I unravel another piece of loo roll and blow my nose. It’s cheap, crinkly paper, so far from my Super Duper Ultra Soothing Balm tissues that when I wipe my nose it feels as if it’s laced with fibreglass.
‘Zoe!’ cries Mum, her voice rising to the pitch of a battling alley cat. ‘This is ridiculous, young lady. We know you’re in there.’
Next I hear Trudie’s voice.
‘Listen, Mrs Moore,’ she says softly, ‘why don’t you have a cup of tea and let me have a go?’
‘With respect, Trudie,’ says Mum, sighing, ‘Zoe is my daughter. What she needs at this moment is her mother. So, if you’ll please—’
‘Just give us a minute, will you, Mum?’ I interrupt, through the door.
‘Zoe!’ she squawks. ‘Never mind give you a minute! Get out here this instant and get down that aisle. We’ve only booked a twenty-five-minute slot, which means you’ve got precisely two and a half minutes to get your act together. The next wedding’s waiting outside. Now, get your skates on, girlie!’
I take a deep breath, then stand up and open the door.
‘Mum—’
She grabs my arm and attempts to pull me towards the exit, but I clutch the loo door like a stroppy toddler who won’t go to bed.
‘What are you doing?’ she shrieks, dropping my arm, but not the subject. ‘Come on! You’ve got to be quick!’
I stand my ground. ‘Please let me say something, Mum.’
‘But—’
‘Ssh!’ I hold my finger authoritatively to my lips. ‘Ssh. Don’t say a word until I’ve finished.’
‘Zoe, I—’
‘Ssh!’ I repeat, my finger to my lips again.
I don’t think I’ve ever told my mum to ssh! before. Despite the circumstances, a tiny, wicked part of me enjoys it.
Mum purses her lips. Then, reluctantly, she nods.
‘The first thing I want to say to you, Mum, is that I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through. No mother of the bride should have to go through two weddings without her daughter ending up married at either of them.’
‘Well, you can easily change that—’
‘Mum!’ I hold up my finger again. Her mouth closes – but with so much effort it’s like watching someone trying to shut the boot of an overpacked Mini.
‘But I’ve got to do what I think is right,’ I continue. ‘And the fact is that – that Jason isn’t the man for me.’
‘Is this your idea of getting revenge on him?’ she asks sternly. ‘For standing you up the first time?’
‘No, Mum. It’s not. I was angry about what Jason did. In fact, I was devastated. But I forgave him – I forgave him to the extent that I was willing to try again. At least, I thought I was.’
‘So why the big turnaround?’ She’s exasperated.
I sigh. ‘Jason’s . . . lovely. In fact, I’m sure he’ll make someone a great husband. But, Mum, it’s this simple. I don’t love him any more.’
‘But you do,’ she pleads. ‘Zoe, you’ve loved him for seven years!’
‘That’s just it, Mum. I don’t. Not any more. I thought for such a long time we’d be together for ever. But sometimes it doesn’t work out like that. I loved him once, but I’ve changed. Perhaps we’ve both changed. And while I love you dearly, Mum, on this occasion you’re going to have to let me do what I think is right. And trust me.’
Mum’s lip wobbles and she pulls out her tissue. ‘I do trust you,’ she mutters, blowing her nose.
‘Yes, but you sometimes treat me as if I’m still a little girl, Mum.’ I put my arm round her. ‘And I’m not. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m a grown-up.’
‘It’s only because I love you.’ She sniffs.
‘I know, Mum,’ I say, squeezing her.
Mum nods with such conviction that her hairpiece threatens to fall off. ‘You’re right, Zoe. Of course you’re right. And I’ve got to admit . . . your dad’s been right all along.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I suppose he’s always known you could stand on your own two feet. I felt like strangling him when he said he thought going to America would be good for you. I couldn’t understand it. I accused him of not caring about you as much as I do. But I know, really, it’s not that. And it probably has been good for you.’ She sighs.
‘Oh, Mum.’ I hug her again.
She squeezes me, then pulls back. ‘I’m so proud of you, Zoe,’ she continues. ‘I probably don’t tell you as often as I should, but I really am. When I had you at sixteen, so many people looked down their noses at us. They said me and your dad would never last – and that you’d turn out like some hooligan or something because you’d come about as a result of a teenage pregnancy. But you’re clever, you’re beautiful, you’re everything I ever wanted in a daughter. I’m so lucky to have you.’
I’m choked. I’ve always known how much my mum loves me, yet I’ve never heard her say anything like this before. I smile, just as she glimpses herself in the mirror and gasps. ‘This bloody hairpiece,’ she huffs, tearing it off and throwing it into the bin.
Then she turns back to me. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and tell everyone you won’t change your mind.’
She walks to the door, and is about to open it when she hesitates. ‘Just one other thing, Zoe.’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Is someone else involved? Is that the reason you did this?’
I glance at Trudie. But I don’t know why she’d know the answer.
Is someone else involved? Let’s see . . .
Am I in love with someone else?
Yes.
But is he in love with me?
I picture myself standing at the front of the register office, turning expectantly to look at the door. Which had stayed shut.
‘No, Mum,’ I admit, my throat tightening. ‘There isn’t anyone else involved.’
As Mum heads back through the doors, Trudie grabs my hand. ‘Come on, you and I need to get out of here,’ she says.
I take a deep breath. ‘Bloody right.’
Trudie goes first, and we make our way towards the exit. We’re about three feet from it when I see Jason. He looks furious.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my heart pounding. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’
‘I suppose you think I deserve this, do you?’ he asks, fists clenched.
‘No,’ I tell him truthfully. ‘I don’t think that. Neither of us deserved it.’
He snorts.
‘I don’t know what to tell you, Jason, except I didn’t mean to hurt you. Just like I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. So I’m sorry,’ I repeat. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
It’s all I can think of to say. But it’s clearly not what Jason wants to hear. I turn away, desperately sad, and go to the door.
‘Zoe,’ he shouts.
I spin round and meet Jason’s eyes.
He takes a deep breath and frowns. ‘Good luck,’ he says.
Chapter 89
Trudie and I stumble down Old Hall Street, both shivering but not feeling the cold. We spot a taxi and she waves her arms as if she’s trying to flag down a jumbo jet.
As we clamber into the back, she says, ‘So, hon, where do you want to go?’
‘Haven’t a bloody clue.’
‘Take us to a pub,’ she instructs the driver. It’s an executive decision.
‘There are about nine hundred in this city, love.’ He grins. ‘You might want to narrow it down.’
‘Anywhere you like. Somewhere nice. You choose.’
Five minutes later, we arrive at the Baltic Fleet, a proper, cosy pub with cask ales and roaring fires that practically singe your eyebrows. When we walk in I claim a spot in the corner while Trudie heads for the bar.
I gaze into the flames until she returns with two enormous whiskies. ‘Get that down you,’ she says to me.
Whisky isn’t something I’ve ever particularly drunk. As I take a sip I can’t help thinking it tastes like a glass of windscreen de-icer. But its
warmth spreads through me and I can’t deny it helps.
‘Well, what a day you’ve had,’ she says.
‘All my own doing.’
‘I get the feeling you were a bit railroaded into this wedding. Am I right?’
‘Maybe,’ I concede. ‘But do you know the most pathetic thing about it?’
‘What’s that?’
‘I think I’m in love with Ryan. No, scrap that. I know I am.’
‘You don’t say,’ she replies ironically. ‘But why’s that pathetic? He might love you too.’
‘I don’t think so.’
She frowns. ‘Well, for Christ’s sake, if this experience has taught you anything it must be to follow your gut feelings and not keep quiet.’
‘Hmm.’
‘So phone him and tell him.’
I look down at my drink and back at her. Just the thought makes me feel queasy again. But I have another sip. A big one this time. ‘You’re right,’ I say, as my blood races with adrenalin. ‘You’re absolutely right.’
Suddenly I get an overwhelming feeling that this phone call will be the most important one I ever make. That I’m going to tell Ryan I love him and to hell with the consequences. I dip my hand decisively into my bag – and realize immediately that my phone isn’t there. ‘Oh, bugger. I’ve left my mobile in the loo at the register office. It’s probably sitting on top of the Tampax machine.’
‘Here, use mine,’ offers Trudie, rooting in her bag. When she produces the phone, it’s vibrating.
‘Christ, I’ve got about ten missed calls,’ she exclaims, pressing answer. ‘Hiya?’
I can just about hear a muted voice and Trudie gestures to me that she’s going to take the call outside so she can hear properly. I watch, mildly intrigued, as she stands by the door for a good ten minutes, gesticulating like an over-excited football manager.
When she plonks herself down on the stool next to me, she looks strangely twitchy.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask.
‘Hmm?’
‘I was just asking if everything’s okay?’ I repeat. ‘You seem a bit funny after your phone call.’
‘Me? No, I’m fine,’ she says, almost too dismissively. ‘Er, I was just giving someone directions.’
‘To where?’
She clears her throat and shifts in her seat again. ‘Er, Primark. The one in Barnsley. Er, I’m just going to get some Scampi Fries – do you want some?’
‘No. Can I borrow your phone?’ I ask desperately. I know that if Trudie doesn’t give it to me soon, I risk bottling out of the whole thing faster than you can say ‘world’s biggest wimp’.
‘Just give us a sec!’ She darts to the bar and I gaze into the fire again, its heat stinging my eyes. As I shuffle my stool sideways, I sense Trudie next to me again.
‘Oh, all right, then. I’ll have some dry roasted peanu—’
It isn’t Trudie.
It’s the last person I ever expected to walk into the Baltic Fleet pub, Liverpool, just as I’d settled on the bar snack I wanted.
He’s not wearing a tuxedo.
There isn’t a .45 revolver in sight.
But, I can say categorically that I’d prefer this person to be standing here more than anyone else on the planet. And I’m not talking about James Bond.
Chapter 90
As Ryan sits on the stool next to mine, my pulse is racing wildly.
‘I was late,’ he says.
‘I can’t believe you’re here.’ I search his eyes, desperate to read his expression.
‘My plane was delayed. I should have arrived in plenty of time.’
‘In plenty of time for what?’ I am barely able to believe this conversation is happening.
‘Your wedding,’ he whispers, reaching for my hand.
‘But you weren’t invited,’ I find myself saying.
He smiles. ‘I know that. I was going to do something very . . . well, discourteous.’
‘Oh?’
‘I was going to try to stop you getting married.’
I hear myself gasp – a short, sharp, this-can’t-honestly-truly-be-happening gasp – so audibly that the bloke at the next table looks momentarily concerned that I’m about to be taken hostage.
‘The plan was I’d arrive this morning at your mom’s house, finally tell you how I feel about you and beg you to be mine.’
‘And when did you make this plan exactly?’
He looks at his watch. ‘About twenty-three and a half hours ago,’ he tells me. ‘But I’ve been wondering how to get you back since the day you left.’
‘Only you didn’t make it on time.’
‘No,’ he admits. ‘Not much of a hero, am I?’
I smile and finally look up into his eyes. With the light from the fire flickering on them, they’re more mesmerizing than ever. Just gazing into them makes me feel weak with happiness. ‘Actually, you haven’t done too badly. I mean, you still came. Okay, your timing’s a bit out, but nobody’s perfect. Besides, fortunately for you, luck was on your side.’
‘How’s that?’
‘I didn’t go through with it.’
‘I heard.’ He smiles. ‘So, when exactly did you make this plan?’
I look at my watch. ‘Oh, about an hour ago. But I’ve been wondering how to get you back since I left.’
With my eyes moistening, I suppress another urge to blow my nose, determined that my overactive nasal passages will not ruin this moment.
‘Why did you leave?’ he asks.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. ‘I thought I felt something for Jason that – that now I know I didn’t.’
He nods.
‘But it wasn’t just that,’ I admit. ‘I overheard you at the party talking to Felicity, telling her that what you and I had was nothing but a fling. Then I saw you with Barbara King and it looked like she was going to be your next conquest.’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘I also thought . . . I’d never replace Amy. I suppose I thought lots of things, Ryan.’
I press a tissue to my nose in as ladylike a fashion as I can.
‘Can I tell you something, Zoe?’ he says, squeezing my hand. ‘I was a wreck before I met you. I was self-centred and boorish. I didn’t appreciate my kids and I was on my own personal collision course. I didn’t think life had anything left to offer me. Then you came along. And you changed everything.’
‘Me?’ I ask.
‘Of course you. You rescued me. You rescued my kids. You taught me how to laugh again. You made me enjoy waking up in the morning. You gave me my life back, Zoe.’
I swallow.
‘And I’ll tell you something else.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘I love you for it. And the weird thing is, that’s not the only thing I love you for. I love you for sliding across the dance-floor at my black-tie dinner. I love you for throwing my pasta all over the kitchen. I love you for dressing as Big Bird when everyone else was trying to be sexy.’
He reaches out and tenderly tucks my hair behind my ear, then studies my face. ‘Nobody was sexier than you.’
‘In a Big Bird costume?’ I ask doubtfully.
‘Feathers obviously do it for me.’
‘But what about what you said to Felicity?’ I ask. ‘And Barbara King? You – you seemed to be getting very . . . I don’t know . . . cosy with her at the party.’
He frowns. ‘Zoe, telling Felicity I was madly in love with you would have been the worst thing possible,’ he explains. ‘She’s insanely jealous. I didn’t want to rub it in for her sake, but more than anything I wanted to protect you. I honestly thought downplaying our relationship was the best way to handle it. I’m sorry if it turned out that it wasn’t.’
Suddenly I feel silly. ‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘You’re absolutely right. I . . . I understand now.’
‘As for Barbara,’ he continues, ‘she was so drunk she would have made a pass at a tree-trunk. Part of me didn’t want to upset her by making
a big deal of it – especially since we’d only recently made friends. The second she tried to kiss me, I marched her back to her husband and – as diplomatically as possible – suggested he took her home. You must have left the room too soon to see that.’
I nod.
‘The fact is, I’ve never wanted Barbara,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve never wanted anyone since I met you.’
‘Really?’ I ask.
He sighs. ‘There’s something else too.’
‘What?’
‘I loved my wife, Zoe, really loved her. But she’s not here any more. And it’s taken me years to grasp that it’s okay to move on. That loving somebody else now isn’t against the rules.’
I bite my lip.
‘And there’s another simple fact,’ he adds. ‘I can’t help loving someone else. I can’t help loving you.’
‘Ryan, I’m so sorry I left,’ I blurt out. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing, I—’
‘Sssh,’ he says, as he pulls me to him.
Tears spill down my cheeks, but before I get a chance to wonder where they’ve come from, Ryan and I have our arms round each other so tightly it feels as if we’ll never let go.
Then he loosens his grip. As his mouth finds mine a surge of emotion rushes through me. His kiss is so tender, so beautiful, so glorious, I want it never to end. Particularly since, for the first time today, my nose has dried up.
‘They didn’t have any dry-roasted,’ announces Trudie. ‘So I got you some Quavers instead. Only, I’m guessing you don’t want them any more.’
Ryan and I unravel ourselves and laugh.
‘Do you mind if we don’t?’ he says.
‘Course not.’ She grins. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
Ryan grabs my hand. ‘Come on, I’ve got a cab waiting outside.’
‘Not an Aston Martin?’ I ask.
‘Not exactly.’ He frowns. ‘It’s something called a Mondeo. The seats smell of vomit and the driver belched the whole way here. That’s not a disappointment, is it?’
The Nearly-Weds Page 29
