The Wedding Date

by Zara Stoneley

  Breakfast is going to be interesting tomorrow.

  And so might the next ten minutes. Bugger and damnation, it’s like the changing of the guard. Worse than blood and sand. Just as Dad and Jake head back to the bar, out of the corner of my eye I can see that Liam is heading this way.

  I knock back the cocktail, stuff a blini in my mouth, close my eyes and pray that somebody up there can help me.

  And when I open my eyes He has. Or rather she has. Blocking my view of him is a woman. A huge woman. Her.

  All I really register at first is the bump. Which you really can’t miss as she’s side on. And the boobs. And the look on her face, which is the type of look I remember on Ruby’s face when she was a toddler and we said no to her.

  It was usually followed by her throwing herself on the floor and thrashing about.

  This woman doesn’t throw herself on the floor (understandable), but points an angry finger at Liam. As entrances go it’s quite spectacular. ‘What the fuck are you doing still here Liam, you said one drink!’

  My mother would call her a potty mouth, which is strangely appropriate given what the not so distant future holds for her. I would call her the girl who use to work in the filling station up the road from Liam’s bank.

  And there was I, thinking he’d stopped walking to work so that he could spend an extra ten minutes in bed with me every day. ‘Sod the fuel’ he’d said very uncharacte‌ristically – money and the environment both feature high on his agenda so I really should have twigged.

  ‘Stella!’ He’s shouting for emergency lager. ‘Stella, hang on.’ Oops no, it’s her name. ‘I was on my way back.’ He’s obviously been working on his lying capabilities. Unless he always was a liar, and I never realised.

  ‘Have you any idea how bloody boring—’

  ‘Four horsemen on the way!’ Mum and Juliet have stopped competing, they’re propping each other up, and offering a united front. As good friends should.

  Ruby has turned the colour of her namesake and is looking shifty, which I suspect means that Liam’s been chatting her up, and Jess is giving me the secret signal. We’ve had it for years. It’s horizontal V’s in front of our eyes and it’s the best thing we ever saw Batman do. And he did it just before he did a biff, boff and split. Which is why we do it, because we’re going to do a disappearing act.

  Before Stella has explained what it is that’s so bloody boring, we’re out of the bar and halfway up the grand staircase.

  We haven’t got a Batcave, but I have got a very nice room, where Harry has been having a nod, and from the way his back end is wagging I’d say he’s pretty chuffed to see us.

  ‘You do realise Mum has got two more rounds of cocktails lined up for us? Christ, I feel so pissed.’ Jess flops onto the bed, and an excited Harry leaps on top of her (I’m not sure he’s allowed on beds but it’s a bit late now). ‘I had to get away for a bit. I wonder how long we’ve got before Mum sends out a search party for us?’

  ‘Well, to be honest I don’t think either of our mothers will notice we’re gone.’

  ‘True.’ She rolls over. ‘Dan will notice though.’ And that soppy grin is the smile of true love. I don’t remember ever wanting to smile like that, which makes me feel all sad and lonely. ‘I love you, Sam.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  ‘Missed you. Why do men always have to fuck things up for us? Liam is such a jerk. He deserves Stella.’

  ‘He is and he does. But I’m glad.’

  ‘Why?’ She props herself up on one elbow. ‘He’s a total fuckwit.’

  ‘Well, if he’d only been a tiny bit of a jerk I might not have realised until it was too late.’ I stare at the ceiling as it hits me. ‘Oh my God, I might have married him!’ That thought is scary.

  Liam dumping me meant I have had lots of time to think about our relationship, and to talk to Sarah about it. But I’ve just realised that it’s in the last few weeks, being with Jake, that has made me see just how much I gradually changed.

  Jake is fun, he makes me laugh, which Liam hasn’t done for a long time. Jake listens, whereas Liam used to interrupt me and ask if I’d ironed his shirt. Jake says nice things, he doesn’t mind if I eat too much chocolate, and he thinks I’m brave for wanting to do things my own way. Not silly. And he laughs at Mum in a nice way, and doesn’t tell her she’s fat. And he tells me I can do it.

  And he lets me take the steering wheel. In fact, we share. We are a team. Even if we aren’t a proper team.

  If Liam had not done his dirty deed then I would never have realised that my mojo had been skipping out of the room for a long time, edged out by familiarity and that thing called compromise. As Jake said in the car, you’re supposed to try hard, but you can still be yourself. I did the first, and Liam did the second.

  That is it! I had been compromising on a major scale, and I’ve only just realised. I had merged with Liam in a not very complementary way. It was not a merger, it was a takeover. I had become the person he wanted me to be. I had given up on uber high heels, cocktails and proper giggles. I had stopped speaking my mind and thinking about what I really wanted. Oh my God, I think this is what they call an epiphany, and it has taken a fake date to make me realise!

  ‘And you’d have missed out on falling in love with Jake?’

  ‘Sorry? What?’ My epiphany is rudely interrupted by Jess, who is grinning at me expectantly.

  ‘Jake! You’d never have met Jake if Liam hadn’t been a jerk. God, he is so hot, and he is SO into you.’

  I lie down the other side of Harry. I’m not exactly drunk-drunk, but I am definitely tipsy. And tired. Tired means my brain doesn’t work properly. I don’t know quite what to say, I’m not at the ‘inebriated enough to say anything’ stage yet.

  ‘Come on then, dish the dirt, that’s why I really dragged you up here!’ She leans in closer. ‘How on earth did you meet him, Sam? You are mad about him, aren’t you?’ She giggles. ‘I can tell.’

  I want to tell her. I need to tell her. It might not be wise. It might not be clever, but I have had several whisky cocktails, plus a bubbly fruity drink, and she is my best friend. And I love her, and I’ve missed her, and men don’t always fuck things up for us.

  ‘I’m not totally mad about him.’ I take a deep breath. I need to say this. ‘Jess, I lied to you.’ Oh God, no. I mustn’t. It will ruin everything.

  ‘You lied to me?’

  ‘Jake is, well Jake and me, we…’ No. I just can’t. I’ve only just got here, and even though I’m a bit tipsy I know I shouldn’t. I just really don’t want to lie to my best friend.

  ‘Jake is what?’

  ‘We hardly know each other.’ It comes out in a rush. That’s it! I can be more honest, just not totally. ‘I’ve only just met him.’ Which is true.

  ‘Only just? But you said ages ago you had a boyfriend, the one you—’

  ‘That was the lie. Oh, Jess, there was no boyfriend.’

  ‘No boyfriend? But … you split up?’ She flops back on the bed.

  ‘There never was a boyfriend, Jess. I made him up so I could pretend everything was okay, and I was completely over the shit bag.’ I feel bad, like I’ve broken some kind of unspoken agreement and am practically saying I don’t want to be besties any more. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘But then you met Jake?’

  ‘Then I met Jake.’

  ‘He’s mad about you, the way he looks at you.’

  ‘That’s er…’ I can’t say acting. ‘Because it’s all new, and exciting.’

  Best friends shouldn’t lie to each other. We used to share everything.

  I told her about the stubble rash that the sexiest boy in Year 13 left behind (he was the only guy in the sixth form that had more than the odd spiky hair jutting out of his face) which left me walking like a cowboy even though we hadn’t actually done it.

  She told me about the first disastrous shag with Dan that had been followed up by the second earth-shattering one. I’d told her about Liam’s folding h
is knickers routine and my quest to turn him on so much he’d forget to do it (it never happened).

  And then I’d told her I was so over him, and had a new boyfriend. And I am still not telling her the whole truth.

  ‘I mean I know it was stupid but I didn’t want you to feel bad about being all mushy with Dan, so I made up a boyfriend. He didn’t exist.’ I so want to tell her that the current one doesn’t either.

  ‘Oh.’ She hates me. I can tell. ‘So you did that so you wouldn’t spoil my wedding?’ She sits up cross-legged on the bed and stares at me. Her eyes are all shiny bright with tears.

  ‘Oh Jess, I am sorry, I mean I don’t know why, I should have…’ I gulp and my own eyes are burning. We’ve known each other forever, and I don’t want her to be upset at me, not now, not in a castle just before her wedding.

  ‘Oh my God Sam, you are the best friend ever!’

  I close my open mouth, and blink. I didn’t expect that, I don’t deserve that, but well, I suppose it’s true.

  ‘It was partly to make me feel less useless as well.’ Better to be totally honest now I’ve got the chance. I’m not one hundred per cent sure she can hear, because she’s flung herself across Harry and got me in a bear hug, but I think she gets the gist.

  ‘Aww but it was mostly for me. Oh heck, how lucky I am.’ She does a funny sniff, strangled sob thing into my shoulder. ‘You made a boyfriend up for me. That’s the best present ever.’ I know this is partly because she is very drunk on cocktails, and very high on adrenalin with a funny mix of hormones stuffed in. But hey, weddings do that to even the most sensible of people. Then she grins. ‘I am so pleased you’ve found a new man though now, and he’s totally sexy.’

  I just nod. He is totally sexy.

  ‘Where on earth did you meet him?’

  It is just like when we were teenagers, curled up on a bed, telling each other our secrets. Except I don’t tell her quite all my secrets, but I do tell her about Tank, and Jake saving me, and his crap play, and supper with my parents.

  And it hits me that hiring Jake, bankrupting myself, doing all this is completely utterly worth it, because no way on earth could I have missed my best friend’s wedding.

  Chapter 16

  Reasons why I should not let Jake kiss me:

  1. I don’t fancy him…

  2. He is big-headed (well, it might just be an actor type of confidence, but he did tell me that if he took me to bed he could make the earth move, or words to that effect. That means he is big-headed or, well, unbelievably good in bed – which I don’t want to think about).

  3. I might enjoy it (see point 2 above).

  There are also two pressing questions that need answers:

  1. Why am I writing this list? And

  2. Where the hell is the man in question?

  It is one thing to hire a boyfriend, it is probably a bit careless to lose him after one day. Will anybody see posters if I pin them up? We’re miles from anywhere.

  Lost – one boyfriend, hardly used. Please return ASAP as warranty runs out in 5 days.

  If he’s just done a runner, do I get a refund? They might have to dredge the loch to find him, scour the highlands, track him down with dogs. Which reminds me, where’s Harry? Oh buggery bugger, I’ve not lost his dog as well, have I?

  I hang over the side and look under the bed, which makes my head spin (note to self, do not hang upside down after a night on the cocktails), and have to lie down again to wait until I feel vaguely normal.

  Maybe, if Jake comes back, he won’t notice. After all Harry is not that big a dog, and not really his. Well, half his. So technically speaking I’ve only lost half his dog.

  ‘You’ve surfaced!’ Speak of the devil. He breezes in and I get a waft of coffee.

  Okay, I do fancy him a bit. Scratch number 1 off my list. But I only fancy him in the way everybody fancies a guy like say Liam Hemsworth, or Kit Harington. It’s not real-life fancying, it’s just like, ‘Oh my God, my poster boy has come to life in my dream, wouldn’t it be amazing to snog somebody like that?’ Which means it’s perfectly acceptable. Not that I have any poster boys these days. And surfaced isn’t a word I’d really use. My head is banging, and I’d quite like to climb back under the covers. Once I’ve had some coffee.

  ‘I brought you some breakfast, wasn’t sure you’d want to face the masses.’ I do not want to face one, let alone masses. If I say can you please leave the coffee and go will I sound rude and ungrateful?

  ‘Where’s Harry?’

  Bugger. He’s noticed.

  And then I remember.

  Jess has borrowed him. I remember seeing Liam’s huge girlfriend and realising who it was, I remember coming up here with Jess for a girlie chat and then I remember falling asleep. Oh shit, I also remember something far, far worse.

  I told her about fakey-Jake. Oh hell. Oh no I didn’t! I remember! I nearly told her everything, but stopped myself just in time.

  ‘You and Jess must have had some party in here, I didn’t have you down as a heavy drinker.’ He grins.

  We called for more cocktails to celebrate after I’d told her about meeting Jake – which explains my throbbing head. ‘I am such a party animal.’

  He laughs. ‘You don’t really drink that much, do you?’

  He’s got me in one. My wild party days are in my distant past, heavy drinking these days is reserved for those occasions when crying into a double espresso martini is the best way to forget you’ve been dumped. Once Sarah had dragged me through the self-pity stage we’d gone back to our more normal drinking habits. I’m a lightweight if I’m honest.

  I can’t believe we finished off so much booze last night. There are several empty glasses on the bedside cabinet which I really shouldn’t look at.

  The queasiness is not because of the clash of the titans battle between spirits that is going on in my stomach and threatening a revolt though. It is because I very nearly told her. Which is scary. Keeping this secret could be a lot harder than I thought. Unless I:

  1. Abstain from alcohol

  2. Avoid best-friend chats with Jess.

  And I can’t do either. Unless I pretend I am pregnant, which would land me in even deeper water.

  ‘No, but you know me.’ I attempt a light, jovial laugh. ‘If a job’s worth doing, then it’s worth doing well.’

  ‘I don’t know you that well yet, but I’m beginning to see a pattern here. You don’t do anything by halves, do you Sam?’ He winks. ‘You’ve no idea how sexy that is.’

  The last thing I want to think about right now is sexy. I don’t feel remotely sexy. Maybe I should claim alcohol poisoning and go home.

  ‘Are you okay? You have gone a bit pale. Well, even more pale and pukey-looking than when I came in.’

  I try and glower, which makes me feel worse. ‘Pukey-looking?’

  ‘Just being truthful.’ He stabs a sausage and takes a massive bite. I’m not sure my stomach and sausages are on speaking terms. ‘You do look like you might need to dash to the bathroom any second.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Apparently Stella has been puking all the way through her pregnancy, and made Liam late for work.’

  ‘I don’t want to know.’ I pull the sheet over my head, then raise it up a bit, because I actually do want to know and it’s all a bit sweaty and hot under there. This is one of my problems. Not the sweat bit – nosiness. ‘He’d hate that.’ Really hate it. I can’t imagine Liam mopping brows, or being late for work. I also can’t imagine Liam holding a baby.

  ‘He told us all the whole story in minute detail after she’d gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘Just after you went. She had a bit of a hissy fit, then went back to their room and locked him out. Can’t quite see what you saw in a guy like that, doesn’t seem very exciting. He was a bit pathetic if you ask me.’

  I don’t really like to point out that I’m not normally that exciting either. Or that I hadn’t asked him. But I am inclined to agree that
Liam is a bit pathetic.

  ‘He works in a bank.’ I think that’s all I need to say.

  Jake starts to butter toast in a very loud scratchy way. ‘He’s got a spreadsheet so he can work out how much the baby will cost up to the age of eighteen.’

  Why does that not surprise me? ‘Do you have to do that?’

  ‘A spreadsheet?’ He raised his eyebrows in alarm. ‘I don’t think it’s obligatory, in fact I don’t think it’s normal.’

  ‘No, the buttering thing.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘It’s too loud.’

  ‘It’s for you. Come on, try it.’ He comes nearer to the bed, waves a bit of toast temptingly, just out of range.

  Aww. I might kiss him after all. When I’m feeling better, and have brushed my teeth and eaten a few packets of mints and lost the sour breath. Liam never, ever brought me toast AND buttered it.

  And he called me sexy.

  ‘Is there a gym in this place?’

  ‘Gym?’ It takes me a moment to remember what the word means. My slightly befuddled head is still considering toast and kisses. ‘Why?’ See, he doesn’t know me at all. I am the last person anybody would ask about a gym.

  ‘I normally work out every day.’ He winks. ‘Ever ready, me.’

  I ignore the last bit. ‘This is a wedding not a boot camp. And—’ that wink needs to be put in its place ‘—there is nothing you need to be ready for.’

  ‘Oh, you never know.’ He pauses, but not long enough for me to come up with a witty response. ‘If there isn’t a gym, we can always run.’

  ‘Run? We can? We?’ He’s seriously confused. Have we not had this conversation about how I don’t do sport?

  ‘Yeah, we. You know, devoted couple, do everything together.’ He’s laughing at me. ‘Anyway, it might help, you know…’

  Help? Even my banging head is capable of working out what is going to come next.

  I have realised I don’t like him. I don’t care how buff he is. I totes don’t like him, and I am definitely not going to kiss him now.