The Wedding that Changed Everything

by Jennifer Joyce

  I’m flooded with relief. I may seem a bit narky when it comes to Alice and her matchmaking, but I don’t know what I’d have done without her, especially over the past year.

  ‘What happened with Kevin?’ I whisper the last part, just in case anyone is listening in. I wouldn’t put it past Francelia to earwig on a private conversation.

  Alice sighs and sinks onto the nearest seat. I drag a chair closer to her and sit down. ‘It’s the usual: he’s annoyed with me for keeping him a “dirty little secret” as he put it.’

  I want to stick up for my friend, but I can see where Kevin is coming from.

  ‘Maybe it’s time you told your family about him?’

  Alice rests her elbow on the table and drops her head into her hands. ‘I want to, I really do, but…’ She twists so she can see Francelia. ‘You know what she’s like. She’ll ruin it for me. She always does. She’s had it in for me ever since that stupid necklace went missing. It’s like she wants me to be miserable for ever.’ She looks completely dejected for a moment, but then seems to rally, sitting up straighter and taking my hands in hers. ‘Anyway, enough of my moping! How did your date with Archie go?’

  ‘It was…’ I glance around the room as I try to conjure the correct words. The words that will keep Alice happy without telling outright porkies. I spot Tom chatting with Carolyn by the drinks trolley and can’t help smiling. See! I knew they could be friends again, given the chance!

  ‘That good, eh?’ Alice gives my hands an excited little squeeze. ‘I knew it!’

  ‘What?’ The smile vanishes in an instant. I’m about to explain when Ned calls out for everybody to return to their seats.

  Ned holds up his question sheet and clears his throat. ‘We’ll go straight into round five: history.’

  At least Piers will be happy, I think as I shuffle towards my seat. We should be able to get most, if not all, of these ones correct. We just need to find a way to get Carolyn to zip it.

  We do exceptionally well in the history round, but the rest of the categories haven’t been too kind and there’s only one more category to go.

  ‘Well, this was a waste of an evening.’ Piers screws up our answer sheet and drops it onto the table.

  ‘Not everybody can be a winner.’ Carolyn picks up the sheet and unfurls it, doing her best to smooth out the creases.

  ‘We didn’t stand a chance though, did we?’ Piers heaves a huge sigh. ‘I don’t know why we bothered.’

  Carolyn lays the crumpled answer sheet out on the table. ‘It’s a bit of fun.’

  ‘Is it?’ Piers folds his arms across his chest, his mouth pouting. ‘It doesn’t feel fun coming last.’

  ‘Don’t be such a baby.’ Carolyn grabs the pen and twists in her seat so she’s facing her uncle. I can’t believe these two are getting married. They’re like chalk and cheese – if the chalk liked to party and the cheese had the maturity of a toddler.

  ‘Everybody ready for the final round?’ Ned asks, and everybody responds with a chorused ‘yes’, apart from Piers, who’s still sulking. ‘The final round is a personal favourite of mine…’ Ned holds up his question sheet and gives it a waggle in the air. ‘British sitcoms.’

  I’m suddenly alert, my back straight, ears tuned in to Ned. My eyes meet Tom’s gaze and our mouths stretch wide.

  Making a fist, Tom brings it in close to his body. ‘Yes! This is our round, Em.’ He slides the sheet of paper away from Carolyn, whose mouth creates a wide ‘O’ of outrage.

  Piers’ mouth flattens out of its pout as he leans across the table towards me and Tom. ‘Know much about sitcoms?’

  Tom shrugs. ‘Only everything.’ He winks at me while Piers plucks the pen from his beloved’s fingers. He passes it to Tom, which is a great honour as Piers has commandeered the writing apparatus all evening.

  ‘Do us proud,’ he says, and I think we do. We don’t win the whole quiz – we were lagging too far behind to catch up – but we do come a respectable second, which even Piers is pleased with.

  ‘Well done, partner.’ Tom holds up his palm and I slap my hand against it.

  ‘You too. And well done getting that My Family question right. It was beyond my expertise.’

  Tom shrugs and starts to trace the grain of the wood in the tabletop. ‘It was never a favourite of mine, but my ex used to watch it. Anyway, I’d better get going. I need to be up early tomorrow. Lots to do, including setting up the bonfire.’

  ‘Thanks for that.’ Carolyn reaches across the table and gives Tom’s hand a squeeze. ‘I know it isn’t exactly your job.’

  He shrugs. ‘It’s no problem. We aren’t short of firewood, as long as it doesn’t rain tonight.’ He stands up, but I put a hand out to stop him.

  ‘Do you need a hand? With the firewood?’ Anything to get out of spending more time with Archie, especially now Alice thinks we’re love’s young dream.

  ‘Sure.’ Tom gives me an odd look. ‘I didn’t know it was your kind of thing.’

  ‘It isn’t, but I’m feeling helpful.’ I can see Alice approaching out of the corner of my eye. ‘See you tomorrow!’ I need him gone, quickly, before Alice scuppers my plans.

  ‘Are you going?’ Alice’s shoulders droop. ‘I thought we could have a Durban Special, since we’re all here. For old time’s sake.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Tom clutches his stomach, his head shaking as he backs away towards the door. ‘Not for me. Some of us have to get up for work in the morning. I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mr Wussy Pants,’ Alice says with a smirk.

  ‘That might have hurt fifteen years ago, but I’m much more sensible now.’

  ‘Boring, more like,’ Alice says, but she’s grinning. ‘Go on, get off to bed with your hot cocoa.’

  I watch as Tom leaves, raising a hand in a quick goodbye as Alice crosses the room towards the drinks trolley. She starts to slosh an array of drinks into the glasses she’s set out on the nearby table, creating a drink of an unpleasant brown colour.

  ‘What exactly is a Durban Special?’ I ask as she hands one of the glasses to me.

  ‘It’s a cocktail of whatever booze you can get your mitts on,’ Archie says, grabbing one of the glasses himself. He gives a tentative sniff before pulling a face.

  ‘It was surprisingly easy to swipe alcohol in here, so we used to get pissed in the woods out the back when we were growing up.’ Alice clinks her glass against mine. ‘Good times.’

  I sniff the drink. Revolting and toxic are two words that spring to mind. I can’t drink it.

  ‘On the count of three,’ Archie says once Carolyn has a glass. ‘One, two, three.’ He, Alice and Carolyn tip the vile concoction down their throats while Piers and I hesitate. He puts his glass down on the table, making my mind up for me. I won’t be boring like him. I may live to regret this, but I pour the drink into my mouth, swallowing quickly before I can change my mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’m feeling a little delicate as we make our way down to the dining room the next morning. The lights are too bright, the background hum of the castle too loud, and I fear the sight of the breakfast buffet will cause the contents of last night’s drinks trolley, seemingly still swishing around my stomach, to make an unwelcome reappearance.

  ‘Whose idea was it to sneak all that drink up to our room last night?’ I sit carefully in the nearest available chair in the dining room, leaning my elbow on the table and resting my poor, throbbing head in my hand.

  ‘Pilfering the booze was my idea.’ Alice joins me at the table just as carefully, but instead of slumping, she reaches for the jug of water and pours two glasses. ‘But I didn’t chuck it down your neck. That was all you.’

  I try to drink the water Alice passes to me, but it’s barely touched my lips and it’s making me gag.

  ‘I think I’m going to die.’

  Alice pushes the glass of water towards me again. ‘You are not going to die. We had way worse sessions than that when we were at un
i.’

  This is true, but we were younger back then, and we’d built up a tolerance. I can’t remember the last time I got properly trashed. It isn’t a good idea to mix hangovers with a class of thirty kids who are programmed to detect even the slightest weakness in a teacher, so I manage my alcohol intake with precision normally.

  ‘You need to eat. Soak up some of the alcohol.’ Using the table for leverage, Alice pushes herself onto her feet and heads towards the buffet trolley. I don’t follow. I’m breathing slowly through my mouth so I don’t smell any of the food because I swear I’m going to hurl if I pick up the slightest whiff. I should go back up to bed and sleep this off. You never know, I might be recovered enough to attend Carolyn’s wedding in two days’ time.

  I try another sip of water, surprised when it stays down. It feels good in my parched mouth and throat, so I try another.

  ‘We should walk down into the village after breakfast.’ Alice sits down again, and I turn away from her so I don’t have to look at her plate piled high with fluffy pancakes swimming in gooey syrup. ‘The fresh air will do us good.’

  I doubt that very much. The only thing that will do me any good is a time machine set to yesterday evening, just before Alice started to concoct that first disgusting cocktail.

  ‘Oh, wait.’ Alice shakes her head. ‘You can’t go off into the village for a wander.’

  Too right. The only place I’m wandering to is my bed.

  ‘You’re helping Tom, remember?’

  ‘I am?’ I’m frowning at Alice, but it’s all starting to come back. It’s the bonfire tonight. Tom is going to be collecting firewood and setting it up. And I’ve only gone and volunteered to help him, haven’t I? I can only blame that shoddy wine from the restaurant.

  ‘Yes, I am. It should be fun. Right?’ I flash Alice a hopeful look, but she mustn’t be feeling very charitable this morning.

  ‘About as much fun as a smear test using a red-hot speculum.’ Alice winces and we both cross our legs under the table. ‘Rather you than me.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I push myself up out of my seat with a sigh. ‘I may as well go and get it over and done with.’

  Alice happily slices off a chunk of pancake and swipes it through a dollop of syrup. ‘I’ll see you at lunchtime. If you’ve finished by then.’ She grins at me before popping the pancake in her mouth.

  I kind of hope she chokes on it, just a little bit.

  For once, I don’t get lost. I seem to have found my feet at the castle, and I soon find Tom out in the large field at the back. He’s kneeling on the ground, messing around with a mound of dirt. Quite why Tom is planting in the middle of the field, I have no idea, but he’s obviously changed his mind and we aren’t going to be collecting firewood after all. In an act of extraordinary fickleness, my stomach clenches with disappointment. Either that, or I’m in danger of hurling again.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I add a good dose of cheer to my voice, so Tom doesn’t pick up on the fact that I’m fussed by the change of plans. He turns towards me, a gloved hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the already baking sun.

  ‘I’m making a base.’ He turns back to his task. ‘I won’t be a minute, then we can go and collect the firewood.’

  ‘So we’re still doing that?’

  ‘Yep.’ Tom stands up and brushes his hands down his overalls. ‘At least I thought we were. I brought an extra wheelbarrow out for you.’ He nods at the pair of wheelbarrows standing nearby. ‘But if you don’t want to, that’s fine. Got plans with Archie?’

  ‘God, no.’ I press my lips together, before I say anything else incriminating, and shake my head. ‘No, no plans this morning.’

  ‘You’re still seeing him then?’ Tom picks up the handles of one of the wheelbarrows and starts to push it towards the woods.

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly say we’re seeing each other.’ I grab the other wheelbarrow and scurry after Tom. As always, he’s striding. ‘We only met a couple of days ago, remember?’

  ‘You looked pretty cosy when you arrived at the quiz last night. Alice said you’d gone out for dinner in the village.’ Alice and her big bloody gob! ‘You’ll keep in mind what I said, won’t you? About being careful?’

  I cringe. I don’t want to lie to Tom and look as though I’ve disregarded everything he’s said about Archie, but I can’t tell him the truth, can I? That I’m using Archie as a shield against Alice’s matchmaking. It hardly paints me in a good light, and I quite like the friendship I’ve struck up with Tom. The friendship has come as a bit of a surprise to me; I’m usually a pretty good judge of character – which comes in handy when Alice keeps throwing men my way – but I’ll admit I judged Tom too harshly in the beginning. He isn’t the moody git I thought he was just a few days ago.

  ‘Sorry.’ Tom shakes his head. ‘Ignore me. Tell me to mind my own business. You can choose to date whoever you want. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.’

  ‘It isn’t that.’ I’m already getting out of puff as I push myself to keep up with Tom. ‘I’ve absolutely taken onboard what you said about Archie, but Alice has this idea he’s my Prince Charming.’

  Tom splutters. ‘Your what?’

  I feel my cheeks heat up, and it isn’t due to the exertion of keeping up with Tom’s stride while pushing the wheelbarrow. ‘My Prince Charming. I know it sounds daft – and it’s a bit of a long story – but I used to have this fairy tales book when I was little, back when I was young and naïve and believed in happily ever afters.’

  Tom turns to frown at me. I’ve already started to lag behind. ‘You don’t believe in happily ever afters now?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not really.’ Not at all, actually. There’s always something lurking around the corner to stuff it up.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve experienced a pretty bad break-up.’ Tom has slowed down his pace and is walking beside me again.

  I shake my head. ‘Nope. At least not for me. Edward – my last boyfriend – wasn’t all that happy about it, but life’s worked out pretty well for him since.’

  ‘Why did you break up?’ We’ve reached the edge of the woods now. Tom ducks below a low-hanging branch, but I pass under it easily.

  ‘It was all getting too serious, too soon.’

  ‘How long were you together?’

  ‘Two years.’ I scrunch up my nose, knowing Tom will never understand. Alice never did.

  ‘Wow, you really like to take things slowly.’

  I manoeuvre my wheelbarrow around a large tree root. ‘I guess, but things were… complicated.’

  ‘How so?’

  I don’t usually open up to people about my past, but I find myself confiding in Tom. Perhaps it’s the woods, creating a safe, private space. Who knows?

  ‘My mum died a year ago, and I guess I couldn’t deal with that and a relationship. Edward wanted more than I could give him.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Tom has stopped, the wheelbarrow resting on the ground. ‘About your mum.’

  ‘It’s okay. It wasn’t a massive shock. I’d been expecting it for a long time, to be honest.’

  ‘Still, it must have been tough.’ I’m expecting Tom to push, to ask for more, but he simply picks up the handles of his wheelbarrow and forges ahead. I don’t say anything more about Mum, and he doesn’t probe, unlike Edward who wanted to know every last detail of my life prior to our meeting. In the end it became too much and I’d felt suffocated by his questions.

  Tom stops in a wide clearing and puts his wheelbarrow down. ‘Right, I thought I’d collect the fuel wood while you concentrate on the kindling, if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘It would be.’ I place my wheelbarrow down on its legs. ‘If I knew what the hell kindling was.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Tom nods. ‘I forgot you’re not exactly outdoorsy. Unless it comes to…’ He grins at me, his eyebrows lifting. I look back, uncomprehending. ‘Al fresco adventure?’

  My cheeks burst into flames. The umbrella tree. Archie. Me, half-nak
ed. Tom assuming we were…

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Whatever you’re imagining, it didn’t happen, okay?’

  Tom shrugs, but he’s smirking. ‘Yeah, whatever.’

  ‘It didn’t!’ I need him to believe me, to stop smirking like that, but I’m not sure how to convince him other than confessing all about Archie, which I absolutely won’t do.

  ‘So, kindling.’ I decide the best tactic is to change the subject and get on with the job at hand. ‘What am I looking for?’ I turn on the spot, my eyes wandering all around, but nothing is jumping out and screaming ‘hey, I’m kindling!’ at me.

  ‘Aim for small twigs and branches, about the width of a pencil.’ Tom reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of thick gloves. ‘And wear these, just in case.’ He chucks the gloves at me and I manage to catch them, which is a miracle considering the lack of throwing and catching skills I displayed at the rounders game yesterday.

  ‘What, you think I’m going to stab myself on a twig?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Tom is already moving away from his wheelbarrow. ‘But also, bears aren’t the only animals who shit in the woods, you know.’

  Lovely, I think as I pull the gloves on. Just lovely.

  It turns out Tom wasn’t planting in the middle of the field earlier; he was building a sort of platform for the base of the bonfire. Under Tom’s instruction, we start to build up a teepee structure out of the kindling and more substantial fuel wood, as well as some dry leaves and bark for tinder. It’s exhausting work, especially under the sun, but we also have a bit of a laugh now Tom has stopped teasing me about the supposed incident under the umbrella tree.

  ‘You’ve done a good job,’ Tom says once we finish for lunch.

  ‘Really?’ I’m standing up taller now, with my shoulders back, feeling strong and purposeful.

  ‘Yeah, even if we did have that incident with the dormouse.’

  I don’t feel quite so tall any more. ‘Hey, I didn’t squeal that loudly, and it took me by surprise, shooting out of the undergrowth like that.’

  Tom laughs. ‘You really don’t like wildlife, do you? Bees, dormice…’