousins dont matter to me. Invite who you like, just keep it to twenty.
This isnt fair!
Its fair. Jamess parents are paying half the bill. What are you paying? Nothing! Hence fewer seats.
Maggie felt her cheeks flush.
Well pay our share
With what? Dad earns thirty thousand a year, your pension is a pittance! Where will the money come from?
Well take a loan!
No. We dont need your loan! Helen has already covered everything!
Maggie stood, fists clenched.
So were poor, with no place at our own daughters wedding?
Mom, cut the drama! Im not saying youre poor, just that you have fewer options.
And Helen has more, so shes now the boss, right?
Yes! Pop shouted. Shes the boss because she can give what you cant money, contacts, status! And you? Youd organise a shoestring wedding in some cheap cafe with budget champagne?
Ill give love, support, be there!
Thats not what I need! I want a beautiful wedding, like normal people have!
Are we not normal?
No! Youre poor! Youve always been poor! Im tired of that!
Maggie stood stunned, the words striking her like thunder. Pop glared, breathing heavily.
Leave, she said quietly. I have to work.
Maggie left the room, ran into Ken in the hallway. Hed heard everything.
Ill kill that girl, Ken whispered. How dare she speak to you like that!
Dont touch her. Shes just embarrassed by us.
Embarrassed? We raised her for twentyfour years, gave up everything for her! And shes embarrassed?
Please, quiet down. My head hurts.
Maggie curled up on the sofa, pulling a blanket over herself. Ken sat beside her.
Maggie, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding at all?
No nonsense.
Why nonsense? If were not needed, what would we be doing there?
Shes my daughter, Ken. The only one. I cant miss her wedding.
Even if she insults you?
Even then.
Ken sighed, ran a hand over Maggies hair.
A week passed. Maggie compiled the guest list, squeezing twenty names, cutting out distant relatives and old friends. She handed it to Pop.
Fine, Pop said without looking up. Send it to Helen, shell add it to the master list.
Should I call her myself? Get to know her?
Why?
Because shes now family.
Not yet. And anyway, Helens a busy woman.
So Im not busy?
Pop rolled her eyes and retreated to her room.
Maggie emailed the list to the number Pop gave her. An hour later a terse reply arrived: List received. Invitations will follow. Helen.
Cold. No extra words. Maggie tried to write something warm, but hesitated, fearing it would sound intrusive.
Another month slipped by. No invitations arrived. Maggie asked Pop.
Forgot to send them?
No, there wont be any. Everyone will just be told the time and place.
But invitations are tradition!
Its an old tradition. Nobody does that now.
Pop, can I at least see a photo of the wedding dress?
Why?
I want to see it!
Youll see it at the wedding.
…
Mom, please stop.
Maggie backed off. Every conversation turned into a torment.
Finally she could bear it no more and called Helen Whitaker, the number shed found in Pops messages.
Hello? a pleasant female voice answered.
This is Maggie Hargreaves, Pops mother.
Ah, yes, hello.
I was hoping we could meet, maybe have coffee together?
A pause.
Maggie, Im swamped. The wedding planning is consuming me.
I can help!
Thank you, but I dont need help. Everythings under control.
Im the mother of the bride! I should be involved!
Maggie, Pop asked me to take charge. If you want changes, speak to her, not to me.
But
Sorry, I must go. See you at the wedding.
The line clicked. Helen had also decided Maggie was unnecessary.
That evening Maggie resolved to confront Pop.
Pop, sit down, please.
Im in a hurry, Ive got a meeting with James.
Just five minutes.
Pop grudgingly perched on the edge of a chair.
Mum, I get that you want a beautiful wedding. I know Helen has more means. But you said the wedding will happen, but Im not needed there. Did I really say that?
Pops brow furrowed.
I never said that.
You did. Not directly, but the meaning was clear.
Mum, enough! Im not kicking you out. Youll be at the wedding, like everyone.
As a guest?
Yes as a guest.
Not as mother of the bride?
Whats the difference?
Maggie felt her throat tighten.
The mother of the bride is the main person after the couple. She blesses them, gives a toast, hugs the bride before the ceremony. A guest just sits in a corner and sips champagne.
Mom, those are oldfashioned ideas! Times have changed.
How?
Now its all about aesthetics, Instagram likes, making it look chic. Your talk of blessings and hugs is from another era!
So Im from another era?
Pop rose, anger flashing.
Im tired of this! Come to the wedding or dont. I dont care!
What do you care about? Whether Im there at my own wedding?
Yes! Because youll just sit there, moaning about how youre ignored, how youre unappreciated!
Im not moaning! All my life Ive been the victim, always blaming everyone!
Maggie stepped back, stunned.
Pop
Enough! Im leaving.
Pop snatched her bag and stormed out, slamming the door. Maggie sank onto a chair, sobbing. Ken entered, wrapped his arms around her.
Im not going to that wedding.
Right, Ken said. I wont either.
No, you should go. Youre the father. You have to be there.
But youre the mother!
And Im not wanted.
Ken held her tighter, both of them silent.
Another week passed. Ten days remained until the wedding. Maggie barely slept, ate little. Ken kept urging her to at least try to reconcile.
Maggie, call her. Say youll be there.
I cant. Im not needed.
Youre needed! Youre a mother!
Mum who isnt what she should be.
Ken exhaled, gave up.
One evening the doorbell rang. Maggie opened it to find Pop, eyes red, hair dishevelled.
Mum, she whispered.
Pop? Whats happened?
Pop collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing.
James cheated on me with my friend. I found out today.
Maggie sat beside her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Itll be okay, Maggie murmured, stroking Pops hair. Well sort it out.
The wedding is in ten days! Everythings paid! Guests are invited!
We could cancel it.
But Helen has poured so much money into it!
Helen will survive. What matters is you.
Pop lifted her tearstreaked face.
Mum, Im sorry. I was terrible, said awful things.
No need to apologise now.
Dont shut me out, please. I felt I wasnt good enough, that you and Dad were not enough. Helen and James seemed perfect, successful. I wanted to be like them.
What now?
Now I see I was wrong. Helen knows about the cheating and still wants the wedding to go ahead, saying James is still the right man. And you you just held me.
Maggie pressed her closer.
Because Im your mother, and I love you, no matter what.
Even after everything I said?
Especially after everything.
Pop cried harder. Maggie rubbed her back, whispering reassurance.
Ken peeked in, saw them, and smiled faintly before slipping back out.
They stayed like that all night, talking about childhood, school, the moment Pop began to feel ashamed of her parents, the pressure to be like the affluent.
I thought if I became like the rich, Id be loved, needed.
Youve always been needed, just not always seen.
I know now.
The next morning Pop called James and told him the wedding was off. She then called Helen, thanked her for everything but explained she would not be marrying. HelenMaggie watched the sunrise paint the kitchen gold, feeling at last that the ache of being unwanted had finally begun to fade.
