25April
Dear Diary,
Come on, love, get moving and start charming the guests, my fiancé Ethan said as his family arrived at my flat to discuss the wedding.
Now youre officially our beloved daughterinlaw, declared Mrs. Margaret Clarke, wrapping me in a tight hug once more. Just days earlier Ethan proposed, and wed told our families that the ceremony was imminent. Ethan already knew my parents, but for me it was my first encounter with the Clarke matriarch.
My parents, James and Helen Brown, have lived in London all their lives and are comfortably welloff. Theyve given me everything: a flat, a car, a prestigious university degree and a good job, and they expect me to choose a husband who matches their status.
Ethan seemed a perfectly decent fellow. By twentyfive he already had a respectable career in a large firm, earned a decent salary and lived in a nice part of town. As it later turned out, however, his flat was only a rental. I convinced my parents that, since I already had my own roof over my head, there was no need for Ethan to take out a mortgage straight away.
Well live in my flat first, then buy something together, I said.
You understand that anything bought together will be split fiftyfifty, dont you? James asked, his brow furrowing. He was uneasy that Ethans dowry consisted mainly of a large extended family.
Were not getting a divorce, Dad! What are you talking about? I snapped.
Anything can happen he muttered.
But not us! Ethan and I love each other. He earns enough to contribute to the household.
By some standards that might be decent, but its still less than yours. Its not great, he replied.
Poppy earns above the average, interjected Helen, stepping in for her future daughterinlaw. Youve set the bar way too high, James. Let them live. He seems fine, and Poppy loves him.
Let them live, yes, but theyre already planning the wedding, James continued.
And rightly so. Im pleased the man has serious intentions. Otherwise, you know how it goesten years together, children, and the registry office never seems to hurry.
We know about serious intentions for a flat in London.
Dad! How can you say that? Mum, tell him! I burst into tears, his words cutting deep. I felt he doubted whether I could attract a man, and I ran out of the room, offended.
What a man are you, James? Why are you hurting her? Helen heard my outcry. I didnt stay to hear his reply. Later, however, Helen persuaded James that I should be free to choose my own husband and that Ethan wasnt the worst option. James gave his blessing, and Ethan invited me to meet his parents.
Why not meet at a restaurant? Your relatives can travel to the city; the train isnt a problem.
My dear, you know my family is huge. Where will they all stay?
In a hotel, I suggested hesitantly.
They cant afford hotels or restaurants; theyre simple folk. I cant house everyone at my expense, we need to save for the wedding. No, well go to the village where I grew up. Youll get there by train, avoiding the traffic.
Alright I thought that we didnt have to save because my father could afford a splendid wedding, but I didnt argue.
The thought of visiting strangers made me nervous, yet Ethans assurances soothed me. The weekend James and Helen saw us off to Ethans family. James was displeased, but after a word with Helen he kept his thoughts to himself. Helen also felt uneasy about the journey, but the tradition was that only the bride travelled; it would have been rude to go uninvited, so I went alone.
I packed a few thoughtful gifts after learning what Ethans relatives liked. For my future motherinlaw I bought a lovely tablecloth and a set of towels; for the others I brought sweets, tea and coffee.
Ready for the introduction? Ethan whispered.
Honestly, Im a little scared.
Dont worry, theyre simple folk. Dont expect London cafés or fancy toilets.
What, wooden ones out on the street?
No, its not that bad, Ethan laughed.
The village we arrived at was certainly not modern. Old cottages, a cracked road, a few overgrown gardens. Ethans house stood out with a reasonably tidy garden and a freshly painted fence, showing it was lived in.
At the gate a large doghouse housed a sleeping dog. The moment we stepped in, the dog barked loudly, startling me.
Shoo! Back to your place, Ethan commanded, dragging the dog away.
Why is he so angry? I asked.
Because hes the guard. This isnt London where dogs are just pets.
A woman burst from a corner, shouting, My son! My dear! and enveloped us in a hug. I, unaccustomed to such overt displays, felt out of place. My future motherinlaw only calmed down after she had kissed me and her son, then finally let us in.
Inside, the welcome was no less fervent. I was swept into countless embraces, greeted by aunts, sisters, uncles with their spouses and children, a grandmother, distant cousins and even neighbours who had turned up to meet the bride. They crowded around me, launching a rapid fire of questions:
How did you get here? Why keep such a beauty away from the family for so long? When will the children arrive? Where do you live? What do you do? Who are your parents? How did you meet? Where will you live?
The questions felt invasive, and I could barely count how many lipstick marks remained on my cheeks.
Sensing I was overwhelmed, Ethan whispered, Lets get you out of the circle, were tired. He literally pulled me by the arm away from the swarm of relatives.
Take a twentyminute break, then well sit down. We want to know everything, every detail! his mother declared.
Dont be frightened, theyre only like this at the start. Theyll settle down, Ethan tried to reassure me.
Where did you hear that? Have you already brought your bride home? I scoffed.
No, I just know my family well. Lets change and go to the table. Mum made dumplings especially for your arrival. Please praise her cooking.
Okay
We were seated at the head of the table. The dishes placed before me blurred together as I stared at my plate. A tiny crack ran along the edge of the crockery.
Blimey, theyre eating from broken plates, I thought. The cutlery was old, and a hole dangled from the corner of the tablecloth. No wonder I bought that tablecloth as a gift; it must be a century old.
They peppered me with questions about my family, childhood, teenage years, everything except perhaps my blood type. Eventually Ethan said it was time for me to eat.
Enjoy, dear guests! my motherinlaw announced. Ive been making this all night after my grandmothers recipe. Do you have any family recipes, Poppy?
No
Really? No signature dish from mum or grandma?
My grandma left when I was three. My parents have a housekeeper who cooks and cleans.
City folk, eh? What do you eat yourself? Do you like cooking?
Im not keen on cooking. Im used to eating out or at my parents place, I admitted, feeling a sting from my motherinlaws disapproving glance.
Our boy is used to homecooked meals, so youll have to learn, intervened Ethans sister, Nina.
My familys recipes are passed down through generations, the motherinlaw continued. You must learn too; Ethan loves these dumplings.
I was at a loss for words.
I think its time to try what everyones been talking about, Ethan nudged my plate toward me. Eat, or the conversation will die.
I nodded, but under the watchful eyes of the relatives the food seemed to sit in my throat. Still, I took a spoonful of the signature dish. It was scalding, and I quickly realised the broth was oversalted.
What do you think? the whole table stared at me, from the youngest to the eldest.
Delicious, really, I lied, not wanting to appear rude. Ethan stroked my hand approvingly, and I forced a smile. I longed for the evening to end so I could escape the prying eyes and relentless questions.
Could we leave today? I asked Ethan when the first chance arose.
What? Mum will be upset. No, I promised wed stay until tomorrow.
Then lets go first thing in the morning. I still have work to finish.
You work too much, Poppy. Its the weekend, you should rest.
I fabricated another excuse to leave. From the morning I claimed I felt weak, and Ethan had to cancel our joint breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Its a pity youre leaving so soon. We barely talked, lamented Margaret.
Better you come visit us sometime, I replied politely.
Of course, well come. We have nobody else in London besides our son, Margaret said.
I smiled at the goodbye, and Ethan and I left.
How did you find my family? he asked.
Lovely people, I answered, keeping my discomfort to myself.
Thanks for being kind to my mum; it means a lot.
I know honestly, those dumplings were horrendously salty!
So you lied about liking them? Ethans face showed disappointment.
You said I should like them even if they werent great, I replied.
I didnt expect you to critique something made especially for us.
I had no retort. Ethan then said, Lets pretend that incident never happened. I nodded, not wanting a fight, and convinced myself it was a trivial matter.
But when my family visits, youll really need to learn to cook. I wont be understood if we serve storebought salads. My relatives love large meals, so we must be prepared.
You think theyll come to visit? I asked, surprised.
You invited everyone to our place.
I only invited your mother.
She cant travel alone; family ties are everything to us. This isnt a big city where everyone looks after themselves.
I swallowed his words, hoping the meeting would be delayed because I still had work and other commitments. The week flew by.
We need to pick a wedding cake. The best bakers schedule is booked half a year in advance, but I managed to get a tasting tomorrow, I reminded Ethan when he returned from work.
Well deal with the cake later, not this weekend.
Why?
Because well have guests.
But I didnt plan for that I stammered.
We agreed last week. Tomorrow at noon we have to meet the relatives at the station. Ask your father for company cars.
Cant your relatives take a taxi? I didnt want to bother my father.
Theyre ours, not just yours. And no, they cant. Imagine the cost of fitting everyone into vehicles.
How many are coming? I asked, feeling tense.
Im not sure, but three cars should be enough, plus ours.
Where will we put everyone? Should we book a hotel?
Theyre not proud folk; they can even sleep on the floor.
I felt unsteady. I called my mother and spilled everything.
I dont know what to do! I have a meeting and a mountain of tasks, and he still hasnt said how many people are coming!
Dont worry. In the morning Kira, our housekeeper, will have everything ready and delivered. If needed, we can house some of them at our place.
I exhaled with relief. Thanks to my mothers help, everything was ready on time: the table was set, the finest tablecloth spread, and the food prepared.
Will your mum leave? Ethan asked as he entered the house.
No she wants to meet your mother.
I wouldnt introduce them before the wedding, but theres no other way. We also need to discuss the dowry, rituals and traditions.
What rituals?
Bread, the vows.
I hadnt answered when the doorbell rang the relatives had arrived.
More embraces and greetings followed. When the Clarke clan filled the hallway, I realised half of them were strangers to me.
Okay, host, tell us where to go? Margaret asked. I ignored Tessas (the motherinlaws) words, but Helen was displeased that my flat suddenly had a new owner who wasnt even on the lease.
Mum, will there be enough food? I whispered.
I dont know. Have they all arrived as a whole farm? Do you know them?
No
Whatever, well figure something out.
The guests shuffled to the table. Though my flat is spacious, the relatives barely fit in the sittingroom, and the children had to be seated at a separate table.
Lets toast the happy couple, Tessa announced, pouring herself a glass of vintage wine. She winced, then produced a cheap bottle shed brought in a plastic container.
Heres to us, Tessa! the guests cheered.
Only my mother drank the wine; I stuck to water, feeling uneasy in my own home.
What fancy spread youve prepared whats this? someone asked, picking up a bruschetta with duck liver. We dont eat that. Whats for the hot dish?
Poppy, go and look after the guests, Ethan whispered. Its untidy that you sit while Kira does everything. Mum will think youre lazy.
I found myself clearing plates, even breaking one in my nervousness. Tessa shook her head disapprovingly.
We wanted to discuss the wedding, Ethan interjected, diverting attention from the broken dish.
Yes, weve always said that when theres a wedding, the whole village celebrates for two days. So the second day will be with us.
In a café? Helen asked.
No, well set tables outside and make it nice.
Do you want to hire catering?
Catering? Were simple folk, not London. Well make jelly, dumplings, and a jellied dessert
A jelly dessert for a wedding? I questioned. I cant stand jelly, and I never wanted dumplings or jelly at my own wedding. I love a classic venue with proper chairs, not a field of hay.
Well discuss the menu. By tradition the bride must help set the table, so youll need to be here the day before, helping. The more we feed, the richer our lives become, Tessas sister, Nina, added.
We were hoping to travel after the wedding, I said to Ethan.
Of course, well go as soon as the secondday celebration ends. We must honour centuriesold customs. A oneday wedding isnt a celebration.
Will the bride be expected to help with the secondday preparations? What help will we receive for the first day? Helen asked.
First, tell us how many guests youll bring.
About one hundred and fifty we havent counted exactly. Maybe a bit more.
All close relatives?
Do you even separate close and distant? In our village everyone is family.
So well split the banquet costs proportionally. Ten percent for us, ninety for you.
We could pay fifteen percent, depending on the total. We wont cover the delicacies, well bring our own
No, you misunderstood. Proportionally to the guests. If ninety percent of the guests are yours, you pay ninety percent of the bill, Margaret said, eyes narrowing.
Strange maths, youre trying to profit from us?
Helens expression changed; she could no longer keep a polite smile.
What do you mean by profit?
Our relatives will give more than yours. Ninety percent, to be exact.
How did you work that out?
Because roughly ten people will come from us and ninety from you. Even a hedgehog could see that.
Our guests are welloff.
Were not poor either! Or are you just biased because were simple country folk?
I felt I might sink into the floor. I was ashamed of my mothers involvement in this bizarre negotiation. Ethan sat silently, sometimes nodding at me, sometimes shooting a glance at his mother. Finally he leaned over and whispered, Calm your mother, Poppy. A wedding is a partnership; we need compromise.
Could we serve the cake with tea?As the night drew to a close, I finally smiled, feeling hopeful that love and compromise would guide our future together.
