5 Weeks

by June Hopkins

  Chapter 20

  It is 4.00 pm on Saturday afternoon and I am standing outside Little Becksley church chatting to Lissa as we wait for the stand-in vicar to turn up. We have a wedding rehearsal to ensure that we all know what to do and where to stand on the big day. Lissa is so agitated, anyone would think this is the real thing. I hope she isn't this bad next week or we will have a problem on our hands. Holly is jumping up and down like a Duracell bunny and Lissa eventually barks at her to stop and behave. This starts Holly blubbing and I have to take charge of comforting her. Fifteen minutes late, the vicar arrives. He looks about 90 and very doddery. George, Lissa's father, could only manage this particular chap, it being such short notice, because he is retired and the only one not actually booked already, but he is a good friend of George and Elspeth's. I'm sure it will be fine. We all file into the cold stone church and congregate around the altar. The vicar introduces himself as Reverend Gladstone and begins to organise us into our places. George, Lissa, Holly and I, along with the other four bridesmaids, Nicola, Ali, Tracey and Claire, all Lissa's cousins, are ushered out of the church to the front door, while the rest of the wedding party are given their instructions.

  We all wait outside to play our parts. The other bridesmaids are all gorgeous and I feel inadequate next to them. I am not comfortable with the whole set up. I am the tallest and fattest of them all and once dressed in our finery I am going to stand out like a sore thumb. God, I feel crap. I don't have time to dwell as we are now joined by the Reverend who delivers our instructions so quickly and then disappears, that we are all left in confusion and end up sorting ourselves out. Lissa wants Holly to walk at the front scattering rose petals as she goes. Rose petals if you please? I am immediately behind Lissa on my own as I am to take the bouquet; the other four are to follow me in two's, divided into height. The organ begins and we pull ourselves into line and shuffle slightly through the doors as we try to fall into step. After a couple of goes, because Lissa wants to get the speed and spacing exactly right, we practice the passing over of the bouquet, substituting my hand bag as we haven't any flowers; then the 'who gives this woman' part.

  We take our places in the pew and watch the others as they are taken through the rings, prayers, hymns and finally the signing of the register. From my seat I can watch Tom playing his part without being accused of staring, and I drink him in hungrily. Ali leans into me and whispers, "Who’s the BILF?"

  "The what?" I ask with a frown.

  "Best man I'd like to fuck," she informs me breathlessly.

  I have to smile and tell her his name is Tom and he happens to be the father of my child. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head.

  "Bloody hell, you lucky cow!"

  I have to admit to feeling slightly smug, and this is the first time I've admitted that fact to anyone outside of the know.

  They eventually finish with the necessities and we all get ready to leave. The others stand up and wait for me but I can't find my bag. I feel down by my legs where I left it but it is definitely gone. Oh you have got to be kidding me. Surely you don't get your bag stolen in a church? What is the world coming to? I don't want to make a fuss. Elspeth would have a fit if she thought there was a thief lurking about, so I tug on Ali's top to get her to bend down to me.

  "What are you doing?" she asks me quietly.

  "My bag's gone. I think it's been stolen."

  "What? No way. You had it when you sat down because you belted me in the knee with it," she glances around frantically for the perpetrator.

  Nicky starts hissing at us from behind her, "Come on you two, what you playing at? Do you want to sit here all night?"

  Ali glances at the others who are making their way to the door, and once she is satisfied that they are out of ear shot she tells Nicky about my bag. Nicky tells Claire who tells Tracey and now we are all worriedly muttering to each other in the pew trying to decide who is going to be the one to tell Elspeth. Tom marches back in from the front door, strides down the aisle and stops next to our pew, "What an earth are you lot doing? George wants to lock the door."

  Claire informs him that my bag has been stolen.

  "What? Christ, you are joking."

  "No she is not joking and don't blaspheme in the church," I scold him; visions of a thunderbolt are forming. I don't go to church any more but I was taken every Sunday until I was about 14 and still feel that reverence when I enter one.

  "Sorry," Tom says a little confused at my piousness. "Right, let’s all go outside and we can think about what to do for the best. I know you had it with you when you went to sit down, I saw you." He was watching me, whoohoo.

  We all file out of the pew into the aisle as Tom steps gallantly back. He bends down to have a check under the bench now that we are all out of the way and roars with laughter. The other four stop their exit and turn back and I frown at him. What's he laughing at? I hardly see the funny side in having your bag stolen, I think to myself indignantly.

  "Annie, you daft cow," he says.

  My eyebrows shoot up. "I'm sorry? What?"

  "It's there in the hole. When you sat down you must have put your bag on the floor and it fell straight into that dirty great hole under the pew. I swear that could only happen to you. You are seriously one walking disaster aren't you?" With that he laughs so hard that he actually grabs the nearest pew and holds onto it for support while he roars uncontrollably.

  "Oh for fuck’s sake. Are you having a fucking laugh?" I shout loudly.

  This stops his laughter for just long enough for him to look up at me and say, "Now who's blaspheming?" before dissolving into fits once again. The other girls are now giggling as one by one they've peered into the pew and I am scarlet with embarrassment.

  I also peer under the pew to confirm the worst and sure enough there is my bag about a foot down in a hole which is set back just under the bench. It is far enough back so as not to be noticed. You would be unlikely to stick your foot in it. However I reached just under the bench to put my bag out of the way, the hole is the perfect size and I must have got a hole in one. The chances of making that shot again are billions to one. Unbelievable.

  We have by now been joined by the others who clearly were drawn by the laughter and I have to stand there as one by one they get the joke and now they are all laughing along having a lovely time. George and Elspeth sober first and George apologises profusely but does point out that it is lucky I found it before one of his older parishioners got hurt; a statement which only encourages Tom to laugh harder. Ben controls himself and tells me he is happy to get the bag for me and I have to wait while he gets down on all fours and retrieves it, which as usual wasn't closed. He then has to spend another five minutes dipping in and out of the hole for my phone, lipstick, a dirty old emergency tampon which had been in the bottom of the bag for ages (not used I hasten to add), snotty toilet paper, a compact mirror, eye shadow, mascara, a packet of tissues, fags, a collection of lighters and some old shopping receipts. Of course this provokes more piss taking about the amount of crap I can possibly store in one bag. Eventually the bag is restored and I can leave the building, which I do without so much as looking at Tom who is still laughing but in the meantime has taken a seat to continue. I hope he wets himself. I inform Lissa huffily that I'm off home, will see her at the hotel later and leave them to it.

  Once home I have a large glass of wine left over from last night and calm myself down. This is ridiculous. Since Tom turned up I have turned into a complete moron, a walking disaster as he so kindly pointed out. I must admit that I do have a tendency to star in surreal scenarios but never quite as bad as I am at the moment. I seem to be constantly getting myself into ludicrous situations: the party mix up, the house of horrors and now this. I neck the wine in record time along with two fags that I smoke inside, as Harry is at mum's and I decide that I must get ready and look fabulous; damage limitation is where I'm at. I even have a niggling thought that maybe he likes the ridiculous about me. After all, don't they say
that making someone laugh can be a benefit in the relationship game? I mean, I don't know Melanie but I can't see her providing much comic material. Maybe he finds it endearing, even stimulating. I comfort myself with that thought and head upstairs to make myself gorgeous. I am going to go for the same outfit that James couldn't resist. Let's see if Tom finds that funny.

  At 7.00 pm I walk into the hotel bar and join the few who have already gathered. Tom is at the bar leaning nonchalantly against it. He is wearing black tailored trousers and pristine white shirt. He spots me immediately and comes over. He looks me up and down appreciatively, "Wow, you look stunning," he tells me sincerely.

  The old butterflies are back but I keep my cool. "I can scrub up ok when the need arises," I inform him coolly.

  "You certainly can. Your hair looks lovely and the earrings suit you. I'm pleased you like them."

  I feel myself blushing with pleasure, "Yes thank you again for them. They are beautiful."

  He puts out his hand and strokes a finger slowly down my arm from shoulder to elbow, "Listen, I should apologise for earlier," he says huskily.

  I feel as if the entire room is empty. I gaze silently into his eyes and try to find my voice. “I forgive you. I do seem to keep managing to get myself into some odd situations; you must think that a complete lunatic is bringing up your son."

  He laughs softly "Complete is a bit strong. However there is an air of the ridiculous about you at times but I find it endearing. You make me laugh Annie, and I can assure you I haven't indulged in much laughing over the last few years. You are very refreshing you know."

  I feel myself giving and internal shout of, “Yesss, get in there” but only allow a small smile to show on my face.

  "You two look cosy," Lissa's voice makes us turn.

  "Oh hi. Are you excited about tonight?" I ask her and then look at her a little more closely. She has the old cat's ass look about her again. God, what's the matter with her now? I hope she hasn't had another row with Ben, not tonight. Tom pipes up and tells her that he was just telling me how lovely I look; this seems to make her lips purse even more.

  Lissa smiles a little sarcastically at him, "Yes Annie, you do look lovely. Is that a new dress?" I ignore the tension and confirm that it is. “And what lovely earrings. Are they new as well? Did you get them in that silver shop in Gloucester?"

  I smile a little sarcastically now, cheeky bitch, "Oh these? No these were a gift from Tom. Gorgeous aren't they? From Tiffany's no less." Lissa reacts very strangely to these words. She sort of jumps as if she's had an electric shock, sucks in her breath and her eyes go wide as her head swivels to glare at Tom.

  "Umm, Lissa, are you ok?" my head is swiveling between the two of them, as they are now glaring at one another. You could cut the atmosphere with a chain saw, it's that thick. I am clearly missing something. They are both ignoring me and “confused” doesn't even cover it, but I am saved from worrying about it for too long by Ben who joins us and breaks the tension.

  Our party consists of Lissa and Ben's parents, the bridesmaids, the ushers, three of them who are friends or relations of Ben's, and a few close friends. I'm having a fabulous evening but I can't say that Lissa is; her strange mood has continued and it has affected Ben as well now. He is becoming pretty pissed off with her and her snappy barbed comments that have been delivered thick and fast for the majority of the night to anyone who dares to try and have a conversation with her. It has got to the point where we are all avoiding speaking to her and just chatting amongst ourselves leaving her to be silent and morose alone. I have decided that she's obviously had a row with Tom and Ben, as she's being particularly horrid to both of them. She keeps throwing death stares at Tom. Oh well I've got more important things on my mind this evening and it doesn't have anything to do with Lissa. It's all about seducing Tom and it seems to be working. He sat next to me and has been charming and attentive all evening. He keeps touching me, not inappropriately but stroking my arm or the odd brush of my leg with his knee, that sort of thing; and every now and then he leans in and whispers things in my ear. We have been flirting and giggling with each other all evening. Things are definitely looking good for later, I can't wait.

  After dessert, Tom goes off to the gents and I take the opportunity to go for a fag with Ben. Lissa refuses which is pretty much unheard of but I think that we are so fed up with her that we just leave her and join four others from our party outside. When we eventually rejoin the table Tom is still not back and Lissa has apparently gone to the loo as well. We carry on and have coffee but after a while we start to wonder where they are. I take myself off to the ladies but there is no sign. Ben does the same in the gents but Tom isn't there either. We wander about the hotel in and out of the bars, smoking area and garden but no joy. We try both phones, no answer. Where on earth can they be?

  Half an hour goes by before Ben gets a phone call from Tom who informs him that he found Lissa by the toilets in a bit of a bad way. He's taken her home and she's gone off to bed. He is going to stay there to make sure she's ok and there’s no need to worry, she's just had too much to drink. Ben rings off and lets the rest of us know the state of play and my stomach drops into my lovely shoes. My night has officially ended. To say I'm gutted would be an understatement. How can a night go from glorious to shite in less than half an hour? Bollocks! I am so pissed off I can hardly speak. Lissa has managed to come between me and a man once again. I can't believe it; I didn't notice her off her face. She didn't look drunk to me and I've seen her in some states. I suppose she must have been helping herself to the wine on the table while she was sitting there with a face like a smacked ass all night. With nothing left to do, I drink. I drink until I am chucked out with the other extraordinarily pissed bridesmaids at two in the morning. They are all staying at the hotel and so stagger off to their rooms. Luckily I manage to get a lift home with a friend of mine, Amy, who works behind the bar as I don't think I could have made the walk.

  Sunday passes pretty uneventfully. I spend most of it dying with the hangover from hell. Mum brought Harry back about 4 pm along with a huge roast dinner, which was like manna from heaven and soothed the hangover no end. Tom phoned this morning full of apologies and I eventually forgave him. After all, as he pointed out, he has been staying with them for quite a while; he could hardly leave Lissa in that state and he didn't want her father to see her like that. He hadn't wanted to make a scene or ruin the party so he'd felt that taking her home and keeping quiet would be the best move under the circumstances. I sort of understood but it didn't make me feel any better, although he has promised to take me out on Tuesday night for a meal. Just the two of us, which perked me up no end. He is coming to the house at 9.00 tomorrow as I have to do the cleaning in the pub before my normal shift. Tom’s going to bring breakfast for Harry and then they are going out to Longleat wildlife park for the day. Harry is beside himself with excitement.

  I haven't heard from James since Thursday and I'm hoping that he won't phone later as I don't know what to tell him re Tom. My head is well and truly in the sand; I would rather avoid the conversation until he comes back and I have three days to come to some sort of decision. Maybe Tuesday night will make my mind up. I phoned Lissa to see how she was but Ben told me she's acting strangely and won't get out of bed. That was at lunch time and is completely unlike her but I am still cross that she took Tom away from me last night, even if it wasn't intentional. So she can stay in her stinking pit all day for all I care.

  Chapter 21

  Tom arrives on time this morning loaded down with goodies from the bakery. Apparently the two of them are going to have a good old American breakfast of doughnuts and pastries, which I think is disgusting but I have to leave them to it, giving Tom the spare key. I get ready to set off for work; the pub won't clean and open itself. I give Harry a big kiss and tell him to behave and not forget his bag with the obligatory wipes and change of clothes. I still can't get out of that habit. Even at the age of nearly eight he still manag
es to end up getting himself in a state, especially where food and drink is concerned, and I don't want him wandering around Longleat looking like an urchin. Tom is strange this morning. He is acting slightly shifty, which is odd and the only word to describe his behaviour. I put it down to embarrassment for dumping me on Saturday night. Even though he's apologised, he is a gentleman at heart and he would feel bad about that, so I am extra friendly towards him to put him at ease and he seems to relax by the time I leave. He gave me a kiss on the cheek as he told me to have a nice day in a corny American accent.

  It's 2 pm and I'm serving in the bar. I only have the normal four in and they have been doing my head in with their bickering. Alex has rushed off to some unknown emergency, which probably involves mates and alcohol but I have laid down the law and ordered him back by three as I want to leave early; I can't be doing with staying here until 4pm today.

  The front door opens and Ben comes in looking, well, traumatised. His face is pale; he looks as if he's been crying. His hair has the dragged through a hedge backwards look and his usual smart appearance is shot to bits. He‘s wearing scruffy jeans and an old t-shirt and trainers. I stare at him for what seems like ages as a cold feeling starts to descend on me. Good grief, what the hell has happened? Someone has died, I just know it.

  "Ben, what's up?" I ask him in a voice that is shaking. He just stares at me without speaking, which fills me with dread. "Ben, is it Lissa? Holly? Please speak to me."

  The others in the bar are enthralled. They've stopped arguing and are now intent on us. I go round the bar taking a brandy with me on the way. I put the glass in his hand and order him to drink, which he does in one gulp. It seems to bring him out of his stupor and he just stares at me before saying, "It's Lissa."