The Bridesmaid Pact (12 page)

Caz

I mooched through Brent Cross trying to get ideas for the next assignment I was working on. It was just over a fortnight since Mum’s funeral and I’d ducked out of a few jobs recently. Hattie, a stylist I knew, had sorted out a replacement for me. I knew she was up to her eyes in work at the moment, so to pay her back I promised I’d sort out the accessories on this one – a commercial for a soap company celebrating ‘real’ women. What the difference between a ‘real’ woman and an unreal one was, I hadn’t worked out, but I was rather looking forward to working with a bunch of normal people who might enjoy themselves for the day, rather than the tantrum-filled divas I often encountered.

I was engrossed in the bracelets in Accessorize, when a familiar voice said, ‘Hi, what are you doing here?’

‘Sarah,’ I said. ‘This is a surprise.’

I felt a bit nervous as I said this. Sarah had seemed to thaw towards me at the funeral, but I couldn’t be sure she was really ever going to accept me back into the fold.

‘What are you up to?’ she said.

‘Looking for accessories for a bunch of models for next week,’ I said.

‘Ooh, glamorous,’ laughed Sarah.

‘Not exactly,’ I said. ‘My job might seem glamorous from where you’re standing, but most of it is dull, mundane stuff, really.’

‘It can’t be more mundane than being a bored housewife,’ said Sarah. ‘I’d give anything to have a job again.’

‘You should really go back to work,’ I said. ‘You were a good nurse.’

‘Well, funny you should say that,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ve been looking at back to work NHS training schemes since we last spoke. It’s been great being at home with the kids, but William will be at school before I know it, and I’ll be reduced to watching daytime TV and polishing my kitchen floor every day, with Valium to get my kicks.’

I looked at Sarah. She looked so sad. I remembered the joy with which she’d told me she was getting married, and how stupidly jealous I’d been. Now, she seemed like such a downtrodden housewife. She’d always been so together growing up; I’d spent half my life envying her.

‘Have you got time for a coffee?’ I asked hesitantly. Suddenly I craved a girlie chat like we used to have all those years ago.

Sarah paused.

‘Yes, that would be great,’ she said. ‘I’ve got about an hour before I have to pick Will up from nursery.’

‘This is nice,’ I said lightly as we sat drinking our lattes in Starbucks.

‘Yes isn’t it?’ Sarah said. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘My fault,’ I said. ‘All my fault. And for what it’s worth, I am so sorry for all the grief I caused you. You didn’t deserve it. I was just a jealous cow.’

‘Ha, you wouldn’t be jealous now,’ said Sarah sourly.

‘Oh?’ Something about the way Sarah spoke made me sit up.

‘Steve’s been seeing someone,’ Sarah said, eventually, fiddling with her mat. ‘He denies it of course, he always does. But her name’s Kirsty and she’s taken my boys to the zoo. Can you believe the cheek of him?’

Thinking that it sounded like typical Steve, but feeling it wouldn’t be diplomatic to say so, I merely nodded.

Sarah fiddled with her mat some more. ‘Can I ask you a direct question?’ she said.

‘Um – depends what it is…’ I said, my heart somersaulting.

‘With Steve – was it really you that instigated things?’

‘Blimey, that is direct,’ I said weakly.

‘Well?’

I sat feeling a conflict of emotions. I’d lied to Sarah in the past to protect her, to try to make up for the hideous wrong I’d done. I sensed that she needed the truth now. But if I told her the truth, it would mean the whole of her marriage had been a sham. I wasn’t sure I could do that to her.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I fancied Steve and I was jealous of you. On a couple of occasions I came on to him a bit strongly and he responded. It was my fault, not his. I’m sorry, it was crap of me, and I wish to god I hadn’t done it, but I can’t turn the clock back and put it right.’

‘Oh,’ said Sarah. ‘Well, thanks for being honest.’

I felt terrible lying to her again, but what else could I do?

Sarah sat in silence for a few minutes.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Good. Now I know.’

‘Sarah,’ I said urgently, ‘if I could take it back, if I could
do it differently, I would. I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life, than I have been about the way I hurt you.’

Tears prickled my eyes. All those wasted years without Sarah’s friendship. And all my own fault.

‘Well, you did,’ said Sarah, ‘and it’s water under the bridge now. You’re not the threat to my marriage any more. And the difference is I’m not blindly infatuated with Steve any more.’

Now we were both blubbing.

‘Just look at us, this is ridiculous,’ said Sarah, wiping her eyes and laughing through her tears.

‘I feel about fifteen again,’ I said through my sobs.

‘Me, too,’ said Sarah.

‘Do you think…’ I said uncertainly, ‘do you think we could ever make up?’

Sarah looked into the distance, toying with her spoon.

‘I don’t know, Caz,’ she said. ‘There’s so much between us, I’m not sure things can ever be the same. Maybe, given time.’

I knew that was all I was going to get for now, so I changed the subject and asked, ‘What are you going to do now?’

‘About what?’

‘The shit, and Kirsty of course.’

Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘Something I should have done a long, long time ago,’ she said.

‘You’re early,’ Charlie greeted me at the soap photo shoot.

‘Well, there are so many of them. Hattie and I thought we should get everything ready.’

They arrived one by one, nervous, excited, talking loudly
to cover their nerves, all ordinary women about to have an out-of-the-ordinary kind of day. I loved this part of my job. Each new face was like an empty canvas to work on, which I could bring to life. A dash of eyeliner here, some blusher there, pale rose lipstick for a darker complexion, bright red to jazz up the more conservative souls. Soon the women, who were all in their thirties and forties and, from the sounds of it, mostly kidded up with husbands who worked long hours away from home, were giggling and laughing as if they’d known each other for years. It helped that Charlie was working his magic, cracking jokes, getting the shots right, bringing out the best in all of them.

There was one woman there that I’d particularly noticed. She’d come in fussing like an old mother hen, looking dowdy and older than her years. I’d insisted she unpicked her bun, which reminded me unfavourably of Mum, and curled her hair softly which instantly made her look younger and more girlie. I’d also given her the cherry red lipstick, guessing that she’d never in a million years choose a colour like that. Hattie had found her a little black velvet number. Suddenly she looked ravishing. And with Charlie’s gentle teasing, it soon became apparent she was the star of the show. She flirted naturally with the camera, and the shots Charlie was getting were fabulous. The people from the soap campaign were clearly pleased and were muttering about making her the face of the campaign.

Good
, I thought with satisfaction. It was nice to feel that maybe you’d made a bit of a difference to someone’s life. I liked my job and it paid the mortgage, but you couldn’t exactly say it was terribly worthwhile, like being a doctor or something. It wasn’t even as if it were vital to the economy or anything.

As I watched Charlie tease yet another winning smile from my ugly-duckling-turned-swan, I felt a sudden pang of longing. I knew he just had his professional face on, but I wanted him to smile at me like that, to give me that teasing smile and ready charm. I’d known that he had that talent for years, why did I suddenly want it directed at me?

The session took most of the morning but by 1 p.m. we were done.

‘What are you up to later?’ Charlie said, as I headed for the door.

‘Not a lot,’ I said. ‘I’m heading over to North London to go through some of my mum’s stuff with my aunt, but I’ll be back around teatime. Why?’

‘Nadia’s gone away for a couple of days on business,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering if you’d be free for a drink.’

‘Are you sure she wouldn’t mind?’ I said, a bit dubiously.

‘Why should she mind?’ said Charlie. ‘She sees male friends, I see female friends. It’s part of our deal.’

‘Right,’ I said, wondering if Nadia really were that sanguine about things. Charlie could be a bit dense sometimes. Just because he didn’t have a jealous bone in his body, it didn’t occur to him that other people might. He should have known better by now, nearly all his girlfriends had been jealous of our friendship, and he could never see it. Which was infuriating but part of his enduring charm.

I got over to Mum’s place in Northfields in less than an hour and Auntie Nora and I sorted out her clothes into piles, things which were too far gone to be saved and ones which were decent enough for the charity shop. It made me feel sad going through Mum’s things. There didn’t seem to be much to show for a life. I wondered if
my life would look like this when someone came to do this for me.

Auntie Nora was evidently finding it as difficult as I was because she was in full-on abrasive no-nonsense mode, and any warmth she’d shown to me at the funeral seemed to have vanished.

Eventually, we’d done with the clothes, so I suggested we go and look in the loft to see what needed clearing out there. Mum had been an inveterate hoarder, and from my previous glimpse up there, I had a feeling it was going to take us months to sort out.

I went up first. There wasn’t enough room to swing a cat up there, and with it being a warm day, was unbearably hot, so casting around with the ancient torch Mum kept in the cupboard under the stairs, I grabbed at the first couple of boxes I could find and passed them down to Auntie Nora. They’d been sitting on top of an old, battered suitcase, which I’d never seen before, so I took that down too.

‘Well this should keep us going a while,’ I said. ‘I think I’ll just put the kettle on, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.’

As I came back into the hall, I noticed that Auntie Nora was rummaging away in the suitcase.

‘Anything interesting in there?’ I said.

‘Nothing of any consequence. A few letters and some old photos,’ she said. ‘I think most of this is junk. I’ll get rid of it if you like.’

‘No it’s all right,’ I said. ‘I like looking at old photos. Here, let me see.’

‘There really is nothing to see,’ said Auntie Nora, who seemed curiously reluctant to show me what she’d been looking at.

‘You never know, there might be something of interest,’ I said. I went over to the suitcase and started rummaging through the contents. Which is when I found them: bundles of letters, and cards, with postmarks dating back over twenty-five years. All with my name on.

‘What—?’ I said in confusion. ‘What are all these?’

‘They’re nothing,’ she said. ‘They mean nothing.’

‘Well, they’re addressed to me,’ I said. ‘So I think I should be the judge of that.’

Pursing her lips, Auntie Nora stood up and said, ‘Some things are best left alone.’

I picked up the first envelope. The date was from 1977. The year I was four years old. With shaking hands I opened it. I had a feeling I knew what was inside.

To my beautiful princess on her 4th birthday
, the card read,
with lots of love from Dad xxx

‘Oh my god,’ I said, ‘are all these from
him
?’

‘Your mum didn’t want you to have them,’ sniffed Auntie Nora. ‘He left her high and dry with you, she said he didn’t have the right.’

‘But what about my right?’ I said. ‘How dare she? How dare you?’

I grabbed the bundle of letters, and my coat, and got up and left in a towering rage. How could Mum do this? How
could
she? It was like she was laughing at me from beyond the grave.

‘Do you really need another drink?’

I’d gone straight from Mum’s house to a pub in Soho that Charlie and I liked to frequent after work. For a London pub, it was small enough to be cosy, but big enough not to get overcrowded. Stuck as it was down a side alley, it
wasn’t known to all and sundry and was the closest I had to a local. I’d rung Charlie when I was on my third pint.

I squinted into my empty glass of vodka and coke. How had it emptied so quickly? I glanced around the pub we were in. Charlie and I seemed to be the only people left, apart from one stalwart propping up the bar. How had that happened? One minute the place had been buzzing and now it was empty.

‘Come on Caz, I think you’ve had enough,’ said Charlie. ‘Time to get you home.’

I suddenly felt very tired and Charlie’s hectoring tone, which would have irritated me normally, suddenly seemed right and proper. Yes. It was time to go home.

‘What time is it?’ I slurred.

‘Late,’ said Charlie as he propelled me to the door. My legs didn’t seem to work very well and twice I found myself sitting on the floor. Sensing somehow that my giggling in coherence wasn’t helping the situation any, I tried to shut up.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Sorry for being such a drunken lush.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s not like I’m not used to it.’

The cold night air hit me as we emerged into the street. Suddenly, I was reeling. Where I’d felt merely drunk before, now I felt wildly out of control. All the way home in the cab that Charlie had commandeered, I babbled away like a mad thing. On and on, till Charlie must have been sick of me.

‘How could she?’ I kept saying. ‘How could she have kept those letters from me?’

‘Maybe she didn’t want to upset you,’ said Charlie as he got me out of the cab and tried to steer me to the front door.

‘And what the fuck do you know about it?’ Suddenly
I turned all my rage with Mum on Charlie. ‘You have no idea what she was like.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ve spent years listening to you telling me. Caz, I don’t need this right now. It’s late. And we’ve both got work in the morning.’

He stood at the front door looking tired and disillusioned. Suddenly I saw with clarity how I must look to him. A crazy drunk whose life was careering out of control. Why on earth was he still friends with me? My anger dissipated as fast as it had come.