Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year!

by Fiona Collins

  ‘Like holding up a mirror,’ laughed Tamsin in return. ‘Seeing myself in you has made me think about things.’

  ‘Me too,’ agreed JoJo. A lot of things, she reckoned.

  ‘So, what are we going to do about it? Going forward? After this weekend, I mean.’

  ‘Loosen up, let go, not let our work rule our lives.’ JoJo took another large slug of champagne, from each glass. ‘Have a life. Are you up for it? For letting that hair down even further? Maybe going the full Rapunzel?’

  ‘I can make like Rapunzel!’ giggled Tamsin. ‘I am up for it. I reckon I can still make partner without breaking my back 24/7. All work and no play needs a definite rethink!’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said JoJo and they clinked glasses again.

  ‘Hey, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course you can!’ JoJo was on the second of the two new champagnes now – anyone could have asked her anything.

  ‘Wendy is OK, isn’t she?’ said Tamsin. ‘She’s spending a lot of time with her old friend Steve . . .’ They both flicked their heads over to the far end of the bar where Wendy was hooting with laughter and hanging off Steve’s every word.

  ‘Oh yeah, she’s fine,’ mumbled JoJo. ‘They’re just catching up that’s all.’ Wendy’s phrase. Say it, she thought. Say it until you actually believe it. Although she knew she wouldn’t. How could any of them forget Steve’s overly heroic jumping in to rescue Wendy from the lake, or Wendy’s face as he waded out of the water in that damp shirt?

  ‘I saw the way she looked at him when he waded out of the lake,’ said Tamsin carefully, ‘and I’ve noticed how he looks at her. They weren’t ever just friends, were they?’

  JoJo searched Tamsin’s eyes with her own. Oh sod it; they had been having a pretty honest conversation up till now – time to be honest about this.

  ‘No,’ said JoJo. ‘They weren’t. They have history. They were in love with each other at university – well, Wendy was, anyway – then Steve left for Australia and Wendy was heartbroken, for absolutely ages. They have a lot of history, actually. It’s been a real shock for her this weekend, seeing him here.’

  There. It was out there.

  ‘I bet,’ said Tamsin, looking deep in thought. ‘And do you think Steve could be the right man for her?’

  ‘God, no! He was never the right man for her,’ exclaimed JoJo. ‘The guy’s an idiot! Frederick is the right man for Wendy. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Tamsin. ‘I knew that before I even met her, just from his description of her. She’s perfect for him, one hundred per cent. Light to his shade, laughter to his sometimes serious nature . . . perfect!’

  ‘She’s worried they haven’t known each other long enough,’ said JoJo. ‘That it’s all been too much of a whirlwind. And Steve being here has thrown her into total confusion.’ They glanced over at the bar again. Wendy and Steve were still deep in conversation and Wendy was knocking back a glass of something.

  ‘I had a “Steve” once,’ said Tamsin thoughtfully.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. An old boyfriend of mine, from school, who turned up in my life the summer before I started my law degree. I was swept up in the romance of it all, the excitement. He begged me not to go away to university, and I was tempted, for a moment, but I never seriously considered giving up my plans for him. I saw it for what it was – a lingering attraction I needed to get finally out of my system. He was soooo wrong for me, in every way. Lance, his name was. Lance was my “Steve”.’

  ‘All play and no work was not the right road to go down?’

  ‘Nope!’ said Tamsin. ‘It would have been a huge mistake. It’s got to be all about that bloody balance.’ They both laughed.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t make a big mistake over your “Steve”,’ said JoJo. ‘And let’s hope Wendy doesn’t, either. I don’t know what more we can do to intervene.’

  ‘One last flirt,’ said Tamsin, nodding. ‘I bet that’s what this is.’

  ‘She’s just got wrapped up in nostalgia,’ agreed JoJo. She decided to be optimistic and go with the best-case scenario. One last flirt . . . Wendy had just got caught in a moment of nostalgia and there were just a couple more hours of the party to go. After tonight it would be over.

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ echoed Tamsin. ‘I’m sure of it. And the bridesmaids shall go to the ball! Come on, I love this one!’ she cried suddenly. It was that old disco classic, ‘Ring My Bell’. ‘Do you want to go and dance?’

  ‘OK!’

  Tamsin took JoJo’s hand and pulled her to the dance floor where they got themselves right in the middle and started dancing. JoJo felt wonderfully drunk now; within seconds, she was whooping and twirling, bumpin’ and a grindin’ – and bumping bums with an energetic Tamsin. It was great fun. Other people – men, mostly – bounded up to them to try to join in. Soon they were surrounded by a group of eager, bouncing men, all trying to make a circle with them. The young waiter was one of them. He was minus his apron. He’d slicked some water on his hair so it was back from his face. She focused on that face. It was very handsome. His eyes were dark brown and kind of soulful looking, he had soft, smooth skin, quite tanned, and he was smiling like he was really, really pleased to see her.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ she said back.

  ‘You don’t mind me dancing with you?

  ‘Why not?’ She widened the circle they were in so he could slot in beside her. ‘You’re not working now?’ she asked him. He was lovely, she thought. Far too young for her, but lovely. They say youth is wasted on the young, but it didn’t look like it was on him. He looked very happy in his gorgeous skin. And he had great eyebrows.

  ‘No. I’m off duty. Steve said we could come back and enjoy the party for the last couple of hours. Top boss.’

  ‘Cool,’ she said, in what she reckoned to be twenty-something parlance. Good old Steve.

  ‘I love this song,’ he said. Considering it was now ‘Aint No Stopping Us Now’, by McFadden & Whitehead, she was surprised.

  ‘I thought this would be too old for you,’ she said. They were already doing that kind of shouting talking that people have to do in clubs.

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiled, and he gave her such a mega-watt, flirty smile that she felt an unfamiliar sensation – a flipping of the stomach, a skipping sort of flutter in the underwear region. It was a long-forgotten sensation that made her feel great.

  That sensation continued. Tamsin gave her a wink and left her, scooting over to where her old friend Catherine and the birthday girl were dancing, clutching balloons. The other dancers dispersed and followed her. JoJo and the waiter moved opposite each other for a while, smiling in each other’s face. He reached out to place his hands on her waist. He pulled her closer and slid his arms round her back. She just let it happen; she wanted it to happen. Oh, she knew she was drunk, but this was more than that; this man was making her feel something she hadn’t in a very long time.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, making her stomach flip again. ‘Like an ice queen.’

  ‘An ice cream?’

  ‘No!’ He laughed, showing a set of perfect white teeth. ‘An ice queen!’ He said it right in her ear. She could feel his breath, hot and sweet.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She spoke back into his ear. It was soft-looking, small. She fleetingly wondered what it would be like to nibble.

  ‘A cold and beautiful blonde queen,’ he said, ‘but one who has the capacity to melt beyond compare, given the right flame.’

  ‘Ooh, saucy!’ she said. He had a glint in his eye that meant he was not being entirely serious, but that was entirely a good thing. Nobody wanted chat-up lines of the over-sincere, cheesy variety – even from such a good-looking man. ‘And so poetic,’ she teased, ‘for one so young.’ His brown eyes were amazing, she thought, and he had an extremely cute butt, too, she decided, when he launched into an ironic little turn to the bit about being
young and seventeen in ‘Dancing Queen’.

  When he stopped turning he said, ‘I’m twenty-six.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Well, too young for me anyway.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’ve been watching you, you know, since you arrived on Friday.’

  ‘Have you now? That sounds creepy.’

  She grinned; it really didn’t. He pulled her in close to him again and she let his arms fold round her back, caressing her; she in turn placed her hands on his lower back and considered touching his bum.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Names always matter.’

  ‘It’s JoJo,’ she said.

  ‘That’s a pretty name,’ he said. ‘Suits you.’

  ‘Charmer!’ she said, poking her tongue out at him.

  ‘I’m being serious now!’ he said. ‘It does suit you. I’m Luke.’

  ‘I know. Pleased to meet you, Luke.’

  She held on to him tighter, the champagne making her free, reckless. She caught Tamsin’s eye – she was now bopping opposite a guy in a pinstriped suit who appeared to be gurning at her – and was given a thumbs-up. JoJo nuzzled into Luke’s neck – she couldn’t help it; it was right there, and she revelled in its warmth and its smell. Wow. They swayed for a while, just holding each other. JoJo remembered Heidi’s Mind Gymnastics . . . the instruction to imagine yourself safe and secure in someone’s arms. She had scoffed at the thought of a man loving her, holding her. But suddenly, for the first time in a long time, she missed it; she missed the touch of a man, the scent of a man. She had been a closed book for so bloody long; was it time to open up? She didn’t want to be a monk, or a robot . . . cold, metallic, wearing the all-encompassing robe of ‘don’t touch’. She didn’t want to be like that and she certainly didn’t want to be like that tonight. Rapunzel was going to let more than her hair down.

  She let Luke grab her closer still and she started to laugh.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’

  ‘I’m happy,’ she said. ‘Right here and now, I’m happy.’ And drunk, she thought, to herself, but she wouldn’t say that bit.

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased to make you happy,’ Luke said. ‘There’s nothing I’d rather do, at this moment in time.’

  ‘Thank you,’ JoJo said, and then Right Said Fred came on and they were laughing and dancing to ‘Deeply Dippy’ and Luke was spinning her around.

  ‘I need more champagne,’ she said, when the song came to an end.

  ‘Coming up,’ he replied, releasing her to grab two glasses off the bar. Somehow, whilst dancing, they’d gravitated over to it.

  ‘Here,’ he said, placing one in JoJo’s hand and keeping the other for himself. He raised the glass and slowly (and rather sexily, she thought) tipped half its contents down his throat.

  She smiled at him, raised her glass . . . and drank the lot.

  When she looked back into Luke’s face, he was looking into her eyes – really looking into them – and she did feel like she was melting inside, somehow, that this lovely Luke had held a flickering flame to her and was gradually thawing her, from the inside out, like a snowman in the January sun. All that would be left of her soon would be a carrot and a woolly hat.

  She burst out laughing – what a silly image; she was clearly drunker than she thought.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Luke.

  ‘I’m absolutely fine,’ replied JoJo. ‘Now take me for another spin on the dance floor. I’m not done with you yet.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sal

  Pregnant! Pregnant! Sal sat down on the chair in the corner and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. She couldn’t believe it. She was still in a state of shock. It was just . . . astounding. She pulled the pregnancy test from her bag and looked at it again. Yes, there was that line. There was no mistaking it. It wasn’t faint; it wasn’t open to interpretation. It was blue and bold and could not be disputed. She was pregnant and she was actually going to have a baby!

  She carefully placed the test back inside her bag as though if she disturbed it too much the line would disappear and she wouldn’t be pregnant any more. Pregnant . . . Pregnant! The whole weekend, when she’d felt odd, she’d never for one second thought it was because she was pregnant. She’d just thought she was out of sorts, tired, coming down with something, and just generally pathetic and sulky about the food. Clever JoJo, to see the signs, or at least not to be so pig-ignorant that they went sailing under her nose without notice day after day, like they had Sal . . . Sal shook her head and frowned. She struggled to remember the date of her last period: she never knew, she was too disorganised to mark it down on the calendar, like she always meant to – when it arrived it always took her by surprise. Nope, she had no idea. She hugged her stomach to her as she sank lower on one of the trendy, wicker chairs Rose had found for them. She’d finished the glass of water JoJo had brought over and Rose had now gone to get a bottle.

  ‘So, are you going to text him?’ asked Rose, arriving back and handing Sal the water.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘What do you mean, “who”? Niall of course!’

  Niall. The father. Sal had no idea what she was going to do about Niall. Well, she was going to tell him, of course. She had to. But how? When? How would she even find the words? She was pregnant with Niall’s baby. The thought filled her with equal excitement and horror. He’d said he was slightly in love with her. She was in love with him. He’d make a great dad, probably. They could make it work, couldn’t they? They could have a baby? . . . Or not. They’d only known each other two months. This might be Niall’s greatest fear, her falling pregnant. He might make a terrible dad. He might hear this momentous piece of news, decide he wasn’t in love with her at all, that he didn’t even like her all that much, that she must have trapped him . . . and tell her to get lost.

  Oh no! That would be awful. She hadn’t trapped him! She’d had no intention of getting pregnant by him. Babies were the last thing on her mind when they fell into bed with each other, night after night and they’d always used condoms . . . Oh. They hadn’t always used condoms . . . that first drunken night, they hadn’t. It hadn’t even crossed their minds. Oh dear; they’d been pretty stupid, hadn’t they? Sal didn’t feel stupid though. She felt far from stupid. She felt elated, excited, happy as hell – she was going to have a baby!

  ‘Sal?’ Rose was staring at her, concerned. ‘When are you going to tell Niall?’

  ‘Well, I won’t text him,’ said Sal, ‘that will be too much of a shock. Or even call him. I’ll talk to him, face to face, tomorrow morning when I get home. He’ll be at the pub.’

  ‘How do you think he’ll take it?’

  ‘Honestly? I have absolutely no idea! None, whatsoever.’ She tried to imagine the scenario, when she told him. He’d be in the kitchen, prepping the veg for lunch, and looking impossibly rugged and handsome in a Guns n’ Roses t-shirt; she’d be sitting at the table, looking all glowing and winsome, in a white, floaty top and far younger than her forty-two years, courtesy of all those lovely pregnancy hormones (yeah, right!). She’d smile enigmatically and say, ‘Niall, the thing is, I’m having your baby,’ and he’d say . . . he’d say . . . No, she couldn’t catch what he was saying. She simply couldn’t imagine how he might react. ‘I’ll hope for the best,’ she told Rose. ‘That’s all I can do.’

  Sal sighed and sipped slowly at her water. It could all go horribly wrong. Telling him might end their relationship – immediately. He’d pack up his set of knives and his Magimix and leave the premises, saying he never wanted to see her again. She knew how hard it had been for JoJo when Nick had buggered off at the first mention of baby news. How difficult it had been to bring Constance up without a father in her life. She didn’t want that for her baby. She could make it on her own, with the girls’ support, but she really didn’t want to. On th
e other hand, telling him might cement what they had, which was good – he’d said so, hadn’t he? – and take it forward to a new and beautiful place neither of them had ever imagined. She didn’t know. Telling him was probably one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do, but this time tomorrow he would know and he had to know. That she was having his baby.

  Her heart soared, suddenly, at the thought. This man, this fantastic, sexy, gorgeous, wonderful man would be the father of her baby.

  ‘How do you feel about him, Sal, really?’ asked Rose gently.

  Sal turned to her with a small smile, surprised by the tears filling her eyes. ‘I love him,’ she said simply, and she repeated them, as she liked the way they sounded. ‘I love him.’

  ‘I thought you did,’ said Rose, taking one of her hands and squeezing it. ‘And it’s a pretty good place to start. You can only take it from there.’

  Sal nodded. Rose was right. They could only take it from here.

  *

  Wendy and Steve were flirting outrageously. From her vantage point of Pregnancy Corner (she’d been here a while now), water in hand, Sal could see them in action on the dance floor and they were far from subtle or restrained; an octopus and a ferret would be less all over each other. They were dancing – Steve was holding Wendy’s hand and clasping it to his chest as though he were pretending to swoon; Wendy had one hand over his and the other on Steve’s hip and was throwing back her head of curls in laughter as she wiggled her gold lamé bottom in time to Kylie Minogue’s ‘Locomotion’. Sal shook her head. She was sure that dress was hitched up even higher than earlier, and what an exhibition! There was so much heat coming off the pair of them she might have to reach for a fire blanket. Sal scouted round the room for Tamsin – luckily, she was over by the window talking to some women with balloons. She must not see this!

  What time was it? She checked her watch. Quarter past eleven. OK, there was still time for a stop to be put to this. Before things went too far. What on earth was Wendy playing at?