The Wedding Date

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘I know you’re not going to want to hear this. It’s just you’re…’

  Bloody right I don’t want to hear it. Any second now and he’s going to say the F word, and when he does, I’ve got an F word of my own. Actually I’m going to add another point to my not-kissing list:

  1. He wears a skirt.

  This will put me off if my resolve ever wavers and he tries to throw in a free extra.

  Oh, and:

  2. He actually said I was FAT!!!

  Why didn’t I include a clause in our agreement not under any circumstances to insult me then I could send him home and not have to pay him for breach of terms. Not that we have an actual contract. Just a gentlemen’s agreement. Ha!

  He plonks himself down on the edge of the bed. ‘…you’re so stressed about all this.’ He’s just said stressed, not fat, or cuddly. ‘And believe me, exercise does help.’ I’m not sure I do believe that bit though. Last time I tried running it nearly killed me. ‘Seeing as you’re not going to let me get your pulse racing in some other way.’ Now he’s spoilt it. We’re back to the not kissing thing. ‘Maybe a gentle jog would help?’

  Since when were the words gentle and jog compatible?

  ‘So where did you say Harry was?’

  Oh bugger. Full circle. And there was I hoping he might have forgotten.

  ‘Er, I didn’t. I told Jess she could borrow him, after I, er…’

  I think I might have gone pale again, because he’s waving toast and staring at me.

  ‘I suppose I’d better get up.’ I say it as brightly, and distractingly as I can. Which is hard in my fragile state, believe me. It takes up a lot of energy. ‘Lots to do today. Spa, running, stuff.’ I haven’t had a proper look at the itinerary yet.

  ‘After you er…?’

  ‘Nearly told Jess about us.’ I abandon the toast and make a dive for the bathroom, swerving to grab a cup of coffee. Then I lock the door.

  After drinking the coffee and taking a very, very long shower, I still feel like the walking dead, and when I come out Jake is still there.

  He is stabbing what’s left of his sausage as though he’s trying to kill it. ‘You nearly told Jess?’ I wince. One slip and it could be fatal. ‘What does nearly mean?’

  ‘I didn’t tell her everything.’ I also have a bit of a banging head, and even the stabbing without the noise is making me feel worse. ‘I stopped myself, but I told her we hadn’t actually been dating for ages, I told her that we’d just met.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been better not to tell anybody anything?’

  ‘I could do without the judgement. Who do you think you are?’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘You’re not—’

  ‘I’d keep it down if I was you, unless you’re planning on telling everybody?’ I settle for a scowl. ‘Look babe, I’m saying this because…’

  ‘You care? Oh, give me a break.’ I’m feeling tetchy, because I know I’m in the wrong. ‘And don’t babe me.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  ‘She’s my friend, my best friend. I didn’t want to lie to her, but…’

  He’s ruffling his fingers through his hair. ‘What if she tells her mum? Dan? What if Dan asks?’ God, he is really taking this seriously. And he’s right, I nearly cocked everything up. ‘You can’t expect your best friend to lie to the man she’s marrying in a few days.’

  I know that bit.

  ‘What if her mum tells your mum? How will that look, seeing as you’ve told your parents we’ve been dating for ages?’ He shakes his head. ‘Why complicate this, Sam?’

  I hadn’t intended on telling Jake that Jess and I had slipped away for a chat. Except we both passed out on the bed, with Harry in the middle, and he came back to find us ‘snoring louder than the poor dog’ as he put it.

  This is a relationship first for me, a new low. One minute we’re talking sexy and free kisses and the next we’re having our first argument, and we’ve not even slept together! In fact, we’ve not even slept in the same room.

  Originally I’d said he could have the bed, because he probably expected some level of comfort as part of the deal. And he’s longer than me so wouldn’t fit on the chaise longue (which isn’t, if we’re honest, that long – it is very inappropriately named). Then we (or I) thought about building a pillow barrier between us. But in the end we didn’t have to decide.

  He came in, saw me and Jess crashed out, and left.

  ‘Anyway, where did you sleep last night?’

  ‘I spent the night with Dan.’

  Great, there’s been more male bonding than girlfriend-boyfriend bonding. ‘Dan probably knows more about you than I do.’

  ‘Ah but I didn’t start re-inventing our imaginary relationship, did I?’ He shrugs. ‘Up to you I suppose, you’re the boss.’

  I’ve never been called ‘boss’ before, but I don’t think he’s saying it in a complimentary way.

  ‘I am.’ It comes out all small. I don’t want to fall out with Jake, we’re a team. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh Sam.’ He shakes his head, and his voice becomes softer. ‘Look, I know it was hard and it rattled you, seeing Liam and Stella, and you had to get away.’

  ‘You do?’ I know my voice is tiny. And I know he’s right. It was weird, and all a bit much after all the build-up of the last few weeks, and I’d really needed some girlie time. I needed to be with Jess, and be me. Not pretending. ‘I know I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘You’re doing great, they all think we’re a couple, and I made damned sure Liam thought we were. It’ll get easier now we’ve got the first day out of the way.’ He’s right. I know he is.

  ‘It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, seeing him.’

  ‘Good, but next time we see him we’re going to show him what a twat he’s been, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You know the real problem though, don’t you?’

  It’s my turn to shake my head, but he doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer.

  ‘You’re just too nice to do something like this, aren’t you?’ He taps the end of my nose with his finger, and smiles, and it’s almost like we’re making up. ‘I’ve never met anybody quite like you.’ There’s a soft chuckle which makes me goose-bumpy. ‘I know you don’t want to lie to your best mate, but you have done this all for her, haven’t you? And if you don’t keep our secret then you’re wasting your money. I might as well just pack my bags and go home, mightn’t I?’

  I swallow hard. ‘I don’t want you to go home.’ And I don’t, I really don’t. It’s nice having Jake here with me.

  ‘Okay.’ His voice is soft. ‘So no more owning up?’ I shake my head. He takes a step back. ‘So where did you say Harry was?’

  ‘What is it with you and that dog? That’s at least the tenth time you’ve asked.’

  ‘I’m responsible for him, and I take my responsibilities seriously.’ I risk a look at him, but it doesn’t look like it’s a pointed comment suggesting I don’t, but then again he is an actor. ‘And he’ll need a walk.’

  ‘Like I said, Jess took him, she wanted to go for a walk she said.’

  ‘But he hasn’t had his breakfast.’

  ‘Ah, smarty pants, there you are wrong. He’s had sausage and bacon.’

  ‘He’s had what?’ He drops his fork with a clang, which is totally unnecessary and dramatic if you ask me. ‘You can’t give him sausage and bacon.’ He looks genuinely dismayed.

  ‘Why not? Jess went and got it herself from downstairs.’ Then I had another half hour nap. ‘It was freshly cooked. Oh, and he had an egg.’

  ‘He’s on a special diet.’

  ‘He’s a dog.’

  ‘I know he’s a dog.’

  ‘Dogs just eat stuff, like, like dog food.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And human food.’

  ‘Laura likes him to eat sensibly.’ Well, this is great, he’s still bothered about what Laura thinks. I
t’s obvious that Laura is the key to this, not taking his responsibilities seriously. This is probably niggling me more than it should. He’s right, I’m complicating things. ‘She’ll have a fit if she thinks he’s been on junk food, she gave me all these special packets.’

  None of our dogs ever ate ‘sensibly’, although maybe that’s why they were hyper. In fact, I don’t eat sensibly either. Which might explain a lot. My mum was always pretty slapdash about food, she was far too busy doing ‘stuff’, apart from on a Sunday when we had to have a roast dinner even in the middle of summer.

  ‘It won’t kill him.’ Surely one meal of sausage and bacon can’t kill a dog? Surely? Now I’m a teensy bit worried. I start to Google it, but he takes the phone off me.

  ‘It might kill me, if she finds out.’

  That could help. I can see the headline: ‘Crime of passion - boyfriend killed by ex in fit of jealous rage’. I could mourn and accept condolences; nobody (apart from Sarah) would know he had never been my boyfriend. Although I don’t actually want him dead. That would be weird. ‘Harry’s fine.’

  ‘So, why did you change your story for Jess?’

  I thought we’d moved on from that. ‘She’s my best friend, I don’t like to lie.’

  ‘You don’t like to lie?’ He’s got an eyebrow raised, and even though I’m a bit mad at him I have to smile.

  ‘This is so big it doesn’t count anymore, apart from with Jess.’ I sigh. ‘But then I realised I couldn’t tell her, but I had to say something.’

  ‘Whatever you say. Come on then, hurry up and eat that while I have a quick shower. We’ve got some outdoor activities to do.’ I’m not sure I like the way he says that, there’s a definite twinkle in his eye. I have noticed he didn’t say the word ‘sport’ though. Maybe it’s just a stroll across the estate, a wander along the banks of the loch.

  As I am not exactly sure what we’re doing, but it’s a lovely sunny morning, I put on jeans, a T-shirt and a light sweater and hope I am dressed properly for the occasion. It is a nice sweater, cashmere. It’s not my usual type of purchase, but the lady in the department store said it would be ideal for this time of year in Scotland, and very smart but casual in a way that will take me through from afternoon to evening. It was appropriate for any occasion. So that works for me. Even if it is actually still the morning.

  Chapter 17

  I have just heard four words that are guaranteed to ruin my day. ‘Sandy will sort out a hat for you.’ The Sandy bit was fine, I have nothing against Sandy, it was the sort out a hat that made my knees lean in to meet each other for support, and my stomach contract like it wanted to scrunch up and take cover behind my kidneys.

  I look at the young girl who has just uttered the terrible words, then back at Jake.

  Hat is not a word I’m particularly fond of, as they just don’t suit me. But they don’t scare me. It’s the setting that makes the word alarming.

  I’d thought we’d strolled into the stable yard by accident. Apparently not.

  ‘Did you know?’ I glare at Jake, who is gazing round without a care in the world. In fact I think he’s being a bit too casual. ‘You knew, didn’t you? You bugger.’

  ‘Jess thought it might be better to keep it a surprise.’

  I’m going to kill her. Both of them. ‘You’ve been talking to Jess?’

  ‘Only briefly. She popped into the room to say good morning, on the way back from getting your breakfast. I thought there seemed a lot just for the two of you.’ I decide not to tell him that Harry scoffed the lot. ‘Dan agreed it was best to keep shtum.’

  Dan would. I am going to kill all three of them. Carnage in the highlands.

  ‘She said she knew you’d love it once you got on.’

  How can anybody love having their thighs spread unnaturally wide by some beast (and this is not an affectionate term for a large man)?

  There are also other considerations that make this something I won’t love. Horses are big, very big. I do not want to be spread-legged several feet up in the air. It is unnatural and dangerous. They also bite and kick at ground level, so why would I go near them in the first place? And, lastly but very importantly, they go fast. Very fast, whilst bobbling about up and down alarmingly. I have watched the Grand National. I know. People die.

  ‘Yay, Sam!’ Jess does not share my reservations when it comes to horseback riding. She is dressed for the occasion in tight jodhpurs, chaps, boots, polo shirt and gilet, as though she does this regularly. Which she does. I did think it was a bit odd when she didn’t reply to the text I sent her this morning asking what to wear, but decided she must be busy doing loved-up things with her husband-to-be.

  She is bouncing about more than a horse does as she grabs me. ‘How’s your head? Mine was banging but Dan got me some tablets and breakfast, and he rubbed my neck, and my feet.’ This is a girl in love. ‘And I feel fine!’ She pauses for breath and looks concerned. ‘You look a bit pale.’

  ‘Or pukey, as Jake would say.’ I feel pukey. I was just starting to stabilise – and now this. My stomach is churning like a washing machine, and gathering up all the lovely crumbs of toast ready to deposit them out again if I have to climb on a horse.

  Jess giggles. ‘Must be love!’ Then winks very obviously. I look round a bit too quick, which makes the world spin a bit, but nobody seems to have noticed. ‘A good gallop really will clear your head though. Come on. Oh I’m so glad you’ve agreed Sam, I thought you might cop out!’

  I am going to cop out, once I work out how.

  ‘You’re so brilliant!’ She hugs me and grins at Jake. ‘Isn’t she? Come on I’ve got you something quiet, and you’ll love yours, Jake.

  From that comment I take it that Jake is not allergic to spreading his legs for a horse. Figures. Jake can do bloody everything. I am starting to dislike him a bit. It is one thing to have a smart, attractive accomplished boyfriend, but nobody likes perfection, do they?

  Before I can think this over any further, Jess has dragged me along to Sandy the hat sorter, and my head has been encased in armour plating. I just wish the rest of my body was.

  ‘Say hello to Nutmeg! Isn’t he the sweetest?’ This is not sweet. This is a ginger horse of mammoth proportions in all directions. Nutmegs are small, and this is not. He’s as wide as he’s tall, with hair sticking out from places it really shouldn’t be. It’ll be like sitting on a piece of hard leather strapped to a giant scrubbing brush.

  I’ve always been told horses are gentle, trusting vegetarians, but this one is giving me the evil eye and curling his top lip in disdain like he’s thinking about taking a chunk out of me. Then he shakes his head, makes a funny noise and showers me in spit. My expensive jumper is no longer going to see me through from afternoon to evening.

  I am working on the ‘I can’t get on’ approach when I’m foiled. The horse has been manoeuvred in front of a large block of steps and everybody is waiting.

  Everybody else is now on a horse, apart from me and Jess. And before you can say ‘isn’t this a bit risky just before your wedding day’ she’s vaulted, without the use of a private staircase, onto a big black animal. ‘We’ve sent the oldies rambling.’

  ‘I wish I was with the oldies,’ I mutter under my breath. But I know Jake has heard.

  ‘You’ll be fine, we’ll take it steady.’

  ‘I can do rambling.’ All of a sudden I love rambling. It sounds like the perfect way to pass a few hours.

  ‘You can do this.’ He winks. ‘Remember?’ He’s there by my side. ‘I know you can.’ His warm hand rests lightly on my thigh and when I look into his eyes all I can see is total confidence, belief in me. Which sends a funny little shimmer into the pit of my stomach. ‘We’re in this together, Sam, I’m here if you need me. For anything.’

  And the funny thing is, I feel like he totally means it. He is there, and he does believe in me, and for a moment nothing or nobody else matters.

  He squeezes my thigh again briefly. ‘Ready?’

&nbs
p; ‘I can do it.’ I do have to admit that my fingers are crossed, and I really wish it was my legs. But I am ready.

  It’s not quite knight in shiny armour stuff, him holding a lead rein as we amble along at the back. But he is nice, and doesn’t make fun of me. And I will just have to imagine I am Queen Victoria on my hairy pony, and he is Billy Connolly. If nothing else he will be able to tell me jokes.

  It is surprisingly pleasant ambling along through the estate on my shaggy pony. He isn’t actually mammoth, but he is rather round, which is the only thing he has in common with a nutmeg. But this does mean it would be quite hard, as Jake points out, to fall off.

  Jake also points out gorse, rabbits and osprey which I think is his way of trying to distract me. As a relaxation technique it isn’t working. How can people talk and look around when they’re sat on a moving horse? I need to concentrate or I might be caught unawares when it suddenly leaps over a hedge or something.

  ‘Did you know they’re expecting twins?’

  ‘What!’ I forget where I am and yank back on the reins and stand up in my stirrups in surprise (something I wouldn’t have thought I could do if I’d planned it). The pony yanks the reins back, hard. ‘Shit.’ I’m tipped off balance. ‘Ouch.’ I’ve landed on the hard lump at the front of the saddle, and my legs have been left behind, my feet still stuck in the stirrups.

  There’s a funny noise and when I glance over, Jake has got a strange look on his face. He’s trying not to laugh.

  ‘Oh no!’ The stupid animal has put his head down and I’m about to slide down his neck face first. My hands are heading for his ears, and my nose is heading for the grass when he abruptly jerks his head back up and smacks me on the nose. I’m stuck, wrapped around his neck like a strip of bacon on a mini sausage. Now I know why they call them devil on horseback. Or is that dates? I’m pretty sure it is. I think I’ve got confused with pigs in blankets, which means I am the blanket to this piggy pony. I was starting to get quite fond of him, but he’s done this on purpose. Never assume a vegetarian is a pacifist, they can have evil intent. Or at least this one has.