Irene, are you certain you want a wedding that extravagant? Isnt it a bit much?
Irene Clarke poured tea for her daughterinlaw, hoping to share her concerns, but the young woman seemed determined to ignore her.
Poppy Clarke shook her head vigorously, flicking a stray curl from her forehead. Her eyes sparked with excitement, her cheeks flushing.
No, no, MrsClarke, exactly this is what I want! she leaned forward, as if about to reveal a grand secret. A lavish celebration, a professional photographer, and a video to keep forever.
That’s fine, but
Fireworks! Poppy interrupted, cutting Irene off. We must have fireworks at the end. Imagine how beautiful it will bemy friends will be so envious.
Irene frowned, setting her cup down. Maxim Clarke earned a decent salary, and she had always been proud of his hard work. For his twentieth birthday she had gifted him a twobedroom flat in a respectable neighbourhood, hoping to give him a solid start. Still, such extravagance was over the top, even for him. Poppy worked as an office manager earning about £5,000 a month, and she wasnt about to splurge either.
How do you and Max plan to pay for all this? Irene asked cautiously, taking a sip of tea.
She tried not to meddle, but the numbers in her head looked ominous. Poppy waved her concerns away as if they concerned only a new dress.
Max will take out a loan, Poppy said, shrugging with such ease that Irene nearly choked on her tea. Its a common practice, MrsClarke. Everyone does it.
A loan for a wedding? Irene placed her cup slowly.
Yes. Well cover it with the cash gifts at the reception, Poppy smiled, as if she already held bundles of notes. And the leftover will fund a romantic getawaymaybe Italy or Greece.
Irene stared at the bridetobe, amazed at her confidence that the celebration would pay for itself. Guests arent ATMs, after all, but Irene kept quiet; the young couple had to learn their own lessons.
A few days later Irene met Max at a café near his office on Baker Street. He looked tired but happy. After ordering coffee, Irene got straight to the point.
Max, Ive heard about your wedding plans. Taking a loan for such an eventdo you think thats wise?
Max nodded, his gaze steady.
Mum, I understand the risks, he said, sipping without looking away. But Poppy wants a beautiful wedding, and shes dreamed of it her whole life.
But you realise this is a serious financial burden, dont you? Irene pressed, leaning forward. What if the guests dont give as much as you expect?
Itll be fine, Mum, Max replied, his smile a little forced. Dont worry about us.
Irenes heart tightened. She could feel the anxiety building around her son, who seemed to have miscalculated the consequences. Arguing with an infatuated young man felt pointless.
The wedding day drew nearer and the costs kept climbing. Poppy called regularly, her voice bubbling with updates.
Irene, Ive found the perfect dress! Its £2,000, but its from a renowned designer!
Irenes eyebrows rose.
£2,000 for a dress? Isnt that excessive, Poppy?
Its normal! This is the most important day of my life! Poppy snapped, offended. I cant marry in anything cheap.
The restaurant they chose was highend, with floortoceiling windows overlooking the Thames, a menu of delicacies that would drain a modest fortune. Irene could only shake her head at the mounting madness.
On the evening of the ceremony Irene took a black cab, a discreet envelope containing £3,000 tucked into her handbag. She had decided in advance how much she was willing to give.
She stepped into the banquet hall and stopped at the doorway. Live flowers hung from the ceiling, ice sculptures glistened, and a towering multitiered cake dominated the centre. Hundreds of guests, many strangers to Irene, filled the tables.
When the fireworks burst into colour, the sky lit up as guests cheered. Irene handed the envelope to Poppy, who accepted it with a strained smile, eyeing the other envelopes as if she wanted to open them then and there. The guests ate heartily, plates emptied, and women stared enviously at Poppys opulent gown. She glowed with pride, basking in the attention. The celebration lingered well past midnight; the newlyweds departed in a hired limousine. Irene called a cab and headed home.
The next morning a knock sounded at the door. Poppy stood there, eyes red and swollen, with Max looking gaunt.
They collapsed onto the sofa, and Poppy sobbed, Everything is ruined, Irene! Everything!
What happened? Irene asked, her voice trembling.
Max sank into an armchair, his voice hoarse. We opened all the envelopes. In total the guests gave about £6,000.
£6,000? Irene echoed, sitting down heavily.
Max rubbed his temples. Most people gave about £50 each. Some envelopes were empty.
Poppy leapt up, shouting, How could they be so stingy? They came to this lavish wedding and gave pennies! We now have a loan of £20,000 hanging over us! The Italy trip is gone!
Irene sighed, the scene unfolding exactly as she had warned.
I told you this was a bad idea, she said calmly.
Poppy turned to her, eyes flashing. Its the guests fault! They shouldnt come to a wedding and give such tiny gifts!
Irene shook her head. No one is obliged to give huge sums, especially when it wasnt agreed in advance.
Poppys tears turned bitter.
But its a wedding! she wailed.
The guests didnt ask for such a grand affair, Irene replied evenly. You wanted the fireworks, the video, the designer dress. You wanted the perfect wedding you see on social media.
Poppy clutched a cushion, trying to quiet her sobs. I just wanted a perfect day, like everyone else on Instagram!
Irene shrugged, looking at her son. You got it. Now youll have to pay for it.
Mom, maybe you could Max began, but Irene raised a hand.
No, Max. Financing a wedding on credit is a poor idea in itself, she said, meeting his eyes. I warned you both, but you didnt listen.
Poppy grabbed her handbag and fled with Max, leaving Irene alone in the quiet living room. There was no point in trying to convince them now; they had only themselves to blame.
The couple kept up the loan repayments. Max grew more cautious, his calls less frequent. A distant cousin later told Irene that Poppy had started confronting relatives for larger gifts. She called me and said I should have given at least £20,000! the cousin recounted. I just hung up. Theres no point arguing with someone like that.
Irene didnt intervene. She had spoken up too late, and now the young couple would have to learn the hard way. Life can be a stern teacher, but sometimes only its tough lessons stick. The true takeaway is simple: love and celebration are priceless, but they should never be bought on borrowed money that you cannot afford.
