Bridesmaids

by Zara Stoneley

  Michael had been caught cuddling up with cute little Em in the school bogs by Ed, who had posted the photo on Twitter and it had gone viral. Well, fairly viral, viral within the school, which was pretty impressive back then. These days it would be seen more as a case of hiccups than a virus.

  ‘That was so funny!’ It wasn’t at the time, but I can see now that Rach might think it is. ‘Emily was nothing, I mean that was ages ago, and I mean we weren’t exclusive or anything.’ She grins. ‘Exclusive would have been so uncool. She was pretty uncool, anyway, wasn’t she?’

  I nod. She had been. Pretty, quiet, and a bit aloof.

  ‘She was upset because her hamster had died. Do you remember?’ I nod. That had been the story at the time. ‘She was like, really upset and hiding in the cloakroom because she couldn’t stop crying, and all Michael did was hold her hand. Typical of Ed to barge in and post a frigging photo on Twitter. He was so jealous of Michael you know, and he was so into Em. Anyway, Emily sent me this text saying how kind Michael was, and how lucky we were to have each other. She said it was hard to understand if you haven’t had a hamster.’

  I nod. It’s hard to understand if you have had a hamster. ‘So, erm, Sara?’

  ‘Oh, no, she wasn’t from school. She was the one in the photo at his works Christmas party, the one who rang me and said I was living in a dream world if I thought he was ever going to marry me.’

  ‘Oh my God, right! That was when you ditched him?’

  ‘Too right.’

  I remembered this well, I’d just not known her name. Rachel had only ever referred to her as silly bitch and stupid cow. Never Sara. Sara was the reason she’d ditched him, and why I’d decided I didn’t need to tell her about Lexie.

  They’d split, it was over. My secret was safe.

  Until they got back together again.

  I’d been so proud of her when she’d bawled him out, even better she’d given his best jacket to the tramp he passes every day by the bus stop and locked him out of the house.

  ‘He admitted everything to me before he proposed. It was so sweet, he was so honest and open about it and said that snogging her was the biggest mistake of his life, and he’d do anything to prove I could trust him. He’d been drunk but knew that wasn’t an excuse. He’s grown up, Jane.’

  ‘That’s brilliant, Rachel.’ I cross my fingers out of sight under my knees. I really do hope she’s right, for her sake. And for his, because if I find out that that he’s still a serial shagger then he’s going to be as dead as Emily’s hamster.

  But is now the time to tell her about Lexie? While we’re clearing out the Michael closet?

  ‘I’ve been going on and on about my wedding, what about you? You’ve still not told me about Brighton,’ she winks, ‘and Freddie.’ The sudden change in conversation makes my mind up for me. Now is not the time to rock the boat. Michael is a reformed character. He’s admitted his mistakes and they have clearly worked through it. Everything is going to be fine.

  ‘Stop leering, you look creepy! There’s nothing to tell. You know that! We’re friends.’

  ‘You do fancy him a little bit though, don’t you?’ She has her head tipped on one side.

  ‘You’re not going to get like all these other brides-to-be and try and get their friends hitched are you Mrs Matchmaker?’

  ‘You didn’t answer the question!’ She laughs.

  ‘I’m too busy to date, nobody would have me!’

  ‘Freddie would.’

  ‘Will you drop it? Friends works for us, it’s,’ Freddie’s word jumps into my mouth, ‘less complicated.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘You know what it’s like at the mo, I’m busy working for Coral. Once I’ve got established it’ll be different.’ I look her straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want a repeat of Andy.’

  ‘I know.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘They’re not all like Andy though, if you find a man who loves you because of your passion, your work, not in spite of it then you’ll realise that.’

  Freddie’s back in my head. The one man who’s always encouraged me, even helped me. The man who likes me for my passion, my work.

  I feel the inward sigh and fight to keep it hidden, the man who really is out of bounds. Maybe I need to settle for kisses on cheeks and friendship and discount the prospect of ever finding a happy ever after and getting married. I push the thought down and put my best smile on my face.

  ‘That’s pretty deep after a bottle of Prosecco.’

  She giggles. ‘I’ve been saving it, I’ve got it written down.’ We both drink our bubbly, slightly self-consciously. ‘Coral’s New York photos are pretty crap, nowhere near as good as your pics.’

  I grin back. I love her solidarity. ‘I’m going to really have to sparkle on the next shoot though, or I’ll be dead meat.’

  ‘Might be the best thing?’ Her voice lifts at the end in a question.

  ‘Have you been talking to Freddie?’

  ‘No, why?’ She looks at me suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He agrees with me, doesn’t he? I knew it!’

  ‘We talked a bit.’ I shrug, trying to play it down. ‘I know you both think I’m mad working for her, I think I’m mad sometimes.’ I study my feet for a moment, trying to work out how to explain. ‘But I’m not ready to break out solo yet.’

  ‘Ahh, yeah, forgot you’re Miss Perfection.’

  ‘It’s not just that, I need the contacts, I need to build my rep. You know I can’t afford to take time out and do a course.’

  ‘You don’t need a course, your photos are fab!’

  ‘Some people just look for stuff like that, where you studied, who you know.’ I shrug and look her in the eye again. ‘I didn’t study so I’ve got to work on the who I know bit.’

  ‘Sometimes you just gotta go for it, girl, even if you’re not one hundred per cent ready. Work, new job …’ There’s a long pause. ‘Man!’

  I flick brownie crumbs at her. ‘I knew you were going to say that!’

  ‘Seriously, though, Coral is shit. She’s bad news.’ She’s right of course, but everything is going great for Rach at the moment, her glass is definitely more than half full.

  Mine is more on the empty side. Everything I touch turns crap. I need to get this right, when I jump ship I need to know it’s the right time to let go of the security of a steady income, and I need to know I can prove to bloody Andy that this isn’t a stupid little hobby. I’m not rubbish at everything. I have made some right choices in life.

  I also need to prove it to myself.

  ‘You don’t need to tell me! I’m being a wimp, but I’m not ready to do it yet.’ I daren’t. What if it turns out that my judgement about my abilities is as crap as my judgement on blokes?

  ‘What does Freddie say?’

  ‘Just that I need a plan, that I need her to credit my stuff.’

  ‘He’s not wrong, you know.’

  ‘I know.’

  Rachel knows about the sacrifices I’ve made because of this job though. I’ve had to cancel girlie night’s out at the last minute before now, and she knows that it gets worse than that. After the dust had died down over my not-to-be-wedding, I’d realised that it was having to race off one Friday evening to attend to Coral that had probably been the final straw for Andy. He’d invited a gym-buddy and his girlfriend round for a meal. I’d forgotten and burst through the front door at 9 o’clock with a Chinese takeaway for two, a job lot of prawn crackers, and a lot of swearing.

  To say it hadn’t gone down well is an understatement. Particularly when the gym-buddy’s girlfriend discovered she had a mild seafood allergy and her face swelled up like a blowfish and the rest of the evening we couldn’t understand her as she sounded like she’d just had her mouth anaesthetised or swallowed a bag of marbles.

  Coral has a lot to answer for.

  I mean, I do know that if my relationship with Andy had been the genuine article then it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have bee
n happy to accept me as I am, a bit of a workaholic. That’s just the way it is in jobs like mine.

  ‘You know I’ll help you any way I can, don’t you?’

  ‘I know you will, Rach. And I have got a plan. Freddie helped me put it together.’ She raises an eyebrow, which I ignore and instead just talk firmly in what I like to think is my professional voice. ‘I don’t intend working for Coral forever.’ I also know that it’s all about taking baby steps. Rachel’s wedding is a biggie for me. I’m not so daft that I’m going to pretend it isn’t. But once it’s over, and I’ve proved to myself that I can survive trying on a bridesmaid’s dress, a hen party, walking up the aisle, and seeing Andy all dressed up for somebody else’s wedding, then I know I’ll be ready to start putting my spreadsheet into action. Freddie loves spreadsheets, he’d run his entire life via spreadsheet if he could. And he helped me put one together. It’s not exactly a five-year plan, more of an escape plan.

  ‘Good! You’re too good to put up with her crap, Jane.’

  ‘You’re telling me!’ And I do know. ‘Like I mean, all this blew up cos of Daniel’s bloody pooch in a pouch.’

  Rachel snorts Prosecco bubbles up her nose and splutters. ‘He’s not has he? I mean he does look well packed in those photos, but you never know what kind of padding is in there, do you?’

  I bury my head in my hands, then peep at her through my fingers because she’s giggling. She’s happy, she looks so well, even tipsy. In fact, you know that phrase ‘positively blooming’? That’s Rachel.

  Sugar! She’s not, is she? I can’t ask her outright, though, because she’ll think, 1. I’m saying she’s fat, or 2. I’m saying it’s a shotgun wedding.

  ‘Oh, goodness me, Rachel.’ I’m rescued from the conundrum by Rachel’s mother.

  Who has just stepped onto Rachel’s abandoned plate and has a skewered prawn on the heel of her shoe. ‘What on earth? Oh, no, I knew this food was a mistake. Everything okay, girls? Dress fitting tomorrow, isn’t that exciting?’

  It’s late by the time people start to drift off, and I’m the last to leave. Stopping for a last hug with Rachel and feeling so pleasantly tipsy I actually congratulate Michael in person. I hope the look I give him is piercing, and not squiffy.

  They look so happy, hands entwined as we say goodbye that I feel bad that I’ve ever even thought about telling Rachel the dirty secret I know about her fiancé. Telling her about Lexie now could ruin everything and even a cynic like me can see that they’re madly in love. How could I even think about hurting my best friend in the way Andy hurt me?

  How could I ever risk her having doubts, having the whole thing ruined?

  I let him kiss my cheek, then I weave my way down the driveway happy in the knowledge that I’m doing the best thing for everybody. Keeping my mouth shut.

  Now all I have to do is sneak into the house without Mum hearing, or I’ll get the kind of inquisition that no self-respecting woman over twenty-one should ever have to endure.

  Chapter 14

  ‘Hey, Jane! Looks like you’ve had a good night.’

  Freddie is sprawled on the sofa, looking completely at home, a can of beer in his hand. He grins at me lazily, brushing his floppy fringe back with long fingers.

  Bugger. I am so drunk I’ve somehow found my way back to my flat, or even Brighton, rather than my parent’s house. How much have I spent on the taxi fare? I’ll be bankrupted!

  I stare at him, aghast.

  Then notice the silver photo frames on the polished wood sideboard.

  Phew. This is my family home. It is not Brighton, or our flat. The ‘polished’ bit is the give-away – no dust bunnies here, and the fresh smell, and the absence of socks on the radiator, and empty pizza boxes on the table.

  And the fact that you can take more than one step without knocking your knees or elbows on a piece of furniture.

  ‘Had to persuade your mum not to lock you out, I promised I’d wait up for you and call out a search party if you weren’t back at a reasonable time.’ He tilts his head on one side, and I copy, which makes me feel a bit dizzy. ‘You’re really pissed, aren’t you?’ I nod and he goes a bit blurry, so I blink to bring him back into focus.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  His grin broadens. He’s got a nice grin, and a nice mouth. A very nice mouth, I’d not really noticed it before, but now I realise I am fixated. He looks quite kissable. I watch his lips move, not really hearing the words. ‘Don’t you remember? You asked me? I’m going to Rob’s tomorrow, and you said it was easier if I wanted to stay here? I brought your dress?’

  He ends on a question. I shake my head to try to get rid of the kissing idea. I must be totally plastered, really drunk to even think stuff like that. That’s what vodka shots, champagne, a very weird reunion and wedding news does for you. Well, for me.

  ‘It is okay, isn’t it? I can go.’ He looks worried, and I want to hug him and pat his head and tell him everything will be okay. I must not. He is not my boyfriend, and he is not a dog, and those are the only two instances where that type of behaviour is acceptable.

  ‘Of course, it’s okay, Freddie dear. I thought I heard voices! Have you had a nice evening, darling? You look a bit flushed.’ Definitely my parents’ house, unless my mother has taken to wandering around random properties in her nightwear. Unlikely.

  I nod. It’s always wiser to say as little as possible when I’m drunk, and my mother is not. She shifts a china robin on the mantelpiece three inches to the right, as though to justify her presence.

  ‘Freddie has been telling us all about his friend and this tiny island he lives on. Fascinating, he’s such a nice boy,’ she says this as though he’s not in the room, ‘just the type you should be sticking with, dear. I always said that Andrew was a bit too big for his boots.’

  ‘Did you?’ This is news to me.

  ‘Well, not to your face of course dear, it’s up to you to make your own decisions,’ she shifts the bird back, ‘and mistakes.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘But he was so assessing, I think he had his eye on our bungalow you know!’

  ‘I didn’t. I can’t for one second imagine Andy, or any man, coveting your bungalow.’ There is a funny noise, I think Freddie is sniggering. Quietly. I risk a glance his way, and there is a definite smirk.

  ‘Are you drunk?’ Her eyes have narrowed.

  ‘Tipsy.’

  ‘Hmm, well, don’t eat all the cheese, and don’t break anything.’ She edges the china birds closer to the wall with her elbow.

  ‘Cheese?’ Freddie is grinning, enjoying the entertainment.

  ‘Oh, you’ve never seen anybody eat like our Jane after she’s been out drinking.’ He has. ‘Give her a wedge of stilton and she’s worse than a mouse.’

  ‘Mice are tiny. They nibble.’

  ‘Whatever you say dear. A herd of mice. But anyway, you’re much better off with this one than that horrible Andrew.’

  She gives me a hug. This one looks startled.

  ‘Oh, don’t start, Mum, we just live together!’

  Her eyebrows go up a notch.

  ‘In different rooms! We’re friends.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice. Respectful, though not entirely practical, I mean isn’t it better to try a slice of pie before you buy the whole one?’

  ‘Mum!’ I want to scream, but I’m too drunk, and tired, to summon the energy.

  ‘Anyway, Freddie’s friend sounds lovely, as well. Maybe you should go to the outer Outer Hebrides and meet him if you don’t want sex with this one.’

  ‘There’s only one “outer”.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It’s the Outer Hebrides.’

  ‘Oh, well, it sounds very remote, a very long way north. A man like that could be just what you need, all rough and rugged, and you’ll get a breath of fresh air as well. London isn’t good for you, you know. Too many fumes and no sea.’

  ‘We haven’t got sea here, either!’ I’m not so drunk that I ma
ke the mistake of saying I’ve just been by the seaside, with Freddie. That would make this far too complicated.

  I remember now though. Freddie’s friend Rob lives on an island, bird watching and seal herding and stuff like that, with his dog. He’s a ranger. I’ve already got a mental picture of him; all rough, rugged and craggy (him, not the scenery) in a thick jumper and sturdy boots striding across the island. He’s a little bit Poldark, but with a beanie instead of the funny black hat, and he obviously wouldn’t strip to the waist to go scything as it is bloody cold ‘oop North’. He’d build a fire, and drink whisky.

  When Freddie called (during the dress crisis), it was to tell me he was off to see his mate Rob, but that he was more than happy to make a minor detour. It wasn’t minor, but it was in the whole scale of driving to the Outer Hebrides, I suppose. Anyway, he did mention how far it was, and the fact he’d be kipping in his car as he couldn’t really afford to stop over anywhere guaranteed not to have bedbugs and drug dealers. So, I said, why not stop over on our sofa. My parents wouldn’t mind. It might even stop Dad going on at me about getting back in the saddle, and Mum scowling at him and saying it was a shame nobody went dancing these days, it was the perfect way to meet a nice young man.

  I think I must have a ‘use by’ date stamped on my forehead.

  ‘Have I missed something?’

  Oh, Gawd, now Dad has joined the party. And he’s in his Christmas flannel pyjamas.

  ‘No, Dad.’

  He kisses me on the forehead. ‘Lovely to meet your young man, sweetie. He’s charming.’ Even though he whispers this in my ear, everybody hears.

  ‘That’s what I was just saying.’ Mum gives me a pointed look. ‘Don’t be shy about it, darling. At your age you really do need to get out there dating while there are still some spare men of your own age.’

  ‘Well, actually, given the high divorce rate there will always be spare men.’

  Mum frowns. ‘Sorry dear?’

  ‘Well, they don’t just disappear into the ether, do they? We’re all very environmentally conscious these days you know, we recycle everything including the guys.’ I hope Andy was considered not fit for recycling and dumped in a landfill site with all the crap nobody cares about.