The Great Break-Up
Exactly four years. Thats how long the Redfords managed to stay married. No matter how much they tried to play at eternal love, they couldnt put down roots in the garden of marital bliss. Divorce was looming on the horizon.
So, is it really going to be that easy? Youll just get divorced and thats it? asked Alice, when Daisy Redford invited her round to drown her sorrows in a pile of stone-baked Italian paninis.
Yes. What else is there for us to do? Weve talked it over. Itll be better for us both
No, I dont mean the divorce itself. I mean the whole affair. Surely youve got to mark the occasiona proper send-off, draw a big, fat line under it!
Lately, Daisy had been on edge and bristled, hungrily working her way through a pineapple pizza followed by seafood. Im just anxious, theres no need to rub salt in the wound.
Alice reached over and squeezed Daisys hand. Its not about you, love. Its about the divorce! You two had a glorious wedding Im still paying off the credit card for your cake. Why not go out with a bang as well? Hire a venue, get a convoy, a toastmaster, a dramatic bridge burning! I could use a party
Is that allowed?
Its necessary!
I havent really got the money for all that. Well have to split everythingrip the flat and the pillowcases down the middle.
I know someoneshe can work miracles on a shoestring. The rest youll recoup in gifts! In the meantime, lets plan the hen night. It needs to be as homely and decent as possible, so you can properly say farewell to wedded life.
In other words, like usual: agree to meet up with the girls, then nowhere to go because everyones got husbands and kids?
The dream!
The next day, Daisy and Alice met with the organiser, Juliet. Juliet, for some reason, met them inside a shopping centre, working behind the till at a crepe café, taking orders as she spoke.
Youll help, right? Alice asked, explaining the predicament.
Piece of cake! I already see itDaisy, radiant in a black mourning dress, pledging never to marry again. Paulyour soon-to-be-exin his ghastly tracksuit trousers he can finally wear all day, proudly declares his freedom. Then off to the pawnshop with your rings, a round of applause! Guests chanting Bitter! Sweet! Oh, Ill come up with even more Juliet declared, before shouting so loudly Daisy and Alices ears rang, Order sixty-four, ready!
To everyones surprise, Paul, Daisys soon-to-be ex-husband, was thrilled by the idea. But their parents voiced their stern disapproval.
Its all this new-fangled nonsense. In our day, you just divorced quietly and held a grudge forever, both sides muttered. Were not giving you a penny for such a spectacle.
Within a week, Juliet had everything lined up. The extravaganza began with a ransom. Paul had to leave the flat by running through a gauntlet of games and songs. Everyone pitched in: helping, singing, or ponying up a ransom just to get him out as quickly as possible. Since there were twelve floors, he was allowed the liftpacked with the last of his things and his best man.
Through Juliets cousin, a detective sergeant, theyd gotten a crime scene photographer to document every sordid detail. After today, nine guests would end up on official record.
To the registry office now! Juliet bellowed ceremoniously when theyd all assembled in the car park.
Following the new tradition, the Redfords sat together in the car for the last time, so afterwards they could go their separate ways. The others received Oyster cards, loose change for the bus, and spots in the photographers van, where in-transit games included fingerprint taking and joke interrogations. They marched inside City Hall singing the chorus from Im Free by The Who.
Once the papers were signed, and the social cell was officially closed, everyone tumbled outside. Juliet produced a giant cage to catch a few tearsome pigeons. The group laughed, sang, and congratulated the newly divorced couple. The men clapped Paul on the back, wishing him years of bachelorhood. The wives, meanwhile, picked fights on the spot and later snatched bouquets made from old bills and council tax letters.
Some party! Looks like theyve been waiting ages for this engagement, someone from another wedding party observed.
Nah, I hear theyre splitting up, replied another.
After witnessing the beaming Redfords, several couples postponed their own ceremonies that very day.
Once the padlock on the bridge had been cut and the rings pawned to help foot the bill, the party moved to the restaurant. An old friend of Juliets had put together a ceremonial swing band, the set menu was on the house, and crepes with honey were served all round. Eight Crêpe Stall was conveniently run by Juliet herself. Even the cake was a stack of layered crepes.
This feels like a wake Daisy murmured, glancing around at the odd merriment.
Were burying your marriage, love, the MC-cashier observed, and invited the aged couple to their last dance together.
Chopin began to play.
You know, this actually isnt so bad, Daisy said to Paul as they turned together.
I agree, he replied, content. Ive never seen our parents get on so well.
As they circled, Daisy realised her father and Pauls dad were hugging as old mates, murmuring a tune and cryinglongtime arch-nemeses at last reconciled.
The table overflowed with gifts. There were single duvet sets, concert tickets, weights, a mug for one, and vouchers for yoga, the gym, even burlesque. In the end, the newly divorced couple received keys to different hotel rooms, discount coupons to Eight Crêpe Stall, and a certificate for two cab rides in a police car.
The celebration ended with a firework show and cut-price cake. Satisfied guests trundled hometo wives, husbands, and kidswhile the Redfords set off on their new directions.
Three weeks later, the photo album was ready. Paul dropped by to fetch his nail clippers.
These turned out well, Daisy said, leafing through black-and-white photos of grinning faces and staged crime scenes, Paul at her side.
Not bad at all, he agreed. Are you changing your surname?
No, Ive got used to it. Besides, Smallwood hardly sounds better.
Fair point, Paul smiled. Well, Ill be off?
She hesitated. Wait!
Paul looked at her, curious.
Fancy going out for a crêpe? Our vouchers expire today, seems a shame to waste them
Waste indeed, Paul agreed, eyes brightening. Did you know the pancake is a symbol of new beginnings? Maybe this is our chance. Is this a date, then?
She hesitated again, wry smile on her lips. Do you really think it isnt madness after such a public break-up? I heard we were on the news!
Whos to judge? Were free to see whoever we want, whenever. Oh, by the way, the best man and maid of honour are divorcing next week. Weve been invited. Want to go together?
Ill think about it,” Daisy replied, laughing, I just got a single duvet set from themat least Ive got a gift ready.They stepped out into the early summer evening, the sky bruised purple and orange above the busy high street. The city bustled on, oblivious to exes-turned-accomplices making their awkward way toward honey crepes.
As they walked, Daisy let her arm brush Paul’s. Somewhere, far down inside, relief and something like hope tumbled together. The grand spectacle was behind them, but real life, much quieter and gentler, curled its fingers around what was next.
Do you think youll ever marry again? Paul asked, not looking at her.
Daisy snorted. Not unless its for party planning. I hear Juliet charges double for remarriages.
He laughed, his old warm laugh, and the last residual ache between them softened, leaving only the easy memory of two people who once did love each other, and maybe, in some odd shade of friendship, still did.
The café windows glowed ahead, steamy and inviting. Daisy looked up at Paul. Lets get that crêpe, and afterward, well walk. No big plans, no promises. Just pancakes and freedom.
He nodded, matching her tentative hope with his own. Deal.
Inside, Juliet waved from behind the counter, sliding two menu cards with a sly wink.
Daisy and Paul sat beneath the fairy lights, across from each other againmiraculously, not as strangers or enemies but as fellow travelers, savoring the sweetness of something new. Not a beginning, not quite an ending, but maybe, just maybe, the perfect middle.
Outside, as they split the last bite and licked powdered sugar from their fingers, the world felt wide open and a little bit delicious.
