‘No, I’m not joking,’ JoJo had replied, ‘I’m seriously pregnant,’ and it was over between them, just like that. His face, under that ridiculous wig, said it all. Nick didn’t do children. Nick didn’t do family. He’d just been happy to do her, and trust that she wouldn’t ever get a sickness bug making the pill fail, as had been the case.
Thank goodness she’d had her friends to rally round, just as Wendy had, too. As Sal had said, they’d haul Wendy up the aisle in a wheelbarrow, if they had to, and JoJo was prepared to push Steve off his own combat wall, too, at a strategic moment, were it required.
‘Surprising,’ said Tamsin, eventually, breaking the silence that only the distant sound of a woodpigeon had punctuated, ‘that none of you went out with him. Steve is a very handsome man.’ It was something that couldn’t be denied, unfortunately – JoJo lazily opened her eyes and eyed that wall up, wondering how big a push it would take.
‘Nah, he’s gone to seed a bit,’ said Sal. ‘Hasn’t he, Wendy?’
‘Revolting,’ muttered Wendy.
They lay in silence again, lost in their own thoughts. A change of subject needed to be conjured up, and pretty fast. Luckily, Sal provided it. ‘Shall we head back?’ she said, sitting up. ‘It must be nearly lunchtime. I’m starving!’
*
Lunch was certainly inventive. Of course JoJo would have preferred scampi and chips, but she quite enjoyed her cold feast of sliced beetroot, spiralised courgette and lightly battered radishes. It was healthy, at least, and very attractively arranged on the plate, too, which she appreciated. Or was she just trying to make the best of things? The others ate theirs, but said little – Rose a celeriac croquette with a broad bean drizzle, Wendy a kale and swede lasagne. Only Sal ordered a terrine of orange and parsnip which she declared ‘inedible’. Wendy looked deep in thought and kept surreptitiously looking round her, fooling precisely no one. She’s looking for Steve, thought JoJo. She willed The Retreat’s boss not to come in and upset the apple cart, not that he hadn’t tipped it right over already. The rest of them – minus Tamsin – glanced at each other surreptitiously. JoJo knew they were all dying to talk about Wendy’s reaction to Steve’s appearance, but there was no way they could do that with Frederick’s sister at the table. Unfinished business with the bride-to-be’s ex-boyfriend was definitely not something to be discussed with the groom-to-be’s sister!
Tamsin must have read JoJo’s mind as she glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go up to my room and do some research, I’m afraid. Trust Exercises aren’t until three, are they?’
Trust Exercises. The next programme of horror on the Health and Rejuvenation Package. God knows what it entailed. JoJo wasn’t big on trust and she knew all there was to know about it, thank you very much – trust no one but yourself was her motto, and it had served her very well for all these years. She certainly didn’t need any exercises in it.
‘That’s right,’ replied JoJo. ‘Three o’ clock. You’ve got an hour or so.’ They were showered and changed already, obviously: The Retreat’s posh restaurant would hardly suffer a lot of muddy bottoms sitting on its plush chairs.
Tamsin got up and was already on the phone as she left the table, talking earnestly to someone.
‘She’s you, if you’d become a lawyer,’ whispered Sal.
‘I think she might be me anyway,’ said JoJo thoughtfully. Before lunch and whilst Wendy was in the bath, she’d had a very earnest thirty-minute conversation with Tinks, discussing every intricacy of Polly Parmenter’s elaborate train. ‘But at least she had fun this morning.’
They all watched and waited as Tamsin crossed the restaurant and, as soon as she was out of the door, the table erupted in a volcano of shrieks and squeals and questions. The first entirely audible one was, ‘Good God, Wendy how do you feel?’ from Rose.
‘Yes, what’s going on in your head?’ said Sal. ‘Quite a lot, I should imagine.’
‘Well,’ said Wendy, looking quite flummoxed. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m in shock. Big, big shock. Fancy him turning up like that after all these years. I mean . . . what are the chances . . . it’s so weird, the timing of it . . . it’s . . .’
‘Please don’t say you think it’s a sign!’ said JoJo.
‘Well, it is quite a coincidence,’ said Wendy, ‘just before the wedding and all and . . .’
‘It’s not a bloody sign!’ they shouted, in unison, making a passing waiter jump. It was that nice-looking boy from the pool house again, JoJo noted. Luke. He smiled at her; she smiled back.
‘OK, it’s not a sign,’ sighed Wendy, folding her arms across her chest and brushing her hands down the sleeves of her red and yellow striped t-shirt, ‘but it’s unnerved me. I can’t help but think about when we were together . . . how easy it all was with him, how relaxed. I felt good enough for him, I suppose, and he really knew me. Frederick’s only known me for six months – it’s not long, is it? Sometimes I feel scared of showing him who I really am in case he doesn’t like it. Sometimes I think I’m being how I think he wants me to be. Take the hen weekend . . .’
‘Go on,’ said JoJo.
‘It wasn’t true about being too busy and not wanting the hassle. It was . . . well, we all know what hen weekends are like, well, how people see them anyway. Screeching women, nightclubs, strippers and inflatable penises . . .’ She looked pointedly at Sal, who shrugged and smirked. ‘Although I don’t mind all that – it’s a laugh. A night out in a club would have been up my street, the tackier the better, but I don’t want Frederick to know I like “tacky”. I don’t want him to think I’m a cheesy “hen night person”. Remember, Tamsin said she’s never been on a hen night before! They’re all just too posh for that kind of thing.’ She sighed again. ‘Frederick’s in a league I’m struggling to climb up to.’
‘If you can get over that bloody combat wall, you can climb up to Frederick’s league,’ said Sal. ‘Not that you need to! Be in your own league! It’s easy.’
‘Is it?’ continued Wendy. ‘Look, after the initial shock of getting JoJo’s invitation for this weekend, I was happy because I knew it would be brilliant – even if it turned out to not be exactly what we thought we were getting—’ she smiled at JoJo; JoJo pulled a face ‘—but also because it’s somewhere really luxurious. I was able to show Frederick and have him say how “wonderful” it all was.’
‘Oh, you can rely on JoJo to do upmarket,’ interjected Sal, ‘even if she did cock it up and book us on a bloody assault course!’
‘Sorry. Again,’ said JoJo. God, she would never live this down. And she hoped no one would start on the whole ‘didn’t notice who the owner was’ business . . .
‘So all that has been in my head,’ continued Wendy. ‘And now Steve has shown up. Steve loved me completely for the person I was. He knew me inside and out. We got drunk and danced “The Time Warp”. We slobbed out and ate chicken wings from the local kebab shop in our pyjamas. I was good enough for him,’ said Wendy again. ‘He knew me and he liked it.’
‘Until he buggered off,’ Sal reminded her. ‘And never called.’
‘Yes,’ said Wendy, ‘until he buggered off and never called . . . You know, Frederick loves me for the person he thinks I am. I’m not sure he loves me for how I actually am at all.’
‘It didn’t seem that way when we met him.’ JoJo frowned, concerned. ‘He appeared to love you very much just for being you. I think you may have this all wrong. I’m sure if you showed Frederick your true colours he would love every single one of them. You should show him exactly who you are.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Wendy, shaking her head. ‘I’m pretty confused.’
‘Look,’ said Sal. ‘I bet you and Frederick know each other better than you think! Does he know you like dancing on tables in restaurants?’
‘No. I haven’t dared do that in front of him.’
‘Oh. Well does he know you like old reruns of Blind Date and you once dip-dyed your hair purple?’
>
‘No, and I didn’t know he’d once dyed his to become a goth! See? We don’t know each other that well!’
‘You must do,’ insisted Rose. ‘What’s his favourite colour?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘His favourite film?’
‘I’ve watched Star Wars with him, but I don’t know if it’s his favourite . . .’ Wendy looked as though she were about to cry and the others looked at each other, concerned.
‘I’m sure these things don’t really matter!’ declared JoJo. ‘Who cares if you don’t know his favourite colour! I’m sure six months is definitely long enough to know someone well enough to marry them.’ She spoke more confidently than she felt. She’d known Nick for just over six months and it had turned out she hadn’t known him at all . . .
‘Hey, he saw you dancing round the Eiffel Tower, didn’t he?’ offered Sal. ‘That was you.’
‘I’m trying to forget that,’ said Wendy miserably. She sighed and looked off into the middle distance. ‘I thought he was in Australia!’ she said wistfully. ‘I thought Steve was thousands of miles away.’
‘I wish he still was,’ said Sal. ‘Look, I think you need to try your best to avoid him, this weekend, Wendy. With what you’ve been telling us, I don’t think you need any . . . distractions.’
‘You’re right,’ said Wendy, looking towards the door. ‘And now I’m going to the ladies’,’ she said, standing up. ‘You can all talk about me while I’m gone.’
‘Will do!’ said Sal. ‘See you in a minute.’
‘Oh dear,’ said JoJo, once Wendy was safely out of earshot. ‘So, what do we think?’
‘I think a lot of this is in her head,’ said Sal. ‘I mean, come on! They couldn’t have seemed more relaxed or more in love when we met Frederick that time in London. On the other hand, she is right that the whole thing has been so quick . . . God, I don’t know . . . I’m almost as confused as she is.’
‘Me too,’ admitted Rose.
‘But,’ added Sal, ‘I know Steve is definitely not the right man for her. He may be the devil she knows, but “devil” could be the operative word here.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked Rose. ‘Encourage Wendy to keep talking, keep her away from Steve, hope for the best?’
‘Exactly that,’ agreed JoJo. ‘And it’s not as though Steve’s going to be necessarily interested in Wendy again, anyway, after all these years. He might be married or something for all we know.’
‘I couldn’t see a ring,’ said Sal, frowning. ‘I looked. But whether he’s available or not, or makes a play for her or not, it’s how Wendy feels about him that could scupper what’s really best for her.’
‘And what is best for her?’ asked JoJo simply.
‘Definitely not Steve and probably Frederick,’ concluded Sal, ‘but she needs to work that out for herself.’ She sat back in her chair and reached for her bag. ‘Now, do you think there’s anywhere around here we can get a Mars bar or something? I’m still absolutely famished!’
*
They gathered for Trust Exercises at three o’clock, under the large oak tree on the Lower Lawn. No Mars bars had been found after lunch. No vending machine selling snacks and chocolate had miraculously appeared in the lobby. For their sugar hit they had to make do with a packet of Trebor Mints Rose had found in the bottom of her bag.
It was a hot afternoon, but cool under that oak tree with a light breeze from the lake, over to their right, which fanned their faces. Thankfully, they were not in PE knickers and tight t-shirts for this – those had been sent off to housekeeping to be laundered, ready for yoga tomorrow – and were wearing normal, casual clothes. JoJo was quite looking forward to that yoga session tomorrow morning; she’d done it years ago at lunchtimes in one of those trendy London church halls, when she was a legal secretary, and she’d quite enjoyed being a Warrior II and a Resting Eagle, or whatever it was. She’d even been when she was pregnant, as she found it calming, and had done a couple of mother and baby classes after Constance was born.
Her daughter had just called her, with Millie offering prompts in the background, all excited because they’d been to the ice-cream parlour. JoJo missed her; she wished she was with her, but then she remembered as it was a Saturday, she’d be at work today anyway. A pang of guilt clutched at her that Millie got all the good stuff with Constance, but she managed to push the thought aside. She was doing her best with her daughter, and being a strong, successful role model was really important, wasn’t it? Of course it was.
‘Last mint?’ offered Rose, holding out the packet.
‘I’m fine thanks.’ JoJo smiled.
If she was looking forward to the yoga, JoJo was feeling the opposite about this Trust business, and her sensation of unease did not abate when Lucinda, the instructor for this dubious activity, bounded over from behind them and introduced herself. Lucinda looked like an art teacher from the 70s: she was in a smock with big patch pockets, had long, grey plaits and Deirdre Barlow glasses, and was wearing the kind of sensible, flat sandals JoJo would never, ever be seen dead in – she was barely comfortable in the brand new trainers she’d bought for the Glamour Package’s lightly promised Mid-Afternoon Stroll before Cake and Prosecco (ha!). Brand new no more, and pretty much ruined by this morning’s assault course, JoJo felt all flat-footed and frumpy in them.
Lucinda, by contrast, was light on her feet; she was clearly a woman who could never stand still as she was skipping around like a woodland nymph, on her tiptoes, as she talked. JoJo quickly decided she wouldn’t Trust her as far as she could throw her.
‘Good afternoon, fellow trustees,’ trilled Lucinda, hopping like Bambi. ‘And welcome to an afternoon of Trust.’ Dramatic pause. ‘Exercises. Where we will learn to rely on others, put our faith in strangers and experience the wonderful power of trusting ourselves and the universe.’
Oh Lord, not the universe, thought JoJo. The universe had never done that much for her, and she preferred to rely on herself, not others, thank you very much.
Sal caught JoJo’s eye and winked. She clearly wasn’t feeling it either. Everyone else looked surprisingly engaged though. Rose didn’t look too scared at all, Tamsin looked quite relaxed and Wendy was positively beaming, despite the shock she’d had this morning – for a scientist she was an awful sucker for a spot of hippy-ish mumbo-jumbo, mused JoJo. They’d also been joined for the afternoon by another lucky faction of the H & R club, a group of seven women who looked like they’d pottered over from a passing ramble: cagoules and walking boots abounded and for a minute JoJo thought it was those women from the train.
A risky strategy, JoJo thought, banding two groups of Health and Rejuvenation victims like that – there was a danger they’d all get together and revolt, perhaps storming the afternoon tea session demanding cake and sparkling wine.
‘We’ll start,’ said Lucinda, hopping on her toes and clapping her hands lightly together, ‘with the Blindfolded Run. Please get into pairs.’
JoJo quickly stepped towards Sal, her clear kindred spirit in hating this. Rose aligned herself with Wendy, who took her arm, grinning. And a cheery-looking rambling lady stepped over to Tamsin and grabbed her arm.
Lucinda handed everyone black jersey blindfolds and they put them on and tied them at the back of their heads. JoJo couldn’t see a thing.
‘Now,’ Lucinda said, ‘everyone come and stand together over here . . .’ she coaxed them left, out of the shade of the oak tree and into the sun; JoJo could feel it on her face ‘… and line up.’ JoJo grabbed what she hoped was Sal’s arm and they shuffled over to where Lucinda wanted them; she herded them into their correct spaces like a flock of sheep. ‘Space out,’ continued Lucinda, ‘but keep hold of your partner’s hand.’ JoJo felt around for Sal’s hand and took it. ‘Now, on my command, start to walk forward in your pairs and I will shout instructions at intervals. Try and keep a relatively straight line forward, we don’t want any.’ Pause. ‘Casualties.’ She l
aughed a high, girly laugh. ‘And . . . begin!’
JoJo and Sal started walking. JoJo was giggling nervously. It was so strange to not see where she was going, scary in fact, but at least the ground was relatively flat here. Taking each step tentatively, she squeezed Sal’s hand to make sure she was next to her and, her other senses heightened, could hear lots of giggles surrounding them in the air. She heard a yelp and a bit of tumble – oh no, not Rose, surely?
‘Up you get, Rose!’ she heard Wendy say and Rose laughed from somewhere behind them. She and Sal walked on.
‘This is mad!’ said Sal.
‘I know!’ replied JoJo.
‘Now, jog!’ commanded Lucinda, from somewhere to their right and JoJo and Sal broke into an unsteady, lolloping trot. This really was mad; JoJo had the disturbing feeling she was going to smack into a brick wall at any moment, but she kept going.
‘And . . . run!’ trilled Lucinda. ‘Run as fast as you can!’
‘What the hell!’ shouted Sal. ‘Oh sod it, let’s go for it!’ She and JoJo pelted as fast as they could, fearing collision, injury and possible death. They were laughing now, laughing their heads off. They were still laughing when Lucinda commanded everyone to stop.
‘Take off your blindfolds,’ she said, ‘and see how far you’ve come.’
JoJo pulled her blindfold off her head without undoing it and looked around her. They were quite some distance from where they had started – they were almost as far as the lake.
‘That was almost fun!’ said Sal.
Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year! Page 10