by Jenny Colgan
I looked around me. Was this my last day at school? It was Friday, the day before the wedding. I walked in. Justin and Ethan met Stanzi and me at the front gates. Stanzi was walking with her head held high, all tear-stained, ‘I Will Survive’ defiance. Kendall was nowhere to be seen. Ethan and Justin came up to join us, both of them grinning so broadly I couldn’t help but immediately guess that Justin had told him.
‘Don’t tell the whole school,’ I said in a warning tone of voice.
‘That you’re a really hot mama?’ said Ethan.
‘Shut up!’ I said, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Justin, reaching in to tickle me. ‘Because you are mine, all mine.’
I couldn’t help shrieking as he lunged at me, and swung my schoolbag round to catch him in the stomach. Laughing uncontrollably, I was out of breath when I shortened up to see the imperious figure of Fallon standing right in front of me. She was curling her lip.
‘Having fun?’ she said.
‘Oh God, Fallon,’ I shouted. ‘Really. Actually, yes. I am having fun. And you should have some too. Because nobody really gives a shit what you think, so you should just learn to enjoy yourself. I know you think you’re sixteen going on thirty, but you’re just a kid really. And you should let yourself behave like one once in a while.’
‘Exactly,’ shouted Justin, more kiddish than ever now I’d made a man of him. ‘Tag!’ And he jumped up and tagged her on the shoulder.
Then he, Ethan and Stanzi all made themselves scarce. After a second of realising what they were doing, I ran too, for my life. And after a second of everyone’s eyes upon her, Fallon realised she had no option but to do the same. So, running extremely gracefully in such high shoes, she plunged in, rushing up and tagging Ethan immediately, who picked one of the pretty younger boys, whereupon all hell broke loose. Leaves were flying everywhere in the early autumn sun, and the whole playground was a screaming mass of running, yelling kids. The younger kids were absolutely delighted to see the so-called grown-ups playing a game and rushed around relentlessly. I was so worn out and hysterically overexcited I still couldn’t stop laughing when Justin grabbed me down into a pile of leaves behind a tree.
‘Oh God,’ I said, still giggling, listening to the mayhem. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Go where?’ said Justin, propping himself up and tickling me on the nose with a leaf.
I caught my breath. ‘Nowhere,’ I said, looking at his lovely open face, and feeling dreadful. ‘Nowhere. I mean, leaving school.’
‘Course you do,’ he said, kissing me on the stomach. ‘There’s tons of good stuff coming up.’
‘Pff,’ I said.
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
‘What did you just say?’ I sat bolt upright.
‘Nothing! Nothing! I didn’t mean it! I’ve just … I’ve never said it before. I just wanted to see what it was like.’
‘It’s a big old week of firsts for you, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Try not to say it unless you mean it,’ I said.
‘Uh-huh,’ he said.
‘Well done,’ said Miss Syzlack, looking up and down my marks.
I’d lingered at the end of the guidance session. I wasn’t even quite sure why.
‘You’ve caught up much better than I thought you would with the art.’
‘People can, you know,’ I said. ‘Sometimes, academia isn’t the only thing you should be pushing people towards.’
‘Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Flora Jane?’
‘No, miss,’ I said. ‘When you started out, did you think you were going to hate it?’
She smiled and I remembered those awful tears and discipline problems.
‘I’ll let you into a little secret,’ she said. ‘When I started, I hated it.’
‘I know,’ I said.
‘You don’t,’ she said. ‘It was awful. I used to cry in the classroom.’
‘Did people used to lock you in cupboards?’
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘It was dreadful. I wanted to give up every day. I couldn’t sleep. My doctor was going to prescribe me something.’
‘You’re much better now,’ I said. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, I realised that we only have one life. And that this was what I’d chosen. And that it is a good thing to do, it is worthwhile, so I’d better just make the best of it. And I found once I’d done that, I started to get better at it, and I even started to enjoy it. I know what you’re thinking, Miss Scurrison, but there are a lot worse things I could be doing. Stuck in an office all day, for example. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘Didn’t you ever … you know, want to get married? Have your own family?’
She laughed. ‘You know, I was thinking you were an old head on young shoulders, Flora, but I’d at least have thought you’d have been up on school gossip. I’ve been living with Miss Leonard for ten years.’
‘The gym teacher?’
‘Run along now, little girl.’ And she shot me a big smile.
‘Has Tashy called?’ I asked, for the nineteenth time.
‘No,’ said my mother, looking over. My dad was helping her cook. Wonders would never cease. There’d been another afternoon of shouting, tears, and my mother slamming doors, while I hid upstairs, eyes tight shut.
Then finally, amazingly, it was like the clouds had parted and the world had become calm. They were definitely, definitely making an effort – to talk to each other, for him to do things for her. I was keeping my fingers crossed that my mother just might have a willing slave for life.
‘You better not have annoyed your guidance counsellor,’ said my dad.
‘What are you going to do, get me into trouble?’ I said. ‘I’m her bridesmaid, Dad, OK? Just checking.’
Stanzi looked at the large Galaxy ice cream I’d bought her with undisguised suspicion as we sat on the wall outside the house.
‘You try to make me fat so no man will ever love me again so I never get sad no more, yes?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Can’t I do something nice for my friend?’
‘Your best friend you always leave behind.’
‘My best friend,’ I said, sending up a silent apology to Tash, from whom I’d heard nothing since our phone call days ago. I’d called her again, but she wasn’t in work or picking up her phone. Or at least, picking it up to me. She must be lying low. Or just panicking. But I’d have thought, before her wedding, she might have wanted to talk to me. Maybe she was just too furious that I was making her go through with it after all, that I wanted to go home.
‘You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,’ I said. ‘And I am so, so sorry for leaving you behind.’
Stanzi sighed. ‘Life is hard.’
‘It is.’
‘I hate him.’
‘He won’t be the last.’
‘No. You’re right. I shall hate all of them.’
‘You won’t,’ I said. ‘Wait and see.’
‘We will find nice boys together, yes?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I said. ‘Come here.’ And I gave her a big cuddle, just in case I was saying goodbye.
‘Friends for ever?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘For sure.’
We ate the ice cream. Then I went home and cried for two hours.
Chapter Sixteen
The rain was beating down on the windscreen as my dad damply tried to navigate the wet road.
‘I think it’s up here,’ I ventured.
‘That’s right, you’d know,’ he said gruffly, although he had been driving from London for six hours.
‘Don’t be nasty to Flora, dear. It’s wonderful she’s a bridesmaid.’
My parents were over the moon. They couldn’t imagine anyone connected with education liking me enough for this to happen, so they were all dolled up. I was panicked. Torn so completely. Nothing seemed right. Staying here, in the wrong (albeit pretty nifty) body; having to go
through God knows what all over, watching my friends get older and settled and leaving me alone with a bunch of dirty art students … or back to that damned accounting firm; back to my poor parents, living unhappily on opposite ends of town, not knowing that they could get over it, that they could get on. Oh God, I felt sick, and that was even before I thought of poor Tashy, walking straight into this thing for her friend.
‘I’m going up to see her,’ I said, as my parents busied themselves looking for – yuk – our family room.
‘Are you sure you should?’ my mum said. ‘Don’t be a bother, Flora.’
‘I won’t, I promise.’
The déjà vu was overwhelming. The same hotel, the same wooden staircase. Possibly even more chintz than last time? I couldn’t be sure. I even ran up to Tashy’s room and banged on the door and wished I’d brought some Baileys.
‘Just a minute!’
‘It’s OK, it’s only me!’ I said, bursting in – but carefully, still mindful of the wedding dress hanging on the back of the door.
Tashy was sitting on the side of the floral-patterned bed facing the window, and sitting next to her, with his arm around her, was Olly.
‘Bloody hell!’ I said.
‘This isn’t what it looks like,’ said Olly, jumping up immediately.
‘No, I know that. One of you’s getting married in the morning, and one of you’s you. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all. I thought you had work to do tonight.’
‘How would you …never mind,’ said Ol. He looked flushed.
Tashy turned round to face me, and I gasped. Even in a week, she was thinner than I’d ever seen her, and her face was streaked with tears.
This was my fault. A month ago, she was maybe a bit ambivalent, but nothing like this. This was the face of Kate Winslet trying to throw herself rather prematurely over the back of a big ship. What were we doing? What on earth was going to happen?
‘Tash!’ I ran to her. ‘I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. It’s not too late to cancel.’
She shook her head, shivering. ‘I’m going to be fine,’ she said. ‘I am. I can do it.’
‘You won’t.’
‘I will.’ She looked at me. ‘Look at you. If you didn’t want to come back, you wouldn’t have been here. You’d have been down the Dog and Duck, trying to hang out with local musicians.’
I grimaced. ‘That’s not the point.’
‘It is, love.’
Olly stroked her hair, and I squeezed her even tighter to show I was her bestest friend, not him, even if they were born in the same decade.
‘I’m going to bite you until you agree to call the whole thing off,’ I said.
‘Listen,’ Tash said. ‘It’s not just you, I promise. I don’t have the guts. I just don’t. I’m getting on a bit, and I’ve been planning this for a year, and, partially with you, for twenty years. I am not going to let my mother enjoy some victory whilst pretending to feel sorry for me, or have Heather nodding her head sagely about how things can never work out. I can’t, and I won’t, Flora. Don’t you see? You’re the brave one. You can take the chances. You’re the one that takes the risks.’
I avoided looking at Olly, and he avoided looking at me.
‘Don’t end up like me, Flora. Please. Promise. Promise you’ll go off and study something fun and have a great time and do everything you want and stay a free spirit and never, never compromise.’
I looked at her, and vowed that I would. I’d change the job – I’d changed the man already – I wouldn’t be afraid. I would just go out and live life, properly.
‘Well, what if I just start now?’ I protested. ‘It’d be much easier to change from age sixteen. And that would mean you don’t have to get married!’ I said.
She looked at me, and I saw the awful truth in her eyes.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You were only ever an excuse. I was always going to do it anyway.’
Just as before, the rain of the night turned into a beautiful morning; sunny and warm for so late in the year. Perfect, in fact. Just as Tashy had always dreamed it.
I’d had a restless night. That was something of an understatement. I don’t know how I’d got through it. Between my dad’s snoring and my mother’s peculiar noises, and the endless, endless circling in my head, it had been very hard to get anything straight at all. But here I was, reflecting in the mirror, twirling in the early autumn sun. The dress was so lovely; a kind of regency high-chested thing, which made me look like one of the naughtier sisters of a Jane Austen novel.
‘Doesn’t she look grand?’ said my mother, smiling happily.
I gave them a twirl. My dad smiled back at her. Then he looked a bit choked.
‘You’re lovely, pet,’ he said to me. ‘Doesn’t seem so long ago since she was just a baby, does it, Joyce?’
My mum shook her head. ‘Time goes so fast.’
‘Next thing you know, it’ll be her getting married.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that quite yet,’ I said.
I sat beside Tash as we got our hair and makeup done by one of those slightly snotty girls who are better-looking than you, and I think do makeup so they can compare your face with theirs in the mirror and feel good about it. She was shaking, I swear to God. I felt like one of the handmaidens of Lady Jane Grey.
‘Did you see Clelland?’ I murmured faintly, as the makeup lady desperately tried to put a blush into Tashy’s deathly pale cheeks.
‘Yes,’ said Tash, glancing dispiritedly at the bouquet. The florist had told us to keep the stems immersed in water to keep its spirits up. I briefly toyed with the idea of immersing Tashy in water.
‘How was he?’
She looked at me. ‘Weird.’
‘Weird how?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘So are you two sisters?’ asked the makeup woman in as uninterested a manner as possible.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Just friends.’
Tashy sniffed loudly.
‘So, are you looking forward to getting married?’
‘Now that is a long story,’ said Tash.
We clung to each other as we limped down the stairs, trembling. Tashy’s daffy mum was at the bottom, having a sneaky fag. Next to her was Heather.
‘Oh, I see she finally got into that dress,’ she said snidely. ‘I’m Heather,’ she said to me. ‘Natasha’s sister. Who are you anyway?’
Mind you, Heather used to pretend we didn’t exist when I did know her.
‘I’m Tashy’s boss’s daughter,’ I said quickly, before remembering that Marshall was gay. All six Blythe eyebrows shot up, then down again, in case they were being impolite or telling Marshall’s daughter something she didn’t know.
‘Do you know when Dad’s getting here?’ said Tashy.
‘Christ, you are nervous,’ said Heather, with a slightly bitter laugh. ‘It must really be the best day of your life.’
I’d always liked Tashy’s dad; he was such a gentle soul. He didn’t look at all himself, coming up the hotel path, wearing a stiff morning coat and looking ruffled.
‘Hey, Mr Late,’ said Tashy’s mum, who insisted on being nicer to him now they’d broken up than she ever was at the time.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Where’s my angel … ahem, I mean, my littlest angel?’
Heather stood aside sulkily, and Tashy went up to him. She hugged him for just a bit too long, and he patted her on the back and made ‘there, there’ noises. The way he cuddled her made me wonder if he knew a bit more than he let on. He stood back and looked at Tash, who was highlighted in the morning sun streaming through the door, and looked gorgeous.
‘Thanks, Daddy,’ she said.
He looked sad for a moment, shook his head a little, then caught sight of me.
‘Good God!’ he said in alarm. ‘Tash, this girl looks exactly like—’
Our confusion was offset by my delight that someone else knew who I was – who, I guess, loved me. I wanted to run up and hug him.
; ‘No, no,’ Tashy jumped in. ‘I know, she looks a bit like that girl Flora who I used to know, but she’s Marshall’s daughter.’
Mr Blythe stared at me. ‘Extraordinary.’
I couldn’t help it, I winked at him. He blinked rapidly a couple of times and turned back to Tash.
‘We want to be getting to the church, love,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to keep Max waiting too long. You know what a stickler he is for timing and all that.’
She nodded mutely.
We must have looked an ungainly sight, stumbling out to the beautiful vintage Bentley; Tashy practically being held up by her father, her other hand gripping mine, followed by the ugly sister. The driver, who presumably had seen every form of marriage imaginable, simply tipped his cap and closed the doors tightly behind us.
The first time I tripped over Tashy’s delicate ivory train, I realised walking into the church whilst keeping my eyes shut was simply not an option. We paused at the church door.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, for the millionth time. ‘Don’t be,’ she said bravely. ‘Everything’s going to be just fine. I’m sure of it.’
We peeked into the church. Sure enough, Max was down the front, his back to us, deliberately not turning round.
‘Because it’s against the rules to spoil the surprise,’ said Tash. ‘He’d hate that.’
‘OK?’ said her dad. Then, sotto voce to me: ‘And I’ll be keeping my eye on you.’
‘OK, Stan,’ I said.
‘How does she know my name?’ he asked Tashy.
‘Please shut up,’ said Tashy, as the familiar Trumpet Voluntary struck up. ‘Right.’
‘Right.’
I squeezed her hand tightly one last time. Oh God, it was really happening. And I was going to have to make a choice.
‘Don’t we have a plan B?’ she asked.
‘We definitely should have had a plan B,’ I said.
She walked out onto the red carpeted aisle.
At least, being a bridesmaid, I could keep eyes front, and not look at a thing. Also, ever since Fergie did that awful bug-eyed, saying hello to all her old chalet maid chums in Westminster Abbey thing, it’s quite OK for a bride to smooth her way up to the altar being far too grand to look at anyone. So we held it together. Tash said her vows in a quiet low tone, different from the way she’d giggled through them the first time I’d heard her. I felt another stab of remorse. And the worst was yet to come. There was – as usual – a pregnant pause when the vicar charged them both, if either of them knew of any impediment why they may not be lawfully joined in Matrimony to confess it, and I definitely felt a wince.