Bella and I, the boyfriend was not available, went to the vicar of our parish–Church of England.

This was a perfect result, the original wedding date was available I booked the church for the ceremony. Reception venue could remain the same.

The problem sorted?

NO. Not for Boyfriend’s mother.With her frail nerves, she spat venom. She would not put one foot inside a Church of England.

Church and venue were cancelled.

Compromise: a registry ceremony at a hotel, and celebrations would be held there too. Disappointment for Dad and me.Bella was happy. A good hotel, and we would fill it with flowers. We chose good food and wine. Champagne for arrival, champagne for a toast.  A buffet supper and a disco. The wedding dress was made by me. Bridesmaids were sorted. Boyfriend and hoards of his mates chose matching suits. Invites were in circulation.

There was two weeks to go.

The phone rang; the shrill noise filled our empty house. A message was left on the machine, a message of doom.

A banshee recorded her news, addressed to us, the parents. Our daughter would marry a serial adulterer.

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Husband and I shared a look–we knew the message to be true.

Bella arrived home lulled by her train journey. We sat her down, and forwarded the bad tidings.

She decided to drive to his house. Anxious for her return, we waited.

A cold stone dropped in my stomach where it would remain.

I am the mother of two adult daughters, both much loved and cared for. The eldest thought she could handle social drinking and party drugs, she could not. There is a journey addicts relate to - their journey. As a mother I have healed through the written word. This is my journey.

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