by J Wells
“I sincerely hope that you’ll be happy. This Josh of yours is a very lucky man.”
For a little more than a second I gaze up at him, and my stomach knots. He turns round on the stool and gets to his feet, and the knot that pulls so tight inside me releases.
“You know where to go, so you can let yourself out.”
“Be nice if you kept in touch.”
“Yeah, guess it would. If you ever need anything, you know where I am.”
I smile. “If you like, I could always send you an invite to our wedding.”
“No, Natasha, I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
He pauses. “It’s just not me. I’m afraid I don’t do people, or crowds.”
He holds his hand out for me to take.
“Been nice knowing you.”
“It has.”
I give him a half smile as I slide my hand into his. He doesn’t shake it, but pulls me close. I’m standing with my head nestled against his chest and I take a deep breath, inhaling the musky aftershave through the fibres of his maroon-coloured T-shirt. My whole body tenses. He’s hugging me, yet his arms no longer feel intrusive or out of place. It feels like I’m being hugged by a close friend, not a random man who has painted me. In the next breath, my shoulders lower and I feel myself beginning to relax. My arms find their way around his waist and I hug him back.
I push the keys into the ignition and my hands grip the steering wheel, though my eyes are elsewhere. I’m staring through the windscreen at the wall plaque that reads No. 4 and next to it the climbing honeysuckle that clings to the walls of Gabriel’s house. I turn the key clockwise, starting the engine, but as I’m about to pull off the grass verge I glance in my rear-view mirror and smile to myself as I catch sight of my sheeted portraits on the back seat.
I feel my phone vibrating, so push my hips up and wiggle it out of the front pocket of my jeans. I see Hughie’s name flashing on the screen and press the green button to answer his call.
“Hughie…”
“Alright, love?” His voice booms into my ear. “Would you mind doing me a favour? I just rang Josh, but he said he’s too busy.”
“Of course, if I can.”
“While we’re away, would you mind popping in a couple of times, give the fish a pinch of food and pick up any post that’s been left in the porch?”
I find myself smiling. “Sure thing. What about your hall lights? Do you want them turning on and your curtains drawing?”
“Not fussed, but you can if you want.”
I press my foot on the clutch and manoeuvre the gearstick into first.
“I’m on my way home. I’ll be passing the end of your street in the next twenty minutes or so, so if you like I could pop in and have a cuppa with you and Angela before you go away.”
He chuckles. “You won’t have time, will you?”
“I’ve had no better offers.”
“You surprise me; I thought you’d be at home getting yourself all dolled up for John’s do.”
“Me, dolled up?” I giggle. “No, Hughie, it’s not my bag.”
“But you love music and love to dance.”
I push the gear into neutral, taking my foot back off the clutch.
“Josh never said anything about music.”
There’s a pause in our conversation. “His head’s all over the place at the moment. I’d put it down to jet lag and his workload. Can’t say he was overly chatty when I spoke to him earlier.” He lets out a short cough down the phone. “Look, it’s only 2 o’clock. Get yourself home and jump in the shower; it shouldn’t take you long to get ready. Give us a bell when you are and we’ll pop round to yours for that cuppa, then I’ll drive you myself. Be a nice surprise for Josh.”
“Thanks, that would be great.”
The call ends. I take one final glance at Gabriel’s house and can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see him again.
What an absolute piss-take! Hughie drives a two-hundred-grand motor and the fucking car breaks down on the way. It’s now 9.45 p.m. Bless him, he didn’t want me turning up to the party late, so was quick to ring the breakdown company; unfortunately, an accident on the dual carriageway held them up for over three hours, so there I was, sitting on the roadside in a pair of stiletto heels and my little black dress. Feeling extremely bored, I sat counting cars, though I’d end up losing count when passing motorists honked their horns at me so I’d have to start over.
The night was drawing in, but I insisted on waiting with Angela and Hughie, telling them I’d forget John’s leaving do and just go home. I couldn’t have felt guiltier knowing they had to be up at 5 a.m. to make their way to the airport, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Hughie kept harping on about ringing me a taxi, but in the end there didn’t seem to be much wrong with the car, and when the mechanic turned up he managed to fix the problem within minutes. I texted Josh several times to tell him I was coming, but I know the signal at the stately home is crap so I wasn’t expecting a reply.
By 10.25 p.m. I’ve kissed Hughie and Angela goodbye, watched them drive away and am standing on the large footpath leading up to Fordwickston Hall. As I walk along, I look down at the white shingle and hear my heels crunch against it. Old-fashioned lanterns have been placed every few feet, lighting the way to the entrance. It’s lucky no one lives nearby, as even outside the music is blaring.
Though it’s a summer evening, there’s a chill in the air and I find myself shivering. I wrap my arms around my chest and look up with fondness as I approach the immense building. It’s equally as grand as Pemberley in Pride and Prejudice, and all it lacks is the mirror-like lake. Mum watched that film so many times I’m sure she knows the script word for word. Fordwickston Hall happens to be my Pemberley, and Josh is my Mr Darcy who’s waiting inside.
My mind is suddenly flooded with memories. School was out, and for six weeks each year we’d stay here over the summer. Josh and I would race through the rooms and corridors in between. The crewel room, the library with its dusty books that were locked away, the family dining room and the old-fashioned table. We’d strip the display mannequins of their clothes, and for an hour or so I’d become an Edwardian laundry maid in my blue bodice and skirt, and Josh would be my master. We’d play hide and seek, and he’d chase me through the drawing room and upstairs through the pink and yellow bedrooms. When he finally caught up with me, we’d fall back on one of the grand four-poster beds, staring up at the beautiful ceiling. I’ll never forget Angela’s high-pitched voice when she scolded us for our meddling. She’d stand with her back to us, straightening the candlewicks, and then spin round to face us, demanding that we return the clothes to their mannequins downstairs. We got in so much trouble, yet had so much fun.
I’m almost knocked off my heels as someone passes by, knocking into my shoulder.
“Ouch!” I blurt out in shock.
“Sorry!” a husky voice shouts. I just about catch what he says over the music. He takes a step towards me. “Just didn’t see you.”
His unsteady footing and the alcohol I smell on his breath speak volumes. I peer up into the face of a middle-aged man, with long red hair and a thick nest-like beard. I should be pissed off, but he has a kind face and an even softer expression, so I smile and watch him light a cigar.
“No worries,” I utter, but can’t be certain that he hears me.
Then I hear a voice and turn my head. He’s calling after me.
“Just made it in the nick of time, love!”
His words stop me in my tracks and I frown.
“The big announcement!” He flicks his wrist and looks down at his Rolex. “I’ve got five minutes, five minutes,” he repeats, “to get this bad boy smoked.”
I watch as he takes a long draw on his cigar, and then see the cloud of smoke that follows.
Confused, I climb up two steep steps, push open the large wooden door and walk into the grand hallway. I’m hit by a wall of sound and darkness as strobe lights of dif
ferent colours flash in patterns across the walls. With a DJ set up in the corner, it looks more like a nightclub than a room in a stately home. I peer between a mass of bobbing heads and gyrating bodies; the house is heaving. I never realised John was so popular. Scrunching my eyes, I see that they’ve opened up the main dining room and the orangery beyond it. I imagine they must have moved the furniture upstairs and cordoned it off in a couple of the bedrooms.
I lift up onto the tips of my toes and search the crowd for Josh. It’s only by chance and thanks to a beam of light that I see him walking through the dining room. I scoot behind one of the marble pillars and then go to take a step forward, but change my mind. I rub my hands together, heating up inside. I can’t wait to see his face when I surprise him. Peeking out from the left-hand side of the pillar, my eyes follow as he walks to what I can only guess is a makeshift bar. A couple of rectangular tables have been pushed together and filled with long-stemmed glasses and bottles of wine and champagne.
“Oww!”
Another elbow prods into my shoulder.
My eyes widen. “Am I fucking invisible or something?” I protest, though I’m wasting my breath as no one can hear me over the music.
This isn’t the last time I get banged into, as there’s a stampede in the hallway and everyone’s pushing and shoving as they make their way towards the dining room.
The front door opens, and the red-haired man I met moments earlier strides past to join the crowd. It takes a while, but everyone manages to filter in. The room’s almost filled to capacity and there’s only a small space for dancing left. I see Josh standing there; he turns to the DJ and nods his head. Within a matter of seconds the DJ turns off the music, steps out of the box and hands Josh a microphone. Josh takes centre stage, lit up by a large spotlight. I glance up at the row of lights in the middle of the ceiling.
“Michelle…” Josh calls out. Holding his hand over his brow, he stares out into the room. “Where is she? Come on, Michelle, where are you hiding?”
My eyes fall back to the dance floor and then to Josh, who’s still looking around him. The guests move aside, and from the far end of the room and out of the darkness a tall brunette walks into the spotlight. I look her up and down, and notice everyone else doing the same. She’s got to be wearing the tightest black dress I think I’ve ever seen. I’m squinting at the back to catch sight of a zip, but can’t see one, so God knows how she got it on; she must have literally been poured into it. I can’t help but admire her figure, and watch as she glides in one graceful motion to Josh’s side. She spins round on her heels and I see her face. She’s so beautiful. She’s giggling, and even her teeth are perfect. I assume she’s got a promotion, and Josh is there to present her with some flowers.
I twizzle the ends of my hair between my fingers. Michelle, Michelle… The name definitely rings a bell, yet I can’t seem to place her. She could have been at Bev’s leaving do last year, but I don’t remember seeing her and she’s one of those people you don’t forget.
“Michelle.”
I hear Josh’s voice and look round. Where’s he gone? I’m on the tips of my toes and see that he’s on the floor. What the hell is he doing on one knee?
“381…” he says over the mic.
381? What the fuck? I can’t see that well, so push my way towards the doorway and snake between chatting guests. Michelle stands there blushing.
“Three words.” His head lifts. “I love you.” He’s looking into her eyes.
My heart begins to race, and my palms are soaking with sweat. Is this a fucking joke? Every muscle in my body stiffens. He can’t love her, he’s in love with me.
“Eight letters,” he continues. “I—L, O, V, E—Y, O, U.”
Feeling lightheaded, I find myself leaning against the person in front of me.
She turns and gives me a funny look.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t answer, but try to get to my feet. She must think I’m drunk, but I haven’t had one sip of alcohol; even so, my head’s on fire and everything in front of my eyes is spinning.
“One person; Michelle, that one person is you.”
She grabs the mic, holding it up to her lips.
“And I love you, too,” she swoons, giggling.
Taking the mic back, he pulls her down towards him so that she’s sitting on his knee.
“Well, that’s settled then, you love me.” He takes her in his arms. “And I…” He rubs his nose against hers. “I love you, so there’s only one small question left to ask.”
My stomach churns and I feel physically sick. I can’t see them now, but I’ve seen enough. His words continue to stab at my heart, which in the last thirty seconds he’s managed to break.
“Michelle, the love of my life,” I hear him say. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“Oh yes!”
I can hear the tears of joy in her voice. I straighten up and can see them again. Shaking, I grasp my mouth with my hand. His lips are locked on hers, and after a moment he breaks away and is spinning her round and round. Tears spill down my cheeks; about a year and a half ago he did exactly the same to me.
Heads have turned and eyes are staring at me, shaking and sobbing out loud.
“Here…” A hand takes my wrist. “Young love… Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s had the same effect on me,” an elderly lady says, wiping a tear from her eye with a cotton handkerchief.
She opens her small clutch bag and hands me a paper tissue. If I don’t get out of here I’m going to explode and make a massive scene, but I don’t intend on airing my dirty laundry in public. I’ll count to ten and walk out; no one will miss me, no one will know, Josh certainly won’t. God help him when he gets home. I’ll wait in the darkness and confront him the moment he walks through the door.
I turn and begin my count to ten; then, hearing the DJ’s voice, I spin back round.
“Can you all raise your glasses and toast the happy couple, Josh and Michelle.”
The lady kind enough to pass me a tissue is also kind enough to pass me a glass. I clench the stem in my hand while everyone holds up their glasses.
“Josh and Michelle!” echoes around the room as the DJ plays the wedding march.
This was us in Jamaica! How could he do this to me? How could he do this to us?
Fuck this and fuck them! My face is blood-red and on fire. With my elbows stuck out at my sides I force my way between tightly packed people. I’m storming my way across the dance floor and there they are, all loved up, Josh’s tongue down her throat.
“Boring, and speeches!” I yell. “You told me not to come; now I can see why.”
The music stops dead and I’m surrounded by silence.
“Josh?” Michelle looks down her nose at me. “I didn’t know you’d invited your ex.”
“Ex! Is that what you told her?” I holler.
Josh’s face is an ashen grey; his mouth hangs open but nothing comes out. I thought ‘lost for words’ was a cliché, but now I know that’s not true.
The DJ’s back out of his box and he rushes towards me, grabbing my arm.
“Come on, this is an engagement party. How about you get your spiteful ass out of here? You’re spoiling everyone’s night.”
I see every face in the room staring at me, frowning; if they could spit arrows they’d be heading my way.
I grab the mic from the DJ’s hand.
“Engagement party!” I shout at the top of my voice. I lift my left arm in the air to make damn sure I’ve got everyone’s attention. “Look at this fucking ring!” Like a mad woman I wave my finger. “You wonder why I’m slightly pissed off and spoiling their so-called engagement? Well, maybe it’s because I’m his fucking fiancée, and eight weeks from now we’re supposed to be getting married. It’s me, not that tramp, he’s supposed to be saying ‘I do’ to!”
“Tash…” Josh grabs both my shoulders and turns me to face him.
I turn my head back towards her.
/> “You bitch!”
With my arm as far back as it will physically go, I clamp my glass a little tighter before flinging every last drop of their precious champagne into her face. She lets out a high-pitched scream, and with her hands over her eyes runs off towards the toilets.
Josh retakes my arm and I let go of the glass; it shatters on the wooden floor. He leans forward, his eyes staring into mine.
“That’s quite enough. Why are you doing this? You knew we were over.”
I raise my eyebrows. I did, did I?
“Oh yes, you’re right there, we are definitely over!”
I make my hand into a tight fist and punch him as hard as I can on the side of his cheek. His head reels back. Free from his hold, I twist my engagement ring off my finger and toss the worthless gold band between his guests. I don’t stop to see where it lands. I’m off.
I sit with my feet dangling over the edge of the tree house and take a large swig from the bottle of champagne I grabbed off one of the tables on my way out. I thrust it down next to me and then lift my hand and wave goodbye.
“Bye, Josh, bye Jamaica, bye ten wasted years, goodbye everything!” I yell, sticking two fingers up into the darkness.
I sit watching as headlights pass in the distance. I pull the narrow strap of my bag off my shoulder and reach inside for my phone. I’m beyond angry, beyond hurt, and Adrianna is the only person I want to speak to right now. I press her name and wait.
“Adrianna,” I sob into the mouthpiece.
“Tash?”
“Danielle…”
“Tash, what the hell’s wrong?”
“Danielle, just get Adrianna, put her on the phone.”
“She’s pregnant; have you any idea what time it is?”
“I don’t care what time it is; I need to speak to her, now.”
“Sorry, she’s asleep, you’ll have to talk to me. Now calm down and tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“Josh, he’s engaged to someone else,” I blurt out incoherently.
“I don’t understand. Slow down and start again.”
For half an hour I sob down the phone, and in that time Danielle just listens.
