by Imogen Clark
Beth smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that they never did when we were girls. I know that I have similar crinkles when I smile too.
‘Good!’ she says. ‘Then I’m truly delighted for you both.’ Her smile is wide and genuine, but I’m her best friend and I can tell that there’s something else hidden in her eyes.
‘Have you heard from Greg?’ I ask.
She drops her gaze and gives a tiny shake of her head.
‘Not since I moved out. Apart from the divorce papers, of course.’ She gives a little shrug.
‘You did the right thing,’ I say. ‘It was a brave decision to leave but better to do it earlier than when things got more complicated.’
I always knew that Greg was wrong for Beth. He tried to squash her, to flatten her spirit until she conformed to the image of the wife that he wanted, which, of course, she was never going to do. I think she knew this too but, with that age-old conviction of women in love, she thought she could change him. The split had been relatively amicable. All the assets had been Greg’s, so Beth had just left with her stuff and her little cockapoo, Samson, and moved back into the tumbledown cottage which she had always refused to sell. The divorce would be quick and straightforward.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘And I’m fine. I really am. And, anyway, now I have my best friend’s wedding to plan which will distract me. I assume I’ll be the chief bridesmaid.’
‘Chief and only,’ I say.
‘And the best man?’
‘Some university mate of Simeon’s. Mark. I’ve never met him. We’ve invited him up to stay at Easter so we can get to know each other. Sim is taking him cycling up the Dales. He lives in London so I’m not sure he really knows what he’s in for with all the hills around here. Please say you’ll be around. I was hoping you could come for supper and even the numbers up a bit.’
‘No wife?’ asks Beth.
I shake my head. ‘Apparently not, so it’ll all be a bit laddish at our place for a couple of days. Mark’s organising the stag night as well. Amsterdam.’ I roll my eyes and sigh.
‘What is it about men?’ she asks. ‘They’re so extra when it comes to stag nights.’ Then a thought occurs to her and her eyes sparkle.
‘Do I get to plan your hen night?’
‘I am not having a hen night,’ I say determinedly. ‘There’ll only be you, me and Mrs P. Hardly a wild night out. Let’s just go for afternoon tea at Betty’s and have a glass of fizz or something.’
‘You have to be joking,’ she replies. ‘There will be cocktails at the very least. I’ll have a word with Mrs P and see what we can come up with.’
‘You have to stop calling her that,’ I laugh. ‘She’s Angie.’
‘I know, I know, but she’ll always be Mrs P to me.’
And me, I think.
SPRING
4
Mark, Simeon’s best-man-to-be, is arriving on the four thirty train. Simeon is buzzing to see his friend. I can’t imagine not seeing Beth for three years, but I suppose that’s boys for you. They aren’t always that great at the keeping-in-touch thing.
Our new house is quite small in comparison to the one where I grew up and lived in with Dad. That place was far too much for me and Sim to manage, not to mention all the memories that I wasn’t keen to hang on to. The new one is perfect – a Victorian mid-terrace, built in dark Yorkshire stone, with a paved terrace at the front and a grassy strip of garden at the back. Petite and bijou, as they say. We do have a spare bedroom, though, and so I ready it for our guest. It feels really important to me that Mark likes the house and the life that Simeon and I have built together. I suppose I’m a bit anxious that he might find it lacking in some way, but I try to ignore the little voice in my head that tells me it’s not good enough. I daren’t even think about what he might make of me.
I put some cheerful daffodils in a vase on the chest of drawers and leave a couple of fluffy towels on the end of the bed and then I polish the bathroom until it shines. It all looks lovely.
At four fifteen, the three of us troop down to the station, Lily sitting up alert in her pushchair and taking in everything around her.
‘Did you get the hot cross buns?’ Simeon asks me as we walk along, and I can’t help but smile. He must want everything to be ‘just so’ for his friend too.
‘I did. And some of that tea you like, although, as Mark is “one of the lads”, I imagine you’ll be going to the pub after dinner this evening.’
There’s an edge to my voice that I don’t intend but if Simeon hears it then he doesn’t react.
‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I’m happy staying in. I want him to get to know you. There’ll be plenty of time for chatting when we’re out on the road tomorrow. And we need an early night so that we’re at our best.’ He grins evilly. ‘I’ve got some cracking routes lined up for him. It’d be a killer with a hangover.’
‘Where are you going to take him?’ I ask. Yorkshire is a cyclist’s heaven (or hell, depending on how fit you are).
‘I reckon we’ll do the Tour de France route tomorrow as a steady breaking-him-in day.’
The classic French cycle race had begun in Yorkshire a few years before, causing great excitement amongst cyclists and locals alike.
‘And then I thought I’d take him round the White Rose Classic circuit on Sunday. That should show us what he’s made of.’
‘I thought you wanted him as your best man,’ I say. ‘At this rate he’ll either be not speaking to you or dead!’
‘Oh, it’s not that bad!’ laughs Simeon. ‘We’ll do the medium one. That’s only eighty miles . . .’
‘Most of which are uphill!’ I point out, but Simeon just shrugs.
We wait on the platform for the train, which trundles in on time. I’m really quite nervous about meeting this man now. Simeon says that he’s great and that the pair of us will get on like a house on fire, but Simeon is so much better with people than I am. I worry that I’ll come across as standoffish or unfriendly and all of a sudden, I feel very provincial and unsophisticated.
The passengers disembark and stream down the platform towards us. Simeon is scanning the heads as they pass by. There is no sign of Mark until almost everyone has gone. Then a man appears with a big rucksack and a bike, which he bounces down from the carriage and pushes along the platform towards us. He looks relaxed and not a bit nervous.
‘There he is,’ says Simeon and then sets off towards his friend, his arms wide. I hang back with Lily and the pushchair.
‘Mark!’ says Simeon as he reaches him. ‘So good to see you, mate.’
He flings his arms around him and they embrace.
‘You’re looking great,’ he adds when they pull apart. ‘Here, come and meet the family.’
He starts to lead Mark towards us and I pull my shoulders back and stand up straight, fixing a smile on my face. Mark is a little bit taller than Simeon and broader too. He looks fit, so maybe the killer bike rides that Simeon has planned won’t be too arduous for him. As they get closer, I see that he’s fairly ordinary-looking. Brown hair thinning a little at the hairline, smallish eyes and a strong jaw covered in sandy stubble.
‘And so, this is the girl that’s stolen my mate’s heart,’ he says as he approaches.
I haven’t been a girl for nearly twenty years, but I gloss over that.
‘Mark. Hi,’ I say brightly. ‘So good to meet you. Simeon has told me so much about you.’
That’s not true either but it’s the right thing to say and I don’t mind telling the odd white lie. He leans in for the little air kisses that have become de rigueur and which I hate. I offer my cheek up to his bristly chin.
‘And this is Lily,’ I add.
Lily gives him one of her brightest smiles and I’m hit by a rush of pride, but Mark doesn’t look at her and so misses it. I stroke her head and smile back at her, not wanting her to take this slight personally. I know, she’s only seven months old, but still.
‘Good journey?’ asks
Simeon and then the two of them set off ahead of me, Simeon shouldering Mark’s bag and Mark pushing the bike confidently with one hand. They chat as if they only saw each other last week and I’m relieved. Even though I haven’t heard much about Mark, it’s obvious that he is the kind of friend that qualifies as best-man material. Immediately, Beth pops into my mind and I hope that the two of them are going to get along.
We reach the house and Simeon locks the bike away in the shed with his.
‘I’ll put the kettle on then, shall I?’ I ask but Mark slaps his arm around Simeon’s shoulder and says, ‘I think this calls for more than just tea. A grand reunion and a wedding on top? What we need, mate, is beer.’
I think of the conversation that Simeon and I had not half an hour earlier and wait for him to tell Mark about the big day he has planned for them and how tea would be a better idea, but Simeon is grinning.
‘I think you might be right,’ he says. ‘The local’s just around the corner. Does a reasonable pint. And none of your London prices either.’
‘And not too far to stagger home at closing time,’ replies Mark, doing an impression of a drunk trying to walk.
‘We’re not going for a session, mate,’ Simeon says. ‘Just you wait until you hear what I’ve got lined up for you tomorrow. You’ll be grateful that I didn’t let you have a skinful tonight.’
Mark shrugs.
‘Who are you and what did you do with the real Simeon Blake?’ he asks, but Sim just grins at him.
‘We’ll be back as planned, Ca,’ he says. ‘Beth’s coming at seven, right? Beth’s Cara’s chief bridesmaid, Mark. You’ll like her.’
A laddish look passes between the two of them but luckily they don’t verbalise what is in their minds or I might have had to step in to defend Beth’s honour.
‘Right! Pub it is,’ says Simeon. ‘See you in a bit.’
And then he kisses me and they leave, the door shutting decisively behind them. I think of the hot cross buns that I’d bought. They will be hard by tomorrow. Still, the two men haven’t seen each other for years. They have a lot of catching up to do and if I’m honest, I’d rather they did that where I didn’t have to join in. There’s nothing duller than other people’s university stories.
5
True to his word, Simeon brings Mark back by six thirty and neither of them appears to be the worse for wear. I am almost ready. Lily is bathed and playing happily on her mat whilst she waits for her last feed. The table is set in the corner of the kitchen and I have chosen an acoustic playlist and put tea lights into little glass holders to create a nice ambience. The food is simple and quick so there’s no need to spend hours slaving over the stove – which is good, as cooking really isn’t my thing.
I take Mark upstairs to show him where he’ll be staying. He doesn’t comment on the room but then I suppose he is a man, so I try not to take the lack of a compliment personally.
‘And the bathroom is just there,’ I add, pointing to the open door.
‘No ensuite?’ he asks, and I feel myself bristle. ‘It’s just like when Simmo and me were students, all sharing. Except I’m much better house-trained these days.’
He winks at me and I give him a tight little smile in return. It’s hard not to be offended by his comparison of my beautiful home to student digs but I do my best. I take a deep breath through my nose and say, ‘Why don’t you get yourself settled, Mark, and then come down when you’re ready.’
‘Cool,’ he says and then retreats into the spare room.
I head downstairs with a growing feeling of disquiet in the pit of my stomach. Going by what I’ve seen so far, I can’t quite imagine Mark and Simeon as close friends. Mark seems a little crass when set next to my gentle Sim but I tell myself that I’ve only just met him and if Sim likes him so much then he must have some redeeming features, even if they do appear to be buried quite deep.
Shortly after this Beth arrives, clutching a bottle of white wine and a bag of chocolate mini eggs, which she passes to me as she takes her coat off.
‘Well?’ she whispers. ‘What’s he like?’
‘The jury’s still out,’ I say, but I don’t get the chance to add any details as Simeon is already in the sitting room when we go in. He is rocking Lily in his arms.
‘I think someone is ready for bed,’ he says, running a finger down Lily’s tiny nose. I can see her eyelids drooping. ‘Shall I give her her bottle?’ he asks.
I want to do that so that I can escape upstairs, but it makes more sense for me to stay put and get to know Mark a bit better, and it’ll be easier to chat now that Beth has arrived.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
I get Beth a glass of wine and then we sit and wait for Mark to reappear. I’m desperate to tell her what I think of him but I’m nervous in case he walks right into the middle of the conversation so instead we chat about the things that have happened since I saw her last. We are about halfway down our glasses when Mark arrives. He’s got changed and is wearing a crisp white shirt and a jacket with his jeans. I’d been half expecting him to appear in track pants and an old tee shirt so it’s good to know that he seems to be making an effort.
I pour him a glass of wine as I introduce Beth and she gets a kiss on the cheek too. She looks lovely; a little too thin perhaps, after the split with Greg, but she has clearly taken time over her hair and make-up and I feel proud of her. Then I realise that I know next to nothing about Mark’s relationship status, which gives me the impetus for a conversation at least.
‘Are you married, Mark?’ I ask.
He shakes his head.
‘No, not yet,’ he says. ‘Since uni, I’ve pretty much had my head down with work.’
‘What do you do?’ Beth asks him.
‘Finance,’ he says without further explanation. ‘And you?’
‘Oh, I’m just a nurse,’ she says.
‘There’s no “just” about that!’ I say, not wanting Beth to belittle herself now that Greg isn’t there putting her down all the time. ‘It’s one of the hardest jobs in the world.’
‘And one of the least appreciated,’ adds Mark.
Beth drops her chin and looks up at him, giving him a pretty smile. I can’t quite decide if it’s genuine or not. And I can’t make Mark out either. Part of me really isn’t sure about him but then he says something like that and I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. And on top of that Simeon clearly thinks the world of him and I think the world of Simeon . . . ergo.
I cast around for another conversational starter for ten.
‘These two are going to do Le Grand Départ route tomorrow,’ I say, and Beth turns the corners of her mouth down and nods appreciatively.
‘Impressive,’ she says.
‘Well, anything the world’s most elite cyclists can do we can do better,’ he kind of sings.
‘And the White Rose the following day,’ I add, feeling a little smug.
‘What is that?’ asks Beth. She hasn’t had the benefit of dating a cyclist. Cycling really wasn’t Greg’s scene.
‘It’s a race route,’ I explain. ‘Goes out to Otley then up the Dales round to Settle and back.’
Beth’s eyes widen and Mark, taking her lead, throws me a questioning look.
‘Is that bad?’ he asks.
‘That depends how much you like cycling up hills,’ I say, and we all laugh slightly awkwardly and take a mouthful of our drinks. ‘I did tell Sim that it would be better if he didn’t kill his best man until after the wedding,’ I add with a smile.
Mark shrugs and expands his chest a little, pulling his shoulders back in the process.
‘I keep myself pretty fit,’ he says. ‘I’m sure I’ll cope.’
There it is again, I think. That cockiness. That’s the thing I don’t like about Mark, I realise now. I find his underlying self-confidence unattractive. It’s probably a reaction against my own lack of it but still, it grates on me.
‘Wouldn’t it make more sense to do them the
other way around?’ asks Beth. ‘Do the big ride tomorrow and then the other the day after?’
Simeon arrives then. He still has a muslin slung over his shoulder from feeding Lily and his hair is sticking up in tufts where he’s been leaning against the headboard of our bed. Bless him.
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ he says. ‘And the forecast is clearer for tomorrow. We’ll get better views of Pen-y-ghent. What do you reckon, Mark?’
‘I’m in your hands, mate,’ he says. ‘Happy to just do what you tell me.’
Simeon nods thoughtfully. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘We’ll swap them over. Good shout, Beth.’
Now that Simeon has reappeared, I feel like I can leave them to it and go to sort the food out, so I excuse myself and retreat to the kitchen. I assume that Beth will follow and when she doesn’t, I’m slightly put out. Mark is telling a filthy joke and I can hear Simeon roaring with laughter. I’ve never heard him laugh like that. I didn’t even know that he liked mucky jokes.
But then I give myself a stern talking to as I toss the salad. I’m being ridiculous. Come on, Cara, grow up!
6
BETH
Well, that was a fun evening. It’s always lovely to see Cara and Simeon, of course, but Simeon’s friend Mark was a laugh too. I mean, he’s a bit pleased with himself, bordering on smug, in fact, but he could still poke fun at himself and that’s what counts. Greg was rubbish at that. Things were only ever funny at someone else’s expense, usually mine, his slightly dim wife. Mark can at least see how pompous he sounds sometimes and laugh at his own silliness.
Not that I’m in the market for a new man. I’m enjoying being back in my little cottage with my not-so-little puppy and I am totally focused on getting things back to the way they were before. It’s a big ask. It’s not easy to accept firstly that you’ve made a mistake and then that it can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try. And I did try hard. I did everything I could to make my marriage work. I think Greg tried too but in the end . . .
Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge now. I need to focus on the future and move on, because if I spend time thinking about the ‘what ifs’ and all the hopes and dreams that I had wrapped up in my new life with Greg then I’d never get out of bed in the morning.