My Sister's Wedding: For better or worse, two families are about to become one . . .

by Vicky Pattison

  ‘I’m worried about Lizzie,’ I begin. I tell him everything that happened after he left the party. When I get to the part about Nicole accusing Lizzie of pushing her, Jay cuts me off.

  ‘As if Lizzie would do something as tacky as start a bitch fight in the girls’ loos! And there’s no way she’d do it when someone’s back is turned! For fuck’s sake. That’s mad bitchy and simply NOT Lizzie’s style. She’s all bark and no bite. I don’t trust that Nicole!’

  I stare at Jay’s outraged face, feeling more than a little ashamed. That’s the reaction I should’ve had last night. I shouldn’t have thought for one second that what Nicole was saying was possible. What’s wrong with me? Those stupid Balfours and their high and mighty ways are getting to me and it needs to stop. I can’t forget about Lizzie or Dad. There’s room for them and Daniel in my life. I can tolerate everyone else for Daniel’s sake but I make a vow to never allow them to make me question my sister’s heart and kind nature ever again.

  ‘Lizzie ran off after it happened. I didn’t jump to her defence as quickly as I should have,’ I admit to Jay. ‘I know she didn’t do it. Of course I do. But I hesitated for a second and she saw it and ran off before I could speak to her and fix it.’

  Jay narrows his eyes at me and I can see he’s not best pleased with my behaviour and I don’t blame him. ‘Are you surprised? You’re her hero.’

  Fresh tears spring to my eyes and I nod. ‘I know,’ I say quietly. ‘There’s no excuse. It was all just too much and in the moment I made the wrong call. The pressure of the party and Daniel’s “perfect” family got to me. And now all this with the press. I need to see Lizzie. I need to speak to her and make sure she knows I don’t believe a word of it. I need to make sure she’s OK.’

  ‘Listen,’ Jay says, his tone softening. ‘You two are as close as peas in a pod. It’ll be OK. Lizzie reacts emotionally to almost everything. You should have seen her once when she was hungover and the Domino’s delivery guy forgot her cheesy garlic bread – God, you’d think there’d been a death, I’m not kidding you. She wailed and wailed until the poor geezer ran back and got her one. Anyway, all she really needs to know is that you’ve got her back. The rest of it will fix itself as long as she knows that.’

  We hear the door downstairs slam.

  ‘That’ll be her,’ Jay points out.

  I rush out to the top of the stairs. It is Lizzie and she looks devastated. Her usually sunny face is showing no hint of its usual smile. Her eyes are wet with tears.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ I say, pulling her into my arms as she reaches the top of the stairs. She feels stiff in my arms, and pushes me away.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she says, putting her hands up to block me as she storms into the flat. ‘Don’t get too close – I might hit you. You know, because of my violent nature.’

  Jay is already in the kitchenette, mixing Lizzie a cocktail. A dirty martini is clearly his version of a cup of tea.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot.’ I say. ‘The papers blew last night out of proportion – that’s what they do. Don’t take any notice of them.’

  Lizzie frowns at me. ‘I’m not talking about that mess – written by a bunch of pricks I don’t know or care about. I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t believe me last night. You didn’t defend me. You didn’t care about me!’

  I look at her, at a loss for words. I knew this was coming but I still can’t think of a way to justify myself. Because there is no justification. Of course she didn’t push Nicole. Of course she didn’t. I knew that and I didn’t step up and say so. Shame creeps over me again. Even if she had pushed Nicole, I still should have defended her. That’s my job. I’ve been doing it my whole life.

  I sit down heavily on the sofa and bury my head in my hands. I don’t want to cry again but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, the tears are unstoppable.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I sob. ‘You’re right. None of this is your fault. It’s all mine.’

  I hear Lizzie sigh and then the sofa shifts under the weight of her plonking herself down beside me.

  ‘Please don’t cry,’ she says in a small voice. ‘You know I hate it when you cry. I’m the crier, remember? You’re the responsible one. Stop trying to steal my thunder.’

  Bless Lizzie, I know how hard that must have been for her to try and comfort me and make light of all of this. I can count on one hand the number of times Lizzie has seen me cry over the last twelve years. I needed to be strong for her and Dad so I kept my tears to myself as much as I could – partly to protect them and partly because I know that Lizzie doesn’t know how to react when I cry. I’m meant to have all the answers, right? I’m the one who comforts, not the one who needs comforting. And that’s what I need to do now. This isn’t about me. I wipe my face and turn to face Lizzie.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t defend you last night,’ I say. ‘I should have. Of course I know you didn’t push Nicole. Stupid cow probably knew you were in one of the cubicles and planned the whole thing from the start.’

  Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘You think?’

  ‘Who knows? But that doesn’t matter now. What’s happened has happened and we can’t undo it. But you have to know that I never meant to hurt you and it’s no excuse but I was just overwhelmed by everything, by you and Dad meeting Daniel’s family for the first time. I wanted it to go so well and I just got too nervous and had a momentary lapse of judgement. It won’t happen again. You’re my sister and I love you and I’ll always have your back,’ I finish.

  ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much champagne,’ Lizzie admits. ‘That probably didn’t help the situation.’

  Jay, clearly sensing the need for a private sisterly moment and not having a great many options of places to escape to in his studio flat says, ‘I . . . um, just nipping to the loo. Might be a while.’

  ‘Ugh, Jay,’ Lizzie screws her face up, missing that fact that he’s just making up an excuse to leave us alone. ‘Too much information. Jesus!’

  Jay goes to defend himself, but then, considering Lizzie’s dark mood, thinks better of it and backs gently away into the bathroom.

  I sniff, wiping away the last of my tears. ‘So why did you? Drink all that champagne, I mean. Even after I’d asked you to take it easy . . . ’ I trail off, realising I’m sounding accusatory again.

  ‘That’s just it,’ Lizzie says a little sadly. ‘What you said, I don’t know, it just upset me. It really made me feel bad about myself.’

  ‘It did?’ I say, surprised. I thought it had been a reasonable request under the circumstances.

  Lizzie nods. ‘Asking me not to pull any “Lizzie nonsense” was pretty harsh.’ She looks down at her legs with a sad sigh.

  Now she says it back to me it does sound pretty harsh.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. Again. ‘Wow . . . it was a total dickhead thing for me to say.’

  Lizzie laughs a little at my swearing and nods in agreement. ‘It was.’

  ‘I guess . . . I was just worried about the Balfours. I still am. I didn’t want them judging you and making you feel bad.’

  ‘So you thought you’d do it for them instead?’

  God, that hurt, but she had me bang to rights there as well. I had acted like an idiot. I shift a little closer to her. ‘Are you OK? About the article?’

  Lizzie turns to me, fresh tears her in eyes. ‘What do you think?! How would you feel if it was you? If the world thought you were some violent chav who’s always starting fights over nothing? Jealous of your happiness? I mean, it’s just such an awful thing to say!’

  ‘Anyone who knows you knows it’s utter bullshit,’ I say. ‘No one who matters believes a word of it.’

  Lizzie is silent for a moment. ‘But I am a party girl,’ she said. ‘It’s part of who I am. I can’t change that. Not for you, and definitely not for those Balfuckers.’

  I smile. ‘How have I never thought to call them that before?’ Lizzie returns my smile and I can feel he
r thawing – not completely, but it’s a start. ‘Look,’ I continue. ‘I didn’t mean that I wanted you to change but I just, you know, didn’t want to give them an excuse to be even more unkind.’

  ‘I get it,’ Lizzie says, ‘but Daniel’s family are just going to have to get used to me the way I am.’

  She’s right. I feel like a twat. The Balfours are going to judge us all no matter how we behave. Even if Lizzie had been stone-cold sober last night they would still have found some reason to complain. Why couldn’t I just have more of that ‘like me or lump me’ confidence and attitude?

  ‘You know that I’m not jealous of you and Daniel, don’t you?’ she blurts out.

  ‘Of course!’ I almost shout.

  ‘Good. So what are we going to do?’ Lizzie asks, sounding so much like a young girl asking her big sister to fix things.

  I take a breath. ‘If I keep a low profile, the press will probably lose interest in me. I’m boring, they’d have nothing to write about. But,’ I hesitate. She’s not going to like what I’m going to suggest but it’s for her own protection. I don’t want her subjected to any more dirty tabloid stories. ‘Just in case they don’t start losing interest, it might be a good idea for you to keep a low profile too.’

  ‘What do you mean? Is this “don’t pull any Lizzie nonsense” take two? Because that little nugget of advice went down SO WELL last time.’ Her eyes flash a little.

  Christ on a cracker. ‘No, no!’ I soothe. I point to my phone and say, ‘The Daily World obviously have no interest in printing the truth. I just don’t want them to have any excuses to target you again. You need to be careful, otherwise you’ll get hurt.’

  Lizzie frowns.

  ‘It won’t be for long. Just until the wedding, so a few months at the most. Keep your head down, and once me and Daniel are married the attention will move to someone else and you can do whatever you want.’

  Lizzie nods slowly. ‘Fine,’ she says, though she doesn’t look happy about it. ‘I’ll be as good as gold.’

  ‘Don’t give Nicole any excuse to go after you again. Stay focused on work and making a go of this dog-walking thing.’

  Lizzie shrugs. ‘OK, that makes sense. We’ll both be boring bastards till after the wedding. With the exception of the hen party? Please, please, please!’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ I reply with a laugh.

  We fall into some easy chat after that and even though we’re laughing and joking, something feels different, and I get the distinct feeling this isn’t quite over yet.

  Almost as if he’s been listening for the atmosphere to change, Jay unclicks the bathroom door and steps out into the studio.

  Lizzie stops midway through what she was saying and turns to Jay.

  ‘You were in there ages! I hope you used air freshener.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nicole handed over two crisp fifty-pound notes to Martin, an Australian paparazzo with nothing better to do on a Tuesday at 2 p.m. He had hoped that he’d catch Taylor Swift leaving Claridge’s with the British musician she was rumoured to be romancing, but they must have snuck out of the back way because he had waited for three hours and nada. And Nicole Balfour was his steady client. While the pictures he took didn’t always sell for much, she paid him a hundred pounds each time she called for about thirty minutes of work. It was a good gig. All he had to do was take snaps of Nicole, sometimes with her friends, or a lover, out and about in London, and let Nicole approve the photos. Every so often she’d have him meet her at the London Royal Infirmary where he’d take a picture of her going inside, carrying teddy bears and fruit baskets. She told him it was part of her regular charity work. She visited sick children, took them gifts, played with them and bought coffee and cake for their parents. Martin smiled to himself. To look at her you’d think she was as cold as ice, with her stiff frame and perfect icy blonde hair. And to be fair she was more than a little cold in person. But the thought that behind that steely gaze was a heart of gold always made Martin feel better about the world.

  Nicole, looking gorgeous in a floral print tea dress and not at all marred by the thick white bandage around her ankle, limped towards the entrance of the hospital, her dark-haired friend helping her along. Nicole turned to Martin, gave him the nod and then turned her face to the light, a kindly smile on her face. She clasped the teddy bears to her chest, laughing at something with her friend. She spent around ten minutes going through a series of poses while Martin took his snaps which would soon be flying into her inbox for approval.

  When the photoshoot ended, Nicole entered the hospital with Seffy. As soon as she was out of Martin’s sight, Nicole dumped the stuffed animals on top of the heavy fruit basket that Seffy was already carrying. They walked towards the children’s ward, Nicole almost forgetting to put her limp on again each time someone walked past them.

  ‘This is such a drag.’ Nicole sighed as she entered the children’s ward, a big fake smile plastered over her face. ‘All these germs.’

  ‘Totally.’ Seffy agreed. ‘Why – why do we keep coming back here again?’

  Nicole laughed as she took the basket from Seffy and plonked it at the nurse’s station. She lowered her voice.

  ‘Because it makes me look amazing. Like some sort of modern-day Mother fucking Theresa. Every time my charity work is covered in the press, orders of my jewellery line increase, and paparazzi write-ups are kinder. People love it. Charity is a superboost for my brand.’

  ‘And it’s nice to help cheer children up when they’re feeling so terrible.’

  Nicole looked at Seffy blankly. ‘Yeah, that too . . . obviously.’

  One of the nurses, a pretty dark-skinned woman, approached the nurses’ station and started to shower Nicole and Seffy with thanks.

  ‘Do you want to come in this time, and play with the children?’ the woman asked. ‘They love having visitors!’

  Nicole looked at the rose-gold Patek Philippe watch on her tiny wrist. ‘Ooh, best not. I have appointments all day! I wish I could!’

  ‘Maybe next time, eh?’ the nurse said. She said the same thing each week. It was a familiar routine.

  ‘Oh, totally!’ Nicole sang, signalling to Seffy to follow her as she sauntered out of the ward.

  Seffy looked back, smiling sadly to herself as she thought about how nice it might have been to spend the afternoon playing with those children.

  Maybe next time.

  A few hours later, once Nicole had had her face examined and prepped and made-over at Liberty and Seffy had taken enough pictures of the experience for Instagram, the two girls were at Chelsea House, their regular haunt. They were only half a bottle of vintage champagne down and Seffy had already been mistaken for Angelina Jolie twice.

  ‘You look so much like her!’ Nicole said, lighting another cigarette. ‘Daniel noticed it too, I’m sure.’

  Seffy smiled, pleased that the conversation had finally turned to her favourite subject: her and Daniel.

  ‘I WhatsApped him yesterday and he replied!’ Seffy said, pulling up her phone to show Nicole. ‘I said “Was great to see you last night. I’m glad you liked my new hairstyle. xoxo.” And he responded “You too. Sorry it turned sour in the end. Hope you still managed to have some fun. Thanks for attending.”’

  Seffy placed the phone on the table proudly.

  Nicole blinked. ‘Sef, babe! That sounds like the kind of message he’d get from our great-grandma! Talk about a snoozefest. How do you expect to seduce my brother,’ – a waiter walked by, throwing the pair a curious look, but Nicole continued regardless – ‘with mundane WhatsApps like that! Have I taught you nothing?’

  Nicole grabbed the phone from Seffy and started punching in a message. After a pause she handed it back to Seffy and shuddered.

  ‘On second thoughts it’s grossing me out to type it myself. Here, you do it.’

  Seffy nodded, her thumb poised over the phone screen.

  Nicole narrowed her eyes. ‘Okay, I want you to write �
��Did you really like my hair? I’m wondering whether it’s too plain? I’ll probably just change it back. . . ”’

  Seffy frowned as she typed. ‘How is that any better than what I wrote?’

  Nicole rolled her eyes. ‘It’s basic fishing, babes. Flirting 101. You are clearly not plain and so Daniel will feel the need to throw you a compliment to make you feel better, which in turn will make him feel good about himself which will then make him associate you with good feelings.’

  ‘Wow! You’re so clever.’ Seffy shook her head at Nicole’s wisdom. ‘But how do you know he’ll respond with a compliment?’

  Nicole shielded a yawn with her manicured hand. ‘Because he’s nice like that. A real good guy. As everyone likes to point out all of the time.’

  Seffy shrugged, typed out the message and pressed send, her heart leaping into her chest. She felt lucky to have Nicole on her side. Daniel really was one of the good ones and it would be a dream come true for Seffy to be the one to rescue him from this impending doomed marriage to the help.

  ‘Oh my God!’ a high pitched voice came from the terrace doorway. ‘It’s you!’

  Seffy and Nicole looked up to see a blonde girl in jeans and a turquoise silk vest hurrying over to their table.

  Nicole was used to this – younger wannabes recognising her from the society pages, wanting to become her friend, get some advice, find out which foundation she used, help them to penetrate the inner London society circle. She discreetly rolled her eyes at Seffy as if to say is nowhere in London safe?

  The girl put her hand on Nicole’s shoulder eagerly. ‘I can’t believe it’s you!’

  Nicole threw the girl a kind smile. ‘Actually, we’re just in the middle of a—’

  ‘You know Rebecca Ashworth! WOW. What is she like in real life? She’s sooo beautiful and so chic! I went to Topshop to buy that dress she was wearing at her engagement party and it was sold out. The shop assistant says that they sold out within twenty-four hours after that picture of her wearing it appeared online!’