A Beautiful Day for a Wedding

by Charlotte Butterfield

  ‘It is absolutely ridiculous that we’re expected to sit on the floor at a wedding.’

  ‘There are hay bales if you prefer.’

  Tanya just looked at Eve with one eyebrow raised and pursed lips. ‘A hay bale?’

  ‘It’s the countryside Tanya, not a five-star hotel.’

  ‘Weddings are not supposed to be in fields Eve.’

  ‘They’re not supposed to be in dilapidated warehouses either, but you managed it.’ It was bitchy, Eve knew it, but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘I put a lot of effort into my wedding, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘You didn’t actually Tanya. I did. Becca did. Ayesha did. All Luke’s friends did. Ben did.’

  ‘Saint Ben, don’t you mean?’

  Eve rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t say that, and I don’t know why you’d say that.’

  ‘Just that he can do no wrong, can he?’ Tanya said meanly. ‘He dumped you, did a runner to the other side of the world to shack up with his dying ex-girlfriend, be a virtual monk for four years grieving for her, then reappear as though none of it had happened, and you’re taken in by him. You’re a complete doormat, Eve.’

  Adam and George had now joined the Faye and Ben reunion, all joking and laughing like the old friends Eve supposed they were. Tanya followed her glance.

  ‘It must hurt you a lot seeing him with your family, you’re probably thinking about what might have been.’

  Enough was enough. ‘No, not at all, I’ve moved on and Bruno’s my future now. As I’m sure you saw for yourself, he’s quite a catch.’ Eve stood up, brushed the grass off her skirt and walked away, not turning around once.

  Bruno had just been served the three Pimms he’d ordered. Eve took a few massive gulps of one of them, reducing the liquid by more than half, then poured the rest of Tanya’s drink into her own glass.

  ‘Tanya changed her mind,’ Eve explained.

  ‘I hope you are not going to get too drunk,’ Bruno said. ‘I want you to remember tonight.’ It was a cheesy line that suited a bad movie, and if a man had said it on one of Eve and Becca’s much-loved reality shows then they’d have both stuck their fingers in their mouths and made retching noises. But this wasn’t TV or fiction, this was Eve’s life, and she suddenly didn’t like it very much.

  The band Eve had hired from their local pub were clambering up on stage and picking up their instruments. It was a welcome distraction, and meant that Eve could legitimately turn away from Bruno’s intense gaze and look elsewhere. Becca and Jack were walking onto the dance floor, which was much too grand a term for the square patch of mown grass in front of the stage, cordoned off by a U-shape of hay bales. Becca was wearing a knee-length, white, flapper-style dress in lace, with delicate beading showcasing her small frame. Her hair was set in tousled waves, tucked behind her ears by a clip attached to a beautiful white peony. Jack was sporting a look not unlike a ‘30s farm hand, with linen trousers held up with braces over a white shirt and bow tie, and a flat cap on his head. Their first dance wasn’t the heavily choreographed numbered steps of Tanya’s and Luke’s, nor was it the madcap free-for-all that was Ayesha’s and Amit’s, it was more of an improv blend of twisting, hugging, turning and laughing. A lot of laughing.

  Halfway through the song Becca turned and waved everyone onto the dance floor to join them. Ayesha ran on, dragging an unwilling Amit behind her; after his breakdancing debacle at his own wedding he was strictly forbidden from attempting anything other than shuffling demurely round the floor. Becca’s parents were the next on. Her dad, who should have been looking uncomfortable in proper shoes rather than wellies, had consumed enough cider not to worry about it, and her mum seemed naturally high on life wearing a pale peach outfit that she’d travelled to Bristol to buy.

  The floor was soon full. Eve smiled to see George and Adam jiving together, each insisting on leading, culminating in much giggling and hand slapping. Even Faye and Juan were dancing, Juan’s muscles straining underneath his slim-fit shirt, and Faye looking happier and younger than Eve had ever seen her. Eve couldn’t remember her parents ever dancing together, they weren’t party people. A big night out would have included the words Harvester or Fondue, and there was no way that her dad would have had the rhythm, or the stamina, to twirl Faye round as enthusiastically as Juan was doing now. Eve made a silent note to thank him afterwards for hanging out with her mum. She knew that he was used to spending time with clients that weren’t necessarily his cup of tea, but it was sweet of him to make sure she had a good time. It was sweet of Juan to come at all actually, after a bad break up the last thing he probably wanted to do was be engulfed in a sea of couples. Every corner of this field seemed to be an advert for love, and it was really starting to annoy Eve.

  ‘Let’s dance.’ Bruno held out his hand for her to take, as though they were at a 1940s tea party.

  ‘I’m not really feeling it actually.’

  ‘Come on,’ Bruno whined. ‘I am a good dancer. I want to show you.’

  ‘I have no doubt of that at all, but I’d much prefer to just keep drinking.’

  ‘This is the trouble with you English,’ Bruno said, shaking his head. ‘You think fun begin and ends in a bottle of alcohol.’

  His casual xenophobia set Eve’s teeth on edge. ‘That’s completely untrue, but right now, I want another drink, and don’t want to dance.’

  ‘I’ll dance with you, Bruno,’ a keen voice suddenly piped up. ‘That’s if you don’t mind Eve?’

  If Tanya’s eyelids fluttered any faster she might well take off, Eve thought.

  ‘I don’t mind, but your husband might?’ It was catty of her, but Eve felt Tanya needed reminding of her marital status.

  ‘Oh, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Come on then Bruno, show me what you’ve got.’

  Eve watched their backs disappear into the crowds that had grown so much the hay bale perimeter had to be moved back a couple of metres. Teachers were having fun with Jack’s army mates, the boys from the dairy farm were dancing with Becca’s schoolfriends. This wedding had all the right ingredients for a good time, yet it just left Eve feeling flat. Why wasn’t she having fun? She should have been bursting with pride at it all coming together so well, at seeing her best friend so happy, at watching three or four hundred people from all walks of life dancing and laughing together, but the merriment just reminded Eve that she was alone. Not alone. She was never alone. She was lonely. Really bloody lonely.

  Chapter 32

  The band had packed up, leaving the stage empty, which Jack’s friends saw as an open invitation to invade it. They lugged their own guitars up there, one bloke even had a harmonica, and they swiftly set about murdering Hey Jude.

  ‘Are we ever going to talk about why you’re still so angry at me?’

  Eve looked up from where she was sitting on the hay bale, bits of straw scratching the backs of her bare legs. Ben took her unresponsiveness as an invitation to sit down next to her. It was almost a carbon copy of when they’d sat side by side at Ayesha and Amit’s wedding, the two of them sat on the periphery of the action, starring in their own silent movie while the noise and bustle just a metre away from them blurred into the background.

  ‘I don’t think we need to do that,’ Eve replied.

  ‘I think we do.’

  The Pimms had made her brave. ‘I don’t want you to think that I’ve wasted my life pining for you Ben, because I haven’t.’

  ‘Um, that’s good to know.’

  ‘I mean it. Was I totally heartbroken when you left? Of course I was. Was I absolutely devastated when you never got in touch? Yes. Am I bothered by any of that in the slightest now? No, not a bit.’

  ‘Excellent. That’s great news. I do still want to explain everything, but now’s not – stay still, you’ve got a bee in your hair.’

  The cool, calm and collected Eve that was doing such a great job being casual and nonchalant instantly evaporated and she jumped up, yelling, pulling her hair out of it
s up-do, shaking it like a wet sheepdog while hopping from foot to foot.

  ‘Shit! It’s stung me, Ben, help me, it’s stung me on my head!’

  ‘Is now the wrong time to say that you shouldn’t have moved?’

  ‘Ben! My head is on fire, it fucking hurts, help me!’

  ‘It’s too dark, come with me near a light.’

  ‘What if its poison goes through to my brain?’

  ‘You do know how crazy you sound.’

  ‘You have no idea how much this hurts Ben, it’s like I’ve been stabbed in the skull.’

  They stopped near a lantern that had been staked into the ground.

  ‘Ok, now tilt your head so that I can see it.’

  Eve did as he said, and he gently parted her hair to get a better look. ‘I can see the stinger, stay still, I’ll try to get it out.’

  ‘It hurts so much,’ Eve whined.

  ‘I know, I know, hold still. Dammit, I can’t grip it properly, come with me, I have tweezers in my toilet bag.’

  Eve didn’t even try to argue. Her head was throbbing and she was starting to feel a bit sick. She gratefully accepted Ben’s proffered arm as he led her away from the party and towards the adjacent field where all the tents stood. Ben weaved them swiftly through the sea of brightly coloured canvas triangles, then stopped dead.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Eve asked.

  ‘I can’t find my tent. I was sure it was right here.’

  ‘What colour is it?’

  ‘I can’t remember really, it’s new. Um, green, I think.’

  ‘Didn’t you tie a flag to the top of it so you could spot it easier? I thought you remembered my dad telling you that?’

  They wandered around the field for a few more minutes, Ben helping Eve narrowly avoid tripping over guy ropes, before Ben gave a sigh of relief. ‘There, I’m pretty sure that’s the one.’ He unzipped the tent and held the canvas flap to one side for Eve to clamber through first.

  ‘Hang on a second,’ she said, reaching into her bra.

  ‘Steady on, Red.’

  ‘I’m merely helping you out, repaying your kindness.’

  ‘I’m flattered, but we should probably talk first,’ came Ben’s jokey reply.

  Eve stuck her tongue out at him and retrieved the clean handkerchief she’d placed inside her bra in case of emotional emergencies, shook it out of its neat little square and tied it to the tent pole sticking out above the tent’s door. ‘There. That’s better.’

  ‘Thank you. Now let me de-sting you.’ He ushered Eve through the open door flap and bunched up his sleeping bag that he’d already laid out so it made a comfier seat for her to sit on. ‘Come in here and relax a sec.’

  He then started rummaging through his toilet bag using the light from the torch on his phone. ‘Aha, got them. Ok, let’s get this bad boy.’

  Eve once again tilted her head towards him. The tweezers felt cold against her scalp and she winced as he pulled the stinger out.

  ‘It’s a little bit swollen around it, I think we need to put some toothpaste on it.’

  ‘Toothpaste?’ Eve asked surprised.

  ‘Yes, it’s meant to help soothe it.’

  ‘Is this another one of your jokes? I’m really not in the mood.’

  ‘While I will never tire of stitching you up Red, I promise you I’m not making this up, toothpaste really helps.’

  ‘What’s your source?’

  Ben smiled. ‘Ever the journo. Um, not sure, the internet?’

  ‘Do you remember when we were about twenty-one and we were at the beach and I got stung by a jellyfish and you suggested that you wee on me to stop it stinging?’

  ‘That was a proven scientific theory, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘It was not! Or the time that you convinced me that jam soothes sunburn and then I was surrounded by flies and wasps for the rest of the day. Or when I had hiccups and you made me drink neat whisky from my dad’s drinks cabinet.’

  ‘Look, at this point Red, you should be grateful that it’s just toothpaste I’m suggesting. There’s some in my toilet bag, stop procrastinating and just get it out for me while I keep my fingers parting your hair.’

  They hadn’t shared this easy banter in years, and Eve realised quite how much she’d missed it. Missed him.

  Eve’s fingers closed around the toothpaste tube and as she brought it out of the bag a long chain was wrapped around its lid. Attached to the end of it was a gold locket. Eve knew what it was, what it represented, before she even asked. ‘What’s this?’

  Ben answered quietly. ‘It was Kate’s.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She was wearing it when she died.’

  ‘Oh. That’s nice.’ Flustered, Eve added, ‘Not that she died, that’s not nice. That you kept it.’ The pain in Eve’s chest was a stark stab of realisation that she was in love with Ben, she always had been, and the tragic reality was that he was, and probably always would be, in love with someone else.

  Eve quickly unscrewed the cap of the toothpaste, desperate to get this over with before her tears started forming, dabbed a little dot on her finger and rubbed it on the spot where Ben’s fingers were.

  ‘Let me do it,’ Ben said. ‘I can see where it needs to go.’

  ‘No, I’ll do it, it’s fine. Thanks for this, I’m ok now.’

  ‘It still looks pretty angry, you might need to take some paracetamol.’

  ‘I’m fine, I’d better be getting back.’

  ‘You’re pissed off. Is it the locket?’

  ‘No, of course not. Right, I’m going back. Bruno, my, er, boyfriend, will be wondering where I got to.’ Eve started inelegantly scrambling to her feet.

  ‘The Cashmere King?’

  ‘He’s French,’ Eve realised that she was using his nationality as an excuse for pretty much everything Bruno was doing.

  ‘I didn’t realise there was a national rule about wardrobe choices.’

  ‘You’re so rude.’

  ‘I’m observant.’

  ‘Offensive.’

  ‘Vigilant.’

  They were tramping across the field, while lots of people were weaving through the long grass the other way. Eve’s hair was in complete disarray and smelling of mint, her face was flushed from a medley of embarrassment and anger. Ben hurried a step or two behind her calling for her to slow down, when Bruno appeared in front of them like Heathcliff walking across the moors, if Heathcliff had ever worn pressed linen and carried designer luggage.

  ‘There you are,’ Bruno announced frostily, and a little unnecessarily. ‘I have been looking for you for ages. I see that you’ve enjoyed a reunion with your ex-boyfriend.’

  ‘Enjoyed is the wrong word,’ Eve said back.

  ‘Perhaps consummated would be better?’ Bruno replied bitchily.

  ‘Now hang on a second,’ Ben stepped forward. ‘Eve got stung by a bee and—’

  Bruno threw his head back and laughed sarcastically. ‘Stung by a bee? Really? Surely you can do better than that?’

  ‘Look!’ Eve put her head down so her long hair fell over her face, it was a completely redundant gesture as the field was dark and Bruno was completely uninterested.

  ‘I have come halfway across the world—’

  ‘You came from France,’ said Ben. ‘People from the Midlands had a longer journey than you did.’

  ‘Not helping, Ben. Why don’t you go back to the party?’ Eve said, trying to use her telepathy to get him to go.

  ‘No, I think I’ll stay. Why don’t we all walk back to the party together?’

  ‘The party is over, that is why I was coming to find you.’

  The silence of the field beyond the hedge proved that Bruno was speaking the truth. Eve looked at her watch. It was 1.30 a.m., far later than she’d thought.

  ‘I got my suitcase from the farmhouse,’ Bruno said. ‘Where is our tent? I am tired now.’

  ‘Did you get my bag too?’ Eve asked confused, as he seemed to only be carrying his and
a bottle of champagne in the other hand.

  ‘No, I forgot.’

  ‘What a gent,’ Ben muttered under his breath.

  ‘Shut up Ben,’ Eve hissed. ‘Right, ok Bruno, let’s go and find our tent. Goodnight Ben.’

  After Bruno assured her that her brother and his ‘friend’ had taken care of Faye and deposited her safely back into her own tent, Eve crawled into her own two-man tent of hostility and prepared for a sleepless night.

  Bruno was in a complete mood with her, refusing to speak to Eve, lying on top of his sleeping bag in his clothes, playing with his phone. Because Eve didn’t have a change of clothes, she too was forced to lie down in her bridesmaid dress, silently seething while her head still throbbed from the bee sting.

  Eve guessed that about half an hour had passed when Bruno whispered into the darkness. ‘Eve? Are you asleep?’ Just in case he’d calmed down and wanted to drink the champagne with her and get amorous, Eve remained still and silent. The last thing she wanted was a frisky, tipsy Frenchman on her hands, regardless of what letter his name might begin with. Taking her muteness as a yes, he gently eased himself out of the tent, slowly zipping it shut behind him. Eve’s eyes flew open.

  He’d left his case, so he couldn’t be making a run for it in the middle of the night. Like Ben had done. He was probably just going to the row of portaloos at the entrance to the field. As that thought entered her head Eve realised that her own bladder felt like a water balloon.

  She edged her way gingerly through the sleeping tents, reminiscent of so many campsites she’d been to with Ben. A giggle punctured the silent sky. Eve stopped and listened. There it was again.

  Eve crouched lower and darted between the canvas triangles, mindful of the zigzagging guide ropes. The sudden sound of a zip opening made Eve quickly duck behind a red tent, cautiously peering out round the side of it. Eve took a sharp intake of breath, and instinctively put her hand over her mouth to stop it making more noise.

  Juan had crawled out of the tent and was hungrily kissing Eve’s mum, who was crouched just inside the tent, her face and naked shoulders illuminated by the dim moonlight. Another girlish giggle and the zip closed, and Juan walked off, back to his own tent.