Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year!

by Fiona Collins

  ‘You are their kind of people,’ muttered Rose, and then they all fell silent and just stared at each other. This was not good. If ever a hefty gear change was needed, it was now. Sal felt she had to pull something out of the bag, and quick! She got it. She grabbed the neck of the bottle of vodka inside her handbag and pulled it until the label peeked out of the top of the zip.

  ‘Right, I’ve got this,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t draw attention to it.’ Once she’d established they’d all seen it, she zipped the top of the bag over the bottle, stuffed it back under her chair and sat back, grinning.

  The atmosphere changed almost immediately. ‘What!’ shrieked Rose. ‘Where did you get that from? Did you bring it from home?’

  ‘No, I pinched it, from the bar.’

  ‘You’re joking!’ said JoJo. ‘Please tell me you didn’t!’

  ‘Well, I didn’t pinch it as such,’ reasoned Sal. ‘It was left on a table. I simply took advantage of it.’ She grinned and looked around the faces of her friends. JoJo still looked a little cross, but Sal could tell she was itching to smile, Wendy didn’t look so miserable any more and Rose’s face was close to pure delight. ‘So how about we go down to the lake on this warm and beautiful summer’s evening and drink the lot?’

  The women exchanged glances. JoJo raised her eyebrows, Rose started giggling and Wendy’s face broke into an enormous grin.

  ‘You’re on!’ she cried. ‘Let’s do it!’

  *

  The lake was still and calm, the odd ripple puncturing its glass-like surface as a lone swallow sang its lilting song overhead; the sun set aesthetically behind the lake house and cast a pink and orange glow on the cute family of ducks huddling in reeds at the base of the romantic-looking wooden bridge; a warm breeze wafted off the water in puffs of fragrant clouds and cooled the four of them wonderfully . . . which they needed, actually, as they were all wonderfully hot and half of them were off their faces.

  ‘We should have had this in a brown paper bag,’ laughed JoJo, as she took the final tiny swig from the bottle of vodka. ‘We’re like a total bunch of winos!’

  ‘We so are,’ said Sal. She lay back on the shallow mound they’d been leaning against. Her head was spinning although she wasn’t sure why – she hadn’t drunk much, she couldn’t get the taste for it tonight, for some reason. ‘I’m such a lightweight these days,’ she added. ‘Can’t handle it like I used to.’

  Wendy laughed. ‘I think we’re all like that, aren’t we? I’m terrible these days. One sniff of the evil drink and I’m all over the place! Frederick calls me a very cheap date!’

  Rose giggled. ‘At least you are some kind of a date,’ she said, lying back on the mound and stretching out her feet which were minus the sandals she’d slipped off. ‘Jason thinks a date is a Chinese takeaway and an episode of Megastructures, then tells me off if I try and talk to him during it. And he snaffles all the spring rolls.’ Wendy and Rose both burst into disproportionate, high-pitched laughter: they were the two drunkest, decided Sal, definitely.

  ‘Coupledom.’ JoJo smiled. ‘What am I missing out on? Not an awful lot, by the sounds of it!’

  ‘Nope,’ said Rose. Her voice was really quite slurred. ‘You’re better off being single, JoJo, much less hassle.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Sal. ‘Being single is the way to go. Sorry, Wendy.’

  ‘But you’re not single!’ proclaimed Rose, turning to face her. ‘You’ve got Niall!’

  ‘I’m sleeping with Niall. I haven’t got Niall,’ said Sal piously. ‘And I am very much single, thank you very much, and that’s how I shall remain. Now leave me alone as I feel knackered and I need to have a little kip.’ She closed her eyes and let the soft sounds of the lake wash over her – she was single and proud . . . she was nowhere near in love with Niall, not in the slightest . . . she was as cool and nonchalant as a person could ever be – sounds which were suddenly interrupted by the squeak of a door and the clank of a key turning in a lock. She opened one eye to see two figures at the door of the picturesque wooden lake house. Two male figures – tall, handsome – who were now walking their way.

  ‘Uh-oh, look out!’ she said, sitting up. ‘It’s Steve. And Rose’s blond ambition.’

  ‘Ssh!’ hissed Rose. ‘He’s not my anything! You’re so embarrassing, Sal!’

  ‘Sorry!’ Sal smirked, not sorry at all, but she was concerned at Steve’s untimely appearance, especially after all the vodka Wendy had consumed. They watched as the two men walked towards them. Wendy had a suspiciously blank look on her alcohol-reddened face, desperately trying to convince everyone she didn’t care.

  ‘Hello, ladies,’ said Steve, as he got to them. ‘What on earth’s been going on here?’ Sal saw him spy the empty bottle of vodka, sans paper bag, which had rolled down the mound to the edge of the lake.

  Wendy’s already red face coloured further; she now resembled a beetroot with huge, curly hair. She scrambled for the empty bottle and stuck it behind her, as though putting it out of sight would make Steve forget he’d ever seen it.

  ‘Hello, Steve,’ she attempted to say. It came out as a cough, so she had to start again. ‘Hello, Steve, we’ve just been having an after-dinner drink. A tipple, really. Just a tiny, teeny little tipple.’ She giggled. ‘A tiny, teeny-weeny ickle bit of a tipple.’ She giggled again and then did a small, ladylike burp, clamping her hand over her mouth. Uh-oh, Wendy was drunk and dangerous, thought Sal; she could see this going all kinds of wrong.

  ‘On the Health and Rejuvenation package?’ asked Steve, with a frown.

  ‘Well, we . . . we brought it from home.’

  ‘I’m not sure drinking is allowed by the lake.’ He had his hands in his pockets, a stern look set on his face. ‘Health and safety and all that. Public nuisance by-laws. The reputation of The Retreat.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Wendy, stricken. ‘Are you going to tell on us?’ She attempted a lopsided smile Sal knew as her Very Drunk Smile and nearly toppled over on herself. ‘No, silly me – you’d be the one people would tell, aren’t you? You’re the boss! You’re da boss,’ she repeated, in a stupid voice. ‘Are you going to kick us out?’ She was high-pitched pleading now, forty-something little girl lost – oh, Wendy was a goner in more ways than one.

  Steve stared at her as though lost in angry, official thought then a smile broke on his face and he laughed his effusive laugh, throwing his head back. Sal remembered that laugh from Warwick; it had got quite annoying after a while. ‘No, of course I’m not, Hamster, and of course drinking is allowed by the lake. We’re having the party out here, remember, in the lake house, tomorrow night,’ he said, gesturing over to it. ‘Paul and I have been inside checking everything’s shipshape and ready for it.’

  Sal saw Rose sneak a quick, pink-cheeked glance at hunky Paul, who was looking her way with a more than genial and playful look on his face. Rose’s dress was all hitched up and she was showing far too much knee and a hint of left thigh; she looked like a romantic heroine at a picnic who was about to get a good seeing-to, and Paul looked like he was game for supplying it. ‘The party,’ Rose simpered, like a Victorian child.

  ‘Yes it’s all coming along nicely in there,’ Paul said, his gravelly voice soft and low, and not taking his eyes off Rose or her left thigh. ‘It’s a Pamper Package client’s fiftieth, too.’

  ‘We’re doing balloons,’ added Steve.

  ‘Sounds nice,’ said Rose, ignoring Steve and meeting Paul’s gaze. Oh God, thought Sal, Rose was all over him like a rash, or she would be, given half the chance. The woman was practically salivating. What were these problems between her and Jason? Sal pondered. Apart from the obvious that he was never at home.

  ‘I’ll show you, Hammington,’ said Steve. ‘Give me back the key, Paul, and I’ll take Wendy into the lake house.’

  Paul pulled a set of keys from his pocket and chucked them at Steve, who caught them expertly. No, thought Sal. No, no, no. Don’t show Wendy the lake house, St
eve, just don’t! She’s getting married in a week. She doesn’t need to be taken anywhere! She and JoJo watched helplessly as Wendy trotted off behind Steve and he saw her into the lake house, his hand resting casually on the small of her back as he steered her in through the door. Rose didn’t watch. Her eyes were on Paul, who had sat down beside her like the spider to Miss Muffet. They started talking and Rose kept giggling prettily, peering up at him from under her fringe.

  ‘Ever been a gooseberry?’ remarked JoJo to Sal.

  ‘Often,’ replied Sal. ‘Ever seen a fool?’

  ‘Many a time. And I hope Wendy knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘I don’t believe she does,’ said Sal. ‘Not in the slightest.’

  They both looked towards the lake house but could see nothing; anything could be going on in there.

  Ten minutes passed. Ten minutes in which Sal fretted, JoJo looked worried and Paul and Rose flirted their socks off. There was a lot of giggling going on, from their direction. Suddenly Paul stood up. ‘See you at yoga tomorrow,’ he said.

  ‘Yoga?’ said Rose, her cheeks fiery pink, her lips all pouty and parted. ‘How come?’

  ‘I’m the instructor.’ And Paul gave her a wink and sauntered off towards the manor house, Rose watching his bum cheeks as they rolled and tensed under chino-ed cotton.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said JoJo to Rose, after he had disappeared into the door to the restaurant. ‘Seems you’ve got more than a mild flirtation going on there, my friend.’

  ‘Don’t knock it,’ said Rose. Her head was lolling and her eyes were bloodshot. God, she was pissed, thought Sal. ‘I deserve one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Sal. ‘Come on, expand!’

  ‘I’m lonely,’ said Rose. She pulled the skirt of her dress down and attempted to sit up straight. ‘I’m lonely as hell. I’ve got the girls, of course, but they’re just in their rooms all the time, doing whatever it is they’re doing: self-tanning, painting their nails revolting, glittery colours, scattering objects all over the floor at random.’ Sal smiled; she’d been in Katie’s room once – Rose had shown it to her as though it were Area 51. ‘So it’s just me, downstairs, on my own all the time. I’m lonely without Jason.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said JoJo.

  ‘Me too,’ said Sal. ‘I had no idea. You need to talk to us.’

  ‘I’m talking to you now. You know, a lot of people would say, “Ooh lucky you, full control of the remote, the bed to yourself to lie like a starfish in etc., etc.,” but to be honest, I want someone in my bed. I miss having someone by my side. And then when Jason is back . . . it’s just – lacklustre, no spark, no sparkle. The daily drudge, and all our attention on the girls, then he’s off again. He’s not interested in me, not any more. And I’ve stopped making any effort with him. That’s life. That’s our life. That’s just how it is. And . . .’

  ‘And what?’ asked Sal.

  ‘And . . .’ Rose looked downcast ‘ . . . I think Jason is having an affair.’

  ‘You what?’ exclaimed Sal.

  ‘Why? How?’ said JoJo.

  ‘I logged onto his email. He’d ordered some tickets for Louisa, a Drake concert, whoever that is. I wanted to check the details. I was scanning through his emails when I came across one confirming a booking for a hotel in Phuket. A really nice hotel.’

  ‘Phuket, Thailand?’ asked JoJo. ‘Perhaps it’s for you and him? When’s it for?’

  ‘End of September – the twenty-sixth – when I know he’s going to be away. And Phuket is not that far from Hong Kong. I looked it up. It’s only about a three hour flight. If he was taking me anywhere – unlikely, ha! – it would be somewhere closer to home when he’s back in the UK. I wouldn’t be going all that way over there, would I? I don’t think he’s taking me,’ she added, looking down at the ground. ‘I think he’s taking Susie.’

  ‘Susie? Who the hell’s that?’ asked Sal.

  ‘Susie . . . she works with him in Hong Kong – he’s always talking about her. She always answers his phone – early in the morning. I think they’re having an affair!’

  ‘His mobile phone?’ asked JoJo, looking shocked.

  ‘No, not his mobile phone, the phone on his desk.’

  ‘Just because she’s someone he works with and she sometimes answers the office phone, doesn’t mean Jason’s having an affair!’ said Sal. If this was true, she would be furious, but Rose could be doing a whole lot of worrying for nothing, and probably was. ‘Plus, she could be some hideous old boiler, for all you know!’

  ‘Lovely. Very politically correct,’ chided JoJo. She was telling her off, and Sal realised JoJo was definitely the least drunk of them all – in fact, she looked almost sober. When would that woman let her hair down? She’d been the life and soul at Warwick – always on the dance floor, always up for staying up all night – now she daren’t risk the merest smidge of a hangover in case she lost focus for work. Sal couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her even slightly out of control. ‘Do you know what she looks like, Rose?’

  ‘Sadly, I do,’ said Rose, looking utterly miserable. ‘She’s stunning. I looked her up online, on the company website. Sleek, long black hair, a lovely smile, and I bet she’s got a perfect figure, too. I bet she’s not all chunky and disappointing, like me.’

  ‘You are not chunky and disappointing!’ said Sal. ‘You’re lovely.’

  ‘I don’t feel lovely. Jason certainly doesn’t make me feel lovely. He pretty much ignores me when he’s home.’

  ‘And are you still – you know – doing it?’ asked JoJo. ‘I know you said you weren’t, last night, but I didn’t know if you were joking or not.’

  ‘Occasionally,’ said Rose, ‘although I don’t think his heart is in it. He’s probably thinking about her.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ said JoJo. ‘Why don’t you just ask him? Ask him if he’s having an affair? At least it will bring things out into the open. If he is, you can then decide what to do. If he’s not then happy days. The not knowing is the worst, surely?’

  ‘I’m scared of the “open”,’ said Rose. ‘I’m scared once I know for sure and it’s all real that that will be it. We’ll be over. He wishes he weren’t married to me, I know it! He only married me because I was pregnant with Darcie!’

  ‘What rubbish!’ snorted Sal. ‘He so didn’t! He was madly in love with you.’

  ‘He said he was, but I don’t know now.’

  ‘Talk to him when you get home,’ pleaded JoJo. ‘Just promise us you’ll talk to him.’

  ‘OK, I’ll talk to him,’ said Rose. ‘I will. I have to, I know. And speaking of people dallying where they shouldn’t,’ she added with a slurry voice, looking over to the lake house, ‘what on earth is Wendy doing?’

  Wendy and Steve were standing by the door. Steve was locking it. Wendy was giggling and tossing her curls. Steve touched her on the arm and then threw his head back, laughing. Then he turned and walked away from Wendy and strutted jauntily past them, his hands in his pockets, stretching the fabric over his bum whilst Wendy stood at the door of the lake house and watched it go. This was not good, thought Sal. Not good at all.

  ‘Come and sit down, Wendy!’ JoJo called over. ‘You look like you need to!’

  Wendy walked over and collapsed in a mock-dramatic heap on the mound, her face all flushed and her eyes over-bright.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ she breathed.

  ‘What have you been doing?’ demanded Sal. ‘You haven’t been snogging him, have you?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ protested Wendy, affronted. ‘We’ve been talking, that’s all.’ Sal was dismayed to see a wicked grin creep onto Wendy’s face making her look thoroughly delighted.

  ‘And what were you talking about?’ said JoJo.

  ‘The party tomorrow. They’ve done some wonderful things in there – it’s so pretty . . . And, well, the good old days.’ She looked all wistful, suddenly – treacherously so. ‘They were rea
lly good days, for both of us, Steve has just said so.’

  ‘Nothing like rose-tinted glasses,’ muttered Sal. ‘And beer goggles – don’t forget you were drunk most of the time you were together!’

  ‘Not all the time!’ argued Wendy. ‘He really makes me laugh, you know, just like he used to. I haven’t laughed so much in ages.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ said Sal sardonically. ‘So he made you laugh. What about the buggering off to Australia and the not calling?’

  A frown replaced Wendy’s smile. ‘Yes, there is that, of course. Why do you think he’s turned up? Why do you think he’s turned up now?’

  Not this again! Sal was cross. ‘He didn’t turn up; he was here already – we turned up. It means nothing at all apart from being a very unfortunate coincidence. If you start banging on about signs again I may have to throw you in the lake.’

  ‘I won’t bang on about signs,’ said Wendy, ‘but I’m very confused. Can I be honest?’

  ‘You better be!’

  ‘There’s something about him,’ she said, ‘still. He’s still so handsome, he’s still got that cheeky, cocky “something” I always loved so much. But there’s more now. He’s different. He’s more mature. He’s no longer a laid-back student, but a successful businessman. That’s quite powerful, isn’t it? I can’t deny I’m very attracted to him and he’s making me feel all sorts of funny feelings I really don’t want to be feeling right now!’ She twirled a thick red curl round one finger. ‘I know I’m drunk, but I’m in trouble, aren’t I? The bottom line is . . . the bottom line is he’s making me wonder if I should cancel the wedding!’

  ‘Oh my God, you are not cancelling the wedding!’ exclaimed JoJo. ‘You’re marrying Frederick! He’s successful, too, remember? A high-flyer? That’s what you’ve been calling him – and he loves you. And you love him, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wendy, ‘I do love him, but I wonder if he’s the right man for me, after all. If I’m feeling all funny over another man, he can’t be, can he?’ She looked towards the pale stone manor house of The Retreat, confusion and regret all over her face. Damn Steve for being in there, thought Sal. Damn him for being here at all! ‘You know I’m already worried about marrying into Frederick’s family! You know I’m scared that the whole thing is All Too Soon.’