by Rosa Temple
‘Oh, your style. I find it fresh and original. I mean I could see you doing really well tackling subjects other than bake sales, village hall closures and local restaurant reviews. You’ve also done a great editorial job all round. That magazine was always a bit Women’s Institute Newsletter before you came along, if you get my drift?’
‘And now you’re insulting the WI.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re a member.’
‘I could be a member.’
He looks me up and down. It’s as if he’s undressing me with those eyes of his, letting them rest on certain parts of my anatomy in the middle of Daisy’s. I’m so uneasy with his gaze I almost want to cover my boobs with my hands. Jed shakes his head.
‘Nah.’ He huffs a little laugh. ‘Not the WI. Not you.’
‘Anyway, I’m off. Thank you for barging in on my private thoughts.’ I walk to the door and remember this time to just casually leave instead of trying to make a gesture.
I head back home, tempted to call Carey first to check she is alive until I remember she is out all day. I forgot because I’m hot and flustered. That damn Jed has me bothered and feeling drained of energy. Why can’t his brother be more outspoken? Damian would never insult me the way Jed does. With each step I take that leads me closer to home and away from the busy village centre, I’m re-running that entire conversation with Jed. I still can’t fathom why I’m so irritated and why Jed goes out of his way to hunt me down just to thoroughly piss me off.
Chapter 33
Christmas is literally two seconds away and I’ve not shopped for anyone. Only this morning Mum called to see if I’d be home for Christmas dinner.
‘Is it all right if I leave it to the last minute to decide?’ I had asked. ‘I hate to be a pain but I’m feeling like sticking around. I think it could be fun.’
In truth, I am reluctant to go back to London in case I found myself at a loose end and going round to see Rob. Either for more break up sex or because we’ve not been apart for Christmas for the last five years and I don’t know if I can do Christmas without him.
Jenna has convinced me that an office Christmas party is in order and that we should do something with partners one evening before the holiday closure. The magazine is practically ready for publication in January. I decided it was best to be ahead in case no one felt like coming in or had food poisoning over the holidays and I’d have to cope all on my own. Everyone was relieved to be so ahead and wondered why they’d never thought of doing this before.
The January edition of the magazine is going to be jam packed with ideas for hobbies to take up in the New Year and what to leave behind. I’d written an article about fad diets and exercise regimes which had Jenna and Beth in stitches. Little did they know I’d once tried every one of those fads myself, so I knew they were pointless. My aim was to get folk thinking about what they wanted from the year ahead. I think I know what I want but I’m still nowhere close to getting my own life in order.
Rob informed me that an offer has gone in on the flat. The news sent me spiralling into further depression and a feeling of displacement sent me back to the supermarket for a giant bar of chocolate.
Another reason for wanting to stay in Bridley over the holiday is the biggest and most grave of all. Carey. She has been putting on a brave face. I know her well enough to tell. She doesn’t hide her face away, she engages with me all the time but I can see it’s all a front. Maybe because it is the holiday season and everyone is supposed to be happy, she’s making an extra effort to appear happy, to appear as if nothing is wrong and to keep on hiding behind the L identity.
I see it behind her eyes. When we’re having coffee and Carey is going to great lengths to regale me with tales from her last photo shoot, I know that all is not well. Beneath the smiles, Carey looks more lost and sad than ever. It is time to come clean about her letters and tell her I know she is L. Not only did she not post the one she was halfway through writing but she hasn’t sent one for the January edition. Once February’s Bridley Green is published I’ll be on my way back to London, never having discovered Carey’s secret and whether there was a way I could have helped her come to terms with it. I didn’t want to leave Bridley with a possible suicide on my conscience and now, more than ever, I have to be the best Dear Vicky I can be for her.
The first thing I do is invite her to the office Christmas party.
‘Office Christmas party, hey?’ she says, breezing through the living room to the window seat. She is bundled up in a chunky knit cardigan, bottle green, and thick, black leggings. In her hands is a hot cup of tea and she cradles it as she snuggles into the cushions on the window seat. ‘I’m not sure it’s really for me.’
‘Please, you have to come. Everyone is bringing a partner or a plus one. I can’t turn up on my own like some loser.’
‘What about what’s-his-name? Brother.’
‘I might still ask ‘Brother’ but he’s so up and down with me I really don’t know where I stand with him these days.’
‘Really? I’m surprised. The way he looked at you back at that karaoke night, I’d say he was absolutely smitten.’
‘You think so?’ I brighten up no end at the thought of standing under the mistletoe with Damian. ‘I suppose there won’t be any harm in asking him.’
‘Does that mean I’m off the hook?’
‘No, it certainly does not. You’re my first choice Plus One. He can be the icing on the cake. Not that you’re not icing, Carey. But you know what I mean.’
She laughs, generously, and sips her tea. She stares out of the window as if she’s in a room on her own, lost in her thoughts again.
The scene outside is beautiful. Like a Christmas card but without snow. We’d had a light sprinkling a few days ago. The snow lined the trees and the outside hedge for all of two days and then was gone. Blown away by a gusty wind and melted under a winter sun that promised a happy holiday. Carey and I are clearly not happy, and neither of us can talk about it. I want to tell Carey about my problems but all I ever have are problems. They go from one state of affairs to another and I should really just simplify my life by only concentrating on the magazine. Ordinarily I would just blurt out the fact that I’m practically obsessing over going out with Damian, that I’m hurt and upset my flat is going to be sold and that I have nothing to go back to in London. Not a flat nor a job. But I say nothing. I have to be here for Carey and wait for the right moment to help her find happiness. Maybe then, maybe after her life is out in the open will I be able to Dear Vicky myself.
*
It’s the night of the office Christmas party. Carey and I have gone all girly and giggly as we get ready. I notice how she comes into my room with an armful of possible things she might wear rather than calling me into her bedroom to help her make a choice.
‘What’s the most slutty thing you have?’ I ask as I start pulling out sparkly tops, figure hugging trousers and expensive dresses from the pile of clothes Carey has dumped on my bed.
‘Slutty?’ she asks. ‘Do I really have to do slutty? I’m not the one who’s trying to nab Brother.’
I’ve also started calling Damian, Brother, now that Carey has dropped the ‘The’ from The Brother.
‘Listen,’ I tell her, holding one of Carey’s dresses up to my chest in front of the mirror. ‘I’m not even sure Brother is going to come.’
‘You said he was over the moon to be invited. Of course he’ll come.’
‘Wear this one, Carey.’ I toss her over the dress I’ve been admiring. There are two dress sizes separating me and Carey so I can’t borrow it. Instead I encourage her to wear a slinky, dark red dress. It’s not for the buxom of us, sadly.
‘It’s a bit low cut for an office party.’
‘Well, we haven’t been invited to any other party so it’s an opportunity to dress up, pile on the make-up and wear our highest heals. Don’t worry, I’ve booked Alistair. He’ll have picked up Alexandra before coming to get us. Perhaps there’ll be a lamb
in the back seat. Better bring some grass or something to feed it with.’
This sends us into fits of giggles which for me is just a way of outpouring other emotions I’ve been bottling up. Fear of Damian not showing up. Fear of either one of us being disappointed when we do finally hook up. Fear that Rob might drive down to Bridley again because he’d been threatening to do so for weeks. Then there’s the guilt about not going home for Christmas and, of course, the constant ache in my guts as I anticipate confronting Carey about the L letters.
‘Listen, if there is a lamb in the car,’ Carey says once the giggles subside. ‘Don’t mention mint sauce.’
Again we collapse with laughter. We’ve got about half an hour to get ready before Alistair shows up and I haven’t had a shower.
‘Okay,’ I declare. ‘No more talk of livestock. It’s time to get our freak on sister.’
‘Promise me you’ll never say that again.’ Carey looks as sober as a judge.
‘I promise.’
She picks up her bundle of clothes and I head for the bathroom. We reconvene in the front hall, dressed to the nines. Carey wears a black faux fur coat over her dress and I’m in a new pair of high heels, bought because of the yet to happen date with Damian, a low-cut, silver silky blouse and a hip-hugging black velvet skirt that comes to my calves. I can barely walk in the tight skirt and heels, but I’d convinced myself I looked sophisticated yet sexy.
‘You look great, Syd,’ Carey says with a smile and that boosts my confidence as I put on my coat.
Alexandra is in the front passenger seat, an opened bottle of wine in an ice bucket on her knee. I would laugh but Carey pinches my arm, so I just slide in the back and greet both Alistair and Alexandra. I know for a fact that between Jenna and Alexandra the guest list has slowly extended past office staff and their partners. So much so we’d asked Andy from Frankie’s to cater for us. Alexandra was happy to foot the bill so I organised a disco, too. The sounds are being provided by a young, spotty lad called Ollie who works in The Crown during the week and gigs at parties on the weekend. We, apparently, are lucky to have him as most of his weekends are booked to next year. Either way, I’m looking forward to a knees up and a drink and to meeting some of the fifty or so people that have been invited on top of the office staff guest list.
I’d organised the entire disused bottom floor of the building to be cleared out so the party would take place there and I’d hired cleaning staff to make the kitchen and bathrooms presentable. I discovered that Alexandra owned the building along with several other commercial spaces in the village. She had always been a bit of an entrepreneur but let a lot of businesses slide after her husband died. I wondered if the amount of alcohol she consumed had anything to do with her losing him.
Alistair’s Jeep pulls up directly outside the door of the Bridley Green offices and he rushes around to help Alexandra down from her seat.
‘Keep an ear out for our call for a pick up,’ Alexandra says to Alistair as she waves a hand at him. ‘Probably around 4 a.m. I should imagine.’
‘Alexandra, I really don’t think –’ I begin but again Carey pinches me by the elbow and I don’t finish the sentence. Besides which, Alexandra is halfway through the door and being greeted by a middle-aged gentleman in a dinner suit.
Inside, Ollie’s music is in full swing. I’ve already told him to play a mixed bag of party music because I had no idea who would show up. But it’s a Friday night in Bridley, the food and drinks are free and I can see that Damian has already arrived and is chatting casually to Beth.
I immediately brighten up and hook Carey’s arm, waltzing her to a small room where the coats are being kept.
‘A couple of cocktails and we’ll hit the dance floor,’ I tell her.
‘As long as you don’t completely desert me when Brother gets here.’
I don’t tell her that he’s already here and that after some Dutch courage I’ll dance my way over to Damian. I make a promise not to abandon Carey entirely. I’m supposed to be cheering her up, after all, and I was the one who dragged her here.
By the time Carey and I are halfway through a cocktail I beckon her onto the dance floor. I might not have a good singing voice, but I know I can move. A disco classic is playing and I’m hoping Damian will notice me and come over. Carey and I can’t stop laughing and doing crazy dance moves, pretending we’re in a dance off until I almost drop my cocktail glass.
‘Here, let me.’ Jenna comes by and attempts to take our glasses from us. Carey and I both drain our glasses before getting back to the madcap dance routines. Every now and then I look over at Damian. I don’t think he has noticed me. Jack and his girlfriend have joined Damian and Beth and I really wish I knew what they were all laughing about.
True to my word, I don’t abandon Carey. We spend the next hour or so, stuffing our faces at the buffet, chatting to Andy and Ruthie and knocking back a bottle and a half of wine between us. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Damian. He’s coming my way. I straighten up looking around for one of the bunches of mistletoe I’d strategically placed around the whole party area for this very moment. I’m thinking that I might ask Damian to come up to my office where it’s quiet and we can talk. He is a breath away from me now, but he walks right past me and into the bathroom.
‘What’s up?’ Carey asks, handing me another glass of wine. ‘You look fed up all of a sudden.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I say but my eyes are on the bathroom door and I’m eagerly awaiting Damian’s reappearance.
When he does come out I step in front of him.
‘Damian, hi, you made it.’
‘Sydney! Yes, thanks for inviting me. It was really kind of you.’
Is it my imagination or is he trying to move away from me? He looks all fidgety and won’t meet my gaze.
‘Well,’ I draw out the word angling my cleavage upwards. He is the only person tonight who hasn’t complemented me on my outfit. ‘Glad you’re enjoying it.’
With that Damian slinks off, back to the other side of the room and rejoins Beth whose mother is here. That’s it, I think, if Damian prefers the company of a sick old woman over me then I’m done. On autopilot I drain the glass of wine Carey just gave me and I shake my head.
‘What has gotten into you?’ she asks. ‘Is it because Brother hasn’t shown up yet?’
‘What do you mean, that was Brother. He just snubbed me and pissed off.’
‘That’s not Brother. Isn’t that Damian?’
‘Yes. The Brother.
‘No. I meant his brother. That’s Brother. That’s the one who likes you.’
I look from Damian to Carey. She has no idea what she’s talking about. I haven’t been spending the last few months trying to hook up with Jed. Jed doesn’t even like me, let alone fancy me.
‘You know what Carey. Bollocks to the lot of them. Let’s get wasted.’
‘Er, some of us already are.’
‘Then I’d better catch you up.’ I shake my empty glass.
‘That’s not what I mean.’ Carey smiles and follows me to the bar where I demand a couple of their finest cocktails.
‘Those are lethal.’ I turn to see a smiling face beside me.
‘Hey, Jenna.’ I realise now I’m slurring my words, my cheeks are numb and maybe this is a cocktail too far. ‘S-sorry I haven’t caught up with you properly. Having a good time?’
‘The best. Pity we didn’t get a karaoke machine as well.’
‘Pity. But I suppose I better say hi to everyone. Bumped into Jack and Mags but that’s it.’ I look around and see that Alexandra has Carey round the shoulder and Carey looks worried. It also seems that there are far more than fifty people and, forget the karaoke machine, we need security. That said, it is a great atmosphere. The Crown, Frankie’s and everywhere else for that matter must be having a quiet night.
‘Well don’t worry too much about saying hi to Beth.’ Jenna has just been served a cocktail too and she’s spilling it down her dress.
<
br /> ‘What do you mean?’ I ask looking over to where I last saw Beth.
‘Well it’s all systems go with her and fancy pants since the big talk.’ Jenna isn’t making sense.
‘Fancy pants? What big talk?’
‘You know? Bridley’s best kept secret?’
I screw my brow and Jenna laughs. ‘Don’t tell me you of all people haven’t worked it out. You’re in Damian’s all the time.’
‘I know but that tells me nothing. He’s always keeping me chatting. Everything from the weather to his healthy interest in the comings and goings of the magazine. Always asking about it.’
‘Sydney! Don’t you get it? He’s not interested in the office. Just Beth.’
‘Beth?’
‘He’s madly in love with her. He gets close to everyone who knows her just so he can get a glimpse of what she’s up to. Always arranging it so he can accidentally happen to be where she is.’ She does air quotes around the word accidentally and spills more of her drink. I wonder if she is so drunk she has this all wrong. Damian talks to me about the office because he’s interested in me not Beth. I look across the room and see the two of them together. They are looking each other in the eye, positively glowing and mirroring each other’s every move. Beth’s mum is sitting behind them and she is in conversation with Mrs Gallagher. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen that woman smile.
‘Damian is Fancy Pants,’ I say still looking across the room. I return my attention to Jenna. ‘And the big talk?’ We both sway a little.
‘It was a sit down with the love birds and the parents. Seems the mums had been feuding since girlhood. That Mrs G. She did a real number on her son and got him to break up with Beth. This was years back. Since Damian came back to Bridley, started the business and everything, he’s been trying to cut the apron strings, but I think Mrs G’s apron strings are made of wrought iron. Beth wasn’t having it and kept refusing to go back out with him. Besides, she’s busy looking after her poor mum. I think it was her mum who organised the sit down, though. I mean despite Beth insisting she couldn’t have anything to do with a mother’s boy and a domineering mother-in-law, she really, really loves him.’
