by Hannah Doyle
I ask for the bill and fish around in my bag for my purse. Pulling out two lens caps, a spare memory card and a flyer for a band I heard playing on the street earlier, my fingers eventually wrap around my passport holder. I open it up and pull out the now-slightly-dogeared memo from Mila.
My NEW type on paper
1. Blond, beardy, topknot?
2. Sport is out, being passionate is in
3. ANY EYE COLOUR you fussy mo fo
4. Less flirty, more genuinely nice
5. Non-wanker job
6. Start looking past his outfit
7. Strong group of friends?
I read it through one last time as I tuck into my pudding. Mila always says that a meal without a pudding is like a sentence without a full stop.
Hang on a sec. Date number seven and I have found The One, just like that article said.
I grab my phone and make the call.
‘IT’S YOU,’ I boom.
‘Are you drunk?’
‘I’ve only had one wine! I’m on date number seven and I have found The One!’
‘Holy shit! Is he there right now? Should you maybe wait until later to call me?’
‘No, no, I’m on a date with myself. I’ve realised that The One has been staring back at me the entire time.’
‘What, Ben? I thought that was all dead and buried?’
‘IT’S YOU! Mila, you are the most wonderful best friend. All this time I’ve been thinking that I need a guy to share my life with but I don’t. I already have the most incredible person in my life. You’ve been there for me through all my ups and downs, cheering me on and helping me to refocus when I started to think that my life wasn’t getting anywhere. All of the amazing stuff that’s happened to me recently has been down to you. You’ve been championing me even when you had your own shit with Mike going on. Even when I was being too much of a selfish dick to realise that your life isn’t always so picture perfect. I love you to the moon and back Mils.’
There’s a lump in my throat so I stop talking.
Silence down the phone.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yep,’ she sniffs. ‘I love you too, Jazzy. And I am very proud of you.’
‘Do you want your score?’
‘Huh?’
‘You are one hundred per cent my type on paper. It’s a ten out of. . . seven?’
She laughs and we say our goodbyes. I take one last sip of wine before heading back to my hotel, my dress swooshing in the wind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
All The Emotions are jostling for space in my head as I walk towards the playground where I’m due to see the former-best-friend I’ve ignored for almost a decade and the two half-sisters I’ve never met. There stands Holly with her girls. The older one, Everly, is pushing baby Willow on the swings. It’s the idyllic family scene.
I linger at the park gates, unsure what to do next, when Holly waves me over so I walk over, feeling equal parts awkward and excited.
‘Hello,’ I say, crouching down to get closer to the littles.
‘HAROO!’ booms Willow.
‘That means hello,’ Everly tells me. ‘Willow’s just learning how to speak. She can say “swings” too, can’t you Willow?’
‘SWEEEEE,’ the little girl beams with pride.
‘Oh very impressive,’ I reply. I am so rubbish at talking to children. What do you even say? Thankfully Everly has none of my millennial angst. She grabs my hand and pulls me over to a bench.
‘You’re my half-sister,’ she says.
‘I am.’
‘My friend Annie has a half-sister because her mum met another man who she liked better than Annie’s dad, only he’s a musician so Annie’s half-sister hardly ever sees her dad. But one time he came to pick her up from school and he had a bodyguard and everything because he’s a proper rock star. Why haven’t we met before?’
Bloody hell.
‘It’s a bit complicated.’
‘It’s okay. I’m nearly eight and really grown up. Is it because Mummy and Daddy love each other?’
‘Um, no, well, yes, I mean. . .’ I clear my throat. ‘Your mummy and I were very good friends, and I was upset when she fell in love with your daddy–’
‘Your daddy too.’
‘Yes, our daddy.’
Everly swings her legs to-and-fro on the bench. She’s wearing some badass trainers and a dress which makes her look like a miniature Lily Allen circa that first album heyday. Then Willow toddles over, one fist in a packet of organic baby snacks as she crams – pea puffs? – into her mouth. Unsure what to do with her dirty hands, she wipes pea puff dust through her hair.
‘Ja-Ja,’ she says, offering me the now-empty packet of snacks.
‘That means she likes you,’ says Everly. ‘Willow only shares with people she likes.’
‘Thank you,’ I smile, feeling like the proudest sister ever.
‘Why didn’t you want to meet us?’ Everly persists.
I look up to the skies, searching for a child-friendly way to explain to her what happened. Why I couldn’t forgive Dad, or Holly, for what they’d done. Why the hate I felt for them was greater than the love I might have felt for my half-sisters. Only, I can’t find any words and I don’t think it’s because I’ve had zero practice in conversing with children. Everly is waiting patiently for me to reply and Willow is mushing mud and twigs into a pile on the ground. And that’s when it hits me. Thinking about what happened normally makes my heart sink and my shoulders drop, but now I feel. . . full? I’ve let this weigh me down for so long and for what? Right here in this playground is what life is all about. Just look at my beautiful sisters! It took an seven-year-old (who clearly has more poise, grace and tact than I will ever possess) to help me realise that none of that stuff matters anymore. Why on earth have I been carrying all that around with me for so long when I could have been running around a playground in South London with two absolute legends who I am already proud to call my family.
I take Everly’s hand and tell her the truth. ‘I did want to meet you, but I was being a bit silly. Forgive me?’
‘Always,’ she grins. ‘Can I please plait your hair?’
My hair’s in a French plait like I’m trapped in the nineties, adorned with bits of twig that Willow found on her potter around the park, plus a couple of discarded lolly sticks she discovered by the bin. I don’t need to look in a mirror to know that this isn’t my strongest look, but I’m one hundred per cent certain I’ve never felt happier.
‘Nice “do”,’ Holly teases.
‘Thanks,’ I puff up my hair like the sassy lady emoji.
‘Would you like some blusher now?’ Everly suggests. I look around for what she means by blusher. . . She’s found a half-eaten Dip Dab on the floor.
‘NO! Mo. Stick.’ That was Willow. I have zero clue what she’s saying but Holly and Everly are fluent in baby chat.
‘Willow says you need more sticks,’ Everly explains.
‘Um. . .’
‘No more sticks or blusher,’ says Holly in a calm, authoritative voice. ‘Why don’t you guys get your stuff together, it’s nearly time to go.’ The girls race off to collect a frisbee and a pile of berries from all corners of the park while my heart sinks. I don’t want this moment to end.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Holly says.
I shake my head. ‘Thank you for inviting me. Those girls are. . . They’re awesome. I’d love to see them again. And you.’
Well blow me down, Brenda. Holly looks as surprised as I feel but her whole face is radiating happiness as she pulls me in for a hug.
‘It’s been so good to see you again. Listen, I didn’t want to say in front of the girls but Paul’s coming to meet us here soon. I wanted to warn you, I figured you might not want to see him or. . .’ She trails off awkwardly, her face bunched up in concern.
I whistle air out through my teeth. Paul. The dad I haven’t seen since I was eighteen.
‘It’s
okay,’ I say with a nod. ‘We’ve actually been in touch. I messaged him while I was working in Dublin and suggested that we meet up when I got back. I guess now’s as good a time as any?’
‘He would love that, if you’re sure?’
Am I sure?
Willow waddles back over and stuffs something worryingly wet into my hand. ‘BE-WEE. SIS-AH.’
‘A berry for my sister,’ Holly translates.
I look down at the little one. She’s already the best thing in my life and I’ve only known her for forty-six minutes.
‘I’m sure.’
There was a picture up at home. . . A black frame with white boarding. Inside, a photo of me and Dad when I was just weeks old. He’d taken me to an exhibition of his work and in the photo he’s standing next to his favourite piece from that collection, a glass of wine in one hand and tiny baby me in another. I’m wrapped up in a blanket and snoozing on his shoulder while people milled around in the background. Dad was my best friend and my source of inspiration from the minute I was born. It was because of him that I wanted to get into art. He bought me my first camera and he had unparalleled belief in me. I couldn’t look at that photo after Dad left so Mum took it down.
I’m wondering if she’s still got it when Willow starts to clap.
‘DA-DEEE.’
And there he is. My daddy, too.
My face crumples and I let out a sob. He’s seen me and he’s rushing over, his own face doing the exact same crumply thing as mine because he always was a big softie. I’m engulfed in a hug and I nestle my ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat and smelling that familiar dad smell I’ve missed for so long.
I don’t know how long we’re standing like that but after a while Willow squeezes herself into the gap between us. Then Everly wraps her arms around Dad’s waist and Holly does the same behind me. I look up past Dad’s face, to the blue skies above, and I swear I can see a ball of Jasmine-shaped anger floating up, up and away until POP, it bursts.
‘You are shitting me.’
‘I am not.’
‘And your dad, did he apologise?’
‘Yes, once we both remembered how to speak. After that he couldn’t stop apologising.’ The tears are close again but I blink them back. ‘The funny thing was, I didn’t even feel like I needed to hear it. All that anger, all that hate, and for what? It was good to see him again.’
Mila hands me a small card with a name written on it in her beautiful handwriting. ‘How many more to go?’
‘Another thirty should do it.’
‘If you weren’t my best friend I’d be charging you for this,’ she says.
‘I am eternally grateful for your help. This is the first magazine commission I’ve had and I think The Wedding Edit is a pretty fancy mag?’
Mila looks at me like I’m stupid. ‘Haven’t you read it?’
‘Not before I got this job, on account of me not being engaged or planning a wedding,’ I feel like I’m pointing out the obvious.
‘Seriously? I read wedding mags all the time. It’s good to keep abreast of the situation, you know?’
‘No I do not know. You buy wedding mags?’
‘Shhhh! Keep your voice down! I don’t want Mike to think I’m crazy.’
‘Yeah, because it would be him overhearing this conversation that would make you crazy. Buying wedding magazines when you’re not actually engaged is totally normal.’
Mila wafts her hands around in another attempt to shut me up. ‘It’s called wedding porn, okay? Once you’ve started you can’t stop. Don’t judge me?’
I smile at my best friend, still full of surprises after all these years. She looks so relaxed and happy today in a pair of faded jeans and a cute shirt.
‘Mila? How are you feeling now, I mean about you and Mike?’ I drop my voice.
‘Oh, so much better. I was getting all het up about what I might be missing out on and seeing you getting out there made me a bit jealous, if I’m honest. But I’ve realised that I’m incredibly lucky to have Mike in my life and to be in this position. He is pretty great,’ She grins just thinking about him.
‘Yes he is. And you know, there are still so many amazing firsts to come for you guys. Like maybe he’ll propose, or you’ll propose, and maybe you’ll decide to get a pet, or have kids, or go on an incredible journey together. Just because you’ve found a guy who you think you might like to spend the rest of your life with doesn’t mean you’ll be missing out.’
Mila laughs. ‘You are absolutely right, Jasmine from approximately ten years ago.’
‘Huh?’
‘Just listen to you, dishing out advice and making me feel confident in my decisions, just from being around you. You may have lost your way a little bit since we were at school but holy shitballs, Jas, you’ve only gone and found your confidence again.’
‘I guess I do feel like I’ve got my mojo back.’
‘That’s my girl. And besides, if I need my first date fix, you can tell me your stories.’
‘Totally. And if I need my long-term relationship fix, I’ll be coming round with my toothbrush and you guys can make me a chilli.’
‘You know you do that already, right?’
‘Yes I do! How’s the chilli coming along, Mike?’ I call into the kitchen.
‘Oh fine, you guys just relax, leave all the cooking to me,’ he shouts back sarcastically.
‘Thanks Mike!’ we call out in unison.
‘Though, do you think we should actually help?’ I suggest to Mila, suddenly feeling sheepish.
‘Nah. He loves it really. Plus, we’ve got all this work to do,’ she motions at the place names in front of us.
‘Thank you for being such a great help. The brief for the shoot is “wedding after party” so I’m thinking these could be scattered across the floor. I bought wine as a thank you! And a second bottle of wine which I put in the wine rack of your fridge because I’m the perfect best friend who even cares about your weird fridge stacking thing.’
‘It’s not weird. And can you say that a bit louder when Mike comes out here? The other week he put milk on the bottom shelf.’ She might as well have replaced those words with his penis and chopping board, such is the horror in her voice.
‘He’s an animal,’ I laugh.
Mila suddenly looks serious again. ‘What was it like, seeing your dad again?’
‘Oof,’ I say, blowing hair out of my eyes. ‘Overwhelming. It had already been such an emotionally charged day and for a while I didn’t think my little heart could take any more. I just cried and cried. Dad cried and cried. You know, when I was in Dublin I went for Sunday lunch with the girl I was shooting and her whole family. It was messy and loud and, to my mind, perfect. I knew there and then that I could face seeing Dad again. Like Erin said, families are never going to be perfect, right? And when I saw Dad, I didn’t feel angry towards him, just sad that I’d missed out on all that time. I’d been so wrapped up with what he’d done that I couldn’t allow myself to move past it. And the truth of it is that yes, Dad didn’t do a great thing. Yes, he was a bit of a douche. But that’s just him and at the end of the day, he followed his heart and he was true to himself. I can’t hold that against him and I sure as hell shouldn’t have let it affect me for so long.’
‘Proud of you.’
‘Hearing from Mum that she’d moved on made me realise I should do the same, too. You know the whole hanging out at the supermarket thing? And the other day she told me that they sometimes go for coffee and cake in the café. COFFEE AND CAKE!! I couldn’t get my head around how she’d managed it but when I saw Dad. . .’ I pause and shake my head. ‘He looked exactly the same, Mils. A bit more crinkly around the eyes, but just exactly the same. The minute I saw him I knew it would be okay. I can’t get those years back but I’m bloody well going to make sure we make memories again now. We’ve planned a trip to the Tate.’
Mila plants a kiss on my forehead. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
‘Thanks.
I am too. And you bet your ass I’m going to be the best half-sister for Everly and Willow from now on.’
‘To all the incredible women in our life,’ Mila raises her glass.
‘To you,’ I reply.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Absolute carnage is the best way to describe my current situation. There’s a barefoot bride dancing on a table, a groom with his arms around his best men, a bridesmaid kicking her legs in the air as she sits in a chair and a thousand champagne glasses drunkenly propping one another up. This is the exact kind of scene I was looking forward to with James just a couple of months ago. I’d pictured me plus a sudden and mysterious injection of confidence, flitting between guests, impressing his parents and generally being the perfect girlfriend at his sister’s wedding. Back then I had no clue that I was about to get dumped, and still less clue that my life was going to turn on its head. Gone are the boy-stressing, work-stressing, life-stressing days of old. In their place is a new-found confidence, a buzzy energy about what might be just around the corner, and a kick-ass new career. If I had time to have a little cry of joy, I would. Instead I step back from my camera and take a sip of water while the makeup artist flits from one model to the next, correcting and perfecting with her tool kit.
‘This is looking fantastic already,’ says one of the magazine team, standing next to me.
‘I’m so pleased,’ I reply, my eyes now focused on the scene as the bride picks up the place names Mila worked on and throws them into the air. They swish and sway to the floor like confetti as I snap.
As well as having loads of fun today, I’ve also managed to secure myself some best friend brownie points. There’s a bag full of shoot loot in the corner with my name on it. I know, I just dropped that phrase in there like an actual pro photographer, right! Shoot loot is THE BEST. Sometimes I’m given bits and bobs to take home with me at the end of a shoot, aka the loot. Given today’s wedding theme and my best friend’s strange and only recently discovered wedding obsession, I think she’s going to like it. I’ve got the latest edition of the mag, which doesn’t come out until the start of next month, some mini bottles of fizz, a tiara and a garter in there. Let’s face it, Mila and Mike are on a one-way street to Weddingsville. As for me, well, I can honestly say that I am more than happy taking pictures of brides rather than being one myself right now. My life no longer revolves around boys, espesh the wrong-uns I used to go for, and that’s such an incredible feeling.
