Free The Name I Call Myself by Beth Moran Page B

reception with five hundred guests and a nightmare wedding planner. I don’t care. But I’m getting married without my mother, and I can’t tell you what that feels like. I’m asking you, please, give me this.”
    Perry looked at me. He knew how hard I found it to ask him for anything. Sticking one hand in his pocket, he held out the other to me again.
    â€œCome on then, let’s have a proper look round. But we’ll have to think up a way to sell this to Mum without her disowning us.”
    Disowning us? A potential unexpected bonus.
    We agreed on a simple wedding service, with immediate family and close friends, followed by a massive party during which we would repeat our vows at HCC. I weighed this compromise on one hand, the Ghost Web heavy on the other, and my heart sank a little. Then I remembered again who I was and where I had come from and mentally gave myself a big slap. It was one day, one dress.
    Get over yourself, Faith.
    I was trying. Boy, was I trying. And, yes – I was so, so grateful. We spent twenty minutes in Dylan’s office, sitting on comfysofas rather than at his desk. He went through various practical details, most of the answers to which were, “We’re not sure yet.”
    Then he moved on to a whole other type of questioning.
    â€œSo, why do you want to get married in Grace Chapel?”
    I shifted on my seat, guard automatically clanging up.
    â€œMy mum used to come here. I grew up in the village.”
    â€œOh, great.” Dylan smiled at me. “Did you come here with her?”
    â€œNo. She left Nottinghamshire before I was born. And died before I came back.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I can understand why you chose here, then. But how about you, Perry?”
    Perry had slipped out his phone and was scrolling through messages. “Excuse me? What?”
    â€œWhy do you want to get married in a church? What does it mean to you personally?”
    Perry briskly put his phone back in his jacket pocket. “It means Faith is happy. And that’s the most important thing.”
    â€œOkay. Well, one of our requirements for getting married in Grace Chapel is that you attend a marriage preparation course. Marriage is a serious thing. I take the responsibility of marrying you in this church seriously. I won’t do that unless I know you’ve done the same. No offence – as I said, it’s standard practice.”
    Perry smiled his businessman smile. The one that failed to reach his eyes. “Of course. Pass the dates on to Faith and we’ll sort something out.”
    â€œExcellent.” Dylan stood up. “Well, that’s it for now. Let me know your plans as you make them. We’ll do everything we can to make it your day, but it helps if we have as much notice as possible.” He held out his hand to shake ours, but found Perry busy reaching into his pocket again.
    Before I could either stop him, or die of shame, Perry scrawled out a cheque and held it out. “We really appreciate this. I want to give Faith the wedding she deserves. Maybe buy a few tins of paint, couple of new pictures for the walls, or something, yeah?”
    Dylan accepted the cheque, and to his credit, there was only the tiniest flicker on his face when he read the obscene amount. “Thanks. That’s very generous of you.” He glanced back up, blue eyes sparking. “We’ve actually just opened up a food bank. This could feed a lot of hungry families.”
    Sorry, mate, you can waltz in here and wave your fat chequebook around, but neither I – nor my church – can be bought.
    Perry paused, one hand on the door handle. It felt like a wrestling match without any actual wrestling. “Well, it’s your church, vicar. Whatever you think is best.”
    Spend it on what you like – there’s plenty more where that came from.
    â€œThanks, Dylan. I’ll see you Wednesday.” I barrelled Perry outside