Bridesmaids

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘But he did.’ I nod rapidly. ‘He did the right thing, I mean I didn’t, oh, God, you didn’t think I’d blackmailed him or anything? I mean, I just suggested, and he agreed.’

  I am so relieved that Michael has done the right thing. ‘I doubted him, I was wrong. He loves you to bits Rach, he’s your one.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiles then, her grip on the glass loosens.

  ‘Do you still want me to be your bridesmaid?’

  She reaches out then, puts her hand over mine. ‘Of course I do.’ Then she raises her glass. ‘Thank you.’

  We get off to bed early. Rachel’s parents and her Great Aunt Mabel make sure of that.

  There’s a bit of a strained atmosphere between the two of us, but they don’t seem to notice. I think they’re too excited.

  Her mum insists I see her hat. Her dad shows us his top hat and tails and does his Fred Astaire impression. Then they start reminiscing and break out the photos of us from school and we both decide it’s time for bed.

  I’m tired, but when I climb between the sheets I can’t sleep. Oh, God, I wish Freddie was around to talk to, to tell me I’ve done the right thing. Or at least responding to texts. I take a deep breath, if I was prepared to risk everything with Rachel, then why aren’t I prepared to do it for myself? Why can’t I have the guts to actually confront him? Except I’ll have to track him down first.

  I’m going to have to. The moment this wedding is over I am going to hit the road.

  Okay, he’s ignoring my texts and voicemails, but I have to give it one last try.

  I pick my mobile up, and it’s a good job speed dial exists because my fingers are trembling so much it’s hard to do anything.

  I’m holding my breath as I wait but, luckily, it’s not for long. It clicks straight through to voicemail. Again. And my whole body sags with disappointment.

  I text him and tell him if he doesn’t get back to me soon then I’m going to call out a search party. He’ll be on wanted posters, on milk bottles, or Crimewatch.

  Then I Google his friend Rob, and finally hit gold. He is on Facebook. From the description and photo, it has to be him. How many rangers called Rob with a broken arm can there be in the Outer Hebrides?

  I send him a message, asking him if Freddie is there. Check it’s been delivered then stare at the screen until I fall asleep.

  It’s as though Freddie has disappeared off the end of the earth, into outer space, not just gone to the Outer Hebrides.

  When I wake up next morning, ranger Rob has replied. ‘He’s been a brilliant help, not here now though. Have you tried his phone?’

  I throw mine at the wall.

  Of course, I have.

  And more to the point, where has he gone? When did he leave?

  ‘Jane? Breakfast is ready. Hurry up!’

  I hurry up. I’ll message him again later. Find out exactly what Freddie said to him, and if he told him where he was heading.

  And if he’s still got my cat.

  I have made a decision, so now I have to shake him out of my head and concentrate on Rachel and the biggest day of her life.

  ‘Coming!’

  ACT THREE

  The Big Day

  Chapter 33

  This has to be a nightmare. Any second now I’ll wake up and laugh hysterically. I have arrived at the hotel all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and bubbling with nervous excitement and flipped open the boot of my car with a flourish so that the bellboy can carry my cases.

  I do it with a flourish because I am excited about there being an actual bellboy. This is the first time I’ve stayed in a hotel that is posh enough to actually have a bellboy.

  Mistake.

  I wave him away as the most awful smell ever hits me. ‘Back, back.’ I splutter. One hand over my face, I try not to gag as I lift my suitcase out, then resort to holding my nose as I reach for the box with my shoes in.

  Oh, my, it just got worse. It’s not just a little eugh smell, this is a total stink that catches at the back of my throat and makes me want to heave.

  And it is strangely familiar.

  And it is the box that smells, not my car boot.

  I drop it, the lid pings off and a shoe rolls out onto the gravel.

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  Luckily, Rachel is not with me. Rachel’s dad has already dropped off her and her mum, and I’ve followed in my car. So, it’s there for me in the morning. It’s mid-morning and we are all assembling at Startford Castle to get ready. We have a make-up lady, hairdresser and who knows what else lined up to pamper us.

  Unluckily, my mother has appeared out of the blue to ‘help’. And I have stinky shoes.

  ‘Language, darling. You’ll never keep a nice man if you—’

  How could I not have noticed until now? I put those shoes in my car, they travelled all the way up the motorway with me.

  They stayed in the confined space overnight, so that I wouldn’t forget them, and the smell built up.

  I have to admit it. This day has not got off to a brilliant start.

  ‘No mum. I’m not swearing – look!’ I kneel down, tentatively lift up the shoe by the tip of the heel and hold it at arm’s length to double check. I have no idea why I think I need to double check. I drop it like it’s on fire. There is no mistake, it is definitely liberally coated in …

  ‘Cat poo!’ Declares the bellboy loudly, then drops his voice. ‘Sorry, but it is, isn’t it? My gran used to have six cats and, cor, they could stink. If they weren’t peeing, they were spraying, and if they weren’t doing either of those, it was that.’

  Well, at least Louie did leave something behind for me to remember him by. He has poo’d on my satin shoes! Bugger!

  Bugger, bugger, bugger. I toss it back in the box, trying to use my fingernails and not my fingers, and slam the lid down.

  My shoes. The shoes I am supposed to be wearing for the wedding!

  What the hell do I do now?

  I’m supposed to be colour co-ordinated.

  ‘Oh, Jane, how could you?’

  ‘I cannot believe you just said that, Mother! It’s not my fault!’

  ‘Could Housekeeping help?’ I glance up, I’d completely forgotten the bellboy. He’s trying to keep a straight face. They must train them well at this place.

  ‘Unlikely.’

  He pulls a funny face, but gamely takes a step nearer. ‘We can try though, Madam.’

  It takes industrial strength cleaner to get rid of the smell, I know it does. ‘I’ve only got ten minutes, they’ll all be waiting for me!’

  ‘You could leave them with me?’

  ‘No way.’ Smelly shoes have to be better than no shoes. Maybe.

  ‘I’ll tell the girls, dear.’ Mum is flapping her hand in front of her nose and keeping as far away as she can. ‘You go with this man, and I’ll distract Rachel!’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell her what’s happened, make something up!’

  ‘I’ll say it’s woman problems, shall I? Had to pop home for emergency knickers?’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Well, come on then, hurry up.’ He stops being a formal bellboy and turns into a normal bloke. A bloke who bravely grabs the foul-smelling footwear in one hand, and me in the other and whisks us both over to Housekeeping.

  We gather quite a crowd of helpful staff, and many bottles of detergent, bleach, furniture polish, carpet spray and ‘I’m not quite sure what it is but it worked on that nasty stain on the carpet in Room 403’.

  The head of Housekeeping dabs carefully at the shoe.

  ‘Sorry, sorry. We need to be quicker.’ I can’t wait any longer, I grab it from her.

  ‘But the colour might …’

  Too late, I’ve sprayed bottle number 3 on it, switched the tap full on and started to scrub.

  The jet of water is slightly stronger than I expected, it hits the heel and sprays straight back at me. ‘Yikes.’ I’m dripping.

  ‘Here love, give me that T-shirt and we’ll dry it in a jiffy.�
� One of the girls has a towel in one hand and is practically stripping my top off with the other. We have a bit of a tousle, which she wins. Leaving me semi-naked in a room of strangers. But there’s no time to worry about nudity. I look back at my shoe.

  Silence falls as the water turns the colour of the shoe.

  ‘Bugger.’

  ‘It might not be colour fast.’ Finishes the housekeeper.

  ‘Yes. Fine.’ The damp patch spreads, the whole shoe is changing colour before our eyes. And it still stinks. And even more dye comes out as I frantically pat it with a kitchen towel.

  ‘See,’ says one of the staff, pointing to a tiny label she found in the shoe box. ‘Protect from damp it says here.’

  Crying is not an option. I need an option though, anything. Running round in my bra clutching a stinky shoe is not helping.

  Stop. Think. I pat my hair dry with the towel.

  ‘I know!’

  ‘You know?’ They all chorus.

  ‘My car.’ It’s the only option. I reclaim my T-shirt, grab my soggy shoes and dive out of Housekeeping, back out of the hotel and slide to a gravel stop next to my car. Which, luckily, hasn’t been parked somewhere else yet.

  I fling open the boot.

  ‘Thank God for that!’ They are still there.

  The limited-edition Doc Martens that Coral had sent over, and had expected me to Photoshop into an ‘authentic’ Brighton photo long after I’d returned home. Pah, she really needs to look up the meaning of ‘authentic’.

  Weirdly they are almost the same colour as the shoes I’ve just trashed, give or take a shade or two. Well, they are limited edition, they do happen to be in my size, ultra-comfy, and nobody will seem them under the dress.

  Phew, it is such a good job that Rachel ignored Sal’s suggestion of what she thought were the sexier short dresses. Give me a good cover-it-all length any day of the week,

  Sally just wanted to show off her endless pins, we all knew that.

  What the hell, I’ve no real choice.

  Nobody will notice if I slip them on quietly, they’ll all be busy getting ready.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘It will be.’ I shove the shoes into a carrier bag, nod at the bellboy, throw my shoulders back and paste on a smile.

  And check my phone. Still no message from Freddie, still no update from Rob – who is probably chasing seals or untangling seagulls or something.

  I gulp as I look up the big stone steps towards the very posh entrance hall. I am hot and sweaty, have dripping hair and a soggy top. I truly hope no other guests are going to spot me as I head up to the room.

  ‘You’re fine.’ Bellboy winks at me. ‘It’s quiet at this time. Come on.’

  Chapter 34

  I didn’t really notice my surroundings when I dived down to Housekeeping with my smelly shoes, but this time I do.

  Startford Castle is the place dreams are made of. The word amazing was invented for places like this.

  I can’t help gazing round open-mouthed as I check in at Reception. It’s not just a castle by name, it’s like an actual castle.

  There’s a hushed silence that’s all to do with splendour rather than spookiness, and with its wood-panelled walls and exposed stone I can see why it would be perfect for the medieval banquets they hold here.

  The old oak floorboards feel soft beneath my feet, the dark brown leather chairs and sofas make me feel like I’ve stepped back in time and I turn round slowly trying to take it all in.

  If Rachel wanted a fairy tale wedding, she’s certainly picked the right place.

  I peer past Reception and spot a large lounge, with an absolutely massive carved wooden fireplace, and windows to the ceiling with enough material in just one drape for curtains in my flat several times over.

  It’s all plush reds, golds and greens that work in harmony with the natural wood, leather and stone. And there are books. Bookcases that reach from floor to ceiling, stacked high with old books that I’d really like to rush in and touch.

  The staff are obviously used to this reaction. They wait patiently as my hair drips on their rug, which is probably hand woven and cost more than my home and all its contents.

  ‘The ladies are all in Room 264, if you’d like us to leave your belongings in your room and take you straight there?’

  ‘Oh, heck, yes, please, I’m late!’

  ‘Jane, you’re here!’ Rachel jumps up. ‘Your mum said you’d gone off with a man! Where’ve you been? I thought you were right behind us.’ She doesn’t pause long enough for the shoe story. ‘Sit down, here, here, here.’ I’m forced onto a stool. ‘You need your make-up doing first. Sarah’s done us, you’re next.’

  ‘Where’s Mum gone?’ I look round suspiciously, half expecting her to jump out of a wardrobe.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Rachel giggles. ‘We sent her off to supervise the table laying.’

  ‘Does it need supervising?’

  ‘Nope, but I’m sure she’ll find something to tweak.’ Rachel knows my mum well. I’m sure we both have the same vision of her in our heads right now. She’ll be checking cutlery and glasses for smears.

  The next hour whizzes by as I’m powdered, painted, primped and generally prodded about. Eyes shut, open, mouth like this, look up, head up, keep still, left hand please, don’t you dare move.

  I could never, ever be a model. All this sitting in one spot while being manhandled and perfected is hard work. My fingers are totally twitching for my camera, but I’m not allowed to shift from my stool until the bridal conveyor belt has been processed.

  As my last ringlet is dropped into place I glance to my left, and Maddie and Sal, then to my right where Rach is sitting and cannot believe we’ve actually got to this point. It’s been exhausting. I am totally, absolutely, one hundred per cent knackered.

  I am never, ever going to be my best friend’s chief bridesmaid again. Well, by that I don’t mean I’m expecting her to need a chief bridesmaid again, because obviously in a few hours’ time she’ll be waltzing down the aisle towards her one and only, and a lifetime of love and happiness.

  But if I ever have another best friend, who decides to get married, I’m not going to be chief bridesmaid. Final.

  We are actually the sweetest foursome though, I’m including myself in that because, whatever, I actually look quite good in this dress.

  I take a deep, steadying breath in. My hair has been smoothed and waved and actually looks sleek and shiny for once, my nails all look the same length and are minus the splodgy bits I normally end up with when I varnish them myself, and my eyes kind of ping. That girl was a genius with her flicky eyeliner, both eyes look exactly the same! It’s a miracle!

  And I don’t think anybody has spotted the shoes yet.

  ‘Hey! Hey, everybody, quick, Beth’s sent a video!’ Rachel has finally been given permission to move her hands, and the first thing she’s done is grab her tablet. ‘She tried to ring earlier but nobody answered, so she sent this. Look!’

  She holds it up and hits the play button.

  ‘Hi gang, Gawd, I bet you all look gorgeous. Send me photos!’ Beth is clutching a happy little Joe, who giggles as she waves his hand. ‘The little man is feeling better, but he’s still a bit itchy, so I thought I better stay away from the wedding in case I’ve caught it! Miss you all.’ Beth holds Joe’s hand and blows a kiss off it, and he beams.

  ‘Miss you, Beth!’ Maddie waves and blows a kiss and my heart twinges. Her and Jack would have been so good together.

  Who knows what will happen. One day, the daddy secret will be out, when Joe is old enough to understand probably – but for now they’re both happy. We’re all happy. Happy, happy, happy. Even Sally, when I glance her way, seems chilled.

  ‘Anyway, wanted to wish you a fabulous day, Rach. Hope you all get rat-arsed and enjoy the dad-dancing, and I’ll see you soon! Oops, I better go, nappy time.’ Beth pulls a face.

  ‘Better out than in, eh?’ Sally winks at me, and I know she�
��s going to be okay. I guess, like me, it was a huge relief, a burden lifted, when she owned up to herself, and me, about the state of her marriage. At least she has an action plan now, even if I suspect it is doomed.

  ‘Defo.’ I cross my fingers in my lap and send up a prayer that Beth won’t think her secret is better out in the open until at least Sal and Jack have had a chance to talk.

  ‘Have a drink for me!’

  ‘Several.’ We all yell, even though we know she can’t hear us.

  We’ll miss Beth of course, the one that couldn’t be a bridesmaid ’cos of her baby, and that’s probably good. If she was here then she’d be shattering the sweetness and light with her barbs and the bosom that we’re all a tiny bit (secretly) jealous of. And I couldn’t cope with the stress of knowing that any minute she could spill the beans about Jack.

  Anyhow, we’ve got our shit together at last and are getting on.

  I mean, okay there might still be secrets to share, but as far as I’m concerned, my biggie has been spilled.

  Rach catches my eye and I mouth ‘gorgeous’ at her. She is. She looks the perfect bride. She smiles back at me, a nervous and slightly tentative smile. I’m not sure she’s one hundred per cent forgiven me for not telling her about Michael’s ‘slip-up’ earlier, but she’s happy. I’m happy for her, and oh so bloody relieved that the secret is finally out. I couldn’t bear to carry that in my heart as I watch her say ‘I do’. I mean, I could have been responsible for her whole life being fucked up. Well, obviously, not responsible, that would have been Michael who carried that, but I would have felt like I’d let her walk into the lion’s den without a spear, or anything. Not that Michael is a lion, but you know what I mean. She wouldn’t have been armed with the facts, she would have been wandering innocently where innocents shouldn’t wander.

  I’m glad it came from him as well. Like it needed to.

  I do still feel a bit like I’m walking on glass at the moment though, and one false step and I could end up in quick sand, and I think she feels a bit the same, but I know we’re going to be alright. I’ll make it up to her, we’ll soon be back how we were.