No One Wants to Be Miss Havisham

by Brigid Coady

  “OK! Time for the first Truth or Dare…” Jo dug into the pink and marabou trimmed Stetson that she had been wearing earlier and had decided to use as the receptacle of shame.

  “Mel! Truth or Dare?”

  Edie poured herself a glass of champagne and cynically sat back to watch the show.

  “Dare!” screamed Mel.

  It felt as if the wolves moved a little closer, poised for the kill; they were obviously familiar with hen night dares.

  “OK if you take a Dare now you have to have a Truth later…your Dare is to collect at least one pair of men’s underwear.”

  Edie sipped the champagne and looked up at the ceiling and then back to table, shaking her head, as the rest of the group howled in approval.

  Mel staggered off to the nearest table of wolves and in a moment was sitting on one guy’s knee whilst the others told her they couldn’t help as they had all gone commando. Not that Edie could hear them, but she could see their demonstrations when Mel required proof.

  Five minutes later she came back victoriously waving a pair of black cotton jersey shorts that she had removed herself in some dark corner of the VIP area.

  “Oh my God! He was this big!”

  Mel used her hands to indicate size.

  Edie chugged down her glass of champagne.

  “OK, who’s next?”

  It carried on down the table. The dares got more daring, the truths more outrageous until they got to Maggie.

  “I’ll take a dare,” she declared drunkenly.

  “Maggie, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Edie shouted in her ear.

  “I want to and I will,” her chin was thrust forward and there was a look of combat in her eyes.

  Edie backed off.

  “OK Mrs R,” called Jo “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to snog the man of your choice!”

  “Excellent!” Maggie said.

  Edie caught her arm,

  “Don’t do it!”

  “Oh but I’m going to. What’s sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose.”

  And with that cryptic utterance she made her way to a table of slightly older men, in their late thirties and early forties. She bent down beside an outdoorsy looking guy. Rough round the edges with an open smiley face and a rangy body.

  “You go Mrs R!”

  “He’s fit!”

  “Phwoar! Look at his arse.”

  The hens were hollering over the music.

  He stood up grinning, took Maggie Remington in his arms and proceeded to give a masterclass in sexy kissing. Taking her face in his hands he leaned down and gently kissed her; drew back and went in again. Edie could see Maggie’s knees give way and suddenly she threw her arms round his neck and that was it.

  Full frontal snoggage.

  “Go mum!” cried Mel! “I never knew she had it in her.”

  This was all going to end in tears; Edie could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Women who were happily married didn’t go round snogging random men. They also didn’t go round squeezing the arses of said random men.

  After what seemed like an age, they came up for air. Maggie was flushed and smiling like the cat that got the cream, her younger partner in crime looked shell shocked, as if he had gone to pet a kitten and found that he was playing with a full on cougar. He dug in his pockets and with a shaky hand gave Maggie his card.

  “And she got his number!” someone shouted.

  Maggie was smiling as she wove a wobbly line back to their table, gently fanning herself with the business card.

  She settled down next to Edie who stared at her in awe and terror.

  “Erm… Maggie?” she said, “Was that really wise?”

  “Oh yes, Edie darling. You see I’ve left Doug and I hear that to get over a man it’s best to get under another,” she said it with a purr and fluttered her fingers at her recent conquest.

  Left Doug?

  Edie’s heart stuttered.

  “But why… what… how?” she said.

  Maggie’s face took on a steely look although Edie could see the hurt round her mouth.

  “If he will have affairs with nurses and generally act like a teenager on heat then I don’t see why I have to put up with it any longer. I’ve sat back and let him rule everything for years, now it’s my turn.”

  Edie thought she had no illusions left about marriage, but as Maggie ripped the veil from her eyes she realised she hadn’t been as cynical as she’d thought. How was she supposed to change like the Spirit said when not even Maggie and Doug could make it?

  Chapter 8

  “Alright! Now it’s the turn of the maid of honour!”

  The gang whooped and hollered.

  Edie sat mouth still ajar. How could they all be so happy? Didn’t they realise the world had just tipped on its axis? She looked over at Mel’s smiling and flushed face.

  “Mel doesn’t know does she?” she shouted in Maggie’s ear.

  “No she doesn’t, we’re waiting till she gets back from the honeymoon. We don’t want to ruin her wedding.”

  So if Mel didn’t know, it wasn’t for Edie to tell her, was it? Not to ruin Mel’s day and destroy the foundation of her life? No, it wasn’t for her to tell.

  “Oi Dickens! Stop trying to avoid this thing! Truth or Dare?” Mel hollered.

  Truth? What was the truth?

  She wasn’t sure any more. Hearing about Maggie and Doug was almost as hard as when her own father had walked out because he couldn’t live a lie, because he didn't love them any more. Because he didn’t want her. She felt detached, light-headed. Suddenly the music wasn’t too loud any more; it faded to a buzz in the back of her mind. The truth?

  She wasn’t up for any more truth tonight.

  “Dare!” she called back, crossing her fingers that it would be low on the embarrassment scale.

  She was out of luck. Which was pretty much standard for her these days.

  And due to that lack of luck, she was walking towards the bar with Jo, Mel and Sophie. They had picked out her target and were all there to witness the dare.

  “Maybe I will take Truth instead,” she shouted.

  “Nope! You said Dare, so you’ve got a Dare!” Jo said, taking her job as games master seriously.

  Edie wouldn't have been surprised if she started to announce every Dare with the phrase, 'May the odds be ever in your favour.'

  Sophie seemed to be in it for voyeuristic reasons, she was enjoying Edie's discomfort a tad too much. She had a death grip on Edie’s arm. Crescent indentations would probably be left on Edie’s biceps from those acrylic nails. Edie was trying to remember what she'd done to earn it. They'd only met a few times.

  "Can't have the maid of honour backing out." Her grip tightened harder.

  Ah, that was probably the issue; Sophie wanted to be the maid of honour. Edie wondered if there was a way of resigning. She would gladly let Sophie have the job.

  “Look we picked a nice one, it’s not like we chose a complete loser,” Mel slurred.

  Edie looked again at the target.

  He was tall, dark and filled a pair of jeans very well. Broad shoulders stretched a rather too bright red jumper and she wasn’t sure it went with the shirt underneath which looked cerise but that could've been the light. Or she was beginning to see cerise everywhere.

  OK, from the back he wasn’t bad but she still had to do the dare.

  “Come on!”

  Edie tried to dig her heels in and you would've thought with heels as high as these they would make great anchors. Instead they threw her off balance, making her take tiny steps so she didn't wrench her ankles. She was dragged behind the other women in an undignified scramble, and then when they reached the unsuspecting man Sophie heaved her forward, propelling her like a stone from a catapult. Stumbling on the impossible shoes, she managed to somehow stop herself from careening into him.

  For once, she thought, something was going right. She was an inch from his back.

 
He smelt familiar; her stomach fizzed.

  It was obviously the champagne.

  He was very tall, if she moved slightly she could kiss his shoulder and that was only because of the blood depriving heels she had on. Which meant… she was going to have to say her appointed dare phrase loud enough for him to hear. Her whole plan to lean in, pretend to whisper the words in his ear and then run away was now busted.

  “How about giving me a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall?” Edie rushed out, heat rising in her cheeks as she named the infamous cocktail.

  What were they, seventeen? These were the sort of games they'd played at school and uni. Thank God no one from work could see her.

  As she backed away from him, ready to make a run for it or at least a high-heeled hobble, he turned and one arm snaked out, grabbing her round the waist.

  His hand burned against the bare skin on her back, it felt like a brand. Her centre of gravity shifted and now off balance she fell onto a chest that was like rock.

  A determined and somewhat familiar chin came into view.

  “Don’t leave sweetheart, I haven’t said no yet. Although I usually like to have a bit of conversation before I do that for a girl,” the voice was low in her ear, she felt the words rumble through his chest.

  How could a stomach fizz and flip at the same time?

  No wonder he’d smelt familiar. And it explained the red jumper and cerise shirt. There was only man who had invaded her space closely enough for her to smell this week. Who was she kidding? There was only one man who had invaded her space in much longer than a week. And it was the same man who believed that cerise was a valid colour choice.

  Jack Bloody Twist.

  He was stalking her.

  “Oh my God, it’s Jack Twist!” Squeals from Mel, Jo and Sophie pierced her ears worse than the music.

  They knew him?

  “Ladies!” he rumbled.

  Edie ducked her head down, letting her wild hair fall over her face. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognise her.

  “So which of you ladies is disappointing the male race by coming off the market? Please tell me it isn’t Long and Slow here.”

  His thumb gently stroked the curve of her back and set goose bumps racing round her body and spiking her body heat.

  “That would be me!” shouted Mel.

  “No. What a travesty. Whoever he is he’s a very lucky bloke,” Jack said.

  "You know him. I'm marrying Barry Jones." Mel slurred and was looking at Jack in a distinctly dodgy way for a bride to be. "I'm Mel."

  "Mel? But of course." Jack leaned down and kissed her cheek but still his hand was glued to Edie's back. "Thank you for the wedding invite. Haven't seen Jonesy so happy and I promise to make sure he behaves at the stag night."

  “Don’t you remember me? I’m Sophie Jones, Barry’s sister. You used to be so sweet to me when I was little. I had such a crush on you.” Sophie fluttered her eyelashes and tried to look coy whilst also squealing like a teenager faced with her boy band pin up as she butted into the conversation. "I'm one of the bridesmaids."

  It sounded as if she was advertising her services, as though bridesmaid was a synonym for easy. She would have shoved Edie out of the way to get closer if she could have. Edie hoped Jack would have more taste than to go for a hen, even if he had known her as a kid. Not that she cared what he did. It wasn’t any of her business. And if he was at the wedding…she figured it would be big enough for her to avoid him. Edie squirmed a little trying to ease her way out of Jack’s embrace. He was too close, making it difficult for her to think.

  The arm tightened round her.

  “I loved your match winning try the other day,” Sophie giggled and tried to wiggle round between Edie and Jack.

  “Why it’s little Soppy Jones.”

  Edie sniggered. Soppy? Ha! Sophie’s face fell.

  “Sorry, Sophie isn’t it? Great to see you and thank you, but the try was a team effort.”

  There was a small beat when they all looked at each other.

  “I think your party wants you back." Jack pointed back across the dance floor where Maggie and the other hens were waving wildly. "I'll see you all at the wedding?"

  Edie tried to follow them but between his arm and her heels, she was stuck.

  "Now I believe, Long and Slow, you and I have some business to take care of.” His voice was gravelly and it made her shiver as he whispered in her ear.

  He used a finger to tilt up Edie’s face.

  Or at least he tried to.

  She tucked her chin closer to her chest. Who cared about double chins and wrinkles? There was no way he was seeing her like this. And of all the people she could've said it to? It was as if she were cursed. She wondered whether this was her hell? She was paying for failing Tom by being embarrassed in front of Jack.

  “No, we’re good, we’re fine,” she squirmed against him, trying to get the iron arm to loosen its hold.

  “If you carry on like that it will be short and quick,” he said in her ear.

  She froze.

  His hand slipped lower, his little finger stroking her skin beneath her dress. If he moved the finger a millimetre more, he would find out that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

  The fizz and flipping increased; joined by heat that spread from her stomach down through her legs. The hair on her arms rose.

  “Edie Dickens, don’t be such a prude!” Mel yelled.

  A prude? Not with what her body was begging her to do. She wanted to wrap herself around him. Melt into him. It was torture.

  The arm around her stiffened.

  “Dickens?”

  Damn it, she had been so taken in by that small movement of his finger that she hadn’t realised the implications of what Mel had said. But now her cover was blown. Fizz and flip collided and heat drained away leaving cold.

  She’d never live this down.

  Summoning up every pig-headed part of her, and with the mantra 'don't let the bastards see you cry,' echoing through her, she put the thought of the office gossip behind her, lifted her chin from her chest and raised her head.

  She looked up slowly into stunned hazel eyes.

  “Wow! You definitely loosen up when you’re out of the office," he said.

  “You know each other?” Sophie didn’t seem happy about this and Edie hadn't noticed that she still hadn't left. Jack Twist was upsetting her mind just as much as the ghosts.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” said Jack in direct contradiction to Edie.

  “We met in the lift yesterday,” Jack continued, “and it looks like we're fated, the way we keep bumping into each other like this doesn’t it, Slow?”

  He smiled down at Edie.

  She didn’t trust him. There was a glint in his eye as if he knew she wasn’t as immune to him as she made out.

  And his smile got bigger as his little finger resumed its exploration of her back. Fizz, flip and heat came rushing back. What was she still doing plastered up against him? What was happening to her?

  She was going completely and utterly mad.

  Wrenching herself away, she stood up as straight as she could in the crippling shoes.

  The heat left her but her skin tingled as if he still stroked her.

  “OK Sophie, I did my Dare. Let’s go,” Edie ignored Jack next to her. Or tried to. Her body wanted to lean back against him. It was just hormones, she thought; she didn’t need to lean on anyone.

  “So no Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall then?” he teased.

  Pausing to look over her shoulder she narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He laughed at her. Her body fizzed for him.

  “Come on!” she snapped and staggered away. She wouldn’t look back. She wouldn’t.

  “So tell me all about your try. Specially as we’re old friends.” Sophie still wasn't following her.

  Edie felt her head drag itself around; like a compass to magnetic north. Sophie was taking advantage of Edie’s leaving and
had plastered herself against Jack’s side. Her talons now clasped around Jack’s bicep.

  She was probably testing it for firmness like she was buying fruit, Edie thought.

  Jack caught her eye, raised an eyebrow knowingly.

  Edie spun her head back again.

  They were welcome to each other she thought as her stomach sank.

  “Maggie. The cabs are here."

  Edie tried to pry Maggie away from the lanky guy she was glued to.

  She whispered thanks to the heavens that it was the end of the night and Mel was too drunk to notice her mum’s behaviour.

  “Lemme alone,” Maggie mumbled between kisses.

  No one should have to get this close to two drunk people snogging, Edie thought.

  She shuddered.

  If the whole Jack Twist episode hadn’t burnt away all the alcohol and so sobering her up; then watching the antics of the hen party would have finished the job. The single girls had all danced the night away on the dance floor whilst every married or engaged one had plastered themselves against some random bloke.

  Not one of them was with their respective partners.

  She should leave them all to it.

  This whole wedding malarkey was just a storefront and façade applied by people who didn’t have the imagination to see any other way of doing things.

  No wonder the divorce business was so brisk.

  She went to leave Maggie playing tonsil hockey with her chosen beau. Maggie was a grown-up. It wasn't for Edie to make her leave. If this is what Maggie wanted then she washed her hands of it.

  As she turned away, a sparkle of pink glitter winked at her from Maggie’s hair.

  Logically she knew it was off one of the tiaras or fairy wings.

  Logically.

  The tingle of dread left over from the Ghost’s visit ran down her spine. There was nothing logical about being haunted by ghosts. And there was nothing logical at the dread that filled her as she stared mesmerised at a small spangle caught in greying curls.

  She would do something. She had to do something. Maggie might have given up on her marriage but Edie hadn’t. Not yet. She remembered that Maggie had been there for her when her own mum had been too involved in her own anger and grief over the divorce. How Doug had been there when her own father hadn't. He'd ferried her and Mel in his car, acting as their taxis service to parties and covering for them with Maggie and her mum when they came back tipsy. And her own dad hadn't even sent birthday cards.