The thing about my Darren is he accepts me for who I am. I mean at the end of the day, this is a small town with a lot of lonely older men. And I have things to pay for. Plus mum was getting too old for it, God rest her.
There are pressures that come with being Mothwicke’s only topless laundress. As well as genuine dangers. You try ironing in the nip and you’ll see what I’m talking about. And try explaining to insurers why you need extra cover for your tits.
Course, there’s been a lot of talk about us postponing the wedding. A lot of…how should I say this? A LOT OF SLUTS AND FUCKING MOUTHS with nothing going on in their own lives have put it all over town that we’re splitting up, that Darren caught me in bed with my hen night stripper. I mean, how could Darren have caught me in bed with my hen night stripper? You show me where there’s a bed round the back of my local. I will say this though; if I find out who it was that put the CCTV footage on You Tube, I’ll have them. Thank God my Darren is scared of electricity.
The truth is Rachel is a cousin of mine and she was reported missing two days before the wedding. How could we go ahead when all they’d found of her was that piece of her dress in the woods? We just didn’t think it was right. Not with no-one knowing what had happened. How could it have been our day after that?
But time passes and you have to get on with your own life don’t you? I hope that doesn’t sound mean. I didn’t really know her very well even though we were related. Rachel being gone, well, people have got used to it haven’t they? You can’t put your life on hold forever.
So we’re going ahead with it a week today. Darren’s got it all arranged. I’m keeping my name. And I’ll keep working. At least until the little ‘un comes in a month or so.