Boyfriend in a Dress (29 page)

‘Isn’t she going to be fine, Nim?’

Jules looks towards Naomi for back-up, but just gets a feeble, ‘Yeah.’

‘You know what, it is going to be okay. If he ignores me, I’ll handle it. If he starts screaming at me, I’ll handle it. If he
knifes me, I expect one of you to rugby tackle him, and the other one to stop the bleeding with one hand, and phone the police with the other.’

People start to walk towards us, and we realize that the ‘formal’ photos, of which there are going to be few apparently, are over. Much trendier to get them naturally and in black and white later. We turn and stroll towards the car, while Nim and Jules fight over who is going to navigate to the reception. Nim messed it up the first time, Jules is trying to say in her nicest voice, and she should take over. Nim counters with the fact that she is now familiar with the way Norfolk roads work. I start the car as Jake and Sarah drive past us and Jules, in uncharacteristic fashion, lunges for the passenger seat, leaving Nim standing, gob-smacked on the gravel. I drive off with Nim staring at the back of Jules’ head in disbelief, and Jules staring straight ahead, refusing to look back. It seems we’ve all changed a little in a year; it’s amazing what you can do if you try.

The reception is being held at Sarah’s parents’ house, off another country lane in deepest Norfolk, but ten miles from the one we were already on. This time we follow the stream of cars in front of us, which get stuck behind a tractor, but at least we don’t get lost. For the extent of the journey my mind replays Charlie standing in front of me outside the church, not meeting my smile with his. I am petrified that he has reverted to type, ditched the new Charlie who was just finding his feet as I left for South America, and now, now he only sees me as a hindrance to him pulling at the wedding. And I think about the strange sensation in my stomach, the nerves kicking about like a baby, and the knowledge that I won’t be able to eat at the reception, my appetite deserting me, so I should be careful and not drink too much.

‘Don’t let me drink too much,’ I blurt out as I park the car
in the grounds of an overwhelming farmhouse, near what look like the servants’ quarters.

‘Okay,’ Nim and Jules say in unison.

As I walk across the lawn, making tiny stiletto holes, carrying the present, wearing massive sunglasses, I feel I must look the picture of calm, but all I can think is ‘must see seating plan, must see seating plan.’ Jules and I accept a Pimms from a tray and wander towards the back of the house and Naomi dashes off to find a toilet. Fifteen minutes later, I see her strolling back, chatting to Sarah’s mother, smiling as she makes her way towards us.

‘I checked out the seating plan in the marquee, and I couldn’t see his name, but he’s definitely not on our table,’ she says as soon as she reaches us.

‘Thank God,’ I sigh, but feel bitterly disappointed at the same time. Is it just prolonging the inevitable argument, or do I really want to speak to him? I survey the lawn, and Charlie is nowhere to be seen. The thought suddenly occurs to me that he might have left, said his goodbyes to Jake and explained that he didn’t want to make things awkward, or that he had another wedding to go to, or any other feasible excuse. And my stomach kicks again, with a feeling I know is disappointment. Please God, let him still be here. But as the sun starts to drift towards the horizon, and the master of ceremonies announces that dinner is served, and we stumble towards the marquee on three glasses of Pimms and no food since yesterday, my intentions of not getting drunk appear to be slipping away with the sun, and Charlie has still not turned up.

I notice Jules stagger slightly in front of me and realize that I cannot count on her to keep me sober. I grab Nim’s hand, squeeze it tightly, and beg her, ‘Please, please, control my drinking.’

‘I will, don’t worry.’ She squeezes it back, wrinkles her nose and smiles. I am in safe hands.

The meal is uncomfortable, as I try desperately to take a sip of water for every sip of wine, and make small talk with one of Sarah’s brothers, while keeping an eye on the door in case Charlie arrives. By the time Jake is standing up to make his speech, Nim and Jules are both whooping and cheering, completely pissed, and I know that I am the only person to be relied on to keep me from getting trashed. If only we hadn’t booked a cab from here to the hotel, and I had agreed to drive back, instead of picking the car up tomorrow. What an idiot I am. I look around the tables one last time, and finally acknowledge that Charlie isn’t coming back, and as Jake asks us to toast his beautiful new wife, I neck my glass of wine. It’s going to be all downhill from here. I shouldn’t have worn cream.

Jake’s speech seems to go on forever, or for at least an entire bottle of red, which disappears into my glass and then into me by the time he is ‘wrapping up’. I try and focus on him standing at the top table, and listen intently to what he is saying, as my head becomes increasingly cloudy, and my eyes swirl.

‘And lastly, I would just like to say that I think we make a beautiful couple, in fact, to be honest, I think I make a fantastic groom, and I know I am going to do my damnedest to be the best husband I can. But I know that, working for the paper, there are going to be some nights that I will be home late, and I don’t want you to feel like I am not with you. Sooooo, I’ve come up with a reminder of this fantastic day, and more importantly, me on this fantastic day, that can keep you company on any cold night when I can’t get home to watch you fall asleep. Charlie, if you wouldn’t mind.’ I can see Jake looking towards the door, and I register Jake saying his name, and swing my head towards a new commotion and laughter that is emanating from the corner of the room. At first all I can see is two Jakes – one at the top table
and one moving across the room to meet the first. But my drink-addled brain manages to register that it is in fact a life-size cardboard Jake gliding towards the top table, in his morning suit, holding a pint of beer aloft in front of him, and then I realize that the cardboard cut-out is on wheels, and being pushed by Charlie. I gasp, not only at the drunken realization that he is back, and how happy this makes me, but also at the realization that I am of course now very drunk.

The laughter dies down, and Jake continues, as Charlie takes a step back, and accepts a drink from a waiter standing to the side of the room.

‘So, cheers, darling, here’s to us.’ Jake raises his glass to his new bride.

‘And thanks to Charlie, a mate, for sorting this all out, and missing a good feed in the process. We saved you a canapé!’

All of a sudden everybody seems to be on their feet, and I push back my chair uncertainly to stand, steadying myself on the table, and make sure to raise my water glass, as we shout,

‘Cheers!’ and, ‘The happy couple!’

I down my water in one gulp, and sit down quickly. People seem to be moving about around me, up out of their chairs to talk at other tables, but I am reluctant to go anywhere. The only person I want to talk to is on the other side of the room, and I’m not sure if I’ll make it intact.

Neither Nim nor Jules appear to have registered that Charlie is back, they are hammered and giggling at something that I am sure is not funny.

‘Girls, girls, he’s back,’ I whisper too loudly.

‘Who is?’ Nim asks, wiping her eyes.

‘Charlie.’

‘Oh, where?’ Jules looks around wildly and then back at me, confused.

‘In the corner, for Christ’s sake, he just pushed the cardboard Jake thing in! How pissed are you?’ I look from one to the other, and they stare at me with glazed eyes.

‘I’m pretty pissed,’ Nim says after a silence.

‘So am I,’ Jules says seriously.

‘But you were supposed to be stopping me from getting drunk!’ I practically shout, aware that I have already forgotten most of the conversation we’ve just had.

‘Don’t drink any more then,’ Nim says practically, and takes away my glass.

‘That’s water!’ I say, and put my head in my hands. This is all going horribly wrong.

‘Look, it’ll be fine, he doesn’t even seem to want to talk to you,’ Jules says, thinking she’s being nice, I am sure, but cutting into me like a butcher’s knife.

‘But what if I want to talk to him!’ I wail through my hands.

‘Do you? Oh, I didn’t realize.’ Jules takes a giant slug of white wine.

‘Well, I just can’t. I’m just going to have to keep out of his way. I’m nearly as hammered as you, it’ll all go wrong. I must look like shit,’ I wail again.

‘You look fine!’ Nim says into her glass.

‘You can’t bloody see, what would you know?’

‘This is true,’ she says, and necks her drink.

I push back my chair suddenly, and make two grabs for Nim’s cigarettes on the table.

‘Where are you going?’ they both shout at once, like a pair of drunken synchronized idiots.

‘I’m going to get some fresh air, and try and sober up.’

‘Well, take this,’ and Naomi tries to pick up the huge jug of water in the middle of the table.

‘It’s really heavy,’ she says, unable to lift it, and collapses forward onto the table, giggling, and Jules starts laughing as Nim’s hair dangles into some coffee.

I smile at the two of them, they are out of it, they can’t help me now, and it’s not their fault. I can take care of myself.

‘I’ll see you in a little while,’ I say, and stagger towards the marquee curtains, prodding them with my hand, trying to find a break in the material.

It is dark outside, and cloudy. I stumble away from the sound of music and laughter and towards the back of the house. My heels stick into the lawn heavily, and I get stuck twice, before I take them off and turn up my trousers, swaying dangerously with my head by my knees, trying to ensure my hems don’t get dirty but painfully close to falling over completely. I manage to make it upright again, and spot a bench at the bottom of the garden, before it turns into fields. When I get there, I survey it closely, trying to spot any evil mud marks, but it looks clean, and I slump down, my head spinning less, the air penetrating my eyes, my nose, sweeping through me. I am pissed, but not beyond help, this is a rectifiable situation. I just have to stay out here for another couple of hours, and I’ll be fine. I consider a nap, but know that in a cream suit on a garden bench that is a dangerous idea. I look back at the marquee, the dark shadows of people moving around outside of it, and the laughter reaches me again. I can faintly hear the music, an old eighties song, and I know Nim and Jules will be staggering around the dance floor about now, scaring the children, and getting disapproving looks from grandmothers. So what, we’re just drunk, there are worse things you can do. Besides, everybody does bad things. They aren’t hurting anybody with theirs at least. I realize the song has changed, and Lionel Ritchie has come on. I close my eyes quickly to see if I can without throwing up, and surprisingly the world doesn’t go into orbit. I start
to sing quietly to myself, I can just sit here for a while, and sober up. It might be cold, and dark, and I might be sitting on my own in a stranger’s back garden, but it could be worse. I could be throwing up. I sing, not that quietly any more, and wait for my head to clear.

‘Alright?’

I snap my eyes open, and see Charlie standing in front of me, holding a beer.

‘Oh shit,’ I say before I can stop myself.

‘Nice, thanks,’ he says, and looks at his feet.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just, Christ, I’m really pissed, Charlie.’ I venture a smile, and he smiles back. His tie is pulled down from his neck, and his top button is undone. He looks great, familiar, a little heavier since the last time I saw him, but great nonetheless.

‘Can I sit down?’ he asks quietly.

‘I’m hoping you will,’ I say, smiling again, closing my eyes so I don’t have to think about how much I have missed him.

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, and I can hear Charlie taking sips of his beer. It is just bloody great to know he is sitting next to me; I feel like I’ve dreamed it.

‘That was a nice thing you did for Jake, the big cardboardy thing. Looked a bit scary to me, but I’m sure Sarah will like it.’

Charlie doesn’t answer, and I turn my head deliberately to look at him.

‘Oh, your sideburns have got long!’ I say in shock.

‘I’ve been cultivating them,’ he says evenly.

‘Well, they look good.’

‘Thanks. So how was South America? Got any photos?’

‘What on me? No. Only just moved out of that stage, mind. A week earlier and you would have had the slide show.’ We both smile, knowing it’s true.

‘But it was good, it was great, really … good for me. It feels like I’ve been away forever.’

‘I know,’ Charlie says quietly, and we turn to look at each other.

‘I’m not in the City any more,’ he says, and I know that this is information that he is desperate to pass on.

‘Oh, right. Not in the West End?’ I ask, incredulous.

‘No, I’m training to be a teacher, well, I’ve just qualified actually. I am a teacher.’

‘Bloody hell!’ This is out of left field, and I am impressed, and floored, and massively surprised. No wonder he wanted to tell me.

‘And I’ve been seeing a counsellor, since about the time you left actually.’

‘Bloody hell!’ I say again, shocked. This is a lot of information to take in, drunk as I am.