by Paige Toon
Nathan laughed so much that he slapped the aquarium glass and got told off by a staff member. We left in fits of giggles soon afterwards.
‘Only three more days to go,’ I turn my attention back to Sam and Molly. ‘How are you both feeling?’
‘Nervous,’ Molly admits.
‘There’s nothing to be nervous about.’ Sam rubs her shoulder.
‘You don’t have to spend the day looking after my sister.’
‘Nah, I’ll only have Nathan to worry about.’
‘Ah, he’ll be alright,’ Molly says.
‘He’s a bit anxious about his speech,’ Sam continues. Nathan is Sam’s best man. ‘Speaking of Nathan,’ he adds, ‘we’ve got to get him over here to do something about that guttering.’
I follow Sam’s gaze upwards to the roof.
‘What does Nathan have to do with the guttering?’
‘He’s a bit of a handyman,’ Sam explains to me. ‘He did all the renovations on this place.’
‘Really?’ That boy is full of surprises.
‘Yeah. Oh, I know we tease him about building his own place and all that, but he could do it. If he ever gets his arse into gear.’
‘And who can tell when that’ll be?’ Molly says drily. ‘Knowing Nathan, he’ll pack up and head off up the coast again. I can’t see him settling down.’
‘Not even with Amy?’ I pry.
‘Who knows? He’s silly not to. With her parents’ help they could build the house of their dreams.’
I’ve no idea why I ask these questions because I rarely like the answers.
‘So are her parents well off, then?’ I just can’t help myself. I remember her going off at the hen night to her parents’ house near Circular Quay.
‘Very. You know who her dad is?’
‘No.’
‘Bill Benton.’
I look at Molly blankly.
‘Well-known businessman.’
‘He owns the Sleeptown hotel chain,’ Sam elaborates.
‘Oh, right…Huh. She doesn’t seem as if she comes from a wealthy family…’
‘I know!’ Molly exclaims. ‘That’s one of the things that we like about her. She’s just a regular surf chick.’
‘I’m telling you, Nathan is nuts.’ Sam shakes his head and plonks his beer down on the table in front of him. I feel like picking up the bottle and smashing it over his head. Instead I change the subject.
It’s Friday and we’re in the garden at Molly’s parents’ house in Mosman, which is a ten-minute drive from Manly across the Spit Bridge. We’re drinking wine and enjoying the peace while Andie is up in her bedroom tearing the limbs off her Barbie dolls (probably). Molly’s mum, Sheila, is in the kitchen cooking a lamb roast for dinner. It’s been a warm day so neither of us really feels like eating a heavy meal, but Sheila was insistent.
Molly’s mum looks like an older, shorter, fatter version of Molly. They even have the exact same head of hair. Molly’s dad, Bruce–yes, really–is a university lecturer, while Sheila teaches at Manly Village Public School, where Sam, Molly and I first met, aged five.
‘Have you spoken to James recently?’ Molly asks me, diamond bracelet glinting in the late afternoon sun. Sam gave it to her in a private moment just before we left. Not surprisingly, she loves it.
‘Yeah, he called me last night.’
James rang while I was reading in bed, to wish me good luck with my bridesmaid duties, knowing we probably wouldn’t get to chat tonight at Molly’s parents’ place. He’d just got off the tube on his way into work and was calling from his mobile, but his voice kept cutting out so we didn’t speak for long. He jokingly warned me not to step on Molly’s train and passed on his best wishes to the bride and groom. I tell her this, now.
‘Ah, that’s nice.’ She smiles. ‘Things alright between you?’
I shrug my shoulders and sigh.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.’
I’m not sure I want us to be okay. She misreads my expression.
‘It’s probably just the time difference,’ she says. ‘It must be weird speaking to him when he’s getting ready for his day ahead and you’ve just had a glass of wine with us. You wouldn’t be on the same wavelength.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
‘Have you talked about the whole text message incident again?’
‘No, not really. It’s just too hard. We’re so far apart from each other. To be honest, I’ve just been getting through the days and I’ll deal with it when I get back.’
‘That’s probably not such a bad idea.’
I glance over at my friend and feel a rush of affection. Why can’t I tell her the truth? I’m not lying about James–I really will have to sort this out when I get back. But I can’t tell her what I’m going through about Nathan. I still think she’d disapprove. Or laugh. Either way, I don’t think she’d take me seriously.
And to be honest, I’m not sure who would. My friends in England all think the world of James. He’s popular, funny, good-looking, has a fantastic job…When you weigh it up on paper, no one in their right mind would understand why I’m falling for a jobless surfer who is two years my junior. It’s madness. Yet I can’t help the way I feel. And I don’t know who I can talk to about it.
Maybe I should tell Molly. Maybe she would understand.
No. I can’t. She wouldn’t.
‘Molly! Lucy! Dinner’s ready!’
We pick up our glasses and head back inside.
Later that night, after we’ve successfully managed to turn down second helpings of Sheila’s lamb roast without offending her–no mean feat–we leave Molly’s parents to their TV viewing and head upstairs for an early night. Molly is sleeping in her old bedroom and I’ve been given the spare room down the corridor, but after we’ve brushed our teeth and taken off our make-up, I head into her room and climb onto her small single bed with her.
‘I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow.’
‘Neither can I.’
‘And to Sam!’
She looks at me and smiles. ‘It’s mental, isn’t it? After all these years.’
‘It’s amazing.’ It’s been bothering me since the hen night that she might still think I hold a torch for him but I haven’t felt comfortable bringing it up again. Now I find myself saying, ‘I am over him, you know.’
‘I know.’ It’s evident she means it. ‘It’s funny,’ she adds, ‘I always thought you and Sam would end up together.’
‘No!’
‘Really,’ she says, smiling.
‘That’s mad.’
‘Not really. You guys always seemed much better suited to each other than he and I were.’
‘Well, opposites obviously attract!’
She laughs. ‘It certainly seems that way.’
Again I consider telling her about Nathan. But something holds me back. What would be the point? I’ll be gone on Sunday and it will all be over.
Molly goes quiet for a moment and then asks me suddenly, ‘Do you remember your last night in Sydney?’
‘What, nine years ago?’
‘Yes.’
How could I forget? It was Australia Day, 26 January 1998. Princess Diana and Michael Hutchence had died the previous year and the fireworks on the Harbour Bridge paid tribute to them. Red, white and blue, gold, pink, purple and green sparks showered down from the bridge and fired up over the harbour. It was one of the most dazzling displays I’d ever seen. Sam, Molly and I had gone to Circular Quay with the rest of Sydney and had found ourselves a tiny patch of pavement on Fleet Steps, just outside the Botanic Gardens’ gates on the other side of the harbour. Actually, in the exact same place where the marquee will be tomorrow, I realise now with surprise. We’d stood together, Molly and I on either side of Sam, and watched the fireworks, getting emotional as we listened to Elton John’s ‘English Rose’ version of ‘Candle In The Wind’ and INXS’s ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ on the multiple radios people had brought with them. That night Mu
m and I were staying at a hotel in the Rocks area and Molly and Sam were going back to Manly by ferry. We hugged as if it were the last time we’d ever see each other, all three of us in tears. Then I stood alone and watched them board the ferry and wave to me from the lower deck as the departing boat churned up the wake in the harbour.
Molly pauses, as if contemplating whether to tell me something.
‘Why do you ask?’ I prompt.
Again she remains silent. I wait patiently for her to speak. Finally she looks at me.
‘I think Sam was in love with you.’
‘What?’ I almost fall off the bed.
‘I think he realised after you left.’ She looks wounded, and I don’t know what to say.
‘But that doesn’t make sense; he was never into me!’
‘I think that all changed once he realised he’d lost you.’
I can’t believe it. After all those years of gut-wrenchingly painful, unrequited love, he felt the same for me after I left?
‘Does…he…’ I can’t ask the question.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Relief is apparent on her face.
‘Phew,’ I say. And find I really and truly mean it.
Molly leans over and wraps her arm around my neck and I thank my lucky stars that it all worked out right in the end. We might so easily have lost our friendship if I’d stayed.
‘I’m really pleased you’re here. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with me tomorrow.’ Her voice is muffled.
‘I hope you’ll do the same for me when I get married,’ I struggle to say, my breath being squeezed out of me by her hug.
If I ever get married.
In the morning all hell breaks loose.
‘I want to go on the train! I want to go on the train!’ Andie is screaming.
‘We’ll be going on it in a couple of hours,’ Molly states with exasperation.
‘I want to go NOW!’
‘Andie, you’re just going to have to behave for Molly today,’ Sheila tells her firmly. Andie snatches the hairbrush out of her mum’s hands and throws it across the room. It narrowly misses a vase full of flowers.
‘Look! I won’t let you be my bridesmaid if you don’t behave!’ Molly shouts. ‘I’ll just have Lucy. I only need one. Sam’s only got his brother.’
‘But I’m your sister!’ Her bottom lip starts to quiver.
‘Well, start acting like one!’ Molly yells.
‘Hush, hush,’ Sheila soothes them both as she goes to retrieve the hairbrush.
‘Do you want me to do your hair?’ I ask Andie sweetly. ‘We could plait it?’
‘No. I want Mum to do it!’ She points at Sheila. Molly and I look at each other, unamused. Then the doorbell rings to announce the arrival of the make-up artist.
Three-quarters of an hour later, after the make-up artist has departed, Molly stands surveying herself in front of the mirror.
‘I look like a CLOWN!’ she yells.
‘Molly, you do not!’ Sheila shouts.
‘I do! I’m taking it off!’ She stomps up the stairs and Sheila gives me a look. I hurry after her. Molly is on the verge of tears in the bathroom. She’s right; the make-up artist has gone way overboard. The foundation is too dark and the blusher is too bright. Even the eyeliner looks wrong on Molly’s eyes.
I opted to do my own make-up for a very good reason. I’ve always wondered how someone who’s never met you before can know what’s right for you on one of the most important days of your life.
‘Let me help you,’ I offer. ‘Shall we take it off and start again?’
Molly nods dolefully.
‘Okay. Where’s your normal foundation?’
Half an hour later both of our make-up bags have been put to excellent use and Molly now looks like a beautifully–subtly–blushing bride. We’ve opted for a pretty creamy-beige sheen over her lids and dark brown mascara. Light apricot blusher and a rosy shade of lippy complete her look. Nothing too Coco the Clown-like.
Thankfully the hairdresser did a much better job and Molly is thrilled that someone has actually managed to tame her hair. She looks breathtaking in the long white dress which she made in her workshop at home, and as I help her down the front steps of her parents’ home, tiny diamanté crystals across her bodice sparkle in the sunlight.
Even Andie looks gorgeous in her silver dress, a smaller version of mine, after finally allowing the hairdresser to do a last-minute tong job on her dead-straight hair. My chestnut hair has been piled up high above my head, a few curls cascading down. It looks a tad too neat for me, but the hairdresser promised that it would loosen up.
We’ve barely even glanced outside this morning because it’s been so manic, but the weather is perfect. A light summery breeze, only a few clouds in the sky. I feel like someone up above is looking out for us.
Nathan called Molly this morning to wish her luck. He had a message for me. ‘What did one elephant say to the other? Nothing; elephants can’t talk.’ Molly didn’t find it in the least funny, but it made me smile.
Molly and her dad go in one car up ahead and Sheila, Andie and I follow behind. All of us are quiet; even Andie. Eventually we’re crossing the Harbour Bridge and winding our way towards the Royal Botanic Gardens. When we arrive, I get out of the car and go over to attend to Molly.
‘You okay?’ I ask her quietly.
‘Yeah,’ she murmurs. ‘Very surreal, isn’t it?’
I nod my agreement.
The red trackless train is waiting for us at the entrance. I help her into the front carriage, lifting up her dress so it doesn’t drape on the ground, then Bruce climbs in next to her. Molly’s mum and Andie sit behind them and I step up into the back.
I wonder what it would have been like if James had been here. Would he have been allowed to arrive with the wedding party? Would he be sitting next to me right now, as we wind our way past the hundreds-of-years-old fig trees, while bystanders call out their best wishes?
Finally we see a group of around sixty people up ahead. Molly looks calm–unwaveringly calm–and I feel edgy as hell. She steps down from the little red carriage and links her arm through her mum and dad’s–both of them walking with her to the front. Andie and I follow behind, clutching bouquets made entirely of Australian flora: Sam’s idea. The crowd parts–there are no chairs–and there, standing underneath a great old gum tree, is Sam. And Nathan. I can’t help myself. I start to cry.
The ceremony passes by in an emotional blur. Sam and Molly have written their own vows and they read them to each other, holding hands solemnly. I find the tears won’t stop falling, and I don’t even have a tissue. Even Sam chokes up, but Molly is calm. I have to keep furtively wiping my eyes every ten or twenty seconds until the first reading when the attention moves away from the five of us and the registrar. Then Nathan is next to me, holding out a Kleenex. He hasn’t shaved for the wedding–I wondered if he would–but he looks handsome in a well-fitted charcoal suit and silver tie. I take the tissue from him gratefully, impressed that he’s such an organised best man, and he gives me a sympathetic smile. It just makes my tears flow faster and I start to laugh quietly, embarrassed. He rubs his hand on my shoulder and I almost step into his arms, then I wonder if he knows about Sam and me and our history. What if he thinks I’m crying about that? The thought snaps me out of it.
The reading finishes, the registrar wraps it up, we sign the witness papers, my signature directly below Nathan’s scrawling one, and my two best friends in the whole world are pronounced husband and wife. Everyone claps as they kiss. Then Andie picks up a basket full of gum leaves and offers them around to people to use as confetti. We throw them as a blissfully happy Molly and Sam pose for photographs.
As we sit down to eat, I notice that Amy is sitting at a table two away from us. She looks pretty in a pink and white spotted chiffon dress. I catch her eye and smile. She smiles a tight little smile back and looks away.
The waiting staff bring out the first course, a light
crayfish salad, and top up our glasses with champagne. The whole marquee is buzzing. Molly and Sam to my right keep laughing and kissing each other and Nathan, next to Sam, is engrossed in conversation with his aunt, Katherine. I met her earlier, and she seemed friendly. Her long greying hair is tied up in a loose bun on top of her head. She works in an art gallery in the city and her partner, Simon, looks about fifteen years her junior. At least she approves of toyboys.
At that moment I feel lonely. Again I wonder what it would be like if James was here. How different would this holiday have been? Would I have responded to Nathan in the same way if James had been here? I miss my boyfriend suddenly, fleetingly.
It’s time for the speeches. First Bruce stands up and has everyone laughing with his tales of Molly growing up and how he, as a father, much preferred me as Molly’s friend rather than Sam, a red-blooded teenage boy. But now he couldn’t be happier with her choice. Sam continues in the same vein, keeping it light and fun. Finally it’s Nathan’s turn. He looks nervous.
‘I’m not really one for speeches so you’re just going to have to bear with me, I’m afraid. First of all I’d like to thank the bridesmaids, Lucy and Andie. Lucy came all the way from England for this and she’s been a great support to Molly for the last two weeks, and–how long have you guys known each other?’ He pauses, looking down at Sam and Molly.
