by Ella Craig
Linda scowled at him and then turned to Kath.
‘I appreciate this is rather short notice, Kathryn dear, what with the wedding being on Saturday, but we want you to be a bridesmaid. Would you be prepared to take the place of Suky? She has glandular fever.’
No, no, bloody no! ‘Er, yes, I would love to,’ Kath said in a weak voice. A glance at her mother told her unpleasant things would happen if she refused. Never mind, it would keep her busy. There might even be a handsome best man to sweep her off her feet.
‘Of course, the gown will require altering. What dress size do you take? You look like a fourteen or a sixteen, and Suky is a size ten,’ Linda tutted. ‘Aren’t you lucky Claire chose the empire style?’ She picked up her handbag and marched out of the shop without saying goodbye.
‘I’m not fat, am I, Mum?’
‘No! A little plump, but not fat and you should know better than to take anything Linda says to heart. And so should you, George.’
George looked sheepish. ‘It’s said and done now. Anyone fancy a cuppa?’
‘Not for me, thanks, I’ve got things to do,’ Kath made her apologies and left them to it. She didn’t stay in case her mother started a discussion about Darren. So far, she had kept quiet about the whole thing. She always knew when to back off. Although whenever Miles’ name was mentioned, she was back to her usual wordiness. She wondered if her mother and Jenny had been comparing notes.
Back in her flat, Kath tried not to slip back into her trance-like vegetative state. She needed to keep busy. Homework, housework or call her sister?
‘Hi Jo, how are you doing?’
‘Kathy!’ Jo’s surprised tone made Kath wince. ‘How lovely to hear from you, at last.’
‘Sorry, but I have had a lot going on lately.’ Understatement or what? ‘You wouldn’t believe the half of it.’
‘Girl meets boy and then dumps him, or so I understand.’
‘I suppose mum told you everything.’
‘No, dad did.’
‘What?’
‘Just kidding, of course, it was mum. She said you were OK with it.’ The joking edge disappeared from Jo’s voice. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure about Darren.’
‘He’ll get over it, people do, eventually, but you are all right, aren’t you?’
‘I am, but Darren is not the end of my man trouble. If I tell you will you promise not to say anything to mum. Or dad.’
‘I’ll keep schtum, but now I’m intrigued so don’t keep me in suspense.’
Should she start with Tony or skip straight to Miles?
‘Kath, I hate to hurry you, but we’re going out as soon as Simon’s finished faffing about in the bathroom. If you need to talk, I’m in tomorrow night.’
‘This won’t take long.’ No point mentioning Tony because what advice could Jo give her about him? ‘Do you remember Miles?’
‘Your old boyfriend?’
‘Where did you get that idea from?’
‘The fact you were always together.’
‘He was just a friend, nothing more. It is possible to not be romantically involved with a person of the opposite sex, you know.’
‘If you say so, but methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
‘Speak English please, or I’ll put the phone down. I am not one of your pupils.’
‘That much was obvious from your last letter. I gave you a B minus for spelling and a C for composition, very sloppy, Kath.’
‘Do you want to listen to my news or not, you great pedant?’
‘I’m all ears, but are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow when we can have a good gossip?’
‘I’ll be brief. Miles wants to go out with me, and Aunty Linda asked me to be a bridesmaid.’
‘You in a cousin Claire inspired frock?’ Jo bellowed with laughter.
‘I’m glad you find this funny.’
‘Sorry, Kath, but...’ Jo was off again. ‘Please send me the photos. I almost wish I were going now.’
While Kath waited for the sniggering to stop, she found her attitude towards Linda and the wedding softening. It was a comical situation.
‘I’m under control again now. I hope you have a lovely time.’ There was a muffled snort of mirth. ‘And as for Miles, go for it, if you were, ahem, friends before that will make the courting process a breeze.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Don’t think. Just do it! I like Miles, and I think you’ll be good together. Sorry, Kath, Simon’s ready and I have to go.’
‘OK, I’ll call you next week. Love to Simon, and enjoy whatever you are doing tonight. Bye, Jo.’
Kath put the phone down and blessed her sister, for her common sense and humorous take on life. Thanks to her, the wedding receded from a major inconvenience to a minor annoyance. If only she had found the balls to talk about Tony, but she doubted that topic would reduce Jo to giggles. And as for Miles, Kath decided to save him for another day and find something else to occupy her mind. Clean the flat or do her college work? Some choice.
‘The rrrooom needs a brrrooom,’ she trilled.
Kath swept the kitchen floor, scoured the sink and cleaned the oven hob, singing along to a Now That’s What I Call Music tape to drown out her thoughts. She braced herself and opened the fridge door to discover a mould-stained nightmare. If her mother saw this, she would disown her. Kath threw out everything on the shelves. It didn’t amount too much. Half a pint of sour milk, a jar of pickle and a dish of crumb crusted butter. In the salad drawer, she found a brown lettuce and a liquid cucumber. Kath poured it into the bin, and scrubbed the entire fridge with lashings of bicarbonate of soda.
After an hour, her voice gave out, but her thoughts still hadn’t shut up. She started on the freezer compartment removing a packet of fish fingers and a bag of frozen peas, which she spilt all over her clean floor. Their vivid colour reminded her of the green flecks in Miles’ eyes; Kath gently swept them up and threw them in the bin.
She grabbed a potato peeler and chipped away at the ice clogging up her freezer. With her hands occupied, her mind wandered to Saturday. I am going to a white wedding as a blue bridesmaid in a borrowed yellow dress. Thank you, aunty, but why pick on me? I did not break up your marriage so stop blaming my entire family because George dumped you.
The marriage was unhappy from the start because Linda was as hard as George was soft. She had all the drive leaving George in neutral not knowing which way to go. A trait Kath understood all too well. She tossed chunks of ice into the sink and ran hot water over them.
Why did people bother? You spend the best years of your life trying to catch a man, and the rest of it tearing each other apart, whether or not you stayed married. Was it worth it? The rational part of Kath’s brain beat the cynical department into submission.
She only had to think of the people around her. Her parent’s appeared to be happy with any bad patches never enough to split them up. Jenny and Jim only together for eight weeks and already with a depth to their relationship like that of Jo and Simon.
As for the rest of her coupled friends, their partnerships promised to be long if not permanent ones, with the possible exception of John and Liz. Lord knows, what held those two together. Kath wouldn’t put up with a wandering spouse.
So what gave her the right to take another woman’s husband? A deep sense of sorrow overwhelmed her. How could she force a woman she had never met to go through so much hurt and humiliation?
This affair with an older married man was so utterly wrong, not glamorous and exciting but tawdry and furtive. Tony said he loved her, but to what cost? If he left his wife, it would ruin the lives of so many people.
She should give him up as a hopeless passion; any relationship started on broken lives was doomed from the start. Time to arrange a meeting and tell him they were through. With Darren gone and Tony on his way out, would she strike lucky with Miles?
Kath sank to the floor and sat with her back
against the fridge door. A couple of frozen peas under the table caught her eye, two dots of green sitting in a tiny pool of water. She rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball as tears streamed down her face.
you never can tell (aka teenage wedding)
It was the perfect winter’s day, Kath reflected, as she sat in a glitzy gold-coloured Mercedes. A day so crisp and fresh made it impossible to be bad-tempered even though Kath looked a complete fright in her altered bridesmaid dress. The high waist hid the size of her hips and arse, but the front was a different story altogether.
If the effect was supposed to be of virginal innocence, things had literally gone tits-up. Her boobs pushed upwards and outwards, threatened to burst out of her dress. This was more Becky Sharp than Elizabeth Bennet, and Kath was in danger of passing out from oxygen starvation, no room for deep breathing in this frock. Even shallow breathing created a heaving bosom the envy of any bodice-ripping heroine.
And not to mention the colour, daffodil yellow, just about the most unflattering shade on the spectrum for Anglo-Saxon skin. Bridesmaids, or so Kath thought, should be on hand to protect the bride from evil spirits and not to make her look ten times better.
Although, no one could outshine Claire today with her pale pink and blonde prettiness transformed into a vivid and colourful beauty. The cattle prod of jealousy poked at Kath’s soul.
Stop it, she told herself, this is your cousin’s wedding day and not the time to become maudlin over Tony. He doesn’t know our relationship is over yet, but keep telling yourself he is history and you might believe it. Not an easy task because she felt so alone and lost. If this was love, you could stuff it where the sun don’t shine.
The pain of yearning for someone who did not yearn for you, made her want to weep. Did Miles feel the same way about her as she did about Tony? Kath hoped so because it would give them something in common if she ever saw him again. No sign of him since that night in Barry’s kitchen, for a man supposedly besotted by her, he was behaving in a very reticent manner. Jenny must be wrong.
A polite cough caught Kath’s attention; they were at the church. The chauffeur patiently held the car door open while the other, mercifully quiet, bridesmaid motioned at to her to get a move on. Kath collected her thoughts and petticoats and swung her legs out of the car to emerge headfirst, giving everyone an eyeful of barely constrained bosom. She adjusted her bodice; there would be no justice in the world if she didn’t pull today. She posed for photographs and hoped she appeared coy and winsome rather than tarty and fat.
The wedding ceremony seemed to go on forever. They stood, they sat, they knelt, and they prayed with hymns, readings and, somewhere in the middle, the vows. The whole service interspersed with crying babies, suppressed coughing fits, and several loud sneezes. When the happy couple, with parents and attendants, filed into the overheated vestry, Kath came close to fainting. She dabbed at her sweaty face with a flyer advertising Christmas services and wished they would hurry up with the signing of the register.
The triumphant march back down the aisle ended with confetti in her hair and rice in her cleavage, thanks to her cousin, Colin.
‘Let me help you with that.’ He lunged at her and poured more rice down her front.
‘Do you mind?’ Kath grabbed at his hands, and the ensuing tussle unhooked her bra. ‘Go away, Colin, or I will rip your balls off.’
‘You can’t, not on my sister’s wedding day. And that will teach you to wear a front loader.’
‘You know too much about women’s underwear for your own good.’ Kath plunged a hand down her dress and managed to hook the bra to her petticoat. ‘The bra should hold, but I am not so sure about my décolletage.’
‘Your what?’
‘Tits, Colin, tits.’
‘Kathryn, mind your language,’ Linda appeared out of nowhere.
Kath jumped in shock.
‘We were talking about bird types, mum,’ said Colin.
‘I hate to break up your conversation, but the photographer needs you, darling.’
‘Are you talking to me or him?’ asked Kath.
Linda shot her a disdainful glance and dragged away a sniggering Colin.
Kath hid behind a handy yew tree between shots and kept out of everyone’s way. The cars pulled up, and she was soon on the way to the reception where a sherry laden Spanish Inquisition awaited her.
‘Your dress is a bit low, isn’t it?’ Granny Beck eyed Kath’s chest with some distaste.
‘Hasn’t she grown?’ Great Aunt Evie waddled over to join the torture, her wig sliding over her left eye. ‘She’s getting to look more and more like Dot every day.’
‘Dot is our brother’s wife,’ said Granny Beck. ‘She is not a blood relation.’
‘Doesn’t mean to say she can’t look like her.’
Granny Beck chose to ignore her sister. She had many years of practice. ‘Well, Kathryn, it must be your turn next!’
‘Yes, you’ll be an old maid soon!’ Aunty Margaret smiled, smug in the knowledge all her children were safely married off. She tried to straighten her mother’s wig, but Great Aunt Evie slapped her hand away.
‘When is Karen due?’ said Granny Beck, slapping Margaret for good measure.
‘The second of March.’ Margaret rubbed her hand. ‘So wise of them to wait a few years before starting a family, don’t you think? Claire is looking so slim, isn’t she?’
Kath drifted away, but there was no respite. They talked at her until she thought her ears would bleed. Never waiting for answers to their nosey questions or asking about her job or her studies. Her sex life was the sole topic of interest. She took refuge behind a pillar, hoping no one would find her. Then a child screamed in her ear, and a wave of puke sprayed her dress and dribbled into her shoes.
‘I am sorry, but Jeremy has been a bit under the weather lately.’ Cousin Anna, earth mother, smiled at her. She carried her eight-month-old son in a sling across her chest. ‘No, I won’t go into the toilets; this is the most natural thing in the world.’
‘You gonna show us your knockers, as well?’
‘Piss off, you little monsters,’ Kath growled at Aunty Lauren’s litter of repulsive small boys. She grabbed a decorative bow from a flower display and dabbed at the vomit.
‘What has Linda done to your dress?’ Jeanette glared at her. ‘The seams are crooked and,’ Jeanette prodded Kath in the side, ‘these panels of material are from a different dye batch.’ She stomped off muttering to herself. Kath stuffed the puke-stained ribbon into a flowerpot and shuffled over to the windows to loiter amongst the curtains.
At last, they sat down to eat, and her empire-line dress became her salvation, the bliss of stuffing her face without straining her waistband. She stayed clear of the wine, didn’t want purple cheeks clashing with her yellow frock. It only took a half bottle of Côte du Rhone for her to go from peaches and cream to rhubarb and custard. With the whole bottle, chances are she would make a right gooseberry fool of herself. She sipped her water and listened to the interminable speeches. The coffee and mints made their appearance and, much to her mother’s disgust, she accepted a cigar from the Best Man. Shame he had a girlfriend.
Kath sat back in her chair, and for the first time, she studied the groom, Paul. Dark and handsome, the perfect foil to Claire’s English Rose looks. Her cousin was marrying up. The groom’s relatives were a well turned out bunch, with the bride’s side a hit-and-miss gathering of the class system. That explained why although the room divided itself into two, the bride’s half further degenerated into subdivisions. People gathered in groups as they remembered who they were on speaking terms with and who they weren’t.
A flustered Linda appeared. ‘Come along, Kathryn, I have the keys now, we can go and change into our evening clothes.’
Hooray, Kath itched to get out of her frock. To breathe and walk without fear of exposure, and to never wear the wretched thing ever again would be a dream come true. She slipped into her party dress and con
sidered herself freed from her duties and left the changing room ready to let rip.
The decorum of the day slid into an unseemly bunfight as an influx of guests blurred the lines between bride and groom. The room split into age groups with the elderly and staid congregated by the toilets. Bored adolescents banded together to share illicit cigarettes and drinks lifted from the adult’s tables. Middle-aged men hogged the bar, and all able-bodied women hit the dance floor. The younger men hung around the walls and watched, waiting for their chances, but to Kath’s intense disappointment, she didn’t pull.
‘Am I looking too desperate?’
Colin stopped jigging. ‘No, just dull.’
Kath raised a fist to thump him then paused and looked around. ‘I am, aren’t I? The rest of the women are in glittering reds, greens and golds, and I blend in with the wallpaper in muted blue and grey.’
‘You should have worn a bum-freezing number and left nothing to the imagination.’
‘I haven’t got the legs for a mini.’
‘True,’ Colin shook his head sadly, ‘and for all that outfit shows off your curves in the right places, maybe it is a little too understated.’
‘My boyfriend loved me in this dress.’ (Would she ever get Tony out of her system?). ‘He used to tell me how sexy I—’
‘Woah, they’re playing Billie Jean, let’s moonwalk.’ Colin began to glide around her.
‘Not bad,’ Kath conceded. ‘But can’t you find someone else to dance with, you are cramping my style.’
‘I was doing this to annoy both you and my mother, and to save you from being a wallflower.’ He spun around on his heels and strutted off, leaving Kath standing on her own.
Depressed, she slunk off to join the queue for the ladies.
‘Jackie, can I borrow your lipstick again? Sorry, I thought you were someone else.’ A woman with a bright scarlet slash of a mouth squinted at Kath.
‘Snap,’ another woman laughed.
Kath turned and saw a taller, blonde version of herself. The woman smiled.