Our wedding went up in flames!
Saturday 28th March 2009
They say a wedding in your twenties is all about what your parents want. Well, getting married in your forties is definitely all about what the bride wants. And this was the wedding day I wanted. No meringue dress, formal church or worrying about the seating plan.
Jeff, 47, and I exchanged vows by a swimming pool lined with palm trees, while Stevie Wonder's You Are The Sunshine Of My Life played in the background.
I wore a slinky ivory dress and we toasted our big day with cocktails and a few friends under the hot Florida sun. Perfect! But then, everything about my relationship with Jeff had been perfect. We'd met on a dating website in April 2007, and had been amazed to discover Jeff lived just two doors down from me. My daughter, Daisy, 10, thought he was great. A sales manager, he loved travelling, and spoilt me rotten, buying me flowers and cooking my favourite prawn linguine for dinner. We moved in together two months later, and in March 2008, he proposed during a break to Rome. A month later, we holidayed at the CheecaLodge & Spa in Florida.
'Let's get married here,' Jeff said. 'I was thinking the same,' I grinned. So on 30 December, we met up at the hotel with our friends, Sandy Button, 50, Robert James, 59, Gail Ingall, 39, and her husband, Steve, 42, Mary Whelan, 49, and my cousin, Sarah, 39, and her kids, Georgia, 16, Emily, 13, and Lucy, 10. We'd already spent a week in Orlando, and now, we'd swum with dolphins and relaxed in the spa. Tucking into a lobster dinner, surrounded by family and friends, while Daisy and Lucy played in the hotel kids' club, I couldn't help thinking about what a wedding in Britain would have been like. We'd still be posing for endless photos and praying the rain would hold off!
Suddenly, a shrill siren rang out. 'What's that?' Jeff frowned, turning to our waitress. She shrugged. Then we heard screams. 'Fire! Fire!' Everyone rushed outside to see the thatched roof of the bar and restaurant aglow. Orange flames leapt into the sky, and acrid smoke billowed towards us. 'The kids!' I panicked. 'I'll get them,' Jeff said, sprinting off. 'Stand back!' one of the hotel staff yelled, ushering us towards the golf course opposite the hotel. Burning hot embers fell from the roof, ricocheting towards us like out-of-control fireworks. Moments later, Jeff appeared with Daisy and Lucy. 'I'm scared,' Daisy said tearfully, rubbing soot off her face. She wasn't the only one who felt like crying as I watched my dream wedding go up in smoke. The bar and seven rooms had been destroyed in the fire when the ceilings had collapsed, while the rest of the hotel had suffered smoke damage. Jeff and I had to spend the night on the floor in Mary's room, in a different block in the hotel grounds.
'Hardly how I imagined spending my wedding night,' I grumbled. 'It's the marriage that counts,' Jeff reminded me. 'Not the wedding.' I knew he was right. But wasn't I entitled to my dream wedding? Next morning, the fire was still burning. We'd lost everything, clothes, jewellery, passports, money, so we went to a local shop and bought supplies with the few
dollars Sandy had in his pocket. Back at the hotel, things went from bad to worse when a policeman told us we couldn't go inside because it wasn't safe. 'But what about our stuff?'
I wailed to Jeff. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bellboy, Joe, duck under the police cordon. Moments later, my phone rang.
'I've managed to get into your room,' Joe panted. 'Give me the code for your safe, I'll get your stuff.' Minutes later, he strode towards us with two bulging suitcases. Most of our things were ruined, black with smoke or sopping wet. But then, something sparkly caught the light. Joe had managed to save the sparkly Tiffany earrings Jeff had bought me as a wedding present. I couldn't stop thanking him.
After we left the hotel, we popped into Bob's Buns, a nearby bakery, who'd made our cream, three-tiered cake, decorated with starfish. 'How was the cake?' the owner, Gloria, smiled, when she saw us. 'We never ate it,' I told her, sadly. 'Our hotel caught fire.' Dejected, we went back to Orlando with our valuables in carrier bags. Then two days later, Gloria rang.
'My friend's a cop,' she told me. 'He found your cake. I'll send it to you.' Two days later, it arrived. I was so excited, but when I opened it, I was hit by a stench of smoke. The cake was inedible, but at least she'd tried. Heading home, I felt deflated. But two months on, Jeff has promised we can celebrate our anniversary in style. And this time, I reckon it could be in rainy old Britain!