by Sue Shepherd
‘It’s just that … Charlie can’t come to the wedding, that’s all. I’d have liked him there.’
‘Ah well, he’s a busy lad. Off travelling again, I expect. Was I shocked to see him tonight? He’s shot up … and out!’
‘Yes. Like he said, he’s all grown up.’ Beth gave a weak smile.
‘All of you are grown up. It’s scary. First, Michelle moved in with Ricky. Now, you’re going to be married.’
‘Do you think I’m too young, Mum?’
‘Where did this come from?’
‘I don’t know, I just … Do you?’
‘Like I said when you first got engaged, you are a bit young, but you seem sure of each other. Has anything changed?’
‘No. Absolutely not.’ Beth shook her head. ‘It’s just … Charlie was surprised about the wedding. He probably thinks I’m dull getting married this young.’
‘If it’s what you want, don’t let anyone else put a dampener on it. From what you’ve said about him, Charlie’s a bit of a wanderer. I doubt he’ll ever settle down.’
‘Yeah. You’re right.’
‘You’re sure that’s all it is? Just a wobble caused by something your friend said?’
‘Yes. Of course. Besides, he doesn’t even know James. He’s got no way of knowing if I should marry him.’ Beth indicated she was done talking about it.
‘Right then, Dad’s gone to bed. Fancy a film?’ Pat gestured towards the Campbell’s small collection of DVDs.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I ought to get to sleep. I’ve got a client to practise on at eight, and I’ll have to walk back and collect the car first.’
Pat looked disappointed. ‘Go on, watch a film with me? Once you’re married, and you’ve moved out, we’ll never get the chance.’
Beth gave in. ‘Go on then, you pick.’
As always, the film Pat chose was sloppy. She was a sucker for a bit of heartbreak.
On the screen, a woman was dying. She was at last declaring her feelings for her one true love. She’d lived her whole life as a nun and had never had the strength to break free and go after her man. Following years of searching, he’d finally found her, but alas it was too late for them. He whispered the words, ‘It was always you, my dearest. I promise … it was always you.’
Beth looked at her mum. A pile of wet tissues was building up in the wastepaper basket next to her.
‘Stupid woman.’ Pat sobbed. ‘You should’ve told him when you saw him, before the war.’ She always instructed the actors, she alone knew what was best for them.
‘There would be no story if she’d told him then,’ Beth reminded her mum.
‘Shush … don’t spoil it.’ Pat blew her nose.
Usually, Beth would’ve laughed at her mum. She had no idea why Pat got so involved. But not this time. Tonight, the love story Pat had chosen was ideal. As the woman closed her eyes for the last time, the hero’s face was filled with utter despair, and Beth was reminded of the expression on Charlie’s face when she’d told him about her upcoming marriage. The film was the perfect excuse for her to sit on the sofa and join her mum in blubbing her heart out.
Fortunately, Pat was not in the least bit suspicious. Only Lisa knew that Beth’s tears had far more to do with the hurt she’d caused Charlie than the mushy death scene playing out on the Campbell’s small TV screen.
Thirty-nine
Beth had only one week to go before she became Mrs Collier. She’d ummed and ahhed about whether to try to see Charlie before the wedding. Lisa was keen, of course. But Beth was sure it would only cause more upset. Instead, she decided to throw herself into the last-minute preparation. Most of the jobs had been ticked off the ‘To Do’ list, and finally there was just one thing to be done – collect the wedding cake.
The cake they’d chosen was an elaborate construction. Three tiers, all iced to a smooth white finish, with delicate icing flowers in the palest of pinks cascading their way down the side.
The Campbells were discussing who was going to collect it.
‘I’d rather not. You know how nervous I am about driving, and God only knows if it’ll fit in my car.’ Beth wasn’t ashamed to admit defeat on this one.
Don waded in with his thoughts. ‘I’d rather drive a tank full of dynamite than drive the car that transports that bloody cake.’
‘You pair of wimps. Come on, Pat, we’ll go.’ With that, Nanna picked up the keys to Pat’s car and tossed them at her daughter-in-law.
‘OK. But it’s going on your lap.’ Pat followed her to the car.
Within half an hour they were back from the bakers. Both were uncharacteristically flustered.
‘What’s up? Oh no, the cake! Did it fall?’ Beth made towards the front door ready to inspect the damage. Terrified of what she might see.
‘No, nothing like that.’ Pat looked shifty.
‘What, then?’
As usual, it was Nanna who got to the point. ‘They haven’t made the cake. Apparently nobody’s paid the balance.’
‘WHAT?’ All of a sudden, Beth was light-headed.
Pat put her arms around her devastated little girl. ‘I know. We tried telling them it was definitely paid. Dad gave James the money weeks ago. He went in and paid the balance. But they just kept saying it wasn’t paid for, so they hadn’t made it.’ Squeezing for all her worth, she added, ‘I’m sorry.’
Beth was horrified by what she was hearing. The wedding was already a small affair. The cake was the only grand gesture. How can this have happened? She asked Nanna, ‘Couldn’t you sort it out?’
‘I did try. You know me and your mum, we don’t give up easily. But there was no payment written in the book ‒ so, there was no cake!’
‘They should’ve called me.’
‘It seems there was a mix up with the phone number too.’ Pat continued to hold her.
Too livid for hugs, Beth freed herself and grabbed her car keys. ‘James will clear this up.’
She was fuming as she drove to James’s place. Stupid bakers. They’re hardly going to have time to make a decent cake now. Even if they sort out the problem today, they’ll still be pushed for time.
James was also furious. He confirmed he’d paid the balance when Don had given him the money. ‘I’ll go and see them as soon as I can.’
‘No, not as soon as you can – NOW! There’s barely time for them to sort out their mess. We need to go now.’
‘OK, I’ll go now, you take yourself home. You’re far too upset to ‒’
‘No way. I’m coming with you.’
‘No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ll sort it. You know what you’re like.’
Beth was unusually forceful. ‘I’m coming. I was the one who chose the cake. I need to be there.’
James didn’t look as if he relished the thought of her accompanying him one bit, but nevertheless he allowed it.
‘Are you sure, you definitely don’t have the receipt?’ The lady who was in charge of the bookings had seemed lovely when Beth and Pat had pored over the book of laminated pictures. However, now there was a problem, her tone had become slightly officious. She seemed ready for an argument. Well that was fine, Beth knew James wouldn’t back down.
‘No. I just told you, I don’t have a receipt, because I wasn’t given one.’ James was breathing heavily through his nose, like a bull about to charge.
‘Sir, as I’ve already explained ‒ when the balance is paid, they write it in this book. It has carbon paper; do you see?’
James’s face grew red. ‘Yes, I see. I’m not an imbecile. But I’m telling you. I wasn’t given a receipt.’
‘OK. Well, even if by some huge oversight, they forgot to give you the receipt, it would still be written here in this book.’ The lady waved the receipt book at him. ‘And … I think you’ll agree, Mr Collier, we’ve now been through the book three times and there is no mention of a balance payment from you.’
James and the lady attempted to stare each other down.
‘You keep going on about that b
loody book, but I can’t help it if your staff don’t fill the stupid thing in, can I?’
‘May I ask who you gave the money to, Mr Collier?’
James’s colour darkened. ‘I don’t know.’
‘A girl, a middle-aged lady, a young man?’
‘Yep, that’s it, it was a lad. It’ll be his fault. You know what young blokes are like?’ James nodded his head, emphatically.
‘We don’t have any young men working here, Mr Collier.’ With that, the lady closed the receipt book with a snap. ‘I think you must be mistaken.’ She transferred her attention to another customer.
James clenched his teeth, he looked fit to burst.
Beth was gutted, but she could see they were beat. ‘Let’s just leave it. We don’t need her rotten old cake anyway.’
‘Fine. But I’ll be writing to the manager. This is no way to treat good customers.’ James marched towards the door and was out in the street in no time.
As soon as the shop door closed behind them, tears began to snake their way down Beth’s face. For all her false bravado, she’d fallen in love with that cake and she’d been looking forward to posing for photographs, knife in hand and handsome husband by her side.
‘Fucking bitch. She was trying to catch me out. So what if I can’t remember who took the money?’
‘Forget about it. It’s not worth letting her spoil our special day.’ Beth was trying her hardest to control herself, she didn’t want to have a full-on howl in the street.
‘I’m still going to write and complain though. They need telling!’ James seemed ready to punch something.
‘Good idea. We’ll make sure they know how angry we are.’
Lisa butted in, ‘I’ll bet you a fiver he never writes that letter.’
Forty
They were down one gorgeous cake, but thank goodness for Nanna. She spent the afternoon before the wedding baking one of her delicious Victoria sandwich cakes. It was extra-large, she tried her hardest to make it special. Sorry that Beth had missed out on her dream cake, Pat scoured the shops and managed to find the most gorgeous porcelain bride and groom to stand on the top of the Victoria sponge.
Beth instantly felt a connection with those little people.
She couldn’t get to sleep, it was just too crazy to think that by this time tomorrow she’d be married.
As she crept downstairs to make herself a milky drink, Beth spotted an envelope addressed to her, laying on the doormat.
For one awful second, she thought it might be from James. It occurred to her he might be calling off the wedding. But a second later, she saw that the writing was neater than his.
Picking up the envelope and ripping it open she questioned herself, why on earth did I think he wanted to call off the wedding?
‘Wishful thinking!’
‘Shut up, Lisa.’
The note was from Charlie. Just a couple of lines –
Michelle told me it’s your wedding tomorrow. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you. I just know I can’t watch you get married. He’s a lucky bugger. I’m heading back to Singapore for another year’s contract. Maybe more. Be happy, Beth Campbell.
Love Charlie.
She tried to imagine him creeping, stealth-like, down the path in the darkness. Not that Charlie did anything stealth-like. She saw him slipping the note carefully through the letterbox, and then retreating down the path, like he was carrying out some crazy covert mission.
This was not what she’d wanted for them. They’d been such good friends as kids and he’d been so important in Australia. He should be joining her for her big day. But then again, if she was honest, she totally understood why he couldn’t be there. She didn’t even like it when those girls had fawned over him on the boat.
‘Regretting your decision, yet?’ her sister asked.
‘No … I … I am allowed to care about him, aren’t I?’
‘Fill your boots.’
Beth made her way into the kitchen. Apart from the hum of the fridge, the room was silent. There stood Nanna’s cake, resplendent in the moonlight. She approached it, and lifted the clear plastic cover. Picking up the little people, she held them lovingly in her hand. The groom’s hair was slightly too light, and the bride was a bit on the tall side, but to her they resembled her and James perfectly. ‘They’re just like us, aren’t they, Lisa?’
‘What? Fused at the hip? Yep!’
‘Oh shush.’ Beth kissed the porcelain man on the head, and placed the pair gently back on the cake. ‘Can you believe it? Tomorrow I’m going to be Mrs Collier.’
‘No, I can’t friggin’ believe it.’
‘It will be OK. You’ll see.’ Fearful of damage, Beth replaced the cake cover.
‘It won’t be OK, and I won’t see. But you refuse to be told.’
‘What is your problem? I mean, seriously, James is handsome, he’s generous, he wants to be with me all the time. He wants me to be his everything …’
‘Bingo!’
‘Pardon?’
‘Bingo. You’ve just hit the friggin’ nail on the head. You know as well as I do, you can’t be his everything. He should have a life away from you. He should have mates. There’s something about him that just …’
‘Just what?’
‘I can’t say for definite, but I know you feel it too.’
‘OK. I’ll admit. Maybe there’s a tiny part of me that’s not sure. I mean … I’m only twenty … but when he looks at me, I can see us being happy together, forever.’
‘As happy as you would be with Charlie?’
‘Why did you have to say that?’
‘It’s what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how life would be if you were running off to Singapore with him tomorrow, instead of marrying James.’
‘Yes … I am.’ Beth hated how Lisa knew her thoughts.
‘Maybe you ought to call him?’
‘James?’
‘No, not him. I mean Charlie. He might not have left yet.’
‘No way. It’s far too dangerous. I’m not going to call him the night before my wedding. Bloody hell, what would I even say?’
‘Say that you’re having doubts, that you’re not sure James is the man for you, and that you want to meet him.’
‘I am sure James is the man for me!’
‘When I just suggested calling Charlie, your heart rate increased. You want to see him.’
‘Stop it. I don’t. I just …’
‘Up it goes again. Bang, bang, bang goes Beth’s heart at the thought of seeing Charlie Morris. Oh yes, indeed, she’s absolutely ready to marry James tomorrow.’
‘Cut the sarcasm. I am ready. There’s nothing to be gained by calling him.’
‘You’re that friggin’ nun.’
‘What the hell are you on about now?’
‘You’re the nun in the film. The one who wastes her life doing the wrong thing.’
‘I am not the stupid nun!’
‘You are, and you know it. Call him. Stop him from going back to Singapore?’
‘No.’
‘OK. Just call for a chat. Just have a little listen to his voice.’
‘Stop it.’
‘If you’re not the nun, call Charlie and hear his voice.’
‘I don’t want to hear his voice … and I am not the nun!’
‘Hi, Charlie. Can we meet up? Can I come and see you? Of course, Beth. I’m ready and waiting.’ Lisa mimicked their voices.
‘I said ‒ stop it!’
‘Bang, bang, bang, there goes your heart again. Call him.’
‘Leave me alone, I …’ Beth was beginning to feel sick.
‘What’s up?’
‘I feel a bit dizzy.’
‘Where did you put that piece of paper with his phone number?’
‘I can’t breathe, Lisa. You’re hassling me. Stop it.’
‘Bedside drawer, I think. Have a look. See if it’s there.’
Beth held her hands out in front of her. They were shaking
. ‘What’s happening to me? I feel really sick. I think I need to lie down.’
‘Maybe you’ll hear his voice and it’ll mean nothing to you, and then you’ll know for sure. Worth a shot though, huh?’
‘I need to lie down. I don’t feel so good. Is it hot, or is it just me? Why am I …’ Beth began making her way unsteadily back up the stairs to her room.
‘I think it’s a panic attack.’
‘A what?’
‘A panic attack. Remember, one of the old ladies used to have them at Daphne’s?’
‘This is not a panic attack. This is a heart attack or something. Maybe I’m about to have a stroke. Oh, brilliant, I’m going to die the night before my wedding.’
‘You’re not going to die.’
‘I think I am.’
‘That’s what a friggin’ panic attack is. That woman at the hairdressers used to think she was going to die every time.’
‘No, this is serious. Do you think I should call an ambulance? Perhaps I ought to call James and say goodbye. I am one hundred per cent about to die.’
‘Don’t call that stupid northern git, call Charlie.’
‘You’re making it worse. My heart is about to explode. I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘Just take deep breaths. It’ll pass. That’s what Kath used to say.’
Beth lay on her bed. ‘I can see stars in front of my eyes. Help me. I’m scared.’
‘Come back here. I’ll come out front and calm your body down.’
‘No! No way.’
‘I don’t think you have much choice. I can feel you weakening.’
‘No! I just need to breathe deeply and ‒’
‘It’s too late. Here I come.’
Beth felt Lisa take her over. It was almost like a gust of wind. Cool air passing her at speed. Before she knew it, she was in Lisa’s place. The sickness and panic instantly began to fade.
‘How did you …?’
‘It would seem an anxiety attack will send you racing back to my corner, sis.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Neither did I. We’re learning more about this condition all the time, aren’t we?’
‘It’s not a condition. I’m not ill.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s call it our “situation” then. Whatever. The fact we need to focus on is that I’m out here and you’re back there.’