Читать книгу The Bridesmaid Pact - Julia Williams - Страница 7

December 1995

‘Have you heard the news?’ Dorrie came bursting into the champagne bar at Kettner’s, where Sarah and I were tucking into a bottle of champagne to celebrate her engagement. I was glad to see Dorrie. The tension between Sarah and me these days was nigh on unbearable. I thought she was making a terrible mistake, but when I said as much she accused me of jealousy. I couldn’t fault her on that, I was jealous that Steve had chosen her not me, but I still thought she’d regret marrying him.

As it was Christmas, the bar was heaving with partying office workers, and it took Dorrie a while to reach our table. Sarah was on an early shift and had got here first, while the photo shoot I’d been working on had descended into a pre Christmas bash, so I had escaped before I got too plastered and decided Charlie was the thing I needed in my life right now. I had enough complications as it was, I didn’t need to bring him into the equation.

‘Ooh, champagne, lovely,’ said Dorrie, squeezing herself into a spot in the corner. ‘Lucky I’m skinny isn’t it?’ She took off her faux fur black coat, to reveal a polka dot black and white vintage dress, which she’d matched with bright red boots. With her Rachel from Friends haircut and her fabulous figure, it was no wonder that nearly every man in the room turned to look at her. But as usual Dorrie was oblivious to her effect on people. She really had no idea how much people adored her, which was part of her ongoing charm. She soon had Sarah and me in stitches, and any latent resentment festering between us was temporarily forgotten.

‘No Beth yet?’ Dorrie asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I did ask her but she’s been so low since Andy the bastard dumped her, I’m not sure she’ll make it.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Dorrie. ‘We should make it our next project to get Beth a man.’

‘What do you mean, our next project?’ said Sarah suspiciously – Dorrie had a habit of involving us in her schemes to make the whole world happy – flicking back her short fair hair. She always said she wore her hair short because it made work easier, but I rather suspected she’d gone for a Meg Ryan look because Steve fancied the pants off her in When Harry Met Sally. Which was just one of many reasons I thought Sarah was making a big mistake.

‘Doh,’ said Dorrie. ‘The Bridesmaid Pact, remember? You’re the first one to get married, so we all have to be your bridesmaids.’

‘Don’t I get any say in the matter?’ laughed Sarah.

‘Nope,’ said Dorrie.

‘You said you had some news?’ I said.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Dorrie. ‘Haven’t you heard? It’s all over the papers. Charles and Di are getting divorced. Can you believe it? It’s so sad.’

‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘There’s the small matter of his infidelity, her infidelity and all that three people in a marriage stuff. I’m surprised after that Panorama interview the Queen didn’t march Di off to the Tower. All that doe-eyed blinking. They’re as bad as each other.’

‘Yeah well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Sarah muttered bitchily.

‘Meaning?’ I said.

‘Meaning I feel sorry for Di,’ said Sarah. She smiled at me sweetly, but there were daggers in her eyes.

I was about to retort that some men just couldn’t keep it in their trousers, when Beth pitched up. She looked wan and too thin, as she was wont to do. Her black hair was greasy, and she wore a frumpy grey coat that looked as if it belonged to her mother. My heart sank. She was in such a bad way. I longed to give her a makeover, but I’d tried that once before, and she’d pushed me away.

‘Hi,’ she said, shyly. Even after all this time, Beth was still timid with us. I longed for her to come out of her shell a bit more. It was unlike me to care about someone the way I did about Beth, but something about her vulnerability touched me. Maybe it was my way of feeling superior. People mostly felt sorry for me. It was nice to feel sorry for someone else for a change.

‘Congrats, Sarah. When’s the big day?’ Beth had taken off her coat to reveal a dull blouse with big lapels and a ghastly bow, and a dark skirt, which hung limply from her skinny frame. Damn, it was difficult to sit there and not suggest ways of improving the way she looked, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. A haircut would be a good start. She’d look good in a bob, I thought, though probably not the longish one I sported, which I’d modelled on Uma Thurman’s in Pulp Fiction. She needed to cut those lanky locks into a shortish bob that framed her pretty oval face.

‘Thanks, Beth,’ said Sarah. ‘We haven’t fixed a date yet, but we’re probably going for September ’97.’

‘Why not next year?’ I said. ‘What’s the delay? Surely you want to get on with it, just in case he changes his mind.’

‘Caz!’ Beth looked at me shocked. ‘That was a bit mean.’

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, ‘bit uncalled for.’

Sarah didn’t say anything, and glossed over my bitchy comment with, ‘I just want everything to be perfect.’

‘Did you see the news?’ said Beth.

‘About Charles and Di?’ said Dorrie. ‘I know. Isn’t it awful?’

‘Oh come on,’ I laughed. ‘Dorrie, how can you take it so seriously? Two people we don’t know and are never likely to meet are getting divorced. People do it all the time.’

‘I know,’ said Dorrie, ‘but it was such a fairytale. And now it’s gone wrong.’

‘It is really sad,’ said Beth.

‘Fairytales, schmairytales,’ I snorted. ‘There’s no such thing as a happy ending.’

‘Blimey, that’s cynical,’ said Sarah. ‘Even for you.’

‘Yeah, well,’ I said, ‘I haven’t had the luck some of you’ve had.’

I was overtaken with a sudden feeling of bitterness, and I got up to go to the loo, just to get away for five minutes. In the safety of the toilets, I stared long and hard at myself in the mirror, before leaning back against the cold tiles. I thought about Sarah and Steve and the things I’d promised never to think about again. Why did I always make such a mess of things? And now I was ruining my best friend’s special night.

‘Pull yourself together, girl,’ I admonished myself in the mirror, reapplying my bright red lipstick as a means of boosting my confidence. Face fixed, I went back to meet the world head on.

When I got back, a slightly geekish-looking bloke was sitting in my place. He was tall and gangly and wore dark specs, and was mooning over Dorrie, who seemed to be mooning back.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ I said, squeezing back into the tiny space the guy had left.

‘Oh yes, sorry. Caz, meet Darren. He’s a microbiologist and works in the next lab to mine.’

Dorrie might look like a film star, but she’s actually super bright and has a fantastically clever job in some kind of medical research that I wouldn’t pretend to understand.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Darren.

I went to shake his hand, and he pulled it away.

‘Sorry, too many germs,’ he said. ‘Do you know the average person never washes their hands after using the toilet?’

‘Well I do,’ I snapped. ‘Why don’t you carry antibacterial spray around with you and have done with it?’

‘I do,’ said Darren. ‘You never know what anyone else has been touching.’

I burst out laughing. ‘Dorrie, your friend is priceless. I shall call him Yakult Man.’

Darren blushed.

‘Don’t mind Caz,’ said Dorrie, ‘she’s not like other folk.’ She touched his arm lightly, and he didn’t pull away.

They sat staring at each other for a bit till Sarah, Beth and I felt quite awkward.

Eventually, Darren got up.

‘Best be off,’ he mumbled. ‘Places to go and all that. Have a great Christmas. Nice meeting you all.’

He walked away, back to his mates who were at the bar, looking the worse for wear.

‘Is he for real?’ I marvelled. ‘You’ve kept him quiet.’

‘There’s nothing to keep quiet about,’ protested Doris. ‘He’s a work colleague is all.’

‘Oh, is he?’ I nudged Doris. Yakult Man hadn’t made it to the bar. He had turned round and was striding purposefully back.

‘You see, the thing is…well…’ he said.

‘Well?’ said Dorrie.

‘Well, I was wondering, if you’re not too busy…I’m sure a gorgeous girl like you has got plenty of dates, but if you hadn’t…’

‘I haven’t,’ said Doris with a grin.

‘Well. If you haven’t…Did you say you hadn’t?’

‘Sure did.’

‘Oh. That’s OK then. It’s all settled. Great.’

He smiled a dopey smile and walked away again.

‘Er, what’s settled?’ she called after him. He stopped and turned around, grinning at her.

‘You, me. A date. Next week. I’ll ring you.’ He continued walking away, backwards this time, until he bumped into a couple of drunks who spilled beer all over him. Our last sight was of him rushing to the toilet, no doubt to get rid of all the millions of germs that had just been dumped unceremoniously on top of him.

‘Dorrie Bradley, how do you do it?’ said Sarah, clapping her hands over her mouth and giggling her head off. ‘That’s the nuttiest proposition I’ve ever heard.’

‘Me too,’ I said.

‘I wish someone would do that to me,’ sighed Beth.

‘Your turn will come,’ said Sarah. ‘Look at me.’

Yes, look at you, I thought silently, but kept my mouth shut for once. This was Sarah’s night.

‘To Sarah and Steve,’ said Dorrie, raising a glass. ‘Long life and happiness.’

‘Sarah and Steve,’ we all echoed.

‘And here’s to the Bridesmaid Pact,’ continued Dorrie. ‘I can’t wait to fulfil it.’

‘One four all and all four one,’ we chorused the mantra of our childhood, before downing our drinks in one. I put my glass down and sat back and looked at Sarah. For someone who was celebrating the happiest event of her life, she looked remarkably pensive. I hoped I hadn’t done that to her.

‘I hope you and Steve are really happy,’ I said with a smile I didn’t feel.

‘Do you? Really?’ Sarah said, searchingly.

‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Sorry I’ve been a bit of a cow about it. Just jealous that your happy-ever-after’s come along I guess. I hope you’ll be very, very happy.’

I took a sip of my champagne, and looked away. At the time, I really thought I meant it.