by Lynda Renham
‘He’s kicking, feel.’
Of course, I will probably have babies fairly soon as Simon is older than me so I don’t imagine he will want to wait too long. We will probably spend a year together and then start our family. I picture us sitting in front of an open fire, or better still a log burner. Oh yes, I can definitely see our flat with one of those. We can toast marshmallows and teacakes on cold winter evenings. But, then again, maybe not, as I expect Simon will be too concerned about my weight. I expect all my dreams of being an earth mother and breastfeeding my babies all over the place won’t happen either, as he will worry what people will think. Ah, well, I must think of all Simon’s good points. The trouble is I seem to have great difficulty with that these days, shit, shit. But, of course, when I am pregnant, he won’t worry about those silly things, like my weight and what people might think, but will indulge me in everything I like, and that is bound to include marshmallows and teacakes.
‘Right, I will do your make-up now.’
I open my eyes to see Natasha poised with a brush close to my nose. I close my eyes again and feel the soft brush on my eyelids. I remember being so excited about having Natasha do my make-up. After all, how many women can say they had the same make-up artist for their wedding as Kate Moss has for her assignments? Oh God, I hope he doesn’t call me Annabel for the rest of our bloody lives. I shall go sodding insane if he does. I may have to change my name by deed poll or something. I snap my eyes open and connect very harshly with the eyeliner brush.
‘Ouch, shit. Sorry my fault,’ I apologise allowing her to gently close them again but not before I realise Mum and Rosa are leaving.
‘Are you going now?’ I ask nervously.
‘We will see you later and I just know you will look beautiful darling,’ says my mum, kissing me warmly on the cheek. Rosa squeezes my arm and then they are gone. I watch Alex as she lays the wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses on the bed. Oh shit, back to daydreaming. I remind myself, I am thirty years old. If I wait much longer there may not be anyone left to marry. I mean, look at Kaz. I really don’t want the highlight of my week to be a speed-dating evening or, horror of horrors, spending my weekends hugging a red rose and a copy of Pride and Prejudice while waiting for my blind date. Oh, it is too horrible to imagine. No, this is by far the most sensible decision, and as for Christian, well, why is he still single anyway? Yes, that is certainly something to think about. Although, didn’t he say he hadn’t met the right woman yet? Of course, he also said I was not his type. Shut up for goodness sake. In just a matter of hours I will be married and then all this thinking will be pointless. I feel my head being yanked back as Alex removes the heated rollers. I open my eyes and the light in the room blinds me for a second and makes my head throb. I look at my made-up face in the mirror. If this had been any other occasion I would have loved the attention.
‘I just need to do your hair. Do you still want it up?’ Alex asks hitting me in the back with her bump.
I nod and allow Natasha to kiss me carefully on the cheek.
‘Good luck,’ she whispers. ‘See you later.’
I feel sick and lean over to read the time on my Blackberry. Surely I have a little while before I have to leave. My heart sinks when I see I have an hour. As soon as Alex has finished my hair I swallow two painkillers for my thumping head.
‘What do you think? The million-dollar question is will I be able to pull a handsome Italian in this?’ smiles Kaz, parading in her tight fitting maroon bridesmaid dress. I look at her slim waist enviously. I nod appreciatively.
‘You can do it,’ I say taking the bottle of Quiet Life from my bag. Oh God, my hands are shaking so much I can hardly twist the top off the bottle. How am I ever going to get into the dress?
‘Can you open the balcony door?’ I ask, struggling to breathe.
‘We should get you into your dress,’ commands Alex helping me up.
A loud rapping at the door makes us all jump.
‘Croissants and jam for the wedding party, courtesy of the hotel management,’ calls a breezy voice.
Jesus Christ, this surely cannot be happening. Kaz opens the door as I fall back into my chair. Croissants and Jam. I close my eyes and see Christian sitting in the small airport café surrounded by croissants. Buy you a coffee, his voice echoes in my head. I open my eyes expecting to see him standing in front of me.
‘I can’t go through with it,’ I state flatly.
Kaz plonks the tea tray onto a table and a croissant bounces off the plate and onto the floor. Alex seems to somehow glide onto the bed like a human balloon.
‘What?’ snaps Kaz, picking up a croissant and putting it down again, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh my God, I hope they do epidurals in Italy,’ moans Alex taking deep breaths.
‘Oh fuck Bels, you can’t be serious. Simon is probably at the church already,’ groans Kaz, as my words sink in.
I watch as she leans against the bathroom door and slides down helplessly.
‘Deep breaths, deep breaths, I think someone should call Tom,’ moans Alex.
‘You’re not in labour,’ I say feeling very calm.
‘How the hell would you know that?’
‘Because everything is in your mind, Alex, well, apart from the pregnancy. Have a cup of tea.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening. Who the hell is going to tell Simon?’ Kaz sighs, while pulling at the roots of her hair. I stare at her.
‘Oh fuck,’ she groans dropping her head into her hands. ‘I don’t want to be the bloody messenger; they always shoot the messenger don’t they?’
Alex is sobbing.
‘You will now be on the shelf, you know that don’t you?’
I sigh and look at Kaz.
‘I am sorry Kaz, I really am, but you will have to tell him.’
She stares at the door. I follow her eyes to see my father.
‘Oh Daddy, make her see sense,’ cries Alex.
My dad looks from Alex to me and then to Kaz who is sitting on the floor. I pull my robe around me and attempt to smile.
‘You have been giving this some thought then?’
I nod. Kaz jumps up pulling at her dress.
‘Alex, can you get this off me. I swear I could kill you Bels.’
‘Leave that to Mother, she will most certainly kill her,’ shouts Alex.
I waltz into the bathroom.
‘Well, frankly, I would rather be dead than marry Simon,’ I say as I slam the door.
Chapter Nineteen
‘I really thought his mother was going to lynch me.’
Kaz carefully lays a cold towel on her head and falls onto the bed. I really cannot believe I have done it. Of course, there is the flat and everything to sort out, but I can cope with that. It is such a relief. I can’t believe how much better I feel.
‘How was Simon when you left?’ I ask apprehensively.
She pouts.
‘How do you think? He was a bit shell-shocked, poor bugger. His mum started screaming and his best man called you a bitch. Simon’s grandmother paced around wringing her hands saying mamma mia, as if someone had just died. Your mum burst into tears. Oh God, it was awful…They were all dressed to the nines and I turn up in my jeans. Your mum looked fit to faint as soon as she saw me.’
She lets out a giggle.
‘Bloody hell Bels, you have got some guts, especially considering Alex was forever going into phantom labour. I mean weren’t you afraid she finally would?’
I shrug.
‘She isn’t due for eight weeks. Honestly, that baby must be picking up all her anxieties. I swear it will be born with Valium in its hands.’
She sniggers. I hand her a mug of tea and sit hugging my own.
‘Simon’s brother, what’s his name?’
‘Christian,’ I reply my heart skipping a beat.
‘Yeah, he looked a bit stunned and disappeared in all the commotion.’ She grabs a stale croissant from the plate. ‘So what are you going
to do now?’
I think for a moment.
‘Go home I suppose. Try and get my flat back,’ I say, without much conviction.
‘I wouldn’t go outside the door for several hours, if I were you.’
Kaz is quite right of course. I am now Rome’s most wanted, dead or alive. My Blackberry hasn’t stopped bleeping. Mum has knocked at the door several times but I could not face seeing her. I have four voicemail messages from Simon’s mother and six from my mother. After Kaz leaves, I run a hot bath and soak for a while. I then phone the airport and arrange a flight for tomorrow afternoon. Kaz had eagerly agreed to stand in for me at the fashion show so I could go home and wallow without feeling guilty about not attending. As I lie on the bed contemplating my future my mobile shrills and flashes Simon’s name. I reluctantly answer it.
‘Simon, I am really sorry,’ I say meaning every word.
‘The thing is I really don’t want to see you Annabel. I know there is a lot to sort out and I am capable of doing it. I will take care of the bank and mortgage, and the flat. I would really prefer it if you didn’t get in touch. I am sure you had good reason for doing what you did but I can’t say I understand it.’
Oh bollocks, he really hates me. I suppose if I were him, I would hate me too.
‘I’d like the ring back,’ he states flatly, just as I am feeling sorry for him.
I nearly fall off the bed.
‘What?’
‘The ring, I bought it from a very good jeweller friend in Hatton Garden. He will give me a good price for it,’ he says, coldly.
I sit upright and look at the ring on my finger.
‘But you gave the ring to me,’ I argue.
‘Yes, well now I want it back and the bracelet that I bought you when we first met.’
I push myself to the end of the bed and swing my leg.
‘Are you really serious?’
‘Be grateful you don’t live in America Annabel, it is the law there and I would not even have to ask.’
I should have known. Only Simon would know all the legalities of a relationship breakdown.
‘I hope you don’t ask me to give you the earrings back,’ I snap irritably.
‘They were earrings for pierced ears so I can’t get my money back on those,’ he responds coolly.
‘Well, that is just as well, seeing as I lost them on the flight here,’ I say with cruel delight and bite my lip quickly.
‘Typical,’ he sighs.
Bloody hell, was I really going to marry this guy? What a lucky escape. Oh yes, a lucky escape all right, except now I am not only single but probably homeless as well. However, I console myself getting divorced from this guy would have been a legal nightmare. He most likely would have found a loophole to have me deported. A bit of an exaggeration but you get my drift, never marry a lawyer.
‘I’ll leave them at reception for you.’
‘No, my dad will come and collect them this evening. He will give you my wedding ring, of course.
Oh this is so mean and horrible. I really cannot believe he is going to return the wedding ring I had bought him.
‘You can keep that,’ I say, attempting to be nice but realise I sound very condescending.
He laughs and says cynically,
‘And why would I want to do that? I never married you remember. I just thank God for that.’
I say goodbye and hang up, not wishing to be insulted anymore. I look at the ring for a short time and then take it off placing it carefully into an envelope I had found in the dressing table. I search for the bracelet in my travelling jewellery bag and pop that in too. I pull my laptop from its bag and Google flats for rent in St John’s Wood and yes, there is my flat. Good Lord, he has put the rent up already. I stare astonished at the new rate with a sinking heart. I was already paying more than I could afford but this is daylight robbery. Shit, shit, what a nuisance. I send the landlord an email making myself sound more sorrowful than I actually am, asking if I can continue with my lease. I think it best not to mention the increase in rent. I mean, perhaps he will take pity on me and let me continue with the same agreement. Dream on Bels. My fingers hover over the keys as I consider Googling Christian, not that I believe he is that well known in the building world. All that talk of bad publicity ruining business was just him showing off and trying to impress me. Of course, if that were the case he is not likely to be on Google is he? With that comforting thought, I type in his name and oh my God, he is all over Google, and there are even photos of him and lots of them too. My heart is beating so fast you would think I had just entered a hard-core porn site. I am stunned to see he is treated like a celebrity, talking of which, according to Google, he seems to know a lot of them. Oh Jesus, there are even photos of him winning awards and pictures of Olivia’s photo shoot. I click the ‘Connect with Christian Lloyd’ on Facebook and find myself staring at his profile. I hover over the request friendship link and then, with a deep sigh click the page shut. He is not interested in me, I remind myself. I must not forget that I am not his type. A small envelope symbol pops up on the screen and my gloom is lifted when I see Jake, the landlord, has replied already. I click into the email and wrinkle my eyes, too afraid to look. I see the first two lines and feel a surge of hope.
‘Hi Bels, sorry to read of your bad news but hey, it happens all the time…’
It does? Bloody hell, all those jilted men. I wonder if they all asked for their engagement ring back.
‘I would be happy to have you in the flat. Better the devil you know.’
Bloody cheek.
‘Afraid the rent has gone up a bit, old gal.’
Bugger bugger.
‘But I can meet you halfway on the increase. Let me know. Cheers Jake’
I can cope with that, just. I email back to say I will take it, and with a sense of relief I fall back onto the bed. But within seconds I am back on Google and looking at photos of Christian. I am still looking at them when Edward knocks on the door. I let him in shyly.
‘Hello, how are you bearing up?’ he asks kindly.
‘You asked me that a few hours ago. I never did get to fall over my dress.’ I attempt a smile.
He sits on the bed and produces the wedding ring from his pocket, carefully placing it on the bedspread without looking at me.
‘Sad state of affairs this. Still, better now than after you’ve been married five years, Italian divorce law is a legal nightmare you know.’
I nod and hand him the envelope which he pushes into his pocket.
‘Would you like a drink? There must be something in the mini bar here,’ I say pointing to the fridge.
He nods.
‘That sounds civilised, why not.’
I empty a small bottle of whisky into two glasses.
‘Not the best I wouldn’t imagine,’ I apologise, handing him a glass.
He points at me knowingly and smiles,
‘You should know.’
I bite my lip.
‘I actually bought you two bottles,’ I say feeling more confident with the whisky in me. ‘But Christian talked me into opening the other one.’
Edward laughs raucously.
‘He said it was a good whisky and one would be sufficient for you, of course, he didn’t actually know it was you,’ I say smiling.
‘That’s my boy,’ grins Edward.
‘Is he your favourite?’ I say swallowing more from my glass.
He clinks his glass against mine.
‘Ah, a parent never admits to having a favourite, but he is more like me so I relate to him better than I do Simon. He should have known better, opening that whisky when you were so close to Rome.’ He shakes his head, as though in despair, and finishes his drink.
‘Don’t go worrying about Simon. Better now, than five years into your marriage. These things happen. He’ll get over it.’
He sighs and stands up.
‘Thanks for the drink. I would love to stay for another one but we already have one bad boy
in the family. You take care.’
He gently squeezes my shoulder. I exhale.
‘I didn’t realise Christian was so… well known.’
‘Yes, he has done well and fortunately he doesn’t take it too seriously. My influence I like to think.’
I lean forward to say goodbye and kiss him on the cheek. I close the door softly behind him. Poor Edward, he has no idea his sons are fighting over his law firm. How could they? But I can’t blame Simon. Kaz is quite right. I do let wide boys sway me. I seem to lose all sense of reason. Of all of them, Christian was the worst. What a fool. I’ve thrown away everything just because of a funny feeling in my stomach when the words croissants and jam were mentioned. Oh I feel so angry with myself. How could I let him make such a fool of me? Getting me drunk like that? Damn him to hell. What a rotten bastard to sue Simon. He is nothing but a cheating liar. To think I threw my marriage away because of him. That’s not strictly true. It wouldn’t have worked with Simon. All the same he would have made a decent husband, and there must be lots of women who marry good men. After all, not everyone can expect to find their soul mate. I pack the last bits into my suitcase and make a mental note to buy one of those cooking for one cook books at the airport.
Chapter Twenty
Mother is devastated, Father resigned and Alex, well Alex is totally beside herself.
‘How can I ever wear that outfit again? It will always be my daughter’s non-wedding outfit I ask you, how embarrassing is that?’ says Mother bitterly.
‘Some people would be very happy to be embarrassed in a Stella McCartney outfit I would think,’ says my dad helpfully.
Both my mother and Alex give him a ‘you stupid man look’ while I tap him affectionately on the arm.
‘Well, I am so ashamed. I can’t look anyone in the eye,’ Alex moans, one hand lying protectively on her stomach.
‘Look at another part of their body then,’ suggests Dad, lifting my suitcase. I grab the hand luggage and walk to the door with him.
‘Honestly, Dad, you are insufferable. You are always on Bels’ side,’ complains Alex.
