by Carol Thomas
“It’s no good, these have to come off!”
Brad laughed as she slipped her shoes off and wiggled her toes.
“It’s been bloody ages since I’ve worn shoes like this out.” Abby felt grit underfoot but her feet were more than happy to be free.
“The footpath is up here, it’ll be grass then. Do you need me to carry you?”
“Pah!” Abby guffawed. “I’d break your back!”
“I could piggyback you.”
Well that seemed like a ridiculous idea, what would they look like? Abby was pretty sure that would definitely break his back, plus she’d have to hitch her skirt up and wrap her legs around him while his hands were on her thighs… hmmm!
“No. No, no, I’ll be fine honestly. It’s refreshing walking barefoot.” She almost convinced herself.
Once they were on the footpath, walking through a field, it really was refreshing. The grass was dry and tickly. It was peaceful, she felt relaxed and… happy. She reflected on how she had felt in the church: she had been on the verge of spiralling into panic and yet now she felt normal. It was such an improvement since the days spent engulfed by darkness, wallowing in her own sadness. The fact that it no longer consumed her in the same way made her feel more in control, like she was winning the battle.
“So Mr Hunter, where is your plus one? Why are you here alone?” The question came without preamble; it seemed feeling at peace made her relax a little too much. As Brad winced, she regretted her lack of filter.
“Honestly?”
Honestly? Yes, honestly – why don’t men have honesty as their default setting? “Only if you want to tell me. Sorry… I wasn’t trying to pry.”
“It’s OK. I’m surprised the gossip hasn’t got round at work already.”
Ooh, was there gossip? Perhaps she had been too wound up in her own problems to hear it. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“My plus one is in India.”
The thought that there actually was a plus one hit Abby like a slap in the face. She tried not to look taken aback as she concentrated on keeping her feet moving forward. But all the flirting…?
“Though technically I don’t think she can be called my plus one any more, since last I heard she had found a backpacker from Manchester to find herself with.”
“Oh,” was all Abby could manage.
“Autumn felt she was missing something. Apparently that something might be found in India.”
Autumn? Did he actually say Autumn? Oh God, she’s a hippy!
“I was getting ready to settle down, start a family and thought she was too. But when I was looking at engagement rings and honeymoon destinations, it turns out she was looking at backpacks and hostels.” The hurt in his voice was clear.
Abby felt bad; all the time she’d been asking him to be her friend and yet she hadn’t known this. She had never bothered to ask how he was, what was going on in his life.
“Simon was a dick for messing around on you. Honestly Abby, I’d love to have what he had.”
Abby was shocked by the turn in conversation. Now it was Brad who had lost his filter.
“I want a wife who loves me and wants to be with me, I want children. I want a Sunday morning bringing my wife breakfast in bed, while our children play happily.”
Abby thought about the reality of Sunday mornings in the past, of the girls waking her up too early while they squabbled over which toy to play with, and her succumbing to letting them watch Milkshake so she and Simon could sneak a cuddle that was generally interrupted by Bramble barking for his breakfast. It wasn’t quite the picture Brad was painting but she got his point.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know about… about… Autumn.” She wanted to turn the conversation back round. Aware that Brad probably wasn’t in the mood for it, she fought the urge to defend Simon and her marriage.
Brad sighed. “It’s OK, there’s nothing to know really. She’s gone.”
The final words carried weight, Abby could tell, but she wasn’t sure Brad wanted to share. Perhaps it wasn’t just her he was comforting at the wedding.
Following the edge of the woodland they could see the hotel in the distance and the guests gathered outside. Abby welcomed the distraction.
“Oh look, we’re almost there.”
“How about we arrive in style?”
Abby looked at Brad – he couldn’t be serious. He was pointing at a golf buggy just a short distance from them.
“We can’t just take a golf buggy!”
“It looks pretty abandoned to me.”
“We both know that’s not true, the owner has to be here somewhere.”
“Um, well I don’t see them.” Brad shrugged assuredly as he jogged towards it and climbed in the driving seat.
“Brad, it’s stealing.”
“No, it’s borrowing. Get in.”
Abby knew it was a silly idea but her feet were aching and there was a drink calling to her in the distance. She could almost feel the bubbles tickling her nose.
“Oh bugger!” Abby leapt in, giggling wildly from nerves and excitement as Brad sped off. As they headed towards the hotel, Abby turned to see a disgruntled golfer emerging from the trees doing up his zip. It’s definitely stealing! She turned, pretending not to notice. The golf buggy was at its limit around eighteen miles per hour but with the excitement of the moment and the hill leading to the hotel it felt faster.
“You do know how to stop this don’t you?”
“Umm… yes.”
With the hotel fast approaching Abby sincerely hoped he did. Arriving in style was one thing, crashing into drinks on the lawn was quite another. A few guests turned to see them hurtling towards them. Abby couldn’t help but notice Patty’s shocked face staring at them. There goes keeping a lid on the gossip at school! In true racer boy style Brad skidded to a halt, causing more guests to turn. Abby attempted a casual smile, aware that she was still holding her shoes, her hair was a mess from the ride and her dress was still screwed up. In fact she was looking thoroughly dishevelled. Brad offered his hand. Taking it and exiting the golf buggy with as much decorum as she could muster Abby stepped out and put her shoes on. As a waiter passed she took a flute of champagne and swigged it back. Oh, she needed that. Smiling at Brad and then turning to a wide-eyed Patty she excused herself and went to make herself look a little more appropriate for the occasion.
33
Abby welcomed a quick shower. She looked in her wardrobe and pulled out what was to be her backup evening outfit; a tube skirt and sleeveless drape-necked top. It was slightly less formal than her dress and made her feel so much more comfortable. With no time to straighten her hair she scrunched it dry hanging upside down. While it wasn’t as tidy as if she’d straightened it, she quite liked the slightly more ruffled look it gave her new layers. A quick check of her phone confirmed there were no missed messages – good – she slipped her shoes back on, emptied her clutch bag of soggy tissues and popped her phone inside. With a final check in the mirror she was ready to go.
As Abby arrived in the hotel lobby she slipped into the queue of guests waiting to formally congratulate the bride and groom before taking their seat for the wedding breakfast. Abby kissed Adam and hugged Melissa, who still looked amazing.
“Congratulations my lovely, I’m so happy for you.” She meant it sincerely.
“Thank you, I’m so pleased you came.” Melissa squeezed Abby, knowing how she would have struggled with the ceremony, before letting her go. As Abby moved on to the seating plan Melissa called after her, “Fab shoes by the way! Love them!”
Abby laughed: mission accomplished. Now all she had to do was find her seat and she could slip them off.
The tables were draped in white cloths while each chair was bedecked with an emerald green satin bow, matching the bridesmaids’ dresses and the ribbons and foliage of the stunning floral displays distributed around the room. The large, round tables were all named after famous film quotes. Abby instantly spotted LOVE MEANS NEVER
HAVING TO SAY YOU’RE SORRY and rolled her eyes cynically. Thankfully she wasn’t on that table; it seemed the school crowd were sitting at TO ME YOU ARE PERFECT and YOU COMPLETE ME. Abby was pleased for Brad’s sake that they weren’t on CHOOSE ME, MARRY ME, LET ME MAKE YOU HAPPY. After some scurrying around the edge of the room she soon found her laminated place name and took her seat between Brad and Patty.
Brad stood and held out her chair. “I like this outfit too, but I miss the silk.”
The slight drop in his voice made Abby shiver and laugh nervously. Patty’s jaw fell south. Taking her seat, Abby decided not to attempt to explain.
Once seated and feeling generally more relaxed Abby looked around her. She spotted the cake, a sumptuous tower of Belgian chocolate sponge, coated in thick white chocolate and adorned with white chocolate cherubs. She recognised the Choccywoccydoodah style from her own wedding and her mouth watered a little.
Amongst the guests there was a multitude of outfits, in an array of colours, not all entirely appropriate to the occasion. Some looked stunning while others pulled at hems and fussed with collars uncomfortably. There was no doubting that everybody had made an effort and followed the universal rule of attempting to look posh for a wedding. Abby hadn’t seen so many feather-and-bow mesh hats in one place since she and Kennedy used to try them on in Bentalls. She looked at the rather odd fascinator Adam’s mum was wearing. She certainly wasn’t a fan of them; Kennedy loved an excuse to wear one but to Abby they always seemed like some weird hat-hairpiece-hybrid. She couldn’t imagine trying to keep one in place all day, and judging by the way Adam’s mum was fussing with hers it wouldn’t be staying put much longer either.
As the bride and groom – Mr and Mrs Wilson – were officially announced everybody stood, clapped and cheered. Holding hands they entered the room and made their way to I PROMISE TO LOVE YOU EVERY MOMENT OF FOREVER, aka the top table. In a break from tradition the bride and groom had decided to have the speeches before food. Melissa had explained to Abby it was because she wanted Adam’s best man to do his speech before he got steaming drunk; however the official line was that it was so the men could enjoy their food without the fear of nerves playing havoc with their appetites. The young waiters and waitresses flew into action, swiftly placing open bottles of champagne on each table and filling champagne flutes. Clearly no expense was being spared.
Abby hoped for Melissa and Adam’s sake they had a stonking savings account. Having been married a long time and having experienced the reality of starting a life together she couldn’t help but feel a little cynical at spending so much on the big day. After all it was just that, a day. In keeping with the theme of the wedding she mentally compared it to blowing your budget on a stunning trailer while forgetting there was a whole movie still to make. As she glanced round at the grand setting she wished she had passed some of that wisdom on to Melissa along with her handy hair tip. Then again, Melissa had mentioned her dad was a very successful antiques dealer; perhaps he’d gone the traditional route and paid for it. Does that still happen? Abby pondered the question while sipping her champagne. The thought that it could be the product of benevolence on the part of the bride’s wealthy parents and not Melissa and Adam’s house deposit made it slip down oh so much more easily.
With a chink of a glass the father of the bride was announced and Melissa’s dad stood, placing his hand on her shoulder. On behalf of himself and his wife, Judy, he thanked all the guests for attending, giving special mention to those who had travelled to be there. As he continued a lump grew in Abby’s throat.
“Since she was a little girl it had been Melissa’s dream to get married in the family church, and how lovely it has been to see her achieve that dream with Adam today. We remember her christening there as if it were yesterday, but now our little girl is all grown up and we couldn’t be more proud of the beautiful young lady she has grown into…”
Abby’s chest tightened. She missed her dad. She wished he were still alive. She missed his annoyingly sensible advice, his hugs, the too-strong tea he made at his allotment and his ability to always make her smile. She wished she could speak to him again, to tell him how much she loved him. She saw the tears that welled in Melissa’s dad’s eyes, the pride, the love and the way Melissa returned his smile. If only she could share a moment like that again with her dad.
Abby’s mind slipped back to the conversation she’d had with Mallory about the loss of her dad. The thought that she had somehow coped with that loss better than her problems with Simon still sat uncomfortably with her. She remembered her dad’s final days, when she had sat with her mum and Kennedy, watching helplessly as he slowly drifted further and further away from them. She recalled how Simon had held her up, hugged her, looked after her, been there for her and encouraged her to be brave. She thought about her dad’s funeral, watching his coffin being lowered into the ground and struggling for breath as she sobbed mournfully in Simon’s arms. He had guided her through it all, taken care of Eleanor and organised everything so she could have the wake she wanted for him, in the headquarters of his old cycling club. In a moment of epiphany Abby knew she had only coped with it better because Simon had helped her. She had managed the grief because he had been there for her, holding her hand, helping her through, loving her, the way he always did. The way he had for almost half her life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a toast to the bride and groom.”
As everybody’s glass was lifted in the air Abby was jolted from her own thoughts.
“The bride and groom,” the guests echoed in unison and sipped their champagne.
Barely whispering, Patty nodded in the direction of Abby’s glass. “You’ll have none left for the other speeches at that rate.”
Abby stopped drinking, realising she was positively swigging her champagne. She put her glass down and wiped her mouth, attempting to remind herself that getting drunk was not a good idea and that there were in fact two more speeches to come. Next to stand was Adam’s best man. Within about sixty seconds of him speaking it was obvious why Melissa had wanted the speeches before the alcohol had too long to flow.
“As many of you know us both, you know I’m Tom and I am the best man.” He paused for laughter while the room filled with groans. “Adam and I have played rugby together since we were at school. He is the best mate anybody could ask for and me and the team are all really happy to see him get hitched to Melissa – especially since by now, she must have discovered that in Adam’s case, rugby really is a game played by men with odd-shaped balls.”
The rugby crowd whooped. Abby’s eyes went wide as she stared at Melissa. But Melissa’s face was merely bemused. She obviously knew Adam’s mates well and must have been expecting this style of cheeky speech. Adam’s mum on the other hand looked a little horrified. If any more steam came out of her ears Abby feared her fascinator might actually wilt.
“Seriously though, when Adam asked me to be best man I was really honoured. I went home and I spent several hours searching the Internet. I found lots of really great stuff, but then I remembered I was going to be best man and thought I better get down to writing a speech…”
Brad laughed. Abby took a swig of her drink, wondering how much longer the speech could go on for while Patty listened intently, seemingly oblivious to the joke.
After finally delivering some rather sweet words about watching Adam fall in love with Melissa, acknowledging the maid of honour a little too lustfully with a wink, and thanking the other beautiful bridesmaids Tom began his toast.
“So we all know Melissa’s a stickler for detail and I got strict instructions about the film theme, so I had to do a little more research. But this time I had to go to my little black book – well, you know, the many ladies listed in my contacts anyway.” He tapped his pocket, where his phone presumably sat. “And what they said was, all these films about love and stuff, when you watch enough of them you learn that the best relationships come down to a few simple things. And as I’m ge
tting a bit Hugh Grant with this now, I’d like to apologise in advance for all the F words…”
Again the rugby crowd whooped, Melissa’s parents tensed, the rest of the room stilled and Adam’s poor mum looked in need of medical assistance.
“So here’s to fate and finding the right one” (Tom directed a smile towards the happy couple), “forging a friendship, falling in love, fostering forgiveness – everybody needs a little sometimes” (he winked); “forming a family and making it last forever.” Tom paused and pretended to shudder at his own words. “In short, because those ladies sure can talk and that’s a bloody long mouthful, I’d like to propose a toast to all the F words, but especially ‘forever’!”
The rather stunned audience echoed Tom’s words in unison. After drinking more champagne everybody clapped; Abby was sure it was as much out of relief as acknowledgment of the (quite sweet) toast.
With Adam’s speech coming up next Abby decided to excuse herself. She knew he was besotted with Melissa and she really was happy for them, but she couldn’t risk getting over-emotional again. Not only did she not want to make a scene, she was also on her last posh outfit; she couldn’t risk another tear disaster. As she stood Brad caught her hand and asked if she was OK. Abby gave him a reassuring smile, nodded and slipped discreetly out of a side door. Moving away from the murmur of the main hall she found a set of sun-warmed stone steps and sat down. Bathed in warmth as she sat, momentarily enjoying the solitude, the words ‘forgiveness’ and ‘forever’ played in her mind.
Abby held up her hand and stared at her wedding and engagement rings. As the light caught them they sparkled. On the night she found out about Simon’s affair, after she had told him to leave, she’d tried to take them off. She remembered sitting in her empty bedroom twisting and tugging at them, trying desperately to free herself of them, but with her having gained weight since they had married they wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tried. When she thought her finger might actually bleed from the frustratingly futile effort she stopped and cried pathetically instead. She knew it was different now. She had lost weight. She could take them off easily; she sometimes felt them slip round her finger. And yet no matter how many times she stared at them, no matter how many times she slipped them down her finger she never actually did it. She didn’t want to. Something always stopped her. She had worn them for so many years, they had been a part of her for so long, she actually couldn’t imagine herself without them. Perhaps, she thought, some things are too much a part of you to simply let them go.
