by Adam Croft
‘As long as she isn’t taking advantage of you. Did you know that weddings are one of the top reasons why friendships fall apart? I can definitely see why.’
‘I know. I don’t think it’ll cause any long-term problems. Just got to look forward to it, I suppose.’
‘I know,’ he replies, and I can hear his smile. ‘Just don’t let it drive a wedge between you, alright? I don’t want anything harming my butterfly.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I won’t.’
8
Tuesday 10 December
It proved easier than I’d imagined to get everyone together for a meal and drinks, especially with so many people having work Christmas parties, family engagements and other stuff going on in the run-up to the festive season. In the end, today seemed to be the day most people could do, and we managed to get booked into a gastropub in a village a few miles outside town.
A couple of the guys come in ridiculous Christmas jumpers — something I get a laugh out of seeing others do, but wouldn’t be seen dead in myself. The pub’s nice enough, and is thronging with people in both the bar and restaurant.
‘Lucky we managed to book a table,’ Tom says as we get our drinks.
‘It was the last one, apparently. They’d had a cancellation an hour or two before I called. Otherwise we’d have been totally stuffed.’
‘Well, as long as the turkey has been too, I’m happy.’
Not long after, the others start to arrive. We arranged to meet in the bar half an hour before the table booking so we could have a drink while everyone arrives. Cath and Ben are the first, and we get a few minutes for Ben to meet Tom and introduce himself before the others turn up and we head to our table.
The food’s delicious — far better than I expected, and I wonder if we might have found ourselves a hidden gem. What’s more, the conversation is flowing and everyone seems to be getting on really well with Tom. It always amazes me how well he manages to turn on his charisma when he meets new people. It’s almost like he’s got a gift for it, and people are just naturally attracted to him as a person.
Tom and I are sat opposite each other, and Cath’s sitting next to him, Ben on the other side, with Cath regaling Tom with her horror stories about the wedding planning, while I talk to Gareth and a couple of our other friends at the other end of the table. For the most part, I tune out of what Tom and Cath are saying. They seem to be getting on really well, and in any case I’ve heard it all before about how draining it is planning a wedding, how everyone interferes, how sometimes she wishes she’d never bothered. Ben catches my eye every now and again and gives me a knowing glance, and we both have a secret chuckle. A little while later, Tom says something which catches my attention.
‘I just think you should go easy on her, especially considering the whole Matt thing,’ are the words I hear.
I realise it’s probably not something I was meant to pick up, but now I’ve heard it I can’t help but tune in. It’s almost as if everything else is silenced and my brain can focus only on what Tom and Cath are saying. I try desperately to listen to Gareth, Ben and the others, and I nod and smile along as they talk, but I don’t hear a word of it. There’s only one conversation I’m focused on.
‘That was ages ago. And anyway, you don’t know anything about it. You weren’t even there.’
‘No, but I’ve heard. It hurt her a lot, obviously, and has been really frustrating for her.’
‘Yeah, well I’ve been under a lot of pressure myself recently, thank you very much.’
‘Yeah, I know. She mentioned you’d been a complete and utter Bridezilla.’
As I hear those words, my heart lurches. My breath catches in my throat and I feel a cold shiver run down my spine. Cath looks over at me. She can see I’m a deer caught in the headlights, and in that moment I can see she knows immediately that what Tom’s said is true. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just looks at me, a picture of sadness and disappointment on her face.
9
A moment or two after Tom drops that clanger, Cath excuses herself and says she needs to go outside for some air. The only people who would have noticed this as being a bit odd were me and Ben, and Ben’s busy in conversation with someone else and barely even notices her getting up. I can’t leave things like this, so I follow her, out into the car park at the back of the pub. It’s only when I step outside that I realise I’ve left my coat indoors, hanging over the back of my chair.
‘Cath,’ I say, walking up to her.
‘Bridezilla? Why would you even say something like that?’
I can tell it’s pointless even pretending I didn’t. She’ll have known from the look on my face at the table that it’s true. I must have looked like a guppy fish, sitting there trying to work out what to say but floundering around, lost for words, the colour of beetroot.
‘Cath, it’s not like it seems. Tom heard the story second hand, and he must have got his words muddled up. He’s just—’
‘Oh really? Second hand? So you’ve been talking to other people about what a terrible person I am too, then, have you?’
‘No! I haven’t been talking to anyone. I just mentioned to Tom the other night that you seemed worked up about the wedding. It was just a totally normal conversation.’
‘Grace, I’ve asked you for your help. I’ve gone along with all of your ideas. I haven’t been worked up in the slightest.’
‘I just… Tom asked what I was worried about, and I said that. I shouldn’t have, but I did. So there we go.’
‘I’m not worried about what you said or didn’t say, Grace. That’s not the point.’
‘So what is the point?’
Cath shuffles from one foot to the other. ‘It’s Tom.’
‘What about him? What’s that meant to mean?’
‘You know damn well what it means. He’s wheedled his way in, earned your ear, now you’re telling him all our private conversations. Is it any surprise I don’t think it’s a good idea to move him in with you? He’s not right, Grace.’
‘You mean he’s not Matt.’
‘That’s uncalled for.’
‘Is it?’
‘Come on, Grace. How long have we known each other?’
‘It’s not about us, is it? It’s about Tom. A guy you’ve spent ten seconds with in your life up until tonight.’
‘As if you’ve spent any longer with him. And he’s hardly coated himself in glory tonight, has he?’
I look at her for a few moments, not knowing quite what to say. ‘It’s not that simple,’ I manage, eventually.
‘Yes it is. When Tom was making those comments, there was something in his eyes. A glint. It was almost as if he was getting a kick out of saying those things, like he knew it was going to provoke a reaction.’
‘I dunno,’ I say. ‘That doesn’t sound much like Tom to me.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,’ Cath replies. ‘It’s this “two sides” thing that concerns me. It might be nothing. I might be barking up the wrong tree completely. It’s only because we’re so close that I can talk honestly to you about it. I don’t have a good feeling about Tom. Just be careful, alright?’
‘Careful? Are you serious? You make it sound like he’s dangerous and I’m foolish.’
‘Yeah, well maybe that’s not so far from the truth. I’ve warned you. That’s all you need to know.’
‘Right. If that’s the way you want it to be, that’s fine.’
‘Yeah, well that’s not the sort of things best friends do to each other, Grace. They tend not to stab each other in the back. Especially not after everything I’ve done to support you when you needed me. Thanks a lot. Thanks a fucking lot.’
With that, Cath turns and heads back inside the pub.
10
Cath and I sat in silence for the rest of the meal. Ben and Tom realised something was up, but it was pretty clear neither of us wanted to explain what had happened. Not in front of everyone else, anyway.
I didn’t say a word on the drive home, either. Tom drove back — we’d planned for him to stay at mine tonight anyway — and he didn’t push or make any attempt to force me to tell him what had happened. He seemed to get it, seemed to understand. And I reckon quite a big part of him knows it was stupid of him to have said such a thing.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he said, as he parked his car up outside my place.
‘What for?’ I say, knowing damn well what for but wanting to hear him say it.
‘For the Bridezilla comment. I just—’
‘Just what?’
‘I don’t know. I was just trying to defend you, that’s all.’
‘Defend me? Why the hell were you discussing me and Matt with her anyway? That’s none of your business. You weren’t even on the scene then. I managed perfectly well before you came along, so I don’t need you defending me now.’
There’s a look of sorrow on Tom’s face. ‘Sorry.’
‘And what kind of idiot would mention the Bridezilla comment? What on earth possessed you to think she wouldn’t fly off the handle when you told her about that?’
‘I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, I really am. I know you’re capable of standing up for yourself, but I felt I needed to defend you. To keep you safe. She was saying things about you, and it didn’t feel comfortable. I was just looking out for you.’
‘Saying things? What was she saying?’
‘It’s nothing. Really. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t want to cause any problems between you.’
‘Tom. Tell me.’
Tom shuffles awkwardly in the car seat. I can tell he doesn’t want the confrontation or drama. ‘She just mentioned something about you being jealous about her wedding and things going well for her, that’s all. Something about you not acting like you cared. I was just pointing out that you’ve had a lot on your plate. That’s why I mentioned the Matt thing. I care about you, Grace. I know she’s your friend and it’s not my place to say anything, but it felt like she was attacking you. I’m sure she’s just worked up about the wedding. I just wanted to be there for you, that’s all.
I let out a huge sigh and rub my face.
‘Yeah. I know. You don’t need to say it. She was being a massive cow.’
We sit in the car for a moment, before Tom suggests we should head inside, as it’s pointless sitting outside in the car.
When we get in, Tom makes me a cup of tea and we snuggle up on the sofa together.
‘You know, Cath and I’ve never really had a falling out before. Not like that, anyway,’ I tell him.
‘It’s bound to happen at tense times,’ he replies. ‘You’ve been through a lot recently. Plus you’ve got all the stuff going on with your nan. And she’s got a wedding to organise, which can’t be easy. Especially with Ben. He seemed a bit of a wet drip.’
‘He is. They both are.’
Tom shrugs his shoulders. ‘I’m not sure wedding planning’s my sort of thing, either. There’s something quite appealing about just grabbing a suit and turning up on the day.’
I nudge him playfully. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas. I’ll want you making a full effort, thank you very much. You wouldn’t want me going full Bridezilla on you, would you?’
Tom chuckles. ‘No, I suppose not. Listen, Grace. I’m sure it’ll all blow over at some point. She’ll apologise. She has to, after behaving like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
I shake my head. ‘You don’t know Cath. She’s as stubborn as anything. There’s no way she’s going to be the one to make the first move.’
‘Well, in that case I think that says it all about her. Everyone saw the way she acted tonight. If she can’t even apologise to you for that, well…’
‘Well what?’ I ask.
‘Nothing. I’m just saying she should be man enough to apologise, that’s all. I mean, I know it’s probably technically my fault, but…’
‘No, no it wasn’t. I don’t hold you responsible, believe me. It’s my fault for saying those things about her behind her back and her fault for flying off the handle at me. I’m not going to shoot the messenger, don’t worry.’
‘Good,’ Tom says, pulling me in towards him. ‘Because you know I’ll always be there for you, don’t you? Even when other people decide to act like divas and idiots. I’ll always be the one that’s here to support you, alright?’
I look at him and smile.
That’s the problem with sticking plasters. They might cover up the problem, but they don’t solve it. And when you peel them off, they fucking hurt. It’s always much less painful in the long-run if you rip them off quickly. The pain will be sharper, more intense, but it won’t last anywhere near as long.
I’m only looking out for you. I only ever wanted you to be safe and happy — and mine. Nothing in life is ever simple. I accept that. I realise there are obstacles, things I need to remove before we can enjoy the life we were meant to.
This is the best thing for you, my butterfly. You know I only want the best for you, don’t you? It’ll hurt now, but it’ll be good for you in the end. This is a long game. It’s not about the here and now. Everything is a means to an end. And that end is us.
11
Wednesday 18 December
One of the perks of my job is that there’s scope for working from home. Like most modern companies, ‘scope’ tends to translate to ‘make sure you get the work done and don’t take the piss’.
That policy was gratefully used this morning when Dad received a call from Nan’s carers to say it looked as though she’d taken a turn for the worse. All we could work out was that she’d been rambling incoherently about Alfred the Great being in her wardrobe, and they wanted us to go over to see her and help calm her down.
It seems to have done the trick, and Mum and Dad are happy that she’s back to normal — or as normal as she can be, anyway. We’re all staying on high alert, and I’ve taken the day as a work-from-home day, just in case we need to go over again.
I open my email software and there’s a message waiting from Matilda, the owner of the art gallery we had to organise the launch party for recently. The subject line is A few things, which immediately makes my heart sink. Whenever that woman has anything to say it’s never good news, so the thought of her having a few things to say is frankly depressing.
Dear Grace, the email begins.
I wanted to write to you to convey a few concerns and disappointments I have following the recent launch event for X1.
As you were aware, anticipated numbers for the launch event were high, and for this reason I suggested early on in the process that it might be wise to stagger the times at which guests arrived. This was not done, and as a result we had high-class guests and dignitaries left queuing outside in the wind and rain for up to half an hour. I’m sure you will agree this is absolutely not acceptable.
We were also told that a high-profile celebrity would be on hand to conduct the official opening of X1. Whilst I accept that I did not follow up with you on who the specific celebrity would be, I did trust and have faith that you had this matter in hand, and was disappointed (to say the least) to discover that the best you could manage was Brian Hapgood from ‘Gold in the Garage’. That a large percentage of my personal guests were better known than him is testament to the sheer disbelief we all had at his attendance. I do hope he does not expect to be paid for this appearance.
Whilst we’re on the subject of money, might I also add my disappointment at discovering a complete ignorance of the agreed budget. The maximum spend was stated quite clearly in our second email of the 14th, and I have no record or recollection of agreeing any increase in the budget — and certainly not an overspend of 14%!
Whilst I understand and accept that your expertise and experience in these matters are more than welcome, I am left feeling that the input and requirements of me — the customer — have been completely and utterly ignored.
I’m sure you will recall that the partners intend to open six
X1 galleries across London within the next two years, and that we have some extremely high-profile and high-wealth backers. We had certainly intended to use your company to handle the launches of each of the galleries in our future portfolio, but this is now in serious jeopardy. A final decision has been put on hold whilst we await your comments on this matter.
Yours,
Matilda Dewitt.
P.S. Was there some confusion over the colour scheme? It was expected that you would be changing the colours from purple to white, as agreed in our emails on the 23rd of the month.
I sit and stare at the laptop screen, my jaw hanging as I try to comprehend what I’m reading. I go through it again, sure I must have misunderstood something somewhere along the line. But no, Matilda Dewitt actually is a complete and utter mental case.
I know at this point I should pause, make a cup of tea, jot down a few notes as to aspects that need to be addressed in a response and compose a calm, collected reply which covers the points she made in a professional and polite manner.
But — quite frankly — fuck that.
I compose a new email to Susan, my boss. Thankfully, we have a good relationship and can talk frankly and openly to each other. She’s always got my back.
Hi Sue,
I’m guessing by now you’ll have read the email from Matilda @ X1. What a cow! I’m sure you know all the details by now, but anyway…
The bit about her suggesting staggering the times of arrival is an outright LIE. This was MY suggestion but she turned it down because she didn’t want her snooty Z-list arse-lickers to get butthurt by being demoted to the second or third round of admissions. She even made some sort of snarky comment about them being ‘dignitaries, not shift workers’. Snotty bitch.
