by Dani Atkins
She’d shrugged, this new laissez faire mother of mine. ‘It’s only money, Suzy. What’s the point of having it if you can’t enjoy it?’
*
I looked at her now as we drew to a halt at the entrance to the church. Karen was waiting just inside the doors, in case of any last-minute wardrobe malfunctions, but happily there were none that needed her attention.
The difference that made this wedding day even more special was that today my mother and I would walk side by side up the aisle to the altar. My father had happily agreed to this slightly unconventional arrangement, and I loved him for allowing Mum and I to have this last precious moment together.
‘Is everyone here?’ I whispered to Karen, as she brushed a few lingering snowflakes from my hair and shoulders.
‘If you mean Paul, then yes, of course he’s here,’ Karen replied, giving my hand a friendly squeeze. She smiled warmly, her gaze encompassing both my mother and me. ‘You both look absolutely lovely.’
‘So do you,’ my mother said, her eyes going down to the exceedingly large bump straining at the fabric of my best friend’s dress. ‘Blooming, in fact.’
‘Too blooming big to have squeezed into a bridesmaid’s dress,’ Karen quipped back, but there was a radiance on her face that was almost always present these days. ‘Well, if you’re both ready, I’ll nip back in and tell the organist he can do this thing, shall I?’
Before we walked in tandem into the candlelit church, I turned to my mother in the tiny vestibule, wanting to freeze this moment in my memory for all time.
‘I love you, Mum.’
‘I love you too, sweetheart.’ Her hand was still squeezing mine as the first notes from the organ swelled to fill the church. We turned as one and began to walk up the aisle.
*
My eyes went to him first, the way I suspected they always would. In his dark suit, Paul looked beyond handsome as he stood at the end of a pew watching our approach. The pride on his face was a snapshot I would cherish forever.
My father was wearing a remarkably similar expression, except – if I wasn’t mistaken – there were tears glinting brightly in his eyes as we covered the last few metres. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry, and it was almost my undoing.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate a particularly joyous union,’ began the vicar, looking fondly at the people assembled before him. ‘Who giveth this woman to be married?’
My throat was clear, and my voice rang out loudly in the hushed silence of the church. ‘I do,’ I said, lifting my mother’s hand and placing it gently into my father’s waiting one. Smiling and crying at the same time, I took a small step backwards and slipped into my allocated seat in the front pew. Paul’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me closer to his side, to the place I never wanted to leave.
*
Hours later, when she stood on the balcony of the house I’d grown up in, my mother turned her back on her assembled guests and with a joyful laugh threw her bouquet over her shoulder to the hallway far below. I caught it. Naturally.
PART TWO
Bella
9
This was wrong. So very, very wrong. The day wasn’t meant to end like this. I wasn’t meant to end like this. I was only twenty-eight years old. I still had my whole life ahead of me. It wasn’t meant to be over in this way, in fear and confusion; in a carnage of twisted metal, staring into the eyes of a stranger.
It was oddly quiet, as though the world had suddenly been put on ‘mute’. The sirens that would soon split the air had not yet been summoned. Above me, swooping through a clear and cloudless blue sky, I could just make out the call of startled gulls, their cries mimicking those that were beginning to rise from the onlookers on the ground far below us.
*
Low key, she’d said. I don’t want a big fuss, she’d said. And I certainly don’t want it to be tacky. So I was understandably surprised when the Barbie-pink limousine turned up at my door that morning to collect me. The windows were blacked out, but when the uniformed chauffeur deferentially held open the door for me, my preconceptions about my best friend’s hen party flew past me in an air-conditioned gust from the limo’s interior. Sasha, the bride, was beaming broadly from the crimson padded bench seat, a half-empty glass of Prosecco in one hand and a full one for me in the other.
‘It’s eight o’clock in the morning,’ I said, shaking my head in amused disbelief as I took the proffered drink.
Sasha’s neatly threaded brows rose a centimetre or so. ‘And your point is?’
‘I don’t normally have alcohol with my cornflakes,’ I said with a smile, taking a sip from the perfectly chilled wine.
‘This is a special day. Absolutely nothing about it should feel normal, or boring. It’s my hen do.’
‘I think everyone can see that,’ I teased, taking in the satin ‘Bride-To-Be’ sash that was looped over her shoulder. It was an interesting addition to her skimpy denim shorts and vest top outfit.
‘Don’t worry, Bella,’ said Mel, from the opposite bench seat. ‘She’s not forgotten us.’ She pointed to the pink sashes emblazoned with the word ‘Bridesmaid’ that she, Jessica and Louise, the other members of the bridal party, were currently modelling.
I slid on to the seat and gave a good-humoured shrug. Personally, I’d have chosen to spend my hen ‘do’ at an exclusive spa, being pampered and polished for the big day, but this wasn’t my wedding. Nor was there likely to be one in my foreseeable future, an ugly niggling voice in the back of my head took pleasure in reminding me. I was the only member of the bridal party with a commitment-phobic partner who’d recently taken to speed-walking past every jewellery shop window. After two years together, Aaron seemed perfectly happy to never upgrade his title from ‘boyfriend’ to ‘fiancé’.
In consequence, I spent a lot of time telling people I was far too focused on the dog-grooming business I’d set up eighteen months ago with Wayne, my poodle-loving, hilariously camp business partner, to be worried about getting married. But those who knew me well saw through the lie, just as I saw through theirs. As much as they tried to hide it, my close girlfriends thought I could do better than Aaron. Much, much better.
‘Getting engaged isn’t everything,’ Sasha had declared loyally. ‘It’s not like there’s a race to see which one of us is going to be first to the altar, is there?’ Which was easy for her to say when she was blatantly about to win that particular event. ‘Just give it a couple of years, after Bella’s won The Apprentice and set up her global dog-grooming franchise… or something.’ My lips curled at the memory as I looked warmly over at her now. The glass-beaded tiara had slipped slightly on her long blonde curls, and even with hardly any make-up on, she was still the most beautiful girl in the car. She winked, and I winked back, our secret signal, born what seemed like a thousand years ago. She had my back, and I had hers. That’s the way it had always been, right from the very first time she’d linked her arm through mine in the school playground and declared that we ought to be best friends, because neither of us had one of those yet. It might not have been the best reason for a lifelong friendship to be forged, but five-year-old Sasha had known a thing or two, even back then, because we’d been inseparable ever since.
Therefore, if she wanted me to look like a total idiot in a pink sash at the theme park today, or like a large, peach-coloured meringue in my bridesmaid’s dress in three weeks’ time, well, that was fine with me. That’s what friends do for each other.
*
‘Should we take our bags in with us?’ I asked, eyeing the five holdalls packed with our change of clothes for the evening activities, although I still had no idea if I’d be awake enough for the fancy restaurant, much less the planned visit to a club afterwards.
‘No, we can leave them in the car,’ Sasha advised, scooting lithely over the bench seat and emerging into the already hot day. The weather had certainly warmed up over the two-hour drive to reach our destination, and all fi
ve of us were sporting a pleasant rosy glow to our cheeks, although that might have something to do with the three empty bottles of Prosecco that now stood inverted in the ice bucket in the back of the limo.
We all reached in our bags for sunglasses as we emerged like skydivers from the depths of the pink vehicle. I took a moment to rummage in my tote for an old scrunchie that I used when working, and twisted it around my straight chestnut-coloured hair, fashioning a long swinging ponytail to keep it off my neck.
‘That’s right isn’t it, Derek? You’re staying here all day, aren’t you?’
The grey-liveried driver nodded. ‘I am. I’ll be here waiting for you ladies, whenever you’re ready to leave.’
I gave him a small apologetic smile. That couldn’t be much fun, hanging around and waiting for a group of largely overexcited twenty-somethings to realise they were actually far too old to spend their day on hair-raising roller-coaster rides, like octane-fuelled teenagers. ‘I hope it won’t be too boring for you,’ I said, giving our driver a cheerful wave. ‘See you later.’
I never saw him again.
*
We had a great morning, despite literally losing Mel in the crowds, not just once but twice, and then losing Louise – metaphorically – after a particularly violent spin on the teacups. She came off with legs that looked as solid as al dente spaghetti strands, and a complexion that was practically the same shade of green as my eyes.
‘That should be banned,’ she said, pointing an accusatory finger at the ride, which five-year-olds were gleefully leaping from with no apparent ill effects. ‘Don’t you feel sick?’ she cried, looking almost disappointed when I shook my head.
‘But then I’ve always liked fast rides,’ I conceded.
Louise shuddered dramatically and I sensed that she might be done for the day, apart from attractions designed for pre-school-age children.
‘I’m guessing you won’t want to go on The Hybrid with me, then?’ I teased, pulling the folded park map from the back pocket of my jeans. Sasha came up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder as she studied the brief description of the park’s newest attraction, an eight-loop roller-coaster.
‘Well, I don’t think Mel will make the height criteria,’ she said, softening her words with a warm smile directed at our diminutive red-headed friend.
‘Haha,’ said Mel, who, despite her fondness for heels and platforms, only came up to our shoulders. ‘Actually, I think I’d better go with Louise to the Ladies’,’ she said, slipping an arm around the waist of our motion-sick friend, who was still looking decidedly pasty.
‘Bridesmaid down,’ murmured Jessica, falling into place on Louise’s other side. ‘And we haven’t even started on the tequilas yet.’
‘Looks like it’s just you and me,’ I said, turning my head and staring into Sasha’s twinkling blue eyes. ‘If you’re up for the challenge.’
‘Always,’ she said, with a fleeting grin.
‘Stay by the loos and we’ll come and find you when we’re done. It’s only a ninety-second ride, we won’t be long.’
*
‘No way. No sodding way.’
‘Is that “no” to the ride itself, or just the length of the queue?’ I asked, feeling childishly disappointed as I studied the wait time indicator, which was currently predicting a delay of fifty minutes before it would be our turn to experience the park’s newest attraction.
Sasha stepped back from the bustling crowds and lifted one hand above her eyes to form a visor, following the progress of a single carriage as it careened at a seemingly impossible speed from one gravity-defying loop to the next.
‘A bit of both, I think,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to spend ages waiting for something that’ll be over in ninety seconds.’
‘Nah, far better to leave that for your honeymoon,’ I quipped.
Sasha’s chuckle sounded both sexy and smutty. ‘Seriously, Bella. Do you really think it’s worth it? We could probably do three other rides in the time it would take to do just this one.’
She made a good point, I thought, as my eyes travelled the length of the long snaking line of would-be riders, which folded back on itself like a compressed concertina. A sudden roar from overhead made the entire crowd jump, as an enormous animatronic dragon’s head belched out a sheet of flames from behind the ride’s castle facade. Some people cheered, while others laughed nervously and tried to pretend they weren’t jumpy at all.
The theming, it had to be said, was particularly impressive. ‘It looks just like those books we used to read when we were kids,’ Sasha said nostalgically. ‘You remember the ones? The stories with the wizards and the lava-spewing dragons?’
I smiled, knowing exactly the series she was talking about, because they were still sitting on the shelf of my bedroom in my old family home. Like so much of the house, my room was frozen in the past, locked into a 2006 time warp. It was as though Dad had been scared to change a single thing after Mum died. Perhaps he thought it made it easier for me. Maybe it did in a way, but losing your mum at fourteen leaves a scar that no amount of time will ever erase.
My thoughts had taken a distracting detour into the past, to a place far too dark to belong to this day of celebration. I was still trying to shake them from my head when I was rocked backwards on my heels as I collided with a tall figure, who I’d somehow failed to notice was in my path. Strong fingers reached out to grab and steady me, leaving me nose-to-chest with what appeared to be a wall of solid muscle. I instinctively stepped out of his hold, weirdly rattled by the touch of a stranger’s hands on my bare arms. Although the impact hadn’t been particularly painful, it had stopped us both in our tracks.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised, even though I was pretty certain the fault had been entirely mine.
‘No. It wasn’t you, it was me,’ I corrected, my words sounding more like a break-up line than an apology. It was the phrase Aaron had used when he’d suggested we ‘take a breather’ from our relationship last summer. Even though we’d got back together after only six weeks, those words had done something to the foundations of us. It had made me realise that what I’d thought was made of granite might possibly be constructed of something far less durable. I scowled at the memory, and unfortunately the tall, dark-haired man I’d barrelled into thought it was directed at him.
‘Okay then,’ he muttered, with a shrug that seemed to imply a great many things about my manners. He strode away before I could say anything else, and that bothered me, although I had no idea why.
‘Let’s go and find the others,’ I suggested, taking hold of Sasha’s arm to steer a pathway through the park-goers who were prepared to queue in the sun for the ride.
‘No, hang on,’ Sasha insisted.
*
Life is much like a roller-coaster, twisting and turning, spiralling out of control just when you think you know where it’s going. And the pivotal moments, when everything is about to change, come with no warning sign or klaxon. They just creep silently up on you.
I know Sasha blamed herself for the longest time for what happened next. It’s possible she still does. But the fault wasn’t hers. It could just as easily have been me who insisted we went on the ride.
‘Let’s queue,’ she declared, slipping into line behind a group of girls who looked certain to fail the height criteria.
‘But you don’t want to ride it.’
Sasha gave a pretty shrug and the tiara slid to an even jauntier angle on her head. ‘And you don’t want to look like a peach-coloured cupcake at my wedding, but if you’re willing to do that for me for an entire day, I’m sure I can last a minute and a half on a roller-coaster for you.’
I squeezed her arm, and she smiled at me, and yet a thread of trepidation remained in her voice as she added, ‘Just don’t blame me if I throw up all over you.’
10
The wait was actually less than the board had predicted. Even so, I was growing hot and thirsty as we shuffled towards the head of the queue in t
he summer sunshine. I was on the point of suggesting we duck out and go for an early lunch instead when I had the unmistakable, goose-walking-over-my-grave feeling of being watched. I turned around, my eyes immediately locking on those of the man I’d collided with. Boy, some people really know how to bear a grudge, I thought, pointedly turning my back to him. Even so, I could feel the burn of his stare from where he stood in the single rider queue.
‘Sorry girls, you’re not tall enough.’ The ride attendant had the look of a prison warder and I felt like telling the disappointed teenagers there was no point in arguing with her. But they did anyway, moving quickly from pleading to pissed-off, without success. Sasha and I exchanged a secret smile. They sounded exactly like us at their age. The girls stomped off, disappointment exuding from them like a vapour.
‘I suppose there’s no chance of me not being tall enough?’ said Sasha hopefully to the woman, who looked as happy as a traffic warden who’d just slapped a fine on a windscreen. ‘No, you’re good,’ said the woman, ushering us through the metal turnstile.
‘Sasha, you really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,’ I offered. It was impossible not to notice that she’d gone a shade paler under her summer tan.
‘No. It was my idea,’ she maintained. ‘And you want to do it.’
I looked at the carriages and felt a small thrill stir in the pit of my stomach. She was right. I did.
‘You’re in luck, ladies. The front carriage is all yours,’ declared a ride attendant decked out in an outfit that was supposed to look like chain mail and was probably just as uncomfortable.
‘Yay,’ said Sasha, as though we were off to the gallows.
I climbed into the small metal carriage, stowing my bag and sunglasses in the mesh holdall by my feet. Sasha slid in beside me and immediately tried to pull down the padded safety bar.
‘They don’t engage those until everyone is on,’ I said, placing my hand over hers on the bar. I was shocked to discover she was actually shaking. ‘You’re really scared, aren’t you?’
