With four hours down and just one to go, I know it won’t be long now until I arrive. My sister and her hubby-to-be will be waiting for me on the platform and then there really will be no turning back. I’ll be in captivity and my sister will be my keeper – my sister who has told me that all wedding-based celebrations will not be optional.
To take my mind off where I am heading, I grab one of the trashy celebrity magazines I picked up at the train station. Unless their fame makes it across the pond, I don’t know very much about what is going on in UK celeb culture, so reading about people from the likes of The Only Way Is Essex, Geordie Shore and Made In Chelsea do little to hold my attention. Reality TV inspired fashion is certainly a big hit here, though. I’ve only been home a few hours but I could play fashion bingo with the number of people I have seen replicating the styles these famous-for-being-famous people are sporting. I’ll just tick each one off in this magazine as I spot it in real life. Huge false eyelashes, tick. Man-tans, tick. His and hers onesies, tick.
Looking at the current fashion here fills me with dread. I wonder what kind of bridesmaid dress my sister has lined up for me. They had the dress fittings ages ago, so I had to send Belle my measurements and hope she put them to good use. Even before my Hollywood makeover, my sister and I never had much in common when it came to fashion. Growing up one of the cool kids, Belle embraced any silly trend going. These days my previously skinny sister is now a little on the chubby side and her dress sense has settled down to a comfortable style, think: function over fashion, comfort over style, etc. When I was the chubby one my mum would make me feel like shit for even looking at a chocolate bar, but now that my sister is the one who has piled on the pounds my mum has put it down to her being a contented woman. Oh, and I’m dangerously thin and I don’t eat enough. Even when the shoe is on the other foot, Annabelle is still perfect and I am still a huge let down.
It isn’t fair to blame my mum for everything. Sadly, my dad is of a similar opinion, and I’m fairly certain my Auntie June hates my guts – she thinks I’m a bad influence on my cousins, who in turn love me for being a bad influence. My gran doesn’t really “get” me, but my granddad absolutely worships me. I’m so glad he’s going to be there because he is always on my side, even when I know I’m in the wrong. That just leaves my Uncle Steve, and while he does like me, he likes me a little too much. We’re not blood relatives or anything (Auntie June and my mum are sisters) but his weird crush on me is still entirely creepy. Still, it’s nice to have another fan. When my mum is complaining about my outfits, my gran is trying to feed me and my auntie is trying to stop me talking to my cousins, I’m sure that inevitable slap on the arse from my uncle will be almost welcomed.
Hopefully I’ll be able to avoid having to spend too much time with anyone in particular because so many other people will be there too – people who are not related to me and therefore might actually like me. I haven’t met any of Dan’s relatives, but I know there’s going to be quite a few members of his family there. The rest of the guests are just friends of Belle and Dan, some that I don’t know and some that I wish I didn’t know.
After hours of travelling I can’t help but let out a big yawn. Put it down to a combination of jetlag and tiredness, but I rub my sleepy eyes with my hands, smudging my heavy black eye makeup everywhere.
‘Dammit,’ I can’t help but say to myself.
Grabbing my toilet bag, I head for the train toilets to smarten myself up. It won’t be long before I arrive so I’d better go and apply my war paint.
Chapter 4
Ah, the great British Summer. Despite it being August, the sky is a thick blanket of cloud that is doing nothing to keep me warm. In fact, I am positively freezing. The weather back in Beverly Hills was supposed to be lovely these next few weeks, so a vacation from work to just chill out and enjoy the nice weather would have been welcomed. Instead I am here, in jolly old England, feeling the wrath of the hit-and-miss summer.
As I stand alone on the platform – under strict instruction from my sister, who couldn’t stress enough that I should wait on the platform, lest I wander off and die – I give my outfit the once over. I check that my black and white bandage dress is straight and give it a quick brush-down with my hands. Safe in the knowledge that my hair and makeup look as best they can after a twelve hour flight, a five hour train, and countless hours waiting in between, I stand and wait for my sister.
Right on schedule, Belle and Dan appear out of nowhere and bound towards me like a couple of puppies would if I were holding a tennis ball made of meat.
‘Hello,’ I greet them with all the enthusiasm I can muster. It’s clearly not enough though, because my sister and Dan simultaneously grab me and hug me.
‘Wow, OK,’ I can’t help but blurt out. I’m not used to much affection these days – least of all group hugs.
‘Don’t let Gran see how thin you look,’ my sister warns me when she finally lets me go. ‘She’ll flip.’
I could ask my sister – who is absolutely serious, by the way – how she proposes I hide my thinness from my gran, but I’m worried she might actually have a few suggestions. Whether it involves eating several Cornish pasties on the drive to the house or stuffing a pillow up my dress, I’m not crazy about actively doing anything to hide the body I work hard for.
‘You’re looking good too,’ I tell her. ‘You too, Dan.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, still as excited as a child at Christmas. ‘We’re so glad you could come, we were worried you might not show.’
‘You really think I wouldn’t show up to my own sister’s wedding?’ I gasp.
‘Yes… I mean no… I mean, you’re so busy with work all the time and–’
‘Relax, Dan. I’m messing with you,’ I assure him, but if I could have thought of a reason that wouldn’t see me disowned by my entire family, believe me, I would have used it.
‘Right.’ Dan laughs nervously. ‘Shall we get in the car…’
Dan, being the gent that he is, goes to pick up my suitcase by the handle.
‘You might want to drag it,’ I warn him. ‘It’s–’
Dan screams out in pain as he picks up my deceivingly heavy suitcase.
‘–really heavy,’ I rather pointlessly finish my sentence.
I stare at poor Dan who is doubled up in pain, his face turning purple, his eyes looking like they are about to pop right out of his head and bounce onto the train tracks… but that’s nothing compared to the angry shade of red my sister is turning.
‘Prince, are you OK?’ she asks, fussing around Dan who seems to feel more pain every time she touches him.
‘It’s my back,’ he tells me. ‘I hurt it playing football when I was at school, ended my career before it started. If I overdo it, I put it out. Why is your suitcase so heavy?’
‘Just clothes and shoes and stuff. I tried to warn you,’ I reason.
‘Mia,’ my sister starts, and I just know that this is going to be all my fault, ‘if you have broken my fiancé just in time for my wedding I will never speak to you again.’
My eyes widen in response to the way my sister is overreacting.
‘First of all, he’s a man, not a toy,’ I rant. ‘Second of all, I didn’t break him. He tried to lift my case before I could warn him it was heavy, it’s not like I took a swing at him with a baseball bat.’
‘I can’t believe you’re already trying to ruin my wedding,’ my sister shouts.
‘What the fuck?’ I screech, but I don’t get to say anything else before usually mild mannered Dan interrupts us with an ever so slightly raised voice of his own.
‘Enough,’ he snaps. ‘Let’s just get in the car and head back to the house, it’s not that bad and the house isn’t far.’
‘Are you sure, prince?’ Belle asks in her most sickliest voice.
‘I’m sure, princess.’
Oh God, I’d forgotten about their pathetic pet names for one another. Excuse me while I throw up.
Belle puts her arm around
Dan and they slowly head for the car park.
‘I’ll just carry my own case, shall I?’ I call after them.
‘You should have done that in the first place,’ Belle snaps back.
I drag my case to Dan’s car before lifting it up and putting it on the back seat. It’s not that heavy but I suppose if the poor bastard has a weak back there was no way it was going to end well. Belle and Dan are in the front, so I climb in the back with my case.
‘Seatbelts,’ Belle insists. ‘We don’t want any more accidents.’
As instructed, I strap myself in – like I hadn’t planned on doing it anyway. As soon as Belle has given us all the once-over she gives Dan the nod to set off.
I knew that I would end up having arguments with my little sister over the next week or so, but I hadn’t expected the first one to be within minutes of seeing her. There’s an awkward atmosphere in the car. I can just tell my sister is mentally planning the speech she’s going to give me if Dan’s back is anything less than one hundred percent on their wedding day. I decide to try and quash the awkwardness by making small talk – and if there’s one thing Belle loves talking about, it’s Belle.
‘So have all the guests arrived?’ I ask.
‘Would you believe you aren’t the last person to arrive,’ Belle says brightly, like that’s supposed to make me feel like Sister of the Year. ‘Dan’s friend Leo and his mum aren’t here yet because he’s got work. He’s a fireman.’
‘That’s hot,’ I joke.
‘Mia, no,’ my sister says firmly.
‘Oi, it was a joke,’ I insist. Well, it was. Fire, hot, get it? My sense of humour is wasted on this audience. ‘I’m a writer, I’m supposed to make crap jokes.’
‘Anyway,’ she continues, shrugging off my attempt at humour, ‘our lot are here – Mum, Dad, Gran, Granddad, Auntie June, Uncle Steve, Hannah, Meg and Josh.’
Hannah, Meg and Josh are my cousins. They like me because they think I’m cool – much to their mother’s disgust. I haven’t seen them in a while, but I know that Hannah will be fifteen now, Meg is thirteen and Josh is ten.
‘Are your family here, Dan?’ I ask to keep the conversation going.
Dan opens his mouth to talk but my sister gets in there first.
‘Of course they are,’ she snaps. ‘We’ve got Dan’s mum and dad, his grandparents, his brother, his auntie, cousins and so on. Then we have our friends: Beth, Nancy, Jason, Heather.’
Belle says these names like they’re supposed to mean something to me but I have no idea who her friends are. Apart from Nancy, who has been my sister’s BFF since she started school. I know her well because she spent a lot of time at our house, and because she relentlessly bullied me, despite being five years my junior. Belle wasn’t always horrible to me, but when she was, you could guarantee she was doing it because Nancy was there. I played the role of fat, boring, nerdy older sister well – not that that’s an excuse for bullying.
As wedding parties go, it isn’t massive, but Belle has been planning this wedding/mini holiday for everyone for a long time now. I wasn’t doing the maths, but that sounds like an awful lot of people to be staying in one beach house.
‘Where is everyone going to sleep?’ I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
‘Oh, well, not everyone is staying at the house – only close family and important wedding people – and anyway, the house is massive,’ Belle insists.
‘Massive enough to sleep so many people?’ I ask.
‘See for yourself,’ Dan says as he pulls into the driveway.
As I take in the stunning contemporary beach house that will not only be my home throughout my stay, but also the venue for my sister’s wedding, my jaw literally drops. Not only is the house right on the beach, but it is massive. It looks like a hotel! This isn’t any old beach house – you just know that one day an architect with endless money had this brilliant vision and the massive, brilliant white, funky-shaped property in front of us was what came of it. I have to admit, I’m impressed.
I am no sooner out of the car before my parents rush out of the front door to greet me.
‘Hi Mum, hi Dad,’ I say with a half-hearted wave. I must have used up the last of my enthusiasm at the train station.
‘You’re so thin!’ my mum exclaims as soon as she gets a proper look at me. ‘Don’t let your gran see.’
Judith Harrison isn’t your typical overbearing mother, in fact she is quite the opposite with me. Both of my parents make a lovely fuss over Belle but when it comes to me, it’s like they can’t quite be bothered. Sure, my mum will comment on how inappropriate my dresses are or how a combination of peroxide and LA sunshine will see me bald by the time I am forty, but they’re not too bothered with how I live my life. It’s not that they’ve given up trying now that they know I am a lost cause, I don’t think they’ve ever had high hopes for me.
‘Mia,’ my dad says. That’s his way of acknowledging my existence. The Harrison women may be noisy and bossy but my dad, Ted – the only Harrison man in our house – is very much the opposite, although that probably has something to do with living in a house with three noisy women for so long.
A middle class couple in their late fifties, my parents are exactly as you would expect them to be: a little bit dull and a lot uptight – and I have no doubt that my sister is heading for a similar fate. In old photos of my parents in their twenties, my mum looks almost exactly like Belle does now – with the exception of the big hair, which I’m assured was the height of fashion back then. So unfortunately for my little sis, she will almost certainly grow up to look like our mum. My mum has her grey hair in, as I like to call it, a Nurse Ratched bob, and her personality is very much like that of the One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest character. I have always found my mum to be on the cold side. She always has to be in control, which makes her actions often seem mechanical, and she can be cruel sometimes – something I think she inherited from her mum. My dad is everything you’d expect of a fifty-nine year old henpecked husband. My mum would look young for her age if she were willing to colour her hair (she won’t because she is dead against it for some reason), but there is no hope for my dad. He is almost entirely bald apart from a few tufts of white hair around the sides and back of his head, and he is embracing his impending old age by wearing trousers that are pulled far too high up. Try and imagine a version of Victor Meldrew that isn’t quite so grumpy and that’s my dad: an indifferent Victor Meldrew.
‘This is a nice place,’ I say to no one in particular.
‘I know, right?’ my sister squeaks excitedly. ‘There’s a swimming pool, cable TV, wi-fi, there’s, like, a billion bedrooms, a games room… it’s going to be so much fun.’
‘Sounds expensive,’ I can’t help but say out loud.
‘Nothing is too good for my little girl,’ my dad says.
‘We’re just lucky you are the way you are, Mia,’ my mum explains. ‘We had saved up a wedding fund for two daughters, but with you, you know, not being the marrying kind, it made sense to use it all for your sister’s wedding, make it really special for her.’
Everyone smiles like that is the sweetest thing in the world, but I’m upset.
‘So you’re using the money you had saved for my wedding to pay for Annabelle’s?’ I ask.
‘Well, you’re not getting married, are you,’ my mum reasons.
‘Yeah, but that’s not the point,’ I insist.
‘Why can’t you just be happy for me?’ my sister asks me.
I massage my temples for a moment. Luckily I don’t have any plans to get married, and even if I did I have plenty of money to pay for it myself, but that really isn’t the issue here.
‘I could do with a nap, could you show me to my room, please?’ I ask.
‘Of course,’ Belle replies. ‘Just let me introduce you to everyone.’
‘I’d rather wait until I’ve had a nap and a bath, if that’s OK.’
‘Don’t be so selfish, Mia,’ my mum snaps.
‘Fine,’ I give in, knowing that it’s easier to just do it than try and fight it.
‘Brilliant.’ Belle claps her hands together. ‘Mum, can you help Dan inside, he’s hurt his back.’
‘How on earth did he do that?’ I hear my mum ask as my sister drags me into the house.
‘Mia did it,’ my sister calls back.
Chapter 5
I thought the outside of the beach house was beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to the interior. It’s cool, it’s modern and Belle is right, it seems like such a fun place to live. I may not get on with my family and the wedding stuff will probably suck, but at least I can watch movies on the big screen and chill out by the pool – that is when I’m not sunbathing on the beach.
Belle leads me into the huge sitting room where two couples are sitting opposite each other on white leather corner sofas which make a square shape in the middle of the room. The four of them are drinking tea and chatting but as I walk into the room they stop abruptly and stare at me. The couple on the left are probably a little older than my parents (or perhaps they just look it), but if possible they look even more uptight. The lady is wearing a navy twinset and skirt and the man is dressed in a matching suit complete with cravat, making them look like they should be on a yacht. The other couple are elderly and, again, I’m going to hazard a guess that being cold and uptight runs in their family too.
‘Everyone, this is my sister, Mia. She’s just got in from America,’ my sister announces to four unimpressed faces. ‘Mia, this is Harriet and Peter, they’re Dan’s parents, and over here we have Dan’s grandparents.’
‘Hello,’ I say brightly, offering my hand for Dan’s mum to shake first, as she is the closest to me.
‘Charmed,’ Harriet says coolly as she reluctantly shakes my hand.
I decide not to bother shaking hands with anyone else, they don’t seem that bothered. It’s awkward for a moment because we’re just standing in front of them and they refuse to continue their conversation while we’re standing there.
Bad Bridesmaid Page 3