by Jenny Colgan
Neither Fran nor Alex had rung me. Alex must have finally got the message it was over. He’d given up awfully quickly, though. Not, I sternly told myself, that that made any difference. I might never see the two of them again. Not too soon for me.
I’d phoned my mother, who of course knew that it was the big day on Saturday (the whole town did, this was the closest Woking got to society – unless you counted Paul Weller, who was born there and spent the rest of his life making disparaging remarks about the place), and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t going. I hadn’t told her the whole truth, naturally. I told her we’d fallen out, in a kind of equal opportunities way.
‘Oh, remember when you lost your purse and you all fell out about who had it? The three of you made that up in the blink of an eye.’
‘Mum, Amanda took that purse and said if we didn’t make friends with her again she’d have one of Year Seven beat us up.’
She ignored me. ‘I’m sure you’ll sort it out, whatever it is. Oh, Amanda’s going to be such a lovely bride. Always was so pretty, and so tiny.’
‘And a witch.’
‘What’s that, darling? Oh, do come home, we’re dying to see you. You can tell us all your news … How’s your exciting new job going? Come and stay with us. But do go to the wedding – you’ll regret it if you don’t. Derek Phillips certainly knows how to splash out when he wants to!’
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m not going to go, and that’s that. But I’ll see you about lunch time, Saturday?’
‘Fine, fine, we’ll see you then.’
And she tutted sorrowfully that I would dare to miss such a glorious occasion.
Sixteen
I woke up extremely early on Saturday with a sore head and a deep sense of foreboding. As consciousness returned, I realized what day it was, and my heart dropped like a stone. I hugged my duvet and told myself not to be so bloody silly. It was just a normal day, I would get up, go home and be nice to my mum for a change, instead of a bit sulky. Maybe do some shopping and watch a bit of TV. No problem.
Really, I wanted to lie face-down on the floor and kick and scream and have the mother of all tantrums. But no. I would get up, wash, and dress demurely, then go out and face the world with calm and ease. Alex and Fran might well turn up to the wedding together. Well, that would be lovely for them. I hoped they’d all have a lovely day. Even when the smoke alarms went off, I’m sure that would not stop things too much – and how they would all laugh about it in the years to come, one great big circle of friends. Perhaps Alex and Fran and Amanda and Fraser’s children would all play together. They’d probably go on holiday too. How lovely lovely lovely.
Next door, I could hear the sound of shifting furniture. What on earth was Linda doing in there? I yawned, and shook my head to wake myself.
BRRRRRINNG! The doorbell went off with its usual soul-jerking intensity. BRRING! BRRIING! BRRING! That didn’t sound like the fat postman. It better not be Alex. Grimly, I pulled on my pyjamas and got up to answer it. Linda poked her shiny face round the living-room door, obviously concerned that I might be disobeying her mandate. I waved at her and peered through the letter box. It was Angus.
‘What is it?’ I yelled.
‘Can I come in?’
I pondered it for a bit.
‘Why?’
‘Let me in and I’ll tell you!’
‘What if it’s a double-bluff?’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
I didn’t know, so I opened the door and let him in. His mischievous smile left his face when he saw me.
‘Jings, what’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve been up a wall crying for a week.’
‘How intuitive. What are you doing here? Haven’t you got a wedding to attend?’ I turned cold. ‘Have they called it off?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Oh.’ I looked at him hazily.
‘Have you just woken up?’
‘Ehm, yes. Sorry. Nice kilt. Would you like a coffee?’
He looked at his watch. ‘OK. Hi, Linda!’
Linda squeaked like a cross mouse and disappeared.
‘I’m not supposed to be here,’ I whispered. ‘I told her I’d clear out today.’
‘Because you’re going to the wedding.’
‘Of course I’m not going to the fucking wedding.’
He followed me into the kitchen. ‘Oh, yes, hum, yes, in fact you are. Fraser told me everything. That’s why I’m here. To pick you up. You have to come with me.’
I put the kettle on and turned to face him.
‘Sorry. Much as I’d like to help you out on your bob-a-job week, (1) I’m definitely not coming, and (2) I’m not even invited.’
Angus ignored me, and got the cups down while I put the kettle on. In fact, he whistled a happy tune. Finally, we sat down. The kitchen table had disappeared. I ignored this fact, given that my world was already odd enough and I was having breakfast with a man in a skirt.
Angus sat down and continued whistling quietly until it became intensely irritating.
‘Stop it,’ I announced. ‘I am so not coming to this wedding, it doesn’t matter how much you whistle.’
He kept on whistling. ‘I need to take a guest.’
‘Take Kylie Minogue.’
He resumed whistling.
‘I bet Alex won’t be there,’ he said between bars and contemplative sips of his coffee.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Or Fran.’ The melody had changed to ‘Over the Sea to Skye’.
‘I double don’t care.’
‘Come on. Get changed. I’ve hired a car, so it won’t take that long to get down there.’
‘No, it won’t take you long at all. When you leave, now, and leave me alone.’ I crossed my hands over my chest protectively. ‘And stop whistling.’
He stopped obediently, and just sat there, waiting.
‘Why do you want me to come, anyway? I’m not letting off any of your bloody smoke bombs.’
He shrugged. ‘I want you to. And I think you should. So, you should come with me.’
My heart quickened a little. ‘It’ll be awful. Everyone there will know that my boyfriend’s having it off with my best friend.’
‘No they won’t. And if they do, they won’t care.’
‘Amanda will be killing herself laughing.’
‘I think Amanda’s got enough on her mind, don’t you?’
‘S’pose … Oh, I can’t, Angus. I can’t go and watch two people pledge their troths or whatever the hell it is they’re doing, and have the happiest fucking day of their lives while I’m in absolute hell. I’ll just be sitting there weeping my head off. And I can do that on my own, thank you. I’d probably snort just when they got to their “I do”s and snotter all over the wedding cake.’
‘That would fit in nicely,’ said Angus.
‘Don’t tease me. I’m not coming and that’s that. I am going to my mother’s to talk about baking cakes and then eat some, hopefully.’
He nodded. ‘You’re coming.’
‘What are you going to do, kidnap me?’
‘You have to come. For two reasons. One, to hold your head high, and to say, fine, all this crap is finished with, look at me, I have survived, blah blah blah. You have to. You’ll get a kick out of yourself. You’ll be proud of it for years afterwards.’
Hmm. ‘What’s the other reason?’
He looked at me.
‘I really, really want you to. And I really, really want you to come with me. Which you knew. But which you still asked. Which proves that you’re teasing me. Which proves that you’re not too depressed to leave the house. Which means you’re coming.’
We stared at each other for a long time. I dropped my eyes first. His intense blue gaze didn’t falter. My heart beat faster and faster.
‘I … er …’ I cleared my throat. ‘I don’t think I’ve anything to wear.’
He grinned broadly at my capitulation. ‘Come in your pyjama
s, I won’t care.’
‘Yes, but you’re wearing a skirt.’
‘Wear whatever you like. Doesn’t matter to me. I think you’re pretty anyway.’
He thinks I’m pretty! I thought to myself, suddenly jubilant. Then: As if I’m little girl enough to fall for that one. Then: What the hell?
‘Ehm, OK, I’ll … go and see what I can find.’
He nodded, as if he’d known all along, which he probably had.
‘Fine. I’ll put the kettle on again. Linda, would you like some tea? We’ll be gone soon.’
‘No thank you,’ came the muffled reply, closely followed by some hammering. What was she doing in there?
In my room, I sat down on my futon and thought long and hard. I was incredibly excited. The urge … to do something, to have something happen … rose so strongly in me it was like a tidal wave. My stomach rumbled with anxiety.
I had been lying when I said I didn’t have anything to wear. I had an old brocade dress in a deep mulberry colour, which I’d got cleaned the week before when Alex and I were busy preparing for things – ha. I slipped into it, and put on some twenties button-style shoes. No hat, but I had a matching ribbon to keep my curls out of the way. Dressing, I took a quick glance in the mirror. I did look pretty, for once. Good. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes sparkled. I was so excited I kept missing the buttons on the sleeve, but, finally, I was ready.
Angus was waiting for me. ‘God, you look gorgeous,’ he said.
‘Thank you very much. So do you,’ I replied, and he did cut a very handsome and sturdy figure in his kilt.
‘Do you want me to phone your mother and tell her you’re not coming?’
God, I’d nearly forgotten all about her.
‘Ehm, unless you want the Spanish Inquisition as to who on earth you are and why are you kidnapping my youngest, then I’d say you probably shouldn’t.’
I phoned her. She’d bought lots of baking materials, but sounded much happier that I was going to the wedding and that we’d all made up at last.
‘Who knows – maybe you’ll meet a nice man there,’ she said.
I looked at Angus washing up the coffee cups.
‘Who knows,’ I said.
He turned as I got off the phone.
‘Time to go?’ he asked, proffering me his arm.
‘Let’s do it,’ I said nervously, taking it.
‘Bye, Linda!’
There was a snuffling noise, and we left her to it.
On the drive to the village, neither of us could say very much. There was too much going on. I was too nervous. My fingers tapped out a beat on my knee. Gently, Angus squeezed my hand in his. His hand was much larger than mine.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Just keep your head up. We’ll show ‘em.’
Something occurred to me.
‘You’re not still going to do that smoke bomb thing, are you?’
‘Ehm, I don’t know. Mookie’s not sure she can get them, and we’ve lost a foot soldier in that damned Francesca. So, it might not work.’
‘But you still want to try?’
‘If we have to.’
I nodded and stared straight ahead.
‘You know it won’t stop them?’
‘No. But it’ll annoy them.’
I turned to look at him. His eyes were crinkled up from smiling. I smiled too.
‘Count me in.’
‘Really?’
‘Sure. If he’s so stupid as to marry her after all this, a dose of smoke to the brain isn’t going to hurt him anyway.’
‘Exactly. You’re on back granny watch.’
I laughed, and my nerves increased. I felt ready for anything; ready to do anything. Ready to break free, to leave everything behind. To have an adventure.
‘I’m feeling very adventurous,’ I announced.
‘Really?’ He looked intrigued.
‘Just a warning.’
‘OK.’
There was a watery sun in the air, which didn’t look very committed. Small clouds were scudding around, as if they were scouting for the big clouds who were coming along later. The church, however, looked breathtaking. It was a picture-perfect little Victorian place. Holly was strewn everywhere, all round the kissing gate and over the church doors, with hawthorn and ivy and mistletoe. That all seemed a bit pagan to me, but it looked very pretty.
Scores of people were hovering about outside in that embarrassed way people do before weddings, looking off into the distance, or mentally preparing themselves for the long hours of small talk with strangers to come. There were couples who had driven long distances and obviously got lost, and who were now too cross with each other to speak, and an elderly relative contingent, who would grab anyone walking past and force them to reveal lots of personal details.
I noticed a real difference between what were clearly the two sides. Amanda’s lot were loud and expensively dressed – lots of young women and rugby-playing men who were something in the City, or wanted you to think they were by their cufflinks. There were a fair number of open-topped sports cars dotted around – despite the fact that it was four degrees above freezing – and quite a few top hats and morning coats, which, despite myself, I rather liked.
Fraser’s side, on the other hand, just looked … well, normal, apart from the predominance of skirts amongst the men. I saw their mother, and it was her that Angus took me over to meet first. She smiled at me in a slightly knowing fashion, but was charming and warm. Some of the lads from the stag night were hanging around too, and it was nice to say hello to them again. Then I caught sight of Nash, who was standing by himself under a tree. I waved him over.
‘Hey there, how’s it going?’
He looked green.
‘Aye, no bad, ken.’
‘Are you nervous?’
‘Aye, you could … aye, yes, well, a bit, aye.’
‘How’s your best-man speech?’
He turned even more green and started patting himself up and down. ‘Ehm, it’s here somewhere, right enough …’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. But, listen, I thought Fraser was supposed to be here with you? Surely that’s your job, to get him to the church on time. Where is he?’
Nash looked positively nauseous. ‘Aye, well, he said he’d see me there, like.’
Several other people had wandered over, enquiring over the whereabouts of the groom. People started to make crass jokes and asides. I looked at Angus, who shrugged his shoulders emphatically.
It was ten to twelve, and the ceremony was due to begin at twelve. This was cutting it pretty fine. I scanned the roads for a wedding car, but I didn’t see one. More and more guests were arriving, and the news that the groom hadn’t shown up yet was beginning to filter through the crowd. A photographer was clicking away furiously and approached us, consulting a list in his hand.
‘So,’ he said to Angus, ‘you’re the second laird?’
Angus looked at him, mystified, waving away the camera. ‘Who are you?’
‘Jof de Beauvoir. Photographer, Hello! magazine. And my mother’s the daughter of the Earl of Suffolk.’
‘Oh, in that case –’ said Angus and strode past him rudely, grabbing me with him.
Over by the church gate stood a gaggle of bridesmaids – six full-sized blondes, two tiny. The little ones were tugging at their cream sashes, sticking their bottom lips out and kicking each other when they thought no one was looking. I felt a bit like that myself. None of the elder bridesmaids were paying the children any attention; they were too busy repeatedly asking each other if they looked all right and whisking away imaginary spots from each other’s make-up.
Next to them stood an out-of-place man in a battered old Barbour. That would have made him stand out, if it were not for the fact that he was holding eight reins with white geese on the end of them. Not only this, but the geese appeared to be wearing cream bow-ties.
‘Fuck me!’ Angus and I exclaimed at the same time.
‘I’m
never getting married without geese,’ I said.
‘I hope they don’t blow up in the explosion,’ said Angus gloomily.
‘Well, that would sort lunch out for me, given I don’t have a place at the reception.’
Angus examined his watch, and I caught sight of it.
‘God,’ I said, retreating beside Angus. ‘He’s going to do a last-minute special on us and give everyone heart attacks.’
‘Hmm,’ said Angus thoughtfully.
Mookie slipped over to join us.
‘Hello there!’ I kissed her.
‘I got them,’ she whispered.
‘It’s OK, there’s no one around – you don’t have to whisper.’
She opened her Chanel bag to reveal two small cylindrical objects.
‘Although I’m not sure you’ll rally need them now, will you? Oh, and have you seen the geese?’
We all stood around until the vicar came out, and started hustling people inside. ‘I’m terribly sorry, he’ll be very embarrassed when he turns up, but I do have another service at two, so if you wouldn’t mind awfully …’
I didn’t mind. It was freezing outside. Angus grabbed hold of Nash and said something about ‘sending the car round’ which I didn’t catch. Then we followed the crowd inside.
Inside, the church was just as beautiful as outside but faintly … well, über-wedding. Wreaths and ribbons decorated every area, and there were about five thousand candles. Rose petals covered the carpet and there was a floral tribute of their initials intertwined, a theme which was reproduced on every pew and on the elaborate Order of Service I was being handed. I was so taken aback, I couldn’t answer the question ‘Bride or groom?’
‘What?’
‘Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?’
I looked helplessly at Angus. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘Groom,’ said Angus. ‘So you can sit beside me,’ he added, when we got inside.
The organist was playing something extremely elaborate, and we sat down at the very front – Angus beside his mother, and me beside Angus. Being in the front pew felt odd and a bit wrong, but I didn’t argue. I studied the Order of Service. From the looks of things, this was going to be a four-hour wedding.
