by Nina Manning
Bill looked blankly at me.
‘Right, well I hope you find her.’ I tried not to let the doubt show through my tone.
‘Okay then. I think this party needs to get wrapped up. Let’s get back inside, shall we? Hackett, I presume you’ll be escorting this gentleman off the premises?’ Chuck had been standing next to me, observing my interaction with Bill.
Hackett nodded firmly.
‘Right. Good.’ Chuck looked at me. ‘I’ll see you inside?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Right, thank them for the offer of refreshments, but I ain’t ’anging about. Sasha, if you see or hear Dougie, come and find me – she’s a good dog,’ Bill shouted as he was marched away by Hackett.
I turned around and saw Caitlin standing next to me, her face moulded into a hardened stare.
‘You know him?’ She screwed her nose up and curled her lip in disgust.
‘I know him a bit. I met him, once.’
‘What is it with you? And needing to protect the travellers?’
‘Protect them?’ I retorted.
‘Yes, Sasha, first telling my dad that they were harmless and now protecting this, this… this fiend who thinks it’s entirely acceptable to just wander onto someone else’s land. My land.’
‘Oh,’ I said, feeling that familiar pang of sadness that Caitlin felt she needed to remind me that she was above me.
‘Oh? Oh, what Sasha? Do you think it’s okay, do you? I suppose you have no idea and you certainly have no care – the garden statues alone are worth millions.’
Now I knew she was exaggerating.
My mind wandered back to the tiny little vase that looked about a thousand years old and had been shoved on the back of a shelf in Ava’s study that remained locked all the time, never getting seen by anyone. I thought what a terrible shame it was and how that sort of prettiness needed to be seen by people. I was just a kid, and I had appreciated it for its beauty. I bet it was worth a few quid as well.
Chuck was back, although he may not have ever left, and he glanced at me and I thought I saw a look of disappointment in his eye. Then he swept over to Caitlin, clutched her by the arm and began walking. Caitlin fell against him as Chuck put a protective arm around her. At that moment, I knew that I would never be able to compete with Caitlin for Chuck. He was always going to belong to her. No matter how badly Caitlin behaved, it wouldn’t matter, because she had everything and I had nothing. Except now I knew something that she didn’t, so I would use that to offset against Caitlin’s behaviour, wealth and security.
As I went back into the marquee for a little while, all sorts of strange feelings were surging through my body. I kept thinking about the intimate moment that Chuck and I had shared earlier and the way he held my hand in his for so long, as though it felt too natural there for him to let go. And now he was away somewhere with Caitlin. The images on those photographs kept playing over in my mind like a short film. It felt like too much information for me to hold in all by myself. Having spent the time in Chuck’s company this evening, it was him I craved to be with. I wanted to feel his hand in mine again, I wanted to lay my head against his shoulder and for him to place his arm around my shoulder and to make everything better.
The party had begun to slow down, the volume of the music had dropped and guests were drifting away from the dance floor and over to the tables and chairs scattered around the marquee to finish their drinks.
George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’ was playing softly in the background when Chuck appeared in the doorway of the marquee. He scanned the area for a moment and then his eyes found mine. I stood and walked over to him, passing my parents who were in a slow-dance embrace; Hunter was asleep on two chairs next to them.
‘I thought I’d check on you. I’ve just settled Caitlin with Ava and Josephine and a few others in the drawing room next to the fire – the house is absolutely Baltic!’
I felt my body shudder at the mention of Ava’s name.
‘Thanks for coming back,’ I said. ‘I really wanted to see you.’
Chuck raised his eyebrows. ‘Shall we, er, walk a little?’
‘Yes.’
I found my hand easily slipped into his once more as he led me out of the marquee and out into the driveway. We began walking back down the gravel drive, the small pebbles crunching under our feet. We walked in silence for a while, my heart thudding in my chest, wondering if I should speak. Eventually, when the quiet got too much, we both went to speak at the same time.
‘I’m sorry—’ I said.
‘The sky—’ Chuck said at the same time.
We laughed.
‘You go first,’ Chuck said.
‘I was going to say sorry about the Bill incident. I have only met him once, and he seems pretty harmless.’
‘Well, let’s hope he finds his dog.’ Chuck snorted; the disbelief apparent in his tone. ‘I was going to say that the sky is so vast and clear out here in the countryside.’
I looked up at the sky, and it did look spectacular. I began to think of something suitably poignant to reply with when I was suddenly yanked sideways. Chuck and I were alone in the doorway of an outbuilding, the moonlight blocked by the high brick wall. And so there I was, pressed against Chuck’s chest, the darkness engulfing us, and all I could hear was the thumping beat of his heart in my ear.
25
London, September 2009
The day of the wedding
* * *
I have been awake since 6 a.m., lying in bed. My stomach is bubbling, sending spikes of fear and worry through my body. Today is the day. I go to the toilet and poke my head out of my bedroom door and look across the hall into Caitlin’s room. She is still fast asleep. I am so full of nerves that I feel physically sick. It may as well be my wedding day. But I am nervous for an entirely different reason. I look at my phone, expecting to see missed calls, but nothing. Yet. But it isn’t too late for things to change.
I get into the shower, hoping it will wake me up. I think I must have had about three hours sleep, on and off, so I keep my head raised to the running water, letting it massage my face, stimulating my senses.
As I get out of the shower and head back into the bedroom, I can hear that Caitlin is up. It’s still only just after six thirty, but Caitlin is used to being up early. I don’t suppose she’ll choose today to break that habit. Part of me hopes she will, that maybe she drank a lot of alcohol when I popped out last night and she’s too hungover to go through with it. Would it be too late to call the whole thing off?
My stomach is pulsating, and I fumble trying to get the hotel dressing gown on.
Once I do, I step out of the bedroom into the adjoining hallway and sitting area.
Caitlin is in her bedroom, sitting on her bed. She’s already showered and is brushing her short hair back away from her head. I offered to get her a hairdresser in for the morning, but she said she was happy with a simple blow dry and she has some accessories to put in her hair. And, of course, that dress, which is quite spectacular by itself. It’s not an exact replica of the dress Ava wore to her own wedding, but there is enough of a likeness for it to cause a stir amongst those who were at Ava’s wedding and can remember the dress. But I’m sure it will only be Ava who will see Caitlin’s dig.
I go over to the bed where Caitlin is still sat, wrapped in a towel.
‘Did you sleep well?’ I say in an almost husky whisper. My vocal cords have not woken up yet and will require a vat of English breakfast tea to lubricate them and to stimulate me enough to begin to embrace the day ahead.
‘I think so. I had a weird dream about Chuck and me We were on a boat, sailing away, and everyone was waving, except they weren’t wishing us well, they were warning us.’ Caitlin shrugged.
I take a deep breath and feel my body shudder at the description of Caitlin’s dream. What must she have been thinking about last night for her brain to interpret what is supposed to be the best day of her life in that way?
‘It’s just nerves, isn’t it? Everyone gets them, even those who don’t believe in the clichés of a wedding,’ I say, and I am pleased I am able to extract a small smile from Caitlin. ‘Shall I make you some tea?’ I continue. ‘Or would you like to go down to breakfast? Perhaps I can order some up to the room?’
‘So many choices.’ Caitlin stays facing the wall as she brushes her hair.
‘I’ll order up. Continental and extra fruit?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
I call down to the reception and order the food. Caitlin dries her hair and begins applying the foundation of her make-up. I check my dress over. A pale pink off-the-shoulder number that reaches the floor. Like Caitlin, I had chosen the bridesmaid dress quickly. I wanted something that would complement but not outdo Caitlin’s wedding dress.
Breakfast arrives, and I set us up next to the window where we have a view over the city. The sun is rising and there is an amber glow across the skyline. I look at our pastries, fruit and coffees on the starched white tablecloth covering the small round table. A streak of the light has landed across the table. How perfect it all looks.
Caitlin sits down and places a starched white napkin across her lap in her dressing gown. I pour her a cup of coffee and watch as she tucks into a cheese and ham croissant. I nibble on a slice of watermelon.
‘How are you feel—’
‘Oh God, Sasha, no! Not the “How are you feeling?” again. You must just carry on as though this is a normal day. I don’t need the mollycoddling.’ Caitlin takes a sip of her coffee.
‘Fine.’ I look down at my plate. I swallow down my disappointment at Caitlin’s tone. After today, I won’t need to allow her behaviour to affect me.
‘Oh don’t pout, Sasha – it doesn’t suit you.’ Caitlin cradles her coffee and looks out across the skyline.
We finish up breakfast with me refraining from making any further comments about Caitlin’s state of mind or any reference to the rest of the day. I check her dress over once more to make sure it hasn’t gained any extra creases or stains since yesterday. Then we go our separate ways into our rooms to get ready. The service is at 11 a.m. Caitlin had been adamant that she hadn’t wanted to wait all day, and eleven was the earliest slot I could get for her. I was sure she would have done it earlier if she’d had the chance.
When I get back into my room, there are two messages on my phone. One from Oscar, telling me he is looking forward to seeing me later, and one from Chuck.
Wish me luck x
I begin to think of all the things I want to say to Chuck. I had known him over half of my life, and today feels like such a momentous occasion for both of us. But we had spoken for so long last night I felt we had covered everything there was to say to one another. But I am still about to let him down.
I emerge from my bedroom just over an hour later. I have done most of my make-up and will add the finishing touches just before we leave the hotel to walk the two blocks to the hotel where everyone else is. There’s a part of me that wishes we could have had some more time alone together, but I know I will not get that with Caitlin again today. I know I will not get that with Caitlin ever again.
Caitlin is in her wedding dress when I come out of my room in my bridesmaid’s dress. I feel my heart flutter and I am thrust back to the day Caitlin pretended to marry Chuck in the play at Saxby. I couldn’t believe that the day has arrived, a day that we have talked about and planned for so long.
I look her up and down. She only needs a little help with the zip.
‘I don’t care what you say, Caitlin. I’m going to tell you. You look very beautiful. And you don’t get to tell me I can’t say it. All right!’ I say as I give the zip a slight tug to start it on its way.
‘All right,’ Caitlin says. ‘So do you.’ But her back is to me, and so she can’t see the tears well in my eyes. I blink them away before I walk around to face her.
‘Just over an hour to go. You have everything you need, no last-minute requests?’
Caitlin smiles. ‘You make it sound as though I’m about to be led to the gallows.’
‘I hope not. It should feel like one of the best—’
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘I won’t. That’s it. I promise no more. You’re saying some vows. Nothing to see here.’
Caitlin laughs. And I smile at her. I think about how long we have known each other. Sometimes I wish I do not know her so well. That maybe there is a chance today might pan out differently.
‘Right, a little drink before?’ I head over to the minibar and pull out the bottle of champagne.
‘I think so, would be rude not to. I bet all those chaps are necking them back like it’s their last day on Earth.’
‘Even Chuck?’
‘Even Chuck.’
I pour the bubbles into two champagne flutes.
‘I know this may seem traditional, but I figure you drink so much of it anyway, it’s just like a normal day, right?’
‘Oh, super. Champagne for breakfast. And lovely and chilled.’
‘Of course.’ I hand Caitlin a glass and she takes a long drink.
‘Oh, delicious. I’ve taught you well, Sasha, even if you still won’t drink the damn stuff!’
‘I’ll have a few sips. To wish you well on the next phase of your life. With the man you love.’ The bubbles must be bringing tears to my eyes.
‘Oh God, you’re going to cry.’ Caitlin pulls a tissue from a box on the coffee table. ‘There you go, bloody cry baby.’ She thrusts the tissue towards me. ‘Okay, you get it your way. You win. A toast. But not to marriage or life journeys. To us. And to you. My bridesmaid.’ Caitlin doesn’t waver as she speaks. She holds her glass out and I clink it with mine.
For a moment I fear she might revert to our childhood exchanges and say, ‘Best friends forever,’ so I speak quickly, making eye contact for just a second.
‘To us.’
‘To us,’ Caitlin says.
In those few seconds that we look at each other, I feel my life hurtling backwards. I go from standing here with Caitlin, to the hotel last night with Chuck, the dinner, the hen weekend that wasn’t a hen weekend, back to the years I spent growing up with Caitlin in Dorset, until suddenly I am twelve years old again, and she has just walked into the kitchen at Saxby and we are about to race off into the woods together for the first time. Two girls who under normal circumstances would never have become friends. But friends we have become and stayed, despite the constant notion that it perhaps should never have been. When I think back to it, I know we were forced into it by circumstance; each of us looking for a companion amongst a vast country estate. There were joyous moments, times when I longed for her company, but as I grew, I recognised the inconsistencies in her behaviour. Caitlin had done so many things to make me feel small and insignificant, scared and even threatened. And as an adult, there were times when I felt I was more of a personal assistant instead of a friend. I have had enough time to think about what a friendship means, and I realise that it has been one-sided for so long. I have realised how much my co-dependency has been the very underbelly of this friendship, how I have always been looking for affirmation from Caitlin, constantly comparing my own measly accomplishments to her loud and bold life choices. And what did I get in return? Kindness, affection? Understanding? None of those things. Yet I have clung on to the friendship as though my life might end if I don’t. Once upon a time as a young girl, I had promised myself that I would get my revenge. I laugh about that now, because it can be construed that way, but what I have planned for Caitlin today is to give me one last opportunity to prove to myself that I am a better person. I would never have imagined it would pan out this way. It has been a slow burn of realisation that this is the way things are meant to end.
The doors are open when we arrive at the small boutique hotel just before eleven. I can see a few of the staff members hovering around, waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride; they stand coyly behind the reception desk or lurk in corners
behind exotically upholstered sofas and chaise longues.
My attention focuses on one particular figure lurking in the corner. He is dressed smartly in a suit, so I presume he must have arrived early for another wedding or perhaps come to the wrong hotel. But then out of the corner of my eye, I see Caitlin raising her hand in a wave. I look back over at the man. He is shuffling in an awkward way that makes the memories surface hard and fast. He is tall and strongly built, and as he approaches us, I can now see his grey suit is slightly ruffled, and I begin to see an older face in a man I once knew. There would have been no one to give him one last brush down, he was always a loner, a hermit of sorts, with a permanent enigmatic look etched on his face. I was never sure how I should have acted around him.
I think about the photo in Caitlin’s office drawer and it hits me. The mystery sixty-seventh guest.
Caitlin puts her hands out and is laughing as Hackett lifts his hands and they do some sort of awkward high-five, ending in Caitlin clutching Hackett’s hands and holding them tightly. I look at Hackett and notice how his face is a little greyer around the edges but he is clean-shaven; I always remember there being a considerable amount of stubble when we were kids. There are a few more wrinkles around his eyes, which are emphasised because he is smiling. Something I rarely saw him do when he was working at Saxby. I had never seen or heard of him again after we left except for that one photo in Caitlin’s drawer, and I had occasionally wondered what had happened to him.
‘Caitlin?’ I ask her as she and Hackett hold on to each other’s hands, and I am reminded of the days where I felt so uncomfortable when Caitlin would act strangely around him.
‘Caitlin?’ I ask again. Caitlin swings around to look at me, her eyes the brightest I have seen them all morning, the smile it seems she has been saving for Hackett stretches across her face.
‘You remember Hackett?’ is all she offers.
‘Well, yes, yes.’ But then I remember my manners. ‘Hello, Hackett.’ I address him. ‘How are you?’
