If We're Not Married by Thirty

by Anna Bell

  ‘Lydia!’ shrieks a woman as I walk down the hallway.

  It takes me a moment for my eyes to adjust to all the sequins on her top which are shining under the bright hallway lights.

  ‘Roni,’ I say, going up and giving her a hug. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be here.’

  Roni and I used to work together before she left for a job at a hotel. She still lives nearby and we bump into each other occasionally. It’s always so lovely to see her and we always vow we’re going to meet up and never do.

  ‘I came with my friend Rebecca, she works with Rob. And you’re here,’ she says looking over her shoulder.

  ‘Rob was one of my old housemates.’

  She nods and starts to steer me quite forcefully towards the lounge, but I can’t go back there; not to Mariah. I might strangle someone with the tinsel.

  ‘I was trying to stay in for the night, but my friend Lucy dragged me along. I was just heading to the kitchen for a drink,’ I say, turning Roni back towards the kitchen instead.

  ‘Here, have mine,’ she says, shoving a half-drunk glass of Prosecco into my hand.

  As much as a glass might be nice right now, I’d prefer one without the perfect red lipstick mark on the side.

  ‘Um, that’s really sweet of you, but I think I’ll go and find a beer,’ I say handing it back to her.

  ‘I’ll get you one,’ she says, reaching her arms out so that her fingertips brush the walls, blocking my path.

  ‘What’s going on? Why won’t you let me in the kitchen?’ I ask, peering over her shoulder and trying to see what’s going on in there.

  ‘Nothing’s going on. It’s just you look tired. You should sit down in the lounge and I’ll bring you a beer,’ she says.

  ‘OK,’ I say, pretending to go.

  She sighs with relief and heads towards the kitchen and I see my chance. I turn and push past her to make it there before her. I fling the door open and catch a glimpse of who’s inside before Roni rugby tackles me to the ground. We land in a heap in the hallway and impressively she’s managed to keep her drink upright and not spilt a drop.

  ‘Sorry,’ says Roni, ‘are you OK?’

  ‘I think so,’ I say, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I rub my throbbing elbows.

  ‘You can’t go in there, Lydia. You wouldn’t want to see.’

  There’s a look of panic in her eyes and she seems genuinely upset for me.

  ‘What, you’re worried about me seeing Ross kissing that girl?’

  ‘Oh God, you saw? I’m so sorry. It’s bad enough that he’s cheating on you, but he’s being so brazen about it all. I mean he’s not even hiding it. Do you want me to knock him out? I’ve been learning jiu-jitsu.’

  ‘It’s fine. Ross and I broke up. Five months ago now.’ Roni looks visibly shocked. ‘It was mutual and we’re still good friends.’

  Perhaps good friends is over-egging it, but we’re still friends at least.

  ‘I can’t believe it. You and Ross? You’ve been together forever.’

  ‘It wasn’t that long. Five years . . .’

  ‘That’s practically a life time. I just assumed that you’d get married. You seemed so perfect,’ she says echoing the sentiments of my friends and family when we broke up. It doesn’t help that we are part of the same close-knit group of friends. Although we’re not the fivesome we once were – we’ve grown apart as people have become loved up, sprogged up and generally grown up – but the rest of the group were still more upset about our split than we were. Everyone feared it would be the end of the group, but so far so good. Ross’s new girlfriend has even been welcomed into the fold with open arms, or at least with gentle handshakes.

  ‘Both of us realised that we were more friends than anything else,’ I say shrugging. It never gets any easier having this conversation. I’ve stopped saying that we broke up because it didn’t feel right, as that sounded so vague. But there was something missing and neither of us could ever work out what.

  ‘So brave. You’re single now, then?’

  ‘Uh-huh, so if you know of any eligible bachelors,’ I joke. Blind dates are definitely not my thing.

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind. Such a fun time of year to be single though, isn’t it? All these parties. All the mistletoe.’

  ‘God love mistletoe,’ I say, looking nervously up at the ceiling and remembering to take it into account when navigating the party. Rob and Gavin are well known for putting it in strategic places.

  Roni laughs a little and swigs her Prosecco, and I’m almost blinded again, not by her sparkling top this time, but by the biggest, blingiest diamond ring I’ve ever seen.

  ‘Bloody hell. Is that what I think it is?’

  Her whole face lights up.

  ‘Who are you marrying? A Saudi prince? I’ve never seen a diamond like that,’ I say, grabbing hold of her hand.

  ‘His name’s Chris and he’s just dreamy. We met at the sailing club.’

  ‘Sailing?’ I ask. I can’t remember her being the outdoorsy type.

  ‘Yeah, I took some lessons at the Outdoor centre, then I joined the club and I met Chris.’

  ‘And he has his own yacht,’ I say laughing along.

  Her face cheeks go a little pink and I get the impression that she’s embarrassed.

  ‘And he has his own yacht?’ I say, my eyebrows lodging themselves in my hairline.

  ‘Well, not a yacht. It’s not that much bigger than a dinghy.’

  ‘Is it inflatable?’ I say, knowing that her little fidget means she’s uncomfortable.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does it have a below-deck area?’

  ‘Yes, but only for a tiny bed. Look, you’re making me blush,’ she says, fanning her cheeks.

  ‘That’s awesome. Not the boat, although I’m sure that’s awesome too, I mean the fact that you’ve met someone and you’re getting married.’

  I’ve missed Roni. We used to have such a laugh working together. As I remember it, she was always very savvy about her finances and wouldn’t be one to flash the cash, so it’s ironic now that she seems to have found herself a wealthy husband.

  ‘I know. I’m really happy. Not just because of Chris; I’m happy in myself too, you know?’

  I nod, but I don’t really know. She’s naturally glowing and you can hear the enthusiasm in her voice when she talks; I can’t remember the last time I was like that. I haven’t seen my sparkle in a long time.

  ‘Did you know that I’ve started my own business?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, I decided to do my own thing. Domestic party planning. Golden wedding anniversaries, children’s birthday parties, the odd wedding. It’s hard work and I pretty much only just break even, but I don’t care as it’s all mine. I have a tiny little office in Chichester. It’s smaller than a shoebox, but I love it.’

  ‘That’s great. Exciting times,’ I say, genuinely feeling happy for her.

  ‘I know. So, are you still at Blank Canvas?’

  ‘Yes, for my sins,’ I say, trying to pretend that she’s looking at me with something other than pity. Everyone else’s lives are moving on and mine’s staying exactly the same.

  ‘How long have you been there now?’

  ‘Um, seven years, I think.’

  ‘Wow. Is Rebecca still there?’

  ‘No, she works for a marketing agency in North End now. Although she’s on maternity leave at the moment. She had a little baby boy a couple of months ago. Harry.’

  ‘Ah, bless her. I can’t imagine her with a baby, she was always so wild.’

  ‘Yes, she was,’ I say, thinking of the countless times she’d go missing during events and I’d find her in a shots drinking competition with the clients. Helen’s behaviour yesterday was tame in comparison.

  ‘Do you remember the time that we caught her in that Arctic display?’

  ‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten that,’ I say, erupting into a fit of giggles.

  ‘How could you forget that
look as she walked out of the tent with that guy?’

  We’d held a party for a defence contractor where they’d built different operational climates and we’d found Rebecca in a display about Arctic warfare training getting acquainted with a guest in one of the tents.

  ‘That was nothing. Were you still there when she was teaching that celebrity guest speaker how to give body shots?’

  Roni’s eyes light up. ‘No, but that does not surprise me. How was she never fired?’

  ‘The clients loved her and the bars always took a fortune. Tracey, our new boss, wouldn’t stand for it though. The last I heard of Rebecca she’d become teetotal.’

  ‘No!’ says Roni.

  ‘Uh-huh, true story.’

  ‘So did you take over her job?’

  ‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Helen’s doing the parties now. I’m still an events coordinator.’

  ‘You were always good at it,’ she says.

  I inwardly sigh. I thought Lucy promised me this party was going to cheer me up, but all it’s doing is depressing me by making me realise how much of a rut my life is in.

  ‘I miss the big place sometimes. I miss working with you all now that I’m on my own. But I do love being the boss. Oh, there’s Sandy. We really must go for that drink, Lydia,’ she says as she spots someone she knows coming out of the lounge. I nod and excuse myself to get that beer.

  I walk into the kitchen and I’m relieved to see that Ross is no longer snogging the face off Wonder Girl, as I affectionately call his new girlfriend. He’s standing all alone by the booze, lost in thought.

  ‘Penny for them,’ I say as I walk up and get a beer out of an ice bucket.

  ‘Hey you, merry Christmas,’ he says as we shift uncomfortably on the spot, not knowing if we’re supposed to kiss hello or not, but the moment passes and we don’t.

  ‘Merry Christmas to you, too. Having a good time?’

  He nods. ‘Not the same as it used to be, though, is it?’ he almost whispers.

  ‘No. But then again we’re all different now. I mean, Caroline’s in the lounge dancing with a baby in a sling for starters.’

  ‘I know. I miss the old gang sometimes,’ he says surprising me. ‘Remember what it was like at the beginning when we all lived together?’

  I cast my mind back to that shared house we had. It was a great time. We were in our mid-twenties and went out most nights and crawled into work the next day with hangovers. None of us had real work or home responsibilities. I miss those days.

  ‘We had some good laughs,’ I say, realising that the danger lights are flashing. I don’t really want to spend the night travelling down memory lane with my ex. ‘What are you up to tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m going to my parents’ house.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say with a low whistle. Ross’s parents are formal, stuffy, joy killers.

  ‘I know, but I guess I’ve had a good run over the last few years with your family. I’m escaping to Jules’s parents’ on Boxing Day.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I say, sipping more beer.

  ‘And you? Going to Kerry’s?’

  ‘Well, now that I only have to walk upstairs, it seems rude not to,’ I say, jokingly, but really it’s not like I’ve got any other offers.

  ‘I’ll miss Jim’s roasties,’ says Ross. ‘And the inevitable trivial pursuit argument.’

  Jim and Ross were always ultra-competitive and I can’t help but smile at the memory of the two of them squaring off over their pie pieces. The year that Kerry won after a fluke guess at a sports question led to the boys sulking until New Year.

  I hadn’t thought what it was actually going to be like without him there, and I feel my heart sink.

  ‘You do realise where you’re standing, don’t you,’ says a girl I don’t recognise, pointing up to the ceiling and laughing.

  We both look up slowly and I cringe as I see mistletoe hanging right above us.

  ‘You can’t not kiss,’ says the woman, as if we don’t know the custom. She’s standing watching us with her hands on her hips.

  I turn to tell her to hold her horses just as Ross leans over for a kiss, and whilst I think he was aiming for a cheek, he kisses me smack on the lips. It catches us both by surprise and his lips linger on mine for longer than is necessary and I don’t do anything about it.

  The woman hollers ‘get a room’ and we immediately jump back, embarrassed.

  My cheeks feel a little flushed.

  ‘I guess we should have been more careful where we stood,’ says Ross, taking a step back. ‘Typical Rob and Gavin to put mistletoe where the booze is.’

  ‘Sneaky,’ I say. ‘Very sneaky.’

  I can feel my lips still tingling from the kiss. I don’t have time to dwell on it as his new girlfriend Jules walks up and slips her arms around him.

  ‘Lydia,’ she says waving, despite the fact that I’m inches away from her. ‘I didn’t realise you were here.’

  She leans over and gives me a hug and I try to plant a smile on my face.

  ‘Jules,’ I say. ‘Having a good time?’

  ‘Oh, the best. I adore Christmas parties. Don’t you just adore Christmas parties? I mean, how can you not? All the music, and the glitter. I love glitter. Don’t you love glitter?’

  I can’t fail to notice that she’s wrapping her arms around Ross so tightly that she looks as if she’s about to suffocate him.

  ‘I heart glitter,’ I say, and she beams at me as if I’m her soulmate.

  I go to drink my beer and realise it’s empty, so I grab another, relieved that it’s a twist lid and I can start drinking quickly.

  ‘So, are you all ready for Christmas? All your presents arrived on time? All wrapped up?’

  ‘Yes, yes, and yes,’ I say nodding. ‘It’ll be a quiet one. I’m just going to my sister’s.’

  I don’t add that it’ll be odd as it’ll be the first time in four years that Ross hasn’t been there too. I get the impression that the only reason she copes with Ross being friends with his ex is that we try not to talk about the fact that we were ever together. If we do, her eyes go all glossy and she gets even more squeaky.

  ‘Lovely. That’s really nice. Spending it with family. I think that’s how it should be. Of course, I’m spending it with my family too. And Ross is going to come over on Boxing Day and then we’re going to do it all over again. It’s like two Christmas Days for the price of one. Isn’t that great?’

  ‘Well, it is until you get on the scales in the New Year,’ I say, completely dead pan.

  Jules looks down at her almost invisible belly in horror, as if she hadn’t thought about that. She and Ross met at the gym and they share a passion for exercise. It makes me shudder even thinking about it.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ I say. ‘We all know calories don’t count at Christmas.’

  Jules smiles again and laughs a little.

  ‘You’re so funny, Lydia,’ she says, as if she’s not actually sure what the joke was. ‘I’m just so excited that Ross and I get to spend this wonderful holiday together. It’ll be our first one, obviously. I’m so excited. Are you excited, Ross? It’s just so exciting.’

  Ross barely gets a chance to answer before she’s off on a tangent again.

  ‘I’m going to go and do some dancing. I hear there’s dancing. I’m going to sneak Mariah Carey on, someone said that it’s been on already but I don’t think people will mind, will they? Everyone loves Mariah.’

  ‘Of course they do. Especially Ross. You love “All I Want for Christmas”, don’t you?’

  He gives me a look that when we were together would have resulted in me getting tickled in punishment. Before we started doing Christmas parties at work I used to play that song on a loop for the whole month of December. I know that he hates it as much as I do now.

  Jules looks at him in a hopeful way.

  ‘Do you want to come and dance?’ she says, slipping his arm off her and taking his hand in hers. ‘I know you don’t really like to danc
e. But it’s Christmas, so you have to get merry, don’t you? Merry Christmas and all that. It’s like the law.’

  He shoots me a look-what-you-started face.

  ‘Of course,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Unless . . . I don’t want to leave Lydia on her own.’

  ‘Lydia is fine without you. She doesn’t need you,’ she says, fixing her eyes on mine as if she’s trying to subliminally tell me something. ‘Besides, here’s Lucy,’ she says, grabbing her as she walks into the kitchen and pulling her over. ‘I’m sure that Lucy and Lydia have lots to talk about. They always seem to have lots to talk about. Don’t you have lots to talk about?’

  ‘OK, then,’ says Ross, as he lets himself be dragged away.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asks Lucy, grabbing a bottle of Prosecco out of the fridge as she passes.

  ‘They had to go and dance. Everyone loves dancing. Do you love dancing? Dancing is super fun,’ I say quickly, with a deranged look on my face as I do my best Jules impression.

  Lucy passes me an empty flute and pops open the bottle.

  ‘You’re well within your rights to hate her, I can too, if you like. I don’t think it would be difficult.’

  ‘What are we talking about?’ says Caroline as she fans herself with her hand, whilst swaying her sleeping baby in a sling on her chest.

  ‘How Lydia hates Jules.’

  ‘I don’t hate her. I just wish she was a little less perky – in all senses of the word.’

  I look down at my boobs, which seem to be a lot further away than the last time I looked. ‘But I’m happy that Ross is happy.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ they both say, smugly looking at each other.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then why don’t you look it?’ says Lucy.

  Why can best friends read you like a sodding book?