Poppys best friend never once slipped her a penny for her own wedding, and now shes the one being invited to a lavish reception.
Poppy and James tied the knot a year ago. Their families, each the only child of their parents, insisted the celebration be nothing short of spectacular. The brides mother dreamed of an immaculate white dress, a horsedrawn carriage and a fairytale ceremony, while Jamess mother imagined a grand ballroom and a banquet that would make the Queens own birthday party look modest.
Realising a simple backyard BBQ wouldnt suffice, the couple threw themselves into the endless todo list: manicures, makeup, hunting for the perfect gown and tuxedo, and a slew of other essential details. Their parents pledged to foot every expense except the brides dress and the grooms suit. They booked the finest restaurant in Mayfair, selected a bouquet of English roses for Poppy, and arranged for Jamess mothers close friend, a veteran baker, to craft a towering threetier cake.
The guest list was painstakingly compiled. Every distant relative, even those who hadnt spoken in years, was invited on the premise that wealthy guests would bring generous giftsmoney that could be tucked away for a car or a first flat. After a heated family debate, the most remote cousins were finally crossed off. Some excused themselves with believable alibis, leaving mostly the couples own friends on the final roster.
On the wedding day, despite forecasts of rain, the sky cleared to a perfect English summer. Poppy glowed in a silk gown edged with delicate lace; James could not take his eyes off her. The day unfolded like a scene from a period dramalaughter, love, and a photographer snapping furiously, desperate to earn his keep. Guests buzzed with anticipation for the banquet that awaited them.
When the photo session wrapped, the newlyweds slipped into a snowwhite carriage and glided to the restaurant. Champagne flowed like a river, and congratulatory toasts filled the air. Envelopes, mostly stuffed with crisp £ notes, were handed out. Poppy and James had warned guests early on that they only wanted money, yet a few pensioners could not resist contributing blankets, linens and china as well.
The threetier cake, adorned with luxurious icing, edible pearls and intricate sugar flowers, dazzled even the most discerning palates. The celebration was undeniably upscale. As dawn broke, exhausted guests drifted home, while the couple retired to a prebooked suite in a Kensington hotel.
The next morning, as Poppy and James visited their parents, Jamess mother whispered that one envelope was empty. She claimed it had been a gift from the brides close confidante, Mabel. The culprit was easy to spotunlike the others, the envelope bore no name. Poppys stomach turned.
The sting deepened when she remembered that, before the wedding, Mabel had assured her that it was no longer customary to give less than a thousand pounds at a wedding and had promised to back her financially.
Less than a year later, Mabel found herself walking down the aisle. She promptly asked Poppy and her husband for a contribution, expecting the same cash windfall to smooth over her own expenses. Poppy was torn. She suggested that her husband could hand over an empty envelope, mirroring Mabels earlier trick. He hinted at giving a larger sum to embarrass her, while Jamess mother advised Poppy to slip just the minimum amount into the envelopeenough to keep silent about Mabels deceit and deny herself any future vengeance.
Now, with Mabels wedding fast approaching, Poppy is left standing at a crossroads, her heart heavy with indecision, the echo of the empty envelope still ringing in her mind.
