‘Hello?’ I repeat, baffled.
Maybe I should just hang up. Although they sound quite distressed.
‘Hello?’ the woman barks again.
She sounds mental. Surely this is a wrong number.
‘Georgia Miller?’
I jump and look at the phone. How does she know my name?
‘Yes?’ I say suspiciously.
Who is this crazy woman?
‘Georgia Miller!’ the woman squawks. ‘This is Penny Pamdarny.’
I blink into the receiver.
Who?
‘I have the birds and I— STOP! I said LEFT!’
I almost drop the phone in fright as her piercing voice assaults my eardrum. I should just hang up. But then this woman knows my name and telephone number, what else does she know? Does she know where I live?
Oh God, she’s not outside, is she?
I peer out of the window and scan the road for any signs of crazed women.
‘I have the birds!’ she shouts down the receiver.
‘Sorry,’ I say, trying to sound calm, ‘the birds? What birds?’
‘Yes!’ she cries, almost hysterical. ‘I have the birds! You ordered birds!’
I open my mouth to respond when realisation dawns on me.
The birds. Bianca’s bloody birds. It’s 17 November. It’s her wedding day.
‘Oh,’ I say tightly, ‘no, I didn’t. Sorry.’
‘You’re Georgia Miller?’ the woman bellows, and I jump again.
Bloody hell. Doesn’t she know what an inside voice is?
‘No,’ I say, my face prickling. ‘No I’m not. Sorry.’
‘Oh,’ the woman says, ‘well, I shall redial the number. The number I have here is . . .’
She starts reading out the number and I roll my eyes.
‘That is my number,’ I say irritably.
I hear a rustling down the phone.
‘So you are Georgia Miller?’ she pipes accusingly.
‘Yes,’ I sigh, ‘yes, I am.’
Yes I bloody am. Yay me.
‘Right,’ the woman puffs, ‘I need you to come out here and help me.’
I frown in bewilderment.
‘Come where?’ I say stupidly.
‘Out here!’ she barks. ‘Outside! I need some help!’
I squint at the phone screen. ‘Outside where?’
I peek through my curtains uncertainly.
‘Outside Richmond Manor House!’ the woman cries in fury. ‘Outside the wedding venue! I need you to come out here and help me!’
I falter as a rush of heat storms up my neck.
‘I can’t,’ I say mindlessly.
‘What?’ the woman snaps. ‘I need some help. I don’t know where the birds are going!’
I slump on to the bed.
‘They need to go round to the left side of the manor house,’ I say wearily, ‘away from the dogs.’
‘Dogs!’ the woman yells. ‘Dogs? I didn’t know there would be dogs! You never told me there would be dogs! These doves are one of a kind, I am not leaving them around dogs!’
I hold the receiver away from my ear as her voice trumpets down the phone.
‘If you go to the left side of the manor house,’ I say patiently, ‘there is an area for the doves where they will be safe.’
‘I am not taking the doves anywhere without being escorted!’ the woman puffs indignantly. ‘You have misled me, Georgia Miller. You did not inform me of this. Did you not fill in our safety questionnaire? Did you not read our terms and conditions? If you do not come and personally escort me, right now, then I will hold you responsible and I shall ensure that you personally—’
‘Fine!’ I shout down the phone, desperate to stop her from yacking on for another second. ‘Fine! I’m coming. Stay bloody there.’
I end the call and pull it away from my hot ear. The wedding venue is a five-minute drive from my parents’ house, and if everyone is sticking to schedule then the guests will be having their wedding breakfast. I can nip over, sort out this lunatic, and then drive back home without anyone ever knowing I was there.
I mean, I should just leave her to it, but she sounded like she might have a heart attack if I don’t help, and I don’t want a crazy lady’s blood on my hands. I mean, what would her relatives be like?
I shove my Ugg boots back on over my leggings and wrap my Puffa coat around my body. I charge back down the stairs and stick my head round the living-room door.
‘Tell Mum I’m borrowing her car,’ I say. ‘I’ll be back in twenty.’
I speed down the country lane leading up to the manor house and try to smother the anxiety snowballing up and down my body. Jack and Bianca are in that house.
Anger bites at my skin as the car skids to a halt and I turn the ignition off.
Two people who took advantage of me, used me, and dumped me. I don’t know which one of them I hate more.
‘Georgia!’
I look up to see a mad-looking woman, yelling across the lawn to me. She has great tufts of white hair sprouting from her scalp and she is dressed head to toe in bright green gardening gear.
‘Hello,’ I say politely. ‘Penny?’
Penny nods at me aggressively and I gesture her to follow me. As we get closer to the tent, I notice four crates with neat doves perched inside.
Wow. They are very white.
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘they’re just going round here.’
‘Away from the dogs?’
‘Away from the dogs,’ I echo, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
My feet crunch over the stiff grass as I escort Penny through the gardens. Bianca made me and Sally visit the venue every other week, to undertake various ‘vital checks’, which included measuring the speed of the grass growing and testing the bridesmaid shoes on the gravel.
‘Right,’ I say briskly, as we reach the section mapped out for the doves, perfectly laid out and meticulously organised.
Sally must have done all of this.
‘So,’ I say, ‘this is where the doves go, okay?’
Penny stares back at me. ‘Here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when do you want them to fly?’
Irritation scratches at my skin as I glare back at her.
‘I don’t know,’ I say curtly.
‘But you booked it.’
‘Yes, but it isn’t my wedding!’ I shout, suddenly unable to control myself. ‘Look at me!’ I throw my arms out in exasperation, gesturing at my body. ‘Do I look like a bride to you? I’m barely wearing underwear!’
Penny looks at me as if I have sprouted an extra head.
‘Georgia?’
I turn on the spot and see Sally. She is dressed in a crisp suit and is clasping a clipboard, her fingers white.
‘Ah!’ I say, flailing my arm towards Sally. ‘There you go, Penny. Sally will be able to advise you about the bloody pigeons. Doves. Whatever the hell they are.’
I stalk past them both and stomp back up the field, my feet sliding in the thick mud.
‘Georgie? Is that you?’
My body stiffens in fury as I recognise the voice of Bianca. I turn around and notice her, walking down from the manor house, alone. She is wearing an extravagant gown that hugs her body and spills into a deep train. She looks beautiful.
‘What are you doing here?’ she says accusingly. ‘You were no longer invited.’
I stare back at her, dumbstruck. When, suddenly, an overpowering burst of anger fires up inside of me and overtakes the fear.
‘What am I doing here?’ I repeat, my voice thick with fury. ‘I’m here because your wedding needed help. Even after everything you put me through, I still came here to help you, because I am a good person. And not only that, I am a damn good member of staff. And do you know what else? I am a great designer. All right? I know you don’t believe that I didn’t put my designs up, but you can’t deny that I am bloody good. So don’t worry—’ I shoot her a look of disgust as I charge past her. ‘
I’m not staying.’
I storm down the field as my ears pound and anger throbs through my veins. I pick up my pace as I hear the voice I least wanted to hear, chasing me down the field.
‘Georgie!’
As quickly as I can, I race towards my car. But I am no match for him in my slippery Ugg boots, and he gets there first. I almost flinch when I meet his eyes. He looks thunderous.
‘Why are you yelling at my sister on her wedding day?’ he cries, blocking me from getting into my car. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
I push past him towards my car. ‘Move,’ I snap. ‘Get out of my way.’
‘No!’ Jack yells, grabbing on to my hands. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
My eyes snap up to his face and I wrench my arms away from him. Anger ripples up my body and thunders around my chest. As I look into his eyes, my heart begins to throb in pain.
‘You’re married!’ I scream, staggering backwards. To my alarm the tears pricking at my eyes spill over, and I wipe them away furiously. ‘I know you’re married!’
Jack stares back at me, his face helpless.
‘Bianca told me,’ I spit. ‘I know about Lulu. You’re fucking married, Jack. All you’ve done from the start is lie to me. Now get out of my way.’
I try and reach past him to open my car door but Jack grabs my arm and spins me back round. I whip my arm away furiously.
‘I’m not married,’ he says quietly.
‘Don’t lie to me!’ I bellow, throwing my arms in the air. ‘Bianca told me! To Lulu! You’re married to Lulu!’
‘No,’ Jack’s sharp voice cuts across me. ‘You’re wrong. Me and Lulu were married. We separated, about six months ago.’ His eyes latch on to mine. ‘We didn’t want to tell Bianca. Lulu is Bianca’s best friend, so we didn’t want to ruin her wedding. I’m not married, Georgie,’ he says earnestly. ‘I’m not.’
I stare back at him. The wind speeds through my hair and, for a moment, we just stare at each other.
‘You’re not married?’ I manage.
Jack’s eyes bore into mine. ‘No.’
The anger in my body is replaced with a ball of emotion than ricochets up my body and strains at the back of my eyes. I attempt to blink the tears away.
‘I believed you were,’ I say, the words falling out of my mouth.
Jack takes my arm. ‘I’m not.’
‘That’s not the point.’ I push him away. ‘I believed you were married,’ I manage. ‘I believed you were. I believed you could be that guy. I don’t—’ I take a deep breath in an attempt at controlling my quivering voice. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’ I look into his eyes, my vision blurred by a mist of thick tears. ‘I can’t see you any more.’
Jack takes a step closer towards me. ‘Georgie,’ he says, ‘come on.’
‘Right from the start,’ I cry, quickly losing the power of control over my thoughts, ‘I haven’t known anything about you, and you know so much about me. You read my diary!’ I yell, throwing my arms into the air.
‘I didn’t,’ Jack says firmly.
‘You opened it!’ I lash back. ‘You read my list!’
‘You’re upset,’ he says. ‘I understand, but—’
‘No!’ I yell, unable to control the anger firing up inside me. ‘You don’t understand! You’re married, Jack! And Bianca fired me for something I didn’t do! Amy is sick, and there is nothing I can do to help her. You don’t understand anything. You never have.’
Jack stares back at me, winded.
‘Bianca . . .’ he manages. ‘Bianca fired you? Why?’
I run my furious eyes up his body.
‘She saw my designs,’ I say tightly. ‘Someone put them in the pitch room. She thought I was trying to screw her over.’
Jack’s face crumples and he runs his fingers through his hair.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he says weakly. ‘I wanted Bianca to see what you had done. I meant to tell her, but I got called out and I . . .’
He trails off and I stare back at him, my heart pounding.
He did it? He put my designs there? He set me up?
Jack opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. I stare back at him, my chest aching under the pressure.
‘Georgie,’ he manages, ‘I am so sorry. I’ll make it right. I’ll—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I cut across him coldly. ‘I have to go,’ I say, turning towards my car. ‘Enjoy the wedding.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘And take a deep breath in. In through the nose, out through the mouth.’
I inhale deeply, the moist scent of clammy women filling my nostrils and swirling down the back of my throat.
Urgh. Why aren’t there any windows?
‘In through the nose, out through the mouth.’
After four days of constant planning and late nights with Amy, this morning I thought I’d allow myself the treat of a lie-in, and had planned to sleep until 10.30. The dream.
Sadly, I didn’t account for Mum having a day off today, and she burst into my room at 8.30 a.m., horrified at the idea of me lying in bed all day and ‘wasting my life’.
Shortly after, she tipped me out of bed and dragged me along to her yoga class, insisting that all I need to do is clear my mind and then I will feel better. So now, I am propped in the back row of a sweaty sports hall, using all of my core strength to breathe when the instructor says so, which is bloody hard. I feel like I’m going to pass out. Surely she is doing it wrong. No one can be expected to breathe like this.
The run is now less than two weeks away. I don’t have time to squat in a hall and puff out air like a deflating balloon. I should be running. I did try and explain this to Mum, but she shooed me into the car before I had the chance to hide under the bed, and here I am.
‘And now,’ the instructor coos, ‘I want you to bend your body forward, into the smiling lion.’
One of my eyes pings open.
The smiling lion?
My open eye darts around the room as all of the women angle their bodies accordingly, as if she just said something completely normal. Begrudgingly, I copy.
Is this my life now? Spending my days at odd yoga classes with my mum and learning how to breathe properly?
I guess it will be. Now that I have to move back home I’ll never be able to escape Mum and her endless invitations for me to do things I never want to do, ever. Like flower arranging or joining the village committee as the ‘social secretary’. When I asked what being the social secretary would involve, Mum started talking about their ‘annual knit off’ and, before I could register what was going on, she had begun a knitting lesson.
I hate the idea of moving back home. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy living at home. But I had finally moved out. I’d got a job on my own, found my own place, and moved on with my life. I finally felt like I was moving forward.
Amy has tried asking me what I am going to do now, but I can’t answer. Designing is all I want to do, it’s the only thing I’ve ever known how to do. I was so excited when I was offered the job at Lemons.
This thought cues a small pang in the pit of my stomach.
I shake my head quickly. Don’t think about that. Think about something else.
I take a deep breath.
I can’t believe I have been fired. How am I ever going to get employed with that on my CV? Well, I won’t, I suppose. Maybe I’ll just have to become a blogger and pray someone finds me interesting enough to pay me thousands of pounds to rank the best Chinese takeaways in south London.
I flinch slightly as I feel a gust of air waft past me.
What’s that?
I peel open my eyes surreptitiously, and to my alarm, spot Mum, shuffling over whilst in full smiling lion pose.
I gawp at her. What the hell is she doing?
I glance up at the instructor, who hasn’t noticed, and scrunch my eyes back shut, when I suddenly feel Mum inching up next to me.
Oh no. What is she doing?
; ‘Darling,’ she whispers, her voice close to my ear, ‘are you okay?’
I keep my eyes tightly shut. ‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ the instructor says gently, ‘now we can move into the singing duck.’
What? The singing duck?
She’s making this up! That is not a yoga position!
I feel Mum next to me, moving her body into the pose, and reluctantly open my eyes to copy. I jump when I see that Mum is staring straight at me. I snap my eyes shut and move my body to copy the other women.
‘Well,’ Mum whispers again, ‘I want you to know that I am here for you.’
‘I know,’ I say.
‘Breathe in through the nose,’ the instructor repeats, ‘and out through the mouth.’
I suck in a deep lungful of air and feel it inflate my stomach and uncoil my taut muscles.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
In through the nose, out through the—
‘Because it will all work out in the end.’
I jump as Mum sidles up closer to my ear.
Why does she keep trying to talk to me? You can’t talk during yoga!
‘I know,’ I say, my mouth not moving, willing her to go away.
‘And you’ll find another job,’ Mum continues, ‘I know you will.’
‘Mhmm.’
‘And another boyfriend,’ she says pointedly, ‘much better than that nasty married chap.’
My eyes fly open and I snap my head round to glare at Mum. To my horror, the three women in front have done the same.
Oh my God, they heard! They’re going to think I’m some form of harlot! Mum has just confessed to a room filled with strangers that I was dating a married man. This will be on the town’s Facebook group within minutes.
‘Have you spoken to him?’ she says in a loud whisper.
‘No,’ I snap. ‘Please stop asking me about it.’
I hear Mum puff indignantly and I clamp my eyes shut, irritation dancing up and down my body.
This is why she was so desperate to get me here. She wanted to interrogate me. How does she even know about Jack? I’ve made a point of never telling her about any boyfriends after she found out I was dating Jimmy Davids in Year 11 and tried to arrange a coffee morning with his mum to talk about ‘the importance of safe sex’. I only found out because I discovered the leaflet she was intending to give Jimmy’s mum, poking out of the corner of her handbag. I burned it immediately.
The List That Changed My Life Page 21
