by Mo Fanning
I turn away and find something fascinating through the side window.
We park up in Grange Close, where I am to collect my dress. Mam insists Brian come in.
‘You’ll have had a long drive, you must be gasping for a cup of tea,’ she says.
‘Thanks very much Mrs. Doyle, that would be lovely.’
‘We can’t stop long,’ I say. ‘Helen is counting on me.’
Brian takes off his shoes before stepping into the house, leaving Mam beside herself and mouthing the words beautiful manners. To her credit, she waits a good five minutes before quizzing him on his personal life, financial standing and marital status.
‘Is this the young man you told us about?’ she says when we’re alone in the kitchen, making a second pot of tea.
‘Sort of,’ is all I can manage before he puts his head round the door to ask if we need help. Mam’s face lights up and she stands aside to let him take control. I’ve never before seen her surrender her kettle to any man, let alone a stranger.
I cringe at her wistful sighs as she tells him how her two other daughters are already married and how it pains her to see me alone, Brian is charm personified and laughs at all the right moments. He risks a few non-filthy jokes and gentle flirting. Mam is besotted.
‘We really must be going,’ I say after a third cup of tea and Mam looks crestfallen.
‘Amy and Sue are due and they’ll be sorry to have missed you.’
‘In case you’d forgotten Helen is getting married today. Did her mother drop off my dress?’
‘She did indeed. Will you put it on here?’
‘I dare say it’ll be all hands to the pump round there.’
‘Grand. Run upstairs and get changed. I’ll look after Brian.’
Mam dismisses me with a wave.
The dress is laid out on the bed in what used to be my room. Helen has decided to dress her bridesmaids and matron of honour in a subtle shade of ivory. As a rule, the colour washes me out, but somehow, this dress has quite the opposite effect. I glow. It’s beautifully cut, flattering and glamorous. If it was a man, I’d marry it and agree to live in rural seclusion, with no telly, popping out children on demand, tilling the soil and keeping house. It’s a dress I want to wear every day for the rest of my life.
‘My word, don’t you look a picture,’ Mam says when I come down the stairs. ‘Brian, come and see our Lisa, she looks like a princess.’
Brian finds it hard to suppress a grin.
‘What about this,’ she says, taking hold of his arm. ‘Sure, but she’ll outshine the bride.’
Brian’s eyes meet mine and I can’t help but notice the way they seem to ask questions.
‘She’s beautiful,’ he says.
Those words again. Last time he said them, things went horribly wrong. Today of all days, that can’t happen.
‘Right, let’s get going,’ I say. ‘Helen will be frantic.’
‘I really am sorry about all of that,’ I say when we’re safely in the car. ‘She doesn’t often get to see single men up close.’
Brian goes to say something, but I cut him short.
‘Not that she thinks of you in that way, I mean officially you’re still married. I don’t know if I’ve ever told her about Audrey.’
‘So you’ve been talking about me to your mother?’
‘No. Well yes. Well not really.’
I look up and find Mam has tired of waving from the doorstep and is heading down the garden path.
‘Just drive, will you?’ I say through gritted teeth, but it’s too late, she’s got one hand on the car roof and Brian flicks a switch to wind down his window.
‘Brian,’ she says in her telephone voice. ‘I meant to ask, will you be coming back here later for your supper?’
‘I don’t know, we haven’t really discussed it. I mean there is the reception, but it goes on late and we’ve not booked a hotel or anything.’
He looks to me for support, but I’m busy fuming like a petulant child and shrug unhelpfully.
‘I’ve a nice bit of tongue in the fridge, shall I make up some sandwiches, then you can either have them here or take them for the journey?’
‘Thanks Mam,’ I say. ‘That’ll be grand, but we really must be going.’
‘Right you are. I’ll see you both later then?’
I fight off an attempt by my facial muscles to scowl. When we eventually escape Grange Close, I calm down.
‘Do people still buy tongue?’ Brian says.
‘Mam does. She’s also got a cupboard filled with Ambrosia Rice, Eat Me Dates and tinned spam.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of spam,’ Brian says and reaches for my hand. ‘You do look great in that dress.’
‘Take the next left,’ I say sternly. ‘Then over the island and go three streets down. Helen’s house is on the right, you’re looking for number sixteen.’
We get the last remaining parking spot outside Helen’s mother’s house. Her brother Chris is outside, sat on the wall, smoking.
‘Anything from now on remains strictly confidential,’ I say with warning in my voice. ‘If I so much as hear a whisper of anything getting back to work, I’ll hunt you down and kill you. What happens at the wedding, stays at the wedding.’
‘Understood. Though can I say one thing before we go in?’
‘What?’
‘Promise you won’t get all huffy and storm off.’
‘Just hurry up.’
I see Chris give Brian the once over. He obviously thinks he’s my boyfriend.
‘Thanks for letting me come down here today,’ he says as he opens his door and gets out of the car. ‘I was worried you’d gone off me after the way things went the other night.’
My mouth goes dry and I have no instant come back.
‘Are you going to sit in the car all afternoon?’
I watch him saunter up the path, nod a greeting at Chris and ring the bell. Helen’s mother comes to the door. There’s a brief exchange and Brian points at me still stranded in the car watching things unfold.
‘How does the dress fit,’ Bev calls as I get out.
‘Fabulous.’
‘You look lovely.’
‘That’s what I said,’ Brian says.
I glare, but he shrugs and goes indoors. Next time I see him he’s drinking sherry with Helen’s Uncle Bob.
Upstairs, Helen sits at a cluttered dressing table while someone sets about her hair with curling tongues and a hairdryer.
‘Oh thank God you’re here,’ she says. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’
‘Mam kept us talking.’
‘Us? Is Andy here?’
‘He couldn’t make it. I’m with someone else. My boss, Brian.’
‘The Brian?’
Helen waves away the hairdresser.
‘The very same. And Mam thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s on the phone to the golf club now getting quotes for an engagement party.’
‘I can’t wait to meet him.’
‘Do me a favour,’ I say. ‘Don’t let on about anything I told you.’
‘What do you take me for?’ Helen snorts. ‘If he finds out what a neurotic flange head you are, he’ll dump you like a hot rock. Why would I go getting in the way of true love.’
Half an hour later she slips on her veil and looks every inch the classic bride. Beautiful and demure. Even I struggle to fight back a tear.
‘You look absolutely stunning,’ I say and she tries to smile, but nerves take over.
‘He is going to turn up?’
‘What sane man would risk missing out on spending their life with you?’
It dawns
on me that considering I’m matron of honour and supposedly Helen’s oldest friend, I’ve never even clapped eyes on her future husband. We’ve spoken on the phone and she’s shown me pictures, but we’ve yet to be in the same room. I feel terribly under rehearsed.
‘Is Ginny coming?’ I say.
‘Not heard from her.’
I heave a sigh of relief.
Downstairs, the father of the bride loiters nervously in the hall with Brian. The last two cars wait outside; one already filled with the other bridesmaids, the second for the bride and her father.
A previously chaotic household falls silent and I follow Brian into the living room and sit at a table piled high with gifts. Without a single word, he kisses me gently on the forehead and I’m struck dumb despite desperately wanting to kiss him back. The room somehow grows smaller. I don’t know what to say or do.
Helen’s father pops his head around the door.
‘Lisa, your car needs to be on its way.’
‘I’m coming.’
I stand and stumble. Brian puts out his hand to catch me. To a casual observer, it would look staged.
I notice his aftershave, sweet and sharp. The same aftershave he wore when we went to dinner. Helen calls me from the hall and I look into his eyes one last time as he lets go of my hand.
‘Nice email,’ he says.
‘Wish me luck,’ Helen says as she opens the front door and Brian rests a hand on my shoulder.
‘You look beautiful too,’ he whispers and I blush furiously before following Helen down the path.
The other bridesmaids lean out of car windows to catch a glimpse. I wave to let them know I’m coming. Brian pulls the front door closed. I need to talk to him. Now. Why would he say that when I couldn’t answer back?
‘Are you following in your own car?’ Helen’s dad asks him.
‘Yes, of course, you lead the way, sir,’ he says.
That’s it. We’ll talk in the car. I can say I was drunk or something. Or that Sharon sent the mail. Helen stops and turns to look around.
‘I’d like Lisa to come with us,’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’ her father looks confused. ‘She’s got to go in the other car. It’s tradition. The bride and her father travel together.’
‘Sod tradition. My nerves are shot through and I need support.’
He looks hurt.
‘Not that I won’t get support from you,’ she adds. ‘But I need some female solidarity.’
‘I’m fine with Brian,’ I say, anxious to get away.
Helen’s eyes plead with me and I don’t know what to say or do. My head is in a mess. I watch Brian get into his car and know I’d give good money to jump in and drive away from all of this. Preferably to some sordid motel for an afternoon of passion.
Helen’s father holds open the car door and there’s nothing for it but to climb in.
Neighbours hang over fences, cameras and phones held high.
‘I suppose it’s too late to back out of it now?’ Helen says as the driver flicks on an indicator.
‘What?’
Did she see Brian kiss me?
‘The wedding,’ she says. ‘Here comes the bride and all that.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘I’m sorry, but something just happened. Something a bit weird.’
We turn the corner and I notice a For Sale sign.
‘Isn’t that where Ian Tyler’s mother lives?’ I say.
‘Yes. He came home yesterday.’
‘Really? I didn’t know.’
Guilt strikes. I promised to write, but I let him down. His last two emails sit unanswered in my inbox.
‘I ran into him last night at the off-license. He’s lost weight.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘Not really. I told him about the wedding and he wished me well.’
‘You didn’t say I was coming did you?’
‘Why?’
‘No reason.’
‘Oh God yes.’ Helen says. ‘That would be awkward. You went out with him for a while, didn’t you?’
‘Why does everyone keep saying that? We were ten. I don’t think we even held hands.’
‘I did tell him everyone from school would be there.’
Helen pulls out a mirror to check her lipstick. It’s like she’s holding something back.
‘Right, but he’s not invited?’ I say.
‘Well no. But you know how these things go.’
‘No,’ I say and try not to sound desperate. ‘How do they go?’
‘Word gets around, and it’s not like I can put bouncers on every door.’
My mouth grows dry and I want to stop the car, force my way out and run. Why the hell did I ever agree to any of this?
‘He won’t turn up,’ Helen says. ‘Not if there’s any chance he’ll run into Ginny.’
Twenty seven
A small crowd gathers round the gates of St. Peter’s church. I’ve not been near the place in years and there’s more litter than I remember. This was where I smoked my first cigarette and drank sweet cider while a fourteen-year-old Peter Carr tried to inexpertly grope my adolescent breasts.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Helen says as the car crunches up the gravel path.
‘It’s nerves,’ I say. ‘Once you get inside and they start playing Here Comes the Bride, you’ll be fine.’
In amongst the happy faces I spot Ginny. She’s wearing a tight red dress and a black hat topped off with a white feather.
‘So much for having a conscience,’ Helen says.
‘She might as well have written look at me on a sign and hung it round her scrawny neck,’ I sigh. ‘Who’s that she’s with?’
Helen squints. ‘Bloody hell. That’s Jason. Her husband. She must be back with him.’
‘He looks a hundred.’
‘He’s younger than us.’
When the car stops, everyone cheers and Helen’s mother runs over. Her eyes are wild. Clearly something is wrong.
‘Go round again,’ she says. ‘Jamie isn’t here yet. Their car had a puncture. They’re stuck on the ring road.’
‘How will we know when to come back?’ Helen says.
‘Let me out,’ I say. ‘Park round the corner and keep your mobile on and I’ll ring you when they get here.’
They pull away, leaving me to make small talk with Helen’s guests. There’s a crunch of gravel and a whiff of expensive perfume. I know it’s her, but don’t look around. She can speak first.
‘You made it then,’ Ginny says. ‘How lovely to see you back on home ground, is your husband parking the car?’
Why bother with an answer. I shake my head and walk away to join a group of old school friends. Except she won’t give up. I hear her behind, matching me step for step. As a child, she was a spiteful piece of work, lacking in grace and self awareness. Nobody wanted her to play with them or join in their games. We just did it because she was the school bully. It was easier than getting beaten up. But we’re all grown up now.
I stop and turn to face her.
‘Can I help you Ginny?’
She looks surprised. The whole following me round thing seems to have been the extent of her plan. She hasn’t worked out what to say if challenged.
‘Well can I?’ I say and she looks me up and down.
‘You know ,’ she says. ‘When Helen suggested ivory for the dresses, I warned her. It can be so draining on many people, especially those with a pale skin. I said the last thing you want is your matron of honour looking like a huge carrot-topped freckle.’
‘Why don’t you just piss off,’ I say. ‘We’re not at school now. Ev
eryone knows about the cleaning job. You’re a joke, Ginny. Stop making it worse. Go home. You’re not wanted here.’
Her face changes. My words look to have hit home, but she’s quickly back and trying to get one over on me.
‘I’m with my husband,’ she says. ‘He’s real. Who are you with?’
Someone calls my name. It’s Brian. Ginny’s face falls.
‘What’s he doing here? Surely he’s not with you ...’
The two girls from my class who’ve been watching our exchange are staring too. And it’s like I’m seeing Brian as others do. For the first time. And I suppose he is quite a catch. Tall without being lanky, handsome without being craggy and has the sort of smile you usually see on superhero posters. Then there are his eyes. And that mouth. Lips that I know I need to kiss.
But there’s that email and the way he lied to me. He could have just said he’d read it, not make me think it was still a stupid secret.
He slips one arm around me, I don’t reciprocate.
‘Where’s Helen?’ he says.
‘She’s had to go round again,’ I say and I know I sound a bit cold. ‘The bridegroom’s had a puncture.’
‘How lovely of you to bring your boss,’ Ginny interrupts.
‘I’m not her boss,’ Brian says. ‘I’m her lover.’
I stare. Where the hell did that come from?
He places his lips on mine and locks me in a kiss. Far more public than anything before. I resist for just a second.
‘Charming,’ Ginny mutters and when I open my eyes, she’s gone. Brian pulls me to one side.
‘When did you read it?’ I say.
‘What, oh the email? I don’t know about thirty seconds after you wrote it, I suppose.’
‘And you didn’t think to say. Actually, worse than that. You lied to me. When I asked if you’d read any messages from me, you said no.’