by Jenny Colgan
‘Kahil Gibran! How original!’ I whispered to Angus. He raised his eyes.
‘I think she planned the service.’
I looked at the fuchsia garlanding which obscured the altar. The large bible had a set of intertwined initials on it.
‘You’re kidding!’
From the other side of the church, Mookie waved and pointed out the fire alarm. We nodded back at her. The excitement was still there, in the pit of my stomach. The church filled up, and Jof the photographer, for want of something better to do, came and took pictures of the congregation, with reference to his little black book and the prettier of the blondes. People’s heads kept turning, and the vicar wandered up and down the aisle in some trepidation. Nash was nowhere to be seen.
‘What is going on?’ I whispered to Angus. He shrugged again. I turned to look at his mum, but she didn’t seem too perturbed; she was holding her hymnal quite calmly. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I peered around the church again. Everyone was whispering and giggling. It was ten past, quarter past. I saw Amanda’s mum. I don’t know if the Priory did her much good, as she looked pissed to me. She was picking petals off her corsage and swaying.
I wondered if Fraser had had an extra stag night, and was even now on a train from Aberdeen. ‘Have you tied him up somewhere?’ I whispered to Angus. ‘You’d better not have.’
‘I promise you, I have no idea where he is,’ he whispered back. The entire congregation was shuffling and looking at their watches. It was twenty past, then twenty-five.
Suddenly, the doors at the back of the church burst open with a crash. As one, we turned round to see. Framed in the door stood Amanda.
She did look beautiful. The dress was white, but seemed to have been overlaid with gold. The cut-off sleeves emphasized her toned arms and delicate shoulders, and the skirt reflected her every move and clung to her like gossamer. She was wearing a pure white stole round her shoulders which looked like – surely not? – fur. God, it couldn’t be polar bear, could it? But the effect was stunning.
Her face, on the other hand, was quite different. She was stone white and looked furious. Everyone was silent. She stalked slowly up the aisle – not quite as poised as usual. Several of the bridesmaids had shuffled in behind her, but had stopped short at the back of the pews. The organist started playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’, but someone obviously slapped him, as the keys stopped immediately with a dying hiss. Amanda advanced, pale and set. And stopped in front of us.
‘Where the hell is he?’ she hissed at Angus.
Angus looked straight back at her.
‘I swear, I don’t know.’
Her voice rose, and reverberated throughout the church:
‘You fucking bastard, you’ve been fixing this from the start. You do fucking know. Where the fuck is he?’
His voice was gentle, not victorious. ‘I’m sorry, Amanda. He didn’t tell me anything about this. Honestly, if you think I knew, do you think I’d be here? He might just be late.’
‘He’s not fucking late,’ she spat. ‘You’re all fucking morons, the whole fucking lot of you.’
She turned to me. ‘Oh, the collaborator. You sad cow. I heard all about you. At least I made it this far.’
I was trembling from the attack, but in no position to say anything. Embarrassed, I looked around me.
Amanda turned back to Angus. As she did so, I caught sight of something and gasped: at the back of the church, behind the bridesmaids, silhouetted against the wintry churchyard, stood Fraser. He was wearing his hunting tartan, and a fresh baggy white shirt, and looked as if he’d just strode in from the moors. His mouth was set in a hard line, and he was listening intently. No one else had noticed him. Amanda was still in full flow and commanding everyone’s attention.
‘You can tell your idiotic, stupid, lanky, lousy brother that the next time he’ll see me is in court, when I’m suing him for the cost of the wedding. If you can remember that, you stupid, provincial, sheep-shagging moron. God, to think I nearly got hitched into this repulsive family!’
The guests murmured in horror. Angus didn’t say anything, but looked at her steadily. Infuriated, she took her huge themed bouquet and hurled it at him – and hit me by mistake … Well, I think it was by mistake.
A collective gasp went up from the congregation as I staggered backwards, then came upright again. I put my hand to my head, and it came away with blood on it, from the thorns. I suddenly felt giddy.
Amanda sneered and turned to go, like the wicked fairy at the feast. Then she faced the crowd.
‘You bunch of bastards!’ she yelled bitterly. Her Woking accent was back in all its glory. ‘You’re loving this … you’re –’
Then two things happened. Her voice trailed off and her eyes became fixed as she focused on the back of the hall. Everyone followed her gaze and turned round. Except for me, because I knew who she was looking at.
The second thing that happened was that Amanda shrieked, and her shriek rapidly turned into a hefty coughing fit. The other side of the church from where we were suddenly started to choke, as a mass of dense smoke rose up …
I looked at Angus. His eyes were alight. ‘Come on,’ he whispered, ‘get the grannies out …’
After that it was chaos. Everyone began piling for the door. There were hollers and yelps as loving couples trod over each other in their efforts to escape. One of the tall candles fell over, and it looked as if we might have a real fire on our hands when someone’s over-priced synthetic Barbara Cartland hat caught the flame. A huge squawking went up as the geese took to the air to escape, and the man in the Barbour ran back into the church to rescue the birds.
I had already spotted the side entrance and fumbled my way towards it, pushing as many people as I could. The flowers – no doubt sprayed with terribly flammable perfume – were now ablaze, and as I herded people through the door, I caught sight of Angus doing his thing with a fire extinguisher. Amanda’s mum stood in the middle of everything, wobbling as if she didn’t know where she was, and I was relieved to see Mookie drag her away by the arm.
The vicar was dancing about outside in agony for his church.
‘God, I wish I was a Catholic,’ he said. ‘Then I could drink the Communion wine.’
‘It’s fine … sir –’ I didn’t quite know what to call a vicar – ‘I think it’s under control.’
‘You’d think this would be a nice change from all the normal boring weddings, ken,’ said Nash, who was nearby doing a headcount.
It didn’t look that way as worried, upset people hung about outside, coughing and fretting. I could hear a fire engine. Oh my God – what if we were liable for this and all got put in prison?
However, just as I was thinking this, a final belch of smoke came out of the church and Angus emerged, coughing violently.
‘The fire’s out,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’ He looked like he was going to pass out, and I ran up to him.
Meanwhile, Amanda was striding past the whispering crowd, talking to no one. Jof, with the scoop of his life, snapped shots all the way, until she threatened to punch him, and he could tell she meant it. The eight bridesmaids – several with goose-poo on their frocks, I noticed – were huddling in a circle outside the church, having been unceremoniously informed by Amanda to ‘Fuck off – you won’t be fucking needed.’
Fraser was nowhere to be seen – you couldn’t even see a car driving away. It was as if he’d vanished in the puff of smoke.
No one was daring to approach Amanda, who turned round, surveyed the war zone – smoke still drifting across the ground, and the small groups of hostile-looking people – and pushed herself into the gleaming limousine.
Her dad ran after her calling, ‘Sweetheart, sweetheart, I’ll make it all right, don’t worry. I’ll pay to have him killed – whatever you like.’
But she ignored him, slammed the door and indicated to the driver to get the hell out of there.
The big car purred past the arriving fire en
gine. I rubbed the rapidly forming scab on my forehead. This was turning out crazy.
‘Glad you came?’ muttered Angus, taking me by the arm.
‘Well, it’s different …’ I said. My voice trailed off. Standing nervously at the other end of the churchyard, looking my way, were two very familiar figures.
They started to move towards me as soon as they realized I’d spotted them. I looked, petrified, at Angus.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You should talk it out. You’d have to, sooner or later.’
He pushed me forward gently.
Fran looked tired and ravaged. She smiled at me reticently. I didn’t return it. Alex had put on the fake swagger he always did when he was worried about something.
Eventually, we were facing each other. I stood with my arms folded.
‘Hi,’ said Fran.
‘Hi,’ I said back.
‘We … well, I didn’t think you’d talk to us on the phone.’
‘Correct.’
‘But we knew you’d be at the wedding.’
‘Wasn’t much of a wedding,’ I said.
‘So we saw.’
‘Oh, so you’re a “we”. Well, that’s good to know.’
Fran swallowed hard.
‘Of course we’re not, Mel … I mean, I’m not … and he’s not … and it’s all …’
I forced myself to ask.
‘Since when? Before you went to America, or when?’
Alex spoke up: ‘No, of course not.’
‘Oh, so just at the party, was it?’
He hung his head.
Everything, horribly, fell into place. How could I have been such a fool?
‘It was the night I twisted my ankle, wasn’t it?’
Fran looked pained.
‘Tell me.’
‘I’d gone round to see Charlie and he wasn’t back yet …’ started Fran, but she didn’t have to tell me any more. Charlie hadn’t been there and Alex had, and he was never averse to anything on a plate.
I snorted and rubbed more dried blood from my forehead.
‘God, the – How could you both? What the fuck were you up to at my dinner?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Fran. ‘I knew he was … moving in because of me. We had to talk … and then …’
I shook my head in disbelief.
‘But you’re … you were my best friend.’
‘I know. I don’t know …’
I took a step backwards and looked at Alex.
‘Well, I suppose … he’s all yours.’
Alex looked defensive and ashamed now. He knew the decision had been made for him. He wasn’t in control here. He couldn’t make the choices.
Fran looked no happier. She turned briefly to Alex, who was staring at the ground, and then to me.
‘I think I’d rather have you,’ she said to me. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s a bit too late for that.’
‘Think it over?’
Her face was so pleading, so miserable. I wasn’t too happy either, but at least I knew. Fran shook her head sadly. Now she could have Alex to herself, it didn’t look like she wanted him any more.
I shrugged, and moved backwards again. Angus was waiting for me on the other side of the churchyard. Amanda’s dad had walked about the congregation, announcing loudly that as he’d paid for a slap-up meal, we might as well enjoy it – and, amazingly, people were getting into their cars and going on to the reception. I couldn’t imagine why, although perhaps I just didn’t need a good scandal when I was in the middle of my own.
I saw Alex go to take Fran’s arm. She shook it off painfully. I couldn’t imagine the two of them together. For the first time, I felt sorry for her.
Against the traffic leaving the churchyard, a sports car screeched to a halt right in front of us. I looked to see what this latest diversion was. A tousled figure leapt out of the car almost before it stopped, and dashed over to Fran. I moved for a closer look. Good God – it was Charlie.
‘I knew you were coming,’ he yelled. He went down on one knee. ‘Please, don’t torture me any more. You don’t love this son of a bitch –’ indicating Alex.
‘No, I don’t,’ said Fran. Alex, amazingly, looked surprised at this announcement.
‘I couldn’t let you come here, with him! It’s tearing me apart. Ever since that night … I adore you, Fran. You’re meant for me!’
‘But you’re a violent, upper-class, drunken, moronic tosspot!’
‘I know! And you’re a violent, drunken, deceitful bitch! We’re made for each other! Come on! Come away with me now … we are going to disappear somewhere to make violent, drunken, moronic love until we … burst!’
I looked over at Angus, who was shaking his head in disbelief. Fran looked at Charlie, looked at Alex, then looked straight at me.
‘Ah,’ she said, in those precise, trained tones. She turned back to Alex.
‘I believe I’m off. Goodbye, darling … it’s been interesting.’
‘What!’ said Alex. He looked devastated. ‘Where the hell are you going?’
‘I have precisely no idea. Goodbye, Melanie. I am sorry. I really am. Maybe one day we’ll be able to be friends again.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. I couldn’t help smiling.
‘And remember what I told you about those nice McConnalds. Bye, Angus!’
She waved to him, and he waved back heartily.
Then Charlie and Fran leapt into the little sportster. Fran wrapped her scarf round her head like Audrey Hepburn and put on a big pair of sunglasses.
‘Goodbye, everyone!’ she waved regally. The car shot out of the churchyard and up the road, making a hell of a noise out of the back of the exhaust.
Those of us left behind just stared at each other. I couldn’t help it. I suddenly started to half laugh, half cry all at the same time, making an unattractive snorting noise.
Instinctively, Alex moved forward to put his arm around me. Before he had a chance, though, Angus was there too.
‘Excuse me,’ he said stiffly to Alex.
Alex looked embarrassed and stood back.
‘Sorry.’
Angus put his warm coat round me and led me over to the car. Alex watched us, then turned and walked away.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes! – snort – I’m just … hysterical! I’m sorry! I’ll be OK in a minute.’
He opened the car door and sat me sideways out in the passenger seat.
‘Here,’ he said, and reached for his sporran, bringing out a little hip-flask.
‘I brought this along for Fraser, in case he needed it. Take a wee dram. You’ll feel much better.’
I took it, snorting mightily, and took a sip. The warm liquid seemed to make its way through my whole body, bringing a glow and some calm. My breathing slowed down, and I returned to normal.
Angus came round to the driver’s side, and we sat in the car together in silence for a bit.
‘What should we do?’ he said, eventually.
‘Hm?’
‘Well, what are you thinking about?’
‘Fraser,’ I replied truthfully. ‘I mean, where is he? What’s he doing? I suppose this probably means he’s not getting married, doesn’t it?’
My unpredictable heart started beating again.
Angus turned to face me.
‘You’re thinking about Fraser?’
‘Ehm, yes.’
‘Not … Alex, or, ahem, me?’
I looked at his sweet face. There was real worry in his eyes.
‘Ehm, well, you know, Fraser’s been through … God, it must have been awful, I don’t know how he must be …’
Angus heaved a great sigh.
‘I think about you all the time,’ he said simply.
I stopped talking mid-babble and looked at him again. I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say – how he was the sweetest, most honourable, nicest, cutest man I knew, but that I was … I couldn’t …
‘But’,
he said, ‘you’re in love with my brother.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said immediately.
‘Ah, yes, but unfortunately you are. I thought you liked me, but it’s only because I remind you of him.’
‘That’s not true,’ I said fiercely.
‘Aye well, maybe.’
‘Definitely. I like you for millions of reasons, and that’s not one of them.’
‘Only like?’
‘No, I love you. Just, you know, not in that way.’
‘The way that you love my brother.’
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything.
‘I knew, you know – probably before you did,’ said Angus. ‘You light up like a candle if he’s within a ten-mile radius. But I’d always thought there’d be a chance … even a tiny chance. And I knew Frase was determined to go through with this whole ridiculous thing, so … God, selfish of me, really. But I had to give it a shot. Despite myself, I really liked you and I’d hoped …’
‘What do you mean, you knew?’ I interjected. ‘There’s nothing to know.’
But I was so intrigued.
‘It was obvious. Remember that night we took him the tape? I think I know why you were sad that night.’
‘That’s not true …’ It was true.
‘You couldn’t bring yourself to think about him, so you made friends with me.’
‘That’s not true, Gustard.’
‘You even use his name for me.’ His fingers fiddled on the dashboard. His ears were flushed.
‘Angus, whatever else might be true, I made friends with you because I really like you. Because you’re funny and smart and interesting and attractive and kind. And the rest of it … I never led you on, I don’t think. I’m sorry … I mean, I don’t think I did anything.’
‘No, you didn’t. I’m sorry. I should be a more graceful loser.’
‘Oh God, it’s me that’s the loser. I’ve lost everyone, you know. And Fraser isn’t going to want to see me. Look at all the shit he’s got on his plate. The last thing he’s going to want to do is pick up with one of Amanda’s buddies. In fact, he’s probably over at Amanda’s right now, apologizing and planning the whole thing all over again.’
