Читать книгу The Bridesmaid Pact - Julia Williams - Страница 11

Doris

‘Welcome to Disney’s Fantallusion!’ the audio recording boomed out as we stood in the chilly March night air waiting for the fireworks. We’d missed the start of the parade, but were just in time to see the brightly lit floats carrying all the Disney characters from Jasmine and Aladdin to Belle and the Beast into the Central Plaza and up towards the Town Square. Jasmine and Aladdin’s carpet actually flew, and Belle and the Beast did a majestic waltz. It was glitzy and tacky and I didn’t care one bit. I was like a pig in clover.

This was why I’d come, for the delicious feeling of it being night and the place being brightly lit and all my favourite Disney characters dancing on great big fuck-off platforms. It reminded me of when Dad took me to Florida every year, and made me feel like a kid again: warm, safe and secure. There was something about the memory of those trips that made me yearn for a more innocent time, when I really did believe in a happy-ever-after. As usual, when I thought about Dad, and remembered the way he used to squeeze my hand, and say, ‘Look, kiddo, is that the best or what?’ whenever a particularly big rocket went off, I got a lump in my throat. I still missed him so badly, I could almost hear his voice in my head. I hadn’t wanted him to die, but neither had I wanted him to live the way he had been living.

The place was buzzing with families, huddling together for warmth. There were masses of excited children rushing around in the dark, small children trustfully holding their parents’ hands, just like I had on that long-ago childhood trip. Mind you, judging by the wails of some of the younger ones, they were ready for their beds. I felt a pang and thought about Woody, my eight-month-old. Tonight was the first night I hadn’t put him to bed since he was born, and I missed his baby smell, and his chubby cheeks and the way he cooed when I poured water over his head in the bath. I loved the way he clapped his hands and played peek-a-boo under the blankets. Woody had brought joy back into my life, during a time when I thought I’d never feel happy again. When he was bigger, I’d have to come back with him and Darren. If I were still able to of course. I shoved the thought from my mind. I’d promised myself no negativity this weekend. None. Whatsoever. It wasn’t allowed.

‘Fantallusion?’ Beth rolled her eyes. ‘What kind of word is that?’

‘Does it matter?’ I said. ‘Isn’t this fun?’

‘No!’ the other three said in unison. ‘We only came because you wanted to.’

‘You have to admit, Do, it is incredibly tacky,’ said Caz.

‘Says the girl who got married in a Las Vegas wedding chapel,’ I retorted. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of tack. You lot ought to know me well enough by now. Talking of which, why aren’t you all wearing your flashing Minnie Mouse ears?’

‘If this wasn’t your weekend, I think I might have to kill you,’ said Caz, but she put on her ears anyway. And afterwards, even Caz had to admit we’d been treated to the most fabulous firework display any of us had ever seen.

When it was over, we slowly made our way back through the crowds to our hotel. It had been a good call to be staying so close to the park; apart from the obvious pleasure of staying in a Toy Story-themed bedroom, I was grateful not to have to walk too far. I tired so easily these days. Darren hadn’t wanted me to come, of course, but I had laughed off his concerns. Nothing, but nothing was going to ruin my hen weekend with the girls.

‘I hadn’t realized you were that pissed,’ Caz laughed at me as I stumbled and fell for the second time, as we reached the entrance of the park.

‘Must be out of practice,’ I said. ‘I’ve had nine months off, remember. And I don’t go out that much any more.’

If only I were pissed. If only things were that simple.

We got back to my room, raided the minibar and were soon all sprawled out on the massive double bed having a general gossip session. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. It did me so much good to be with the Fab Four. It always had done. Ever since we first met and I called us by that name.

I’d just moved to Northfields. Mum had got a job on a soap in London, while Dad was able to take up a research post at a London university, and it was convenient for town. They both wanted me to go to school in the UK, because Mum didn’t want me growing up with an American accent and Dad preferred the academic rigour of the English education system. They could have afforded to send me private, but it went against their principles and they wanted me to go to a Catholic school, which is how I ended up at St Philomena’s primary school, sitting next to Beth McCarthy, who wore dark plaits, had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and who barely ever said anything, just sat there chewing her pen. It didn’t matter to me though, like I was always telling her, I could talk enough for the both of us.

Beth, Sarah and I went to Brownies together, so soon I found myself playing with them on a regular basis. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sarah was easy and confident, in a way that Beth wasn’t, and I liked her instantly. But I was always conscious of another scraggy-looking dark-haired girl with the palest face and dark circles round her eyes, hovering angrily on the fringes, refusing our offers to play and yet never quite being able to tear herself away. That was Caz. She’d known Sarah forever and was jealous of me to begin with, I think. But I made her laugh, and over time she realized I really was no threat. I just wanted to be friends with everyone. Still do.

‘So, how are the wedding plans going?’

‘Great,’ I said, in reply to Caz, who had asked the question casually, from the edge of the bed, even now acting like the outsider. My heart ached for her. I wish she could give up on some of that stubborn pride and realize that none of us hated her, not even Sarah. Not really. In fact it was Sarah’s confession to me about the way things were between her and Steve which had made me determined to have Caz here. I’ve always thought it stupid for two women to allow a man to come between their friendship. Particularly when it’s a worthless one like Steve.

‘Are you keeping up the Disney theme?’ Caz said – she was the only one who wasn’t privy to all my plans.

‘What do you think?’ Sarah grinned. I shot her a grateful look, I knew how hard this was for her and she was at least trying. ‘She’s going for the whole Cinderella-getting-married thing. If it were up to Doris she’d even have a pumpkin carriage.’

‘Believe you me, I tried,’ I said. ‘It’s the only thing you can’t apparently buy on eBay.’

‘So what are your bridesmaids going to be wearing then?’ Caz asked.

There was an awkward pause and no one said anything.

‘What? What have I said?’ asked Caz.

Beth looked at me and blushed and then lowered her eyes again.

‘I’m not having bridesmaids,’ I said.

‘What?’ Caz looked at me in disbelief. ‘But…but…Bridesmaids. Getting married. The Bridesmaid Pact. I mean that’s your thing. I know the rest of us have cocked it up, but I just assumed you wouldn’t.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Sarah cattily. ‘The rest of us didn’t cock it up. Besides, if Doris has any sense she’d never invite you to be her bridesmaid. You only bring trouble.’

‘Oh that’s right, rub it in,’ said Caz. ‘Isn’t it possible that a person can change?’

‘You tell me?’ The hostility that had been bubbling under the surface all evening suddenly burst out into the open, to my utter dismay. I’d so hoped Caz and Sarah could sort things out. As ever, I was too optimistic. Darren’s always telling me my chief failing is that I look for the best in people and situations. Maybe some hurts can never heal.

‘Girls, girls,’ I said clapping my hands, and trying to lighten the mood, ‘that’s exactly why I can’t have any bridesmaids. I don’t want it to be pistols at dawn at the altar. If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you. So there are going to be no bridesmaids at my wedding. End of.’

Caz opened her mouth and shut it again, rendered for once in her life speechless.

‘Don’t all gawp at me,’ I said. ‘You should be grateful. You should have seen the dresses I was planning to make you wear.’