‘And then Amanda turned up.’
‘No!’ Still wide-eyed.
‘I’m afraid so. But Richard stood up to her and told her she had to stop being a dick. He was quite masterful.’ Erin shivered with pleasure.
‘Do you think she’ll listen, though?’ Amanda struck me as the sort of woman who didn’t like being told what to do.
Erin shrugged. ‘Who knows with that one? But she left soon after, so we got to enjoy the rest of the day. It wasn’t so bad, really, once I’d got used to the humiliating dress. The food was lovely and you should have seen Richard and LuLu dancing. It was so sweet.’
‘Ah.’ I met Quinn’s eye and we both smiled. ‘Look at our Erin all loved up and enjoying family life. She’ll be getting married and popping out babies any minute now.’
‘Piss right off.’ Erin forked a huge chunk of cake. ‘That is so not happening. I’m not ripping my fanny to shreds for anything.’ She stuffed more cake into her mouth. My cake was no longer quite so appetising.
I knelt, lowering myself so that my forehead rested on the cushioned pink mat while my arms rested at my sides. Taking a deep breath, I ignored the swirl of nerves in my stomach. It had set up camp at the beginning of the class and was refusing to abate. This would be my last yoga class before the wedding. The next time I would be in this room with half a dozen other women (and Greg), curled up on our mats, I would be Mrs Williams.
I’d started to think of everything in lasts: my last hair cut before the wedding (I’d had a trim. Not with Aidan this time, but my regular, more reasonably priced, hairdresser), my last minutes to type up (fingers crossed. There were no more meetings scheduled before the wedding, anyway), my last episode of A Beginner’s Guide To You. I was counting down the coffees I would have to make for Kelvin and the number of times I’d have to lie to Susan on the phone so he didn’t have to speak to her (a rough estimate of sixteen coffees and twelve fibs). There were four more wake-ups (not including waking up on my actual wedding day), twelve meals (plus additional snacks), and one final dress fitting.
It was all scarily close.
‘Don’t forget to breathe,’ Nell instructed from the front of the class, which had always struck me as pretty ridiculous – how could you forget to breathe? – but I actually found the reminder helpful that evening. I released the pent-up breath from my aching lungs and took in a fresh inhalation. ‘After this next breath, place your palms in front of you on your mat, stretch your legs back and rise into the plank.’
There was a collective groan. The plank was not the class’s favourite pose.
‘Come on, ladies. You can do it.’
Following Nell’s instructions, we moved from the plank – with a collective sigh of relief – into downward dog and then the warrior. As Nell rose to her feet, you could see she was starting to show, very slightly. While her stomach was once completely flat, it now looked like she’d swallowed a grain of rice without chewing.
‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mary said as we packed up our things after the class. ‘I could barely move when I was carrying our Eric. Mind you, I was camped out in the outside lav for the first six months.’
‘Didn’t you have an indoor toilet?’ I knew Woodgate was hardly the height of sophistication and we were going back a few decades, but still.
‘We did, but my husband didn’t like the smell of vomit, you see. If he got even the slightest whiff, he’d have been heaving his guts up too and I had enough to deal with cleaning up after myself.’
With that lovely image in my head, we started to wander out of the church hall, our feet automatically heading towards the pub. The others were going that way too, apart from Nell and Greg, who were forgoing the post-class drink.
‘I need to get home to bed,’ Nell had said, patting her grain of rice. ‘We need our rest.’
We piled into the pub and arranged ourselves in smaller groups. Mary and I ended up in a corner by ourselves, and we naturally began to discuss my wedding. It had once been my very favourite subject, but now thinking about it brought a wave of nausea. Where was Mary’s outdoor privy when I needed it?
‘So, how are the wedding plans coming along?’
‘They’re good. Most things are sorted now, and I’ve got my final dress fitting tomorrow.’
‘How lovely. I adored my dress when I got married. It was a hand-me-down from my sister-in-law but it was beautiful. I felt like a princess.’ Mary sighed at the memory. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll bother with a fancy dress this time around. Both of us are too old and knackered and you know what they say: you can’t polish a turd.’
I spluttered, choking on my drink. ‘You have to wear something nice. It’s your wedding.’
Mary gave a wave of a liver-spotted hand. ‘Nah, I don’t want to make a fuss. I’ll get married in my slippers if I can get away with it. Besides, I’m not even sure there’ll be a wedding now.’
I sat up straighter, my nausea briefly receding. I can’t deny that the respite was most welcome, even if it was replaced with worry for Mary. ‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘I met Cecil’s daughters at the weekend.’ Mary pursed her wrinkled lips. ‘Pair of stuck-up cows. They reckon I’m after Cecil’s money, which would be fine if the bugger had a penny to his name.’ She stretched out her hand, displaying her shimmering rock. ‘This ring was his mother’s and it’s the only thing of value he has, bless him. His daughters think it should go to them, but Cecil assures me their grandmother never said a dickie bird about them inheriting it.’ Mary shook her head. ‘I’m too old to be putting up with their drivel, and if Cecil thinks he can sit there while they tear me to shreds, he can think again.’
‘Is that what he did? Sit there while they slagged you off?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No, the little madams were too clever for that. They waited until he was out of the room before they started. But I told him about it later, so it’s up to him to sort it out. I’ve told him I want an apology from both of them before I’ll even consider marrying him.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I’ve put him on a sex ban too. That’ll put a rocket up his arse to sort them out.’ Mary winked at me. ‘Here’s a tip for you before you start married life: men always, always think with their willies.’
Forty-One
Trina
The atmosphere in the annexe was strained, so it was fortunate that Rory had decided to spend even more time at the office. Trina hadn’t thought this was possible, but her husband was willing to prove her wrong. He left before six each morning and it was way after midnight before he returned. In the end Trina stopped waiting up for him. What was the point? They only argued whenever they happened to be in the same room and conscious.
Trina had yet to see or speak to Aidan, both because she didn’t want to rock the already capsizing boat of her marriage by going against Rory’s wishes and because she wasn’t sure where it would lead. If what Ruth said was true and Aidan had been in some sort of accident on the night of the dance, then he hadn’t stood her up on purpose at all. But why hadn’t he said anything at the time? Trina needed answers, but she feared that seeing Aidan would have cataclysmic consequences for her marriage, and she wasn’t ready to face that just yet. Her mother had been little use on the matter – as far as Gloria was concerned, there was no ‘right’ man for marriage. You got what you could from each union before you scarpered unscathed. And now Gloria was out of the country again, being swept off her feet by Yuri in Paris.
‘Darling, you’ll be fine,’ Gloria had assured her before she dashed off for the airport. ‘Rory doesn’t beat you. He doesn’t drink or gamble away your housekeeping. You’ll figure it all out, I promise. We’ll chat again when I get back, all right, my love?’
Gloria loved her daughters, but she’d never been very good at putting them first. Neither of Trina’s parents had been very good at that, but Trina had hoped that by marrying Rory, she’d always have somebody by her side. Somebody to love her.
But Trina had never felt so alone.
Grabbing her laptop, Trina clicked on her wedding photos, hardly able to believe that they had been taken just a few short weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when she’d been so full of love and hope for the future. She and Rory were going to live blissfully ever after, filling their lovely home with children and laughter. But where was the laughter? They didn’t even have their own home, lovely or otherwise, and it didn’t appear that they would any time soon. Despite Rory’s promise before he left for New York, he seemed quite satisfied and settled in his parents’ annexe. He’d barely glanced at the property details Trina had collected and Trina couldn’t bring herself to push for the move.
Shutting down the laptop, Trina went in search of food. It was getting late, but she no longer prepared dinner for herself and Rory – what was the point, when half of it only made it as far as the kitchen bin? There wasn’t much in the fridge and the bread bin was empty. Trina decided to go for a walk into the village to stock up and clear her head.
Pulling on her boots and a jacket, Trina left the annexe, but didn’t make it to the shop after all. Parked on the Hamilton-Wraiths’ drive was Rory’s car. Making her way across to the main house, Trina slipped into the kitchen where she was greeted by an enthusiastic Leo. The dog had always been the most welcoming Hamilton-Wraith. She gave him a quick rub behind the ears before going in search of the family.
The Hamilton-Wraiths lived in a large Tudor property that had been in the family for generations. Trina made her way along the plush red carpet in the hall, past the ornate staircase and original fireplace, following the sound of chatter to the dining room. There came the unmistakable booming laugh of Mr Hamilton-Wraith, followed by Rory’s more reserved chuckle. Knocking on the door, Trina pushed it open, frowning at the scene before her. It shouldn’t have come as any great shock that the family were eating in the dining room – it was its purpose, after all – but she hadn’t expected to see her husband merrily tucking into his meal with them.
‘Katrina!’ Winnie beamed at her daughter-in-law, failing to show any hint of surprise to see her standing in the doorway. ‘Do come and join us. I’m sure Mrs Timmons can rustle you up some leftovers, and there are still plenty of bread rolls left.’
‘No, thank you.’ The reluctant invitation didn’t sound genuine to Trina, and the offer of leftovers and bread hardly filled her with warmth. ‘I just wanted a quick word with Rory.’
‘Oh. Very well.’ Winnie turned to her son and pursed her lips. ‘Don’t take too long, dear. Your meal will grow cold.’
Trina backed away from the room, leading Rory to the sanctuary of the kitchen. The only ears listening there belonged to Leo.
‘What are you doing here?’ Despite their audience of one, Trina kept her voice low.
Rory hesitated. Was this a trick question? ‘I’m having dinner.’
Without me? Trina wanted to cry, but thought that would sound far too needy and desperate.
‘And do you often dine with your family?’ Perhaps those late nights hadn’t been spent slaving away at the office after all. Perhaps he’d been with his family, laughing and joking while Trina spent her evenings alone.
Rory leaned against the worktop, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Not often, no. Sometimes, yes.’
Sometimes. So this wasn’t the first time Rory had popped over for a cosy little dinner with his family – plus Ginny, who Trina hadn’t failed to notice at the table – without her. Trina felt a stab in her gut. She’d been left out – and all while she was just yards away in the annexe.
‘Maybe we should talk about this later? At home.’ Trina didn’t trust herself to not burst into tears, and she wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction.
‘I won’t be back until late.’ Rory straightened and started to head towards the kitchen door. ‘Carrie’s invited me to a party. It’s nothing big. Just a few old friends.’
Something else Trina wasn’t invited to.
‘Why did you marry me?’ Trina hadn’t meant to ask the question, mainly because she was afraid of the answer. But there it was, out in the open.
Rory sighed, long and heavy. ‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know.’ Trina shrugged. ‘I thought it was because you loved me, but now I don’t think you even like me. You never include me in your life, you’re never home and you let your family bully me.’
‘Bully you?’ Rory scoffed. ‘What do they do? Rough you up behind the bike sheds when the teachers aren’t looking?’
‘Bullying doesn’t have to be physical,’ Trina pointed out. ‘But that isn’t even the point. I asked a question and you still haven’t answered. Why did you marry me, Rory? Do you love me or was I just an accessory? The next item on your to-do list?’
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Rory said, already moving away from her. ‘My dinner’s getting cold and I have a party to get to.’
‘When did our lives become so separate?’
Rory paused in the doorway before turning back to face his wife, giving a small shrug. ‘You have your friends, Trina. I have mine.’
Whistling a merry tune, Rory returned to his meal, which Trina hoped was now stone cold. The problem with Rory’s statement was that, because of him, she didn’t have her friend at all. Well, that would change – tonight. She would go and see Aidan – and perhaps she would get some answers too.
Forty-Two
Ruth
There was something about my office chair that transformed me into an obsessive clock-watcher. Whenever my arse made contact with that chair, my eyes were compelled to swivel towards the clock – either the little one on my computer screen or the bigger one on the wall – at thirty-second intervals. But today, my clock-watching took on new levels of intensity and my eyes ached from their constant movement. Today was Dress Day. I would be picking up my lovely, gorgeous, flattering, amazing dress from Libby, and five o’clock couldn’t arrive quickly enough.
Of course that meant that five o’clock took forever to arrive. (Seriously. I was convinced time was going backwards at one point.) However, eventually that blessed stage known as Going Home Time rolled around and I switched off my computer with glee. I dashed from the office before Kelvin could task me with something urgent, which he had a tendency to do (and which usually turned out to be not that urgent after all). I skipped down to reception to meet Erin and Quinn, grateful to see they were already waiting for me. I was so eager to put the dress on again that I feared I’d burst if I had to wait a minute longer than absolutely necessary.
‘Are you ready?’ Quinn asked.
I nodded, then pulled a face, my emotions battling it out. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ I was so bloody excited – it was Dress Day – but I couldn’t rid myself of the spike of apprehension prodding at my gut. It was like my body wanted me to be miserable and was rugby-tackling any feelings of contentment before they could fully reach me.
‘Come on, you nutter.’ Erin linked her arm through mine and marched me out into the car park. ‘You’ll be fine, I promise you.’
‘I hope the dress fits,’ I said, the spike of apprehension prodding away at me again like a pokey little bastard. ‘Otherwise it’ll be a race against time to get it sorted before the wedding.’ There were only a few days to go – so few, in fact, that I was almost ready to start counting down the hours rather than days. ‘Oh God, what if it isn’t ready?’
‘Then you’ll have to get married naked.’ Erin deposited me beside her car (she wasn’t willing to squish herself into the back seat of Quinn’s car again). ‘You can call it a theme. We’ll all go as Mother Nature intended.’
I needn’t have worried about the dress. Libby had done a wonderful job and it fit perfectly. It was even more beautiful without the pins – and this time I got to take it home.
‘Good luck for Saturday,’ Libby said as we left the shop, the dress draped lovingly over my arms. I wouldn’t have held a newborn baby as gently as I held that dress.
‘Thank you, for everything.’ I couldn’t thank Libby enough. Instead of walking down the aisle resembling a meringue-like blimp, I would be decked out gorgeously and in a dress that fit my usual style.
We headed across the courtyard to Erin’s car, but I didn’t feel like going home straight away. Surely a celebration was in order – and nothing said celebration like a huge slab of cake.
‘Do you fancy going for something to eat?’ My arms were full of dress, so I nodded towards the restaurant, my mouth already watering. I was desperate to have another go at that Black Forest cheesecake. Quinn and Theo had thwarted my chances last time, but she wouldn’t do that to me again. Would she?
‘I can’t. I’m having dinner with my family.’ Quinn shot me an apologetic look. ‘It’s been planned for ages, sorry.’
‘And I’ve got my salsa class tonight,’ Erin said. ‘But another time, yeah?’
I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Hartfield Hill was out of the way and we had no reason to return now I had my dress. Who would travel all that way for a slice of cake?
Oh, who was I kidding? I so would!
Once home, I hid the dress at the back of the wardrobe. It was encased in a protective bag, but I didn’t want to run the risk that Jared would get a look.
‘Jared?’ I moved through the flat in search of my soon-to-be husband. I’d flown straight into the bedroom to put the dress away so I didn’t even know whether he was home or not. ‘Jared?’
I found him in the kitchen. In his running gear yet again. He’d spent every night pounding the pavements of Woodgate for the past couple of weeks and, while I knew he was keen on fitness and all that, I couldn’t help feeling put out. We’d hardly spent any time together lately, what with the wedding plans going into overdrive and Jared’s freakish desire to be healthy.
‘Oh. You’re going out.’
A Beginner's Guide To Saying I Do: A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy Page 24