by Melissa Hill
“At a rugby match? Wouldn’t it be a little noisy?”
Mike laughed. “No, we could meet them somewhere in town afterwards.”
“OK.” Jenny thought she’d better agree before Mike picked up on her hesitancy.
“Great. You’ll like her, Jen. I think the two of you will get on really well, actually. Becky is very easygoing.”
Jenny forced a smile as she took a mouthful of her now-tepid dregs of champagne,
remembering an article she had read only recently in Cosmo about so-called ‘ex-etiquette’. The moral of the story seemed to be that there was none – it was claws out for the majority of women, regardless of the personalities involved. Jenny wished she had paid more attention. Because soon she’d get to experience some ‘ex-etiquette’ of her very own.
*****
Jenny spent most of Saturday afternoon in front of the mirror in her bedroom, trying to decide upon an outfit for that evening. She had absolutely no idea what to wear for this outing. She wanted to look stylish but at the same time not too vampish. She didn’t want to wear anything too fashionable, because it would undoubtedly highlight the fact that she was a good ten years younger than Mike’s ex-wife and she didn’t want to be come across as a silly teenager. She didn’t want to wear high heels because Mike wasn’t sure whether or not they would be going out on the town – and there was no way she would be able to wait in heels for up to two hours in the taxi queue to get back home. Jenny had never felt this self-conscious in her life – had never agonised over an outfit for so long. She was completely unsure of the image she was supposed to project. Normally, she knew instinctively what to wear – tailored trouser-suits to the office, funky casuals for a night out in the pub, elegant but fashionable party-wear for special occasions. Then there was the problem of what to do with her hair. She had let it grow much longer lately, and it now reached well below shoulder-length.
If she wore her hair down, Rebecca’s first impression of her might be that she was the stereotypical blonde bimbo hoping to nab herself a rich divorcee. If she wore it up, she might look too severe or too dressy, depending on her choice of outfit. Which brought Jenny back to square one.
She needed some advice with this one, she thought, discarding a bias-cut chiffon skirt on top of at least twenty other prospects on her bed. Jenny walked barefoot and bra-less out into the front room towards the telephone.
“Tessa – it’s Jenny. I need your advice and I need it fast.”
Later that evening, when Mike picked her up in the taxi, Jenny was feeling a lot more confident. Taking Tessa’s advice, she had worn her black sleeveless cashmere turtleneck, her red cropped leather jacket over a pair of black wide-leg trousers, and a pair of black, strappy, highish sandals. Tessa had been adamant that she should step out in nothing less than a three-inch heel.
“It’ll give you confidence,” she had insisted. “There’s nothing better than the clicking of high heels on the ground to make you feel great about what you’re wearing. But you can’t go wrong with black – and there’s no harm in showing a bit of flesh, either.”
Jenny had felt much better after that telephone call and, as it turned out, Tessa was right. No one could fault her with this outfit. Her blonde hair always looked particularly dramatic against darker colours. She had worn it down but, as Tessa suggested, had tucked a few strands casually behind her ears.
Mike had seemed happy enough with her anyway, she thought, recalling his appreciative wolf-whistle when she got into the taxi. But that wasn’t even half the battle. Despite Tessa’s assurances that she’d ‘blow them all away’, Jenny wasn’t feeling at all confident about tonight. What if Rebecca was the highbrow intellectual type and they all started discussing politics? Jenny was no fool but current politics didn’t interest her one whit, nor did she have particularly strong opinions about the coalition government or the opposition parties. She could hold her own well in a discussion on economics or business but after that …
“Are you OK? You’re very quiet.” Mike stroked her arm.
Jenny smiled. “I suppose I’m feeling a little nervous about this – I don’t exactly know what to expect.”
“Honestly, Jen, it’ll be fine. Rebecca and Graham are totally down-to-earth. I know you’ll all get on really well.”
“I hope so. Where are we meeting them anyway?”
“They’re staying at Jury’s in Christchurch – I told them we’d meet them in the bar and we can decide where to go from there.”
“Oh, we’ll probably end up somewhere in Temple Bar, seeing as it’s only down the road.”
“Maybe – but I should warn you. Becky and Graham aren’t exactly the pub-crawling types.”
“Oh.” He was obviously pointing out the age difference between herself and the others. All of a sudden Jenny felt very foolish. She sat back in the seat and said little else for the rest of the journey. Mike was also uncharacteristically quiet, she noticed. Maybe he was nervous too. Nervous about parading his younger new woman.
A while later, the taxi pulled up outside Jury’s Inn. As Mike walked in front of her through the sliding doors, Jenny took a deep breath. She looked to her left towards the bar, and saw a smiling, slightly plump woman wave out at them – Rebecca? Jenny took another deep breath, this one coming out as a sigh of relief. This woman looked totally non-threatening. But Mike continued walking straight past her, and into the bar towards an elegant-looking redhead who was sitting at the bar.
“Becky, hello, you look fabulous.” Mike stepped forward and hugged her, kissing her lightly on both cheeks.
Rebecca eagerly returned his hug. “And you must be Jenny,” she said a husky voice. “I’m Rebecca – it’s lovely to meet you finally.” She was smiled warmly as she shook Jenny’s hand.
“Where’s Graham?” Mike asked, looking around the room.
“Never far,” said a lilting, Welsh voice from behind them. He walked up and slapped Mike hard on the back. “How are things, man?”
“Fine, fine. You’re looking very well – all those hours on the golf course are doing you the world of good.”
“Well, as you well know – any excuse to get away from Becky is a good one.”
“Thanks very much,” Rebecca said incredulously. “You’re giving Jenny here a terrible impression of me already.”
“Only joking.” Graham put an arm around her waist. He smiled at Jenny. “Hello, my lovely,” he said. “Jenny, isn’t it? I’m Graham – nice to meet you.”
Jenny shook his hand, warming to him instantly. It was probably the accent, she thought, or the fact that he reminded her a little of a young Kevin Keegan. She shouldn’t forget, of course, that this was the guy who ran away with Mike’s wife. Although Mike certainly seemed to have forgotten it. The two of them were chatting away as if they were the best of friends.
Mike ordered drinks and the four of them sat down at a quiet table in the small but cosy hotel bar. As the other three chatted amongst themselves, Jenny noticed that although Rebecca wasn’t conventionally beautiful she had an effortless sexiness about her. In other words, she could see why Mike had fallen for her.
At least she herself was holding her own in the outfit stakes, she thought, regarding Rebecca’s outfit with a slight feeling of triumph. The older woman was wearing a long fitted black skirt and a cerise polo-neck, the colour clashing dreadfully with her hair. Yet she had an air about her that suggested she didn’t give a damn about what she wore. Jenny decided she’d better make some effort to join in the conversation.
“So, you two live in Wales, is it?” she asked.
Rebecca laughed. “God, no – we live in the centre of London. I couldn’t live all that way out in the country.”
Graham rolled his eyes. “She makes the place sound like it was the back of beyond. Poor old Becky couldn’t function if she didn’t have Chelsea high-street shopping, within walking distance of her front door – isn’t that right, my love?”
“Well, for grocery-shopping
at least,” she said grimacing. “Unfortunately, Jenny, I’m terrible cook.”
“I can certainly vouch for that,” Mike piped up and they all laughed.
“Help. They’re ganging up on me now.” Rebecca gave Jenny a desperate look.
Jenny laughed, still a little in awe of the easygoing relationship Mike enjoyed with them, but feeling, to her surprise, that she was becoming more and more relaxed in their company. She certainly hadn’t expected them to be so nice. Rebecca and Graham were full of chat – in fact, between the two of them, it was difficult for Jenny to get a word in.
It appeared that Graham was also involved in the software industry, and it wasn’t long before he and Mike were deep in conversation about business. Rebecca rolled her eyes and leaned towards Jenny conspiratorially. “They’re off – Jenny, is it just me or does all that computer-talk bore you senseless too? Anyway, enough about work,” she said before Jenny could answer. She rubbed her hands together with glee. “You just won’t believe the stuff I picked up in town today – I’ll have to take you up to the room and show you. I had forgotten how great the shopping is in Dublin – you’ve even got Debenhams here.”
*****
Later that night, lying in the darkness beside Mike, Jenny went over the evening’s events in her head. She was so pleased that the meeting with Rebecca had gone well. Mike had been right – both she and Graham were terribly down to earth. Rebecca, obviously sensing Jenny’s nervousness, had made every effort to make her feel comfortable.
“I know you probably think it’s strange that Mike and I have such a good relationship,” she had said, when he and Graham were out of earshot, “but we’ve known one another for a long, long time and have been through a lot together.’
She smiled and put a hand on Jenny’s arm. “It was very hard but thankfully we sorted everything out and managed to stay friends after the divorce. It took a while though.”
Jenny nodded, unsure how to respond.
“I think what I’m trying to say, and please don’t take this the wrong way …” She looked at Jenny kindly. “I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you to come here tonight. I’d be the same way myself, meeting the dreaded ex-wife.”
She looked across the table at Mike and Graham, who were engrossed in the rugby highlights on the television. “Things went wrong for us early in the marriage. At the very end, although I can’t say it was easy, we were more like brother and sister than husband and wife, and I’m certain Mike would agree with that. Then I met Graham and – ”
“It’s OK,” Jenny interjected. “Please don’t feel that you have to tell me this, Rebecca. It’s none of my business, after all.”
“I think it is,” Rebecca said firmly. “I know Mike feels very strongly about you and I’m afraid that my friendship with him might make you uncomfortable. I just want you to know that I’m not a threat to you, and I never will be. I still love Mike, but only as a friend, and I know he feels the same way about me. We both have our own lives now – you know that Graham and I have two little girls?” Her face lit up when she mentioned her children, and Jenny realised then how important having a family must have been to Rebecca – so important that it ruined her marriage.
“Yes. Mike mentioned that.”
“And we’re hoping to get married next year – if we can find the time, that is. It’s so difficult to organise a wedding when you’ve got two little madams like ours. Rosie and Robyn are still only toddlers but sometimes ….” She rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, I was absolutely thrilled when Mike told me that you and he had finally got it together.” She nudged Jenny softly. “I hope you don’t mind, but he had told me all about you long before you two began seeing one another.”
Jenny smiled at this.
“Anyway – you’ll have to come over to London for a visit sometime. I could take you down to Fulham – there’s some fantastic shopping there and …”
Jenny smiled to herself in the darkness. Rebecca was quite a woman. She herself didn’t know how she would react to meeting an ex’s new girlfriend. She rarely stayed friends with her exes; after all, look at what had happened to her and Roan.
She hadn’t seen him for over a year now. It was hard to believe that this time last year she had been an absolute wreck, pining over the silly bastard. She didn’t know how she’d react if she met him now. It would certainly be a little bit scary, not to mention extremely uncomfortable.
Still, she thought, rolling over on her side and snuggling close to Mike. She was in Dublin and Roan was in New York. She wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into him on the street anytime soon.
Chapter 35
Karen glared at her reflection with absolute horror. She frowned at Jenny, who was beside herself with laughter outside the fitting room.
“It’s bloody hideous.” she said, trying to lift the heavy skirt over her head, but to no avail. They were shopping for Karen’s wedding dress, and Jenny had persuaded her to try on what could only be described as the biggest, flounciest, fluffiest ‘meringue’ Karen had ever seen.
“You’ll look gorgeous in it,” she had insisted. Karen wasn’t convinced but tried the dress on just to pacify her. Otherwise, Jenny would be on at her all day. She hated this, hated having to trawl the shops looking for the ‘perfect dress’. She had hoped just to walk into a bridal shop and pick one up from the rack. One shop assistant had nearly choked with shock when Karen had told her the date of her wedding.
“June? You mean June – as in twelve months?” she had said, her eyes wide with surprise.
“No,” Karen told her flatly. “I mean June – as six weeks time.”
“But … but,” the sales assistant spluttered, “our dresses need to be ordered at least a year in advance. You’ll need to first make your choice – and of course this takes time in order to ensure it really is the perfect dress for you,” she added reverently, as if the decision was on par with choosing your husband. “Then you’ll need a fitting, the dress will need to be ordered and of course adjustments will need to be made and …”
Karen hadn’t stayed to hear the rest of the assistant’s bluster. She was down the escalator and out of the shop as fast as the steps would carry her, Jenny following close behind.
“Honest to God – it’s only a dress. You’d swear it was a bloody work of art, the way they go on about it. Jen, what am I going to do? I’ll never find a decent dress at this stage.”
It was only through sheer desperation that Karen had been persuaded to deviate from her search for a plain and straight wedding dress, hence the meringue.
“You’re right, it’s absolutely horrendous.” Jenny said, a hand over her mouth to try and stop the laughter. With her top-heavy chest, that particular dress made her look like an advertisement for a new brand of marshmallow. “You look like a …
a …”
“She looks like a princess. My dear, that has to be the one. It looks amazing on you. Oh, wait, I’ll go and get a veil. Now stay right where you are - don’t move for one second!” The elderly sales assistant scuttled off eagerly.
“Jenny!” Karen hissed. “Get me out of this thing – quick!”
Jenny was laughing so much she could hardly get the zip undone. Karen roughly dragged the dress over her head, put her own clothes back on and ran out of the cubicle, nearly knocking over another bride-to-be, who was preening in front of the mirror outside the changing rooms, and wearing an equally hideous dress. An older woman, obviously the girl’s mother was the placing a tiara carefully on her daughter’s head, the two of them in floods of tears, obviously moved by the glorious vision in satin and lace.
“I’d be crying too if I had to wear a dress like that to my wedding,” Karen said under her breath, as she and Jenny sped past them and out of the shop, laughing uproariously.
Almost two hours later, exhausted from battling the Saturday crowds and still without Karen’s perfect dress, the two girls grabbed a precious free table in a packed Bewley’s.
“Look, don’t worry about it,” Jenny said, stirring a marshmallow into her hot chocolate, “you’ve still got plenty time to get something before the wedding.”
“Jen, it’s hopeless. I haven’t seen anything that might even be a prospect, and we haven’t even started on a bridesmaid dress for you. What if I don’t find anything in time?”
“Of course you will. And I’ll help you as much as I can.” She put her mug down and looked at Karen thoughtfully. “I’ve just had a brainwave … we’ve been looking in the same shops, and the same places all the time. We don’t we go somewhere different – like Belfast, for instance?”
“Belfast? You mean Northern Ireland Belfast?”
Jenny nodded eagerly. “Why not? The shopping is supposed to be excellent up there, as good as any English city. Rebecca said – ”
“Rebecca? The famous ex?” Karen asked, looking startled.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I?” Jenny grinned. “We all met up last weekend. She’s great.”
“She’s great? What do you mean she’s great? She’s his ex for goodness sake.”
“I know, that’s what I thought too,” Jenny said, leaning her elbows on the table, “but she’s really, really, nice – couldn’t be nicer, in fact.”
Karen shook her head in wonder. “That’s terrific Jen. To be honest, I was a bit worried about all that. I don’t how I’d be able to handle it myself, if I was in your position.”
“I’ll admit I was a more than a little worried at first, but having met Rebecca face to face, it’s pretty obvious that she and Mike have moved on completely. We got on really well.”
“You know, I have to say, I’m very proud of you Jen – you’ve really come a long way since this time last year.”
Jenny shrugged, her face slightly flushed. “I suppose I have, haven’t I?”
“Most definitely,” Karen said, draining her mug of hot chocolate, “Anyway, I think Belfast is a great idea, what about next weekend? I could drive.” She missed Jenny’s petrified look. “Oh no – I can’t, actually. Shane has to leave the car in for the NCT, and you haven’t been driving long enough to take the Punto. I suppose we’ll have to take the train then?”