The Bridesmaid Pact (17 page)

I felt shy and foolish. I was the youngest here by miles. But everyone made me feel very at home and I quickly learnt that black humour was the order of the day, and it seemed to be what pulled them all through.

‘I was a right misery guts before I came here,’ confided Flo. ‘Now I’m fed through a tube and my guts can go stuff themselves.’

‘You want to watch it though,’ said an older man called Tony. ‘I used to be able to do cartwheels before I met this lot.’

‘I’m sure they put something in the tea to keep us all quiet,’ said Carol, another quieter woman who walked with a stick.

Despite my initial reservations, it was a relief to talk to people who understood what I was going through. They were full of practical advice on everything from how to deal with the pins and needles which afflicted me regularly, to how to adapt my house should I need to.

‘I don’t want to think about that yet,’ I said. ‘It’s too soon.’

‘Ah, still finding it hard to accept, are we?’ said Tony.

‘You could say that,’ I said. ‘But really, I was only diagnosed six months ago, after my baby was born. And so far, apart from falling down a bit – well, a lot – and having pins and needles in my arms and legs, I don’t have that many symptoms.’

‘We’ve all been there, love,’ said Carol with sympathy. ‘You’re only at the start of this, it’s bound to be scary. But look at us, we’re all here and surviving.’

‘Have they told you what type of MS you have?’ Flo said.

‘Um – no,’ I said. ‘I’ve only seen the consultant once.’

‘What?’ everyone chorused.

‘You must go back,’ said Tony. ‘There are things they can do.’

‘Like what?’ I said. ‘I can take all the drugs in the world, but I’m still going to end up in a wheelchair.’

‘You mustn’t think like that. Not everyone ends up in a wheelchair,’ said Carol. ‘You have to live in the now. Think about the positives in your life. What have you got to look forward to?’

They were saying all the things that Darren had been saying to me for months. And the optimistic, positive side of me was beginning to resurface.

‘Well, I’m getting married in September,’ I said.

‘That’s great,’ said Flo encouragingly. ‘You’ve got a lovely baby and a new life to plan. Focus on that rather than your symptoms.’

Slowly, gradually, I started to feel better, as I talked to these disparate lovely folk.

‘You know most of us have been living with this for a long time,’ said Tony. ‘I’ve had it for fifteen years. It doesn’t have to be a life sentence, even if it seems like that now.’

‘I’ll try and bear that in mind,’ I said.

‘And look at me,’ said Carol. ‘I’ve currently been in remission for two years. It’s not the life I imagined I’d lead, but I do have a life that I enjoy and live to the full.’

‘What about you?’ I turned to Flo, who was nodding wisely through all of this. ‘How long have you had it?’

I imagined she’d say at least five years – Dad’s condition had taken that long to take hold.

‘Ah, well I’ve not been quite so lucky as the others,’ said Flo simply. ‘Two years ago I was as fit as you. Now look at me. Pretty much fit for nothing.’

‘You’re still fit for one thing,’ Tony winked at her lasciviously.

‘You are awful,’ said Flo.

‘But you like me,’ said Tony and they were both off, roaring with laughter.

Two years.
Two years
. What if that happened to me? I looked around at the group. They’d done their best to make me feel positive, but right now, I’d never felt less cheerful in my life.

April 2005

‘Is the car here yet?’ Mum must have asked the same question a thousand times. ‘Oh what’s the matter with him? We’re going to be late.’

‘Will you hush, woman,’ said Dad, ever calm and pragmatic. ‘The car’s booked to come at 1.30, it’s only 1.15 now and your photographer man’s after taking that many pictures he’ll probably make us all late anyway.’

‘I can’t believe the timing of this,’ said Mum, flapping some more. ‘What with the Holy Father dying, maybe we should have cancelled the wedding.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Dad and I said automatically, and then we laughed out loud. This was, after all, the woman who’d made us drive around Wimbledon late at night when John Paul II had come to England on the strength of a rumour that he was staying in the area.

‘I’m sure His Holiness won’t be turning in his grave because our Beth is getting married today,’ said Dad.

‘Well Prince Charles changed his wedding plans to Camilla, and he’s not even a Catholic,’ sniffed Mum. ‘Not that I approve of him getting married again. Doesn’t seem right to that poor girl.’

‘And he got to go to the funeral and we didn’t,’ I said, although I’m sure Mum would have gone to Rome if she could have wangled it. The day before, I’d been forced to watch the whole Papal funeral while writing out table settings.

‘And wouldn’t that have been a fine thing to do,’ sighed Mum.

‘But it’s a finer thing that we’re finally marrying our Beth off,’ said Dad, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘I suppose so,’ said Mum. ‘But Elizabeth, can’t you pull that veil straight.’ She turned her attention to me and I patiently submitted to having my veil, which was perfectly all right, rearranged for the thousandth time.

I loved my wedding dress, which, daringly for me, was strapless (‘You can’t flaunt yourself like that in God’s church!’ had been Mum’s initial horrified response, but I’d won her round), with a flared-in waist and a wide skirt that flowed out behind me. The bodice was decorated in delicate lace patterns. With my dark hair coiled in curls on top of my head, the gorgeous ivory satin shoes Dorrie had managed to find me, and the train that went down my back, I felt like a million dollars. Thanks to my falling out with Caz at the hen night, she clearly could no longer be expected to do my make-up, so I’d had to make do with the hairdresser down the road. She’d done an OK job but I knew Caz would have done better. For the longest time I hadn’t cared about my appearance and Caz was always nagging me to let her make me over. The night I was finally persuaded to was the night I met Matt at a work colleagues’ birthday. Another reason I had to feel grateful to her.

Guiltily, part of me had wanted to ask her to come along again. Caz had been a good friend to me on more than one
occasion, but she knew too much about me, and was so unpredictable, I daren’t let her. What if she got drunk and blurted out my secret to Matt?

Mum had been horrified when I told her that Caz wasn’t going to be my bridesmaid after all.

‘But what about the dress?’ she kept saying. ‘We spent a fortune on it.’

She was so busy bewailing that she didn’t really quiz me too much on why Caz was no longer coming, so I fudged some story about Caz having to go on a last-minute assignment that she couldn’t get out of, and promised I’d resell the dress on eBay.

‘Well, at least you’ve still got two bridesmaids,’ she’d sniffed.

‘Yes,’ I said brightly, determined not to show how upset I was at the loss of my third.

‘I’m so sorry, Beth.’ Sarah appeared, looking ashen, the pale blue strappy dress that I’d chosen turning out not to be a good look for someone who was newly pregnant and looking rather green. You could see the faint swelling of her tummy and I wished I’d chosen a dress with a looser fit. Too late now of course. ‘Can I use your loo again?’

‘Of course,’ I said. It was the third time Sarah had been sick. She’d had a terrible time with morning sickness first time around but this seemed to be interminable. I hoped she wasn’t going to throw up in the bridal car.

‘Car’s here!’ Mum screeched. ‘Where are the bridesmaids?’

Dorrie, who of course looked fabulous in the blue, was comforting Sarah in the loo, and I was trying to be supportive, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed. This was my day, and the fact that my friend was pregnant seemed to be taking over.

Finally, Sarah was recovered enough to leave the house, and she went off palely with Dorrie and Mum and my youngest cousin Niall, who Mum had assured me would make an adorable pageboy. I had my doubts, having already found him trying to stuff the cat in the washing machine.

‘So, just you and me then, Dad,’ I said. I felt sick and dizzy. ‘I hope nothing else is going to go wrong.’

‘And what could possibly go wrong with you looking like such a princess?’ said my dad, my hero, the first love of my life. ‘It’s your big day, sweetheart, you go and enjoy it.’

He was right, this was my big day. I tried to remember it as we pulled up outside the church and I had to avoid the neat pile of sick left by Sarah as she’d arrived.

Enjoying my day might take some doing…

Sarah

‘Right, so what kind of ridiculous dresses do you want us to wear?’ I said. We’d all convened at Beth’s house. She was meant to be resting after her second IVF treatment, and after Dorrie’s revelation, I felt it was more important than ever that we fulfil her dearest wish. I didn’t know whether I was breaking a confidence, but I’d told the others what Dorrie had told me. I figured it would iron out any lingering doubts we had about the four of us being together again, and despite not feeling one hundred per cent happy to be in Caz’s presence – as far as I was concerned, she was still on probation – it was time we put our differences aside and thought about the one person who’d always, always thought about all of us.

I was glad I’d done it. I’d told Dorrie I was going to let the others know about her condition and I could see she was pretty choked when she arrived and saw all three of us waiting for her. But being Dorrie, she pulled herself together and put on her cheery face to say, ‘Well, I rather thought you could all be Disney princesses, of course.’

‘You
are
joking?’ said Caz, groaning.

‘You know I’d never joke about a matter as serious as
that,’ said Dorrie, a glint of her old self returning, but I could see this was an effort for her.

‘I’m going to be Cinderella, naturally,’ Dorrie continued. ‘But Sarah, I thought you could be Snow White, Beth, Sleeping Beauty and Caz can be Belle.’

‘No way am I wearing a Snow White costume,’ I said flatly. ‘I’m sorry, Dorrie, but I’ll look ridiculous.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to,’ Doris reassured me. ‘You can wear the dress she wears at her wedding instead; Caz can have the yellow dress that Belle wears when she’s dancing with the Beast—’

‘How appropriate,’ muttered Caz, ‘I seem to have had my fair share of beasts.’

‘—and Beth, I’ve got a lovely pink Sleeping Beauty dress for you.’

‘What do you mean, you’ve got a dress for me already?’ said Beth, puzzled. ‘How did you organize that so fast?’

‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said Dorrie. ‘eBay is a wonderful thing. Actually, I bought all the dresses months ago, hoping that I’d get my bridesmaids in the end.’

‘Dorrie, you’re priceless,’ I laughed. ‘But what if we hadn’t agreed to do this?’

‘I’d have been devastated,’ admitted Dorrie. ‘I had everything crossed that you would eventually come round.’

I knew this was directed at me. I’d had no idea that Dorrie had been so determined, though I should have guessed, I suppose.

‘What would you have done with the dresses if we hadn’t?’ said Caz.

‘Oh, I’d have kept them,’ said Dorrie airily. ‘For the next time we had to go to a Disney-themed fancy dress party.’

‘When on earth will that be?’ I said. ‘I don’t know anyone
who has Disney fancy dress parties who isn’t five years old.’

‘Well, I’d have one,’ said Dorrie. ‘But I’m really glad I’m not going to have to do that.’

She looked around at us all, beaming, and we tried to smile back, but I know we were all thinking the same thing. There was a slightly awkward pause, which Caz broke in her direct way. ‘So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or what?’

‘What elephant? What room?’ said Doris. ‘I can’t see any elephants.’

‘Don’t be obtuse,’ said Caz. ‘If no one else is going to say it, I will. How bad is it, Dorrie?’

Dorrie didn’t answer straight away. She looked away from us all, as if trying to compose herself.

‘It’s bad,’ she said simply. ‘That’s all you need to know. I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You should have told us,’ said Beth. ‘You’re the one who always looks after us. You must know that we want to look after you.’

‘I do,’ said Dorrie. ‘I just don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I’m not sorry for me. I’ve got Daz and Woody, and we’ll get through it somehow.’

‘But is it – do you think – I mean – is it terminal?’ blurted out Beth, her dark eyes anxious and worried. ‘It doesn’t have to be, right? Sarah?’

I paused. ‘I don’t know much about it,’ I said. ‘But MS is a really difficult disease to predict with accuracy. Some people have long periods of remission when they’re quite well, and some have the progressive form which moves really fast.’

‘And what form do you have?’ Caz asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Doris. ‘I was only diagnosed six months ago. It’s too early to tell. But if it’s anything like the version Dad had, I could be in a wheelchair in a few years’ time.’

‘Oh Dorrie!’ said Beth, tears in her eyes. ‘That’s terrible.’

‘Oh Beth, don’t take it to heart so,’ said Dorrie, giving her a hug. ‘Let’s look on the bright side, eh? Just because Dad had it like that, doesn’t mean it has to be that way for me. My Auntie Sophie’s got it too and has had it for years. I’ll be fine, I’m sure. And right now we’re concentrating on my wedding day. It’s taken years for me to drag Darren down the aisle, I’m not about to give up on it now. And I refuse to have bad thoughts. Not when I’ve got to find ways to humiliate you all.’

‘How’s Darren coping with it?’ Beth wanted to know.

‘Fine. He’s brilliant. Supportive. Lovely. Everything you’d expect,’ said Doris. ‘That’s why I’m marrying him.’

She wouldn’t be drawn beyond that. So we all tried to be cheerful for her. But from time to time I caught a look in her eye that was so sad and lost, it made my heart ache. No one deserved what Dorrie had. Least of all someone as lovely as her.

‘So how are
you
doing?’ Joe had taken to pitching up unexpectedly after work to check on how I was. I didn’t know whether he’d spoken to Steve, who was barely ever here any more. Sometimes he came home at the weekends to take the boys out – we’d at least managed to break the bad news to them together, and so far they were coping with the new state of affairs – but mainly he seemed to be spending time with Kirsty. At least, that’s where I presumed he was. Every time he left again, some more of his stuff
disappeared. It was like he was leaving me by degrees. I presumed they were shacked up in his flat in town. Maybe he’d had Kirsty installed in it years ago. I didn’t really want to know. The thought of it made me feel sick, as did the thought of starting divorce proceedings. I knew I was going to have to do it eventually, but I couldn’t bring myself to start just yet.

‘Oh, so so,’ I said. ‘You know. Good days and bad days.’

‘And today?’

‘Today’s a really bad day,’ I said. ‘The drains have blocked, Sam’s had a temperature half the night and been throwing up all day, I’ve had your mum on the phone telling me I should give Steve another chance. It’s all been a bit crap really. But you don’t want to listen to me going on.’

‘I think I can cope,’ said Joe. ‘What have you eaten today?’

‘Um, a doughnut at lunchtime and the kids’ leftovers at tea,’ I said.

‘Not good enough,’ said Joe. ‘I thought you were looking thin. You finish getting the kids to bed, I’ll sort your drains out, and then I’ll cook you dinner.’

‘But I’ve got nothing in,’ I protested.

‘Lucky I came prepared then,’ said Joe, holding up two bags of shopping.

By the time I got back downstairs, Joe had cleared the drains. ‘I just needed to give it a bit of a poke with the rodding iron, and it cleared through quickly,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you some stuff for cleaning them out next time I come.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ I said. ‘That’s such a relief. Steve always deals – dealt – with that kind of thing. Thank god he’s still paying the bills, I don’t know how I’d manage if he didn’t.’

‘Yeah, well he’ll have to answer to me if he starts mucking you about,’ said Joe. ‘Now sit yourself down, drink this glass
of wine, while I set about cooking.’ He’d already cleared up the kids’ tea and set the table.

‘But—’ I started to protest.

‘But nothing,’ said Joe firmly. ‘You’re to do nothing, you understand?’

‘Did Steve send you out of guilt?’ I asked, sipping at my wine. It was lovely to be bossed about and have someone doing all the work for a change.

‘No,’ said Joe. ‘I came because I worry about you. My big bro has some great qualities, but he’s an utter pillock when it comes to women. If you were mine, I’d never have let you go.’

My heart gave a little lift at that and I felt a warm glow descend on me. I knew Joe was just being nice, but it was an age since I’d felt so pampered and cared for. It was a nice feeling to think that Joe, at least, thought a lot of me.

‘Have you thought about what you’re going to do?’ said Joe.

‘I’m job hunting right now,’ I said. ‘It’s difficult though. I can’t really do it until Will goes to school in September, and I really need term-time hours. The people on my back to work course are being very helpful though. I’ve seen a part-time position at our local GP’s surgery. But that wouldn’t be enough to live on. I expect we’ll have to sell up, and move into something smaller. I couldn’t manage the mortgage on my own.’

‘That seems a shame,’ said Joe. ‘This place is so lovely.’

‘Do you think?’ I pulled a face. ‘I loved it when we moved in, but now it just seems like an empty shell. I don’t want to live here any more. Anyway, let’s change the subject. How are things in the furniture business?’

Joe made and sold his own furniture, which had always
fascinated me. We had a few of his pieces in the house, though I suspect Steve had only bought them out of a sense of duty. He preferred modern, shiny – to my mind, sterile – furniture, whereas Joe’s more traditional creations seemed altogether cosier and nicer to me.

‘Business is a bit tough at the moment,’ said Joe, ‘but we seem to be weathering the recession OK.’

‘Still no woman on the horizon?’ The wine had loosened my tongue and I was teasing Joe in a way I was used to doing. Despite the odd fling here and there, Joe had stayed resolutely single all the time I’d known him. Steve and I joked with him about it a lot. Although suddenly, without Steve, teasing Joe didn’t feel so much like a joke.

‘Well, there’s only ever been one woman for me,’ he said lightly.

I became uncomfortably aware of his gorgeous blue eyes boring into mine. It felt he was penetrating my soul. I thought back to our wedding day, when Joe had been annoyed with Steve. I’d been too preoccupied to pay attention at the time, and since then he’d only ever shown me brotherly concern. Oh my god…

‘I can’t think who that could be,’ I joked back lightly. Change the subject, you idiot. Change it now.

His eyes locked onto mine. They really were the most startling shade of blue. How come I’d never noticed that before?

‘Can’t you?’

I swallowed and started to clear the dishes away.

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ I said. ‘I’ve had a lovely evening and I’m so grateful for all your help, but I’ve got an early start in the morning—’ I gave an exaggerated yawn.

‘Yes, it probably is time I was off.’ Joe took his cue from
me, helped me get the things in the dishwasher, and then saw himself to the front door.

He enveloped me in a huge bear hug in the doorway. It felt so good to be held. So good. I allowed him to hold me a fraction longer than was necessary.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Thanks for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

He let me go and pecked me on the cheek.

‘Bye then,’ he said, turning to go.

I felt a mild surge of disappointment, until he suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me passionately on the mouth.

‘Oh shit,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry.’ And disappeared into the night.