‘Thank you,’ Wendy said, nodding, as Frederick settled her. Then he jogged into the lake house.
‘And thank you,’ said Sal to Tamsin, after he had gone. ‘For what you said. How do you know Wendy likes dancing on bars to terrible dance records?’
‘Frederick told me about the dancing.’ Tamsin smiled. ‘Spying her busting her moves on that table appears to be a special memory of his. “The Birdie Song” was a guess. He meant it when he said he loves that about you, Wendy,’ she said, turning to her. Wendy beamed a drunken beam. She was now happily snivelling and JoJo reached into her bag and handed her a tissue. ‘And don’t mention it,’ she said to Sal. She plopped down on the bench, too, cocktail in hand. ‘So, did someone call Frederick?’
‘I texted him,’ said Sal, ‘earlier this afternoon.’
‘Oh, thank you, Sal,’ snivelled Wendy. ‘So much. I’d forgotten just how much I loved him. What a bloody idiot. And I’m so sorry, Tamsin – you must think I’m absolutely awful.’
‘Not at all,’ said Tamsin. ‘Actually, I really, really like you. And I can understand the pickle you were in. I was once in a bit of a similar one myself.’ She looked at JoJo, who smiled. ‘Look, you needed a little help from your friends, that’s all, but it can all be forgotten now, all of it. You’re perfect for Frederick, he’s perfect for you and by this time next week you’ll be married.’
‘Do you think your mum and dad will like me?’ asked Wendy mournfully.
Tamsin laughed in surprise. ‘They’ll love you!’
‘But you’re all such high-flyers,’ Wendy said with a sniff.
Tamsin laughed again. ‘I suppose we are, but we don’t put pressure on each other about it, and, actually, I’m beginning to realise flying high’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ she said, ‘at least not all the time.’ She looked at JoJo again and winked. ‘And if we as a family are too stuffy sometimes, then we need a Wendy in our lives. I do, especially,’ she admitted. ‘You and your lovely friends – and this whole weekend – have reminded me how fabulous it is to have fun,’ she said. ‘In fact, this is the first and best hen weekend I’ve ever been on!’
‘Glad to hear it!’ laughed JoJo. ‘I’m glad you were here to spend it with us.’
‘I really am so sorry about the whole Steve thing,’ said Wendy, her head bowed. ‘And I’m so happy you’re going to be my sister-in-law.’
‘Me too,’ said Tamsin warmly, her face breaking into a beaming smile, and she leant forward and gave Wendy a huge hug. It was only halted by Frederick reappearing with a large glass of water, which Wendy took from him and drank down gratefully.
‘Come on everyone,’ said Sal, relieving her of the empty glass, ‘let’s go back inside and hit the dance floor.’
They headed to the door of the lake house. As Sal, last to troop in, was about to step through it, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
‘Where’s Wendy?’
It was Steve. That cheeky grin, that insouciant face. Those bloody annoying cropped curls. She wanted to punch him.
‘Away from you, as you know. She’s inside. Her fiancé’s here.’
‘The famous Frederick. Really?’
‘Yes. So sling your hook.’
Steve threw his head back and laughed. ‘Sling my hook? I own the place!’
‘You should know your place,’ said Sal. ‘And not interfere with your guests. Especially those that are getting married. Why don’t you retreat to The Retreat – well, the house, at least – and keep the hell away from Wendy?’ She was furious with him; it had been such a close call. ‘You should have kept away from her right from the start. She’s here on her hen do! She’s getting married next weekend, for God’s sake!’
‘Yeah,’ said Steve, infuriatingly, and as casual as you like. ‘She never stopped going on about it. It got annoying after a while. We were just catching up, you know.’
‘Baloney!’
He gave that charming smile, the one he’d clearly employed so successfully in both hemispheres over the years.
‘OK, so Hammy was unfinished business. To me.’
‘That’s more like it. Actually, no, it was less than that, wasn’t it? You were just toying with her. For fun. And because you knew it took her a long time to get over you all those years ago. You haven’t changed, Steve. You’re still a cocky sod and an out-and-out player!’
He shrugged… cockily, then his face dropped a little and he looked momentarily serious. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said. ‘I really liked her, you know, back in the day. I really like her now.’
‘Well, you can’t have her. You’re too late.’
‘Point taken.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled his cheeky smile. ‘Right, well, it’s been great seeing all you girls again, but I really should be getting on. See you, Sal. Hey, Heidi!’
Heidi, in her white dress, was walking over from the restaurant. Her dress was very tight and Sal could see Steve giving her a quick up and down, admiring glance before walking towards her, all chirpy and full of himself, his hands in his pockets. Sal was surprised he didn’t start whistling or something. Good riddance, she thought. Sal was literally glad to see the back of him.
She turned and went into the lake house. She was surprised to see Frederick and Wendy both on the dance floor, ‘Come on Eileen’-ing to Dexys Midnight Runners. Frederick had quite an enthusiastic stomp on him and was really getting into it – the song was just going into the frenzied bit at the end and Frederick started playing on an imaginary violin. JoJo and her young crush were also on the floor, laughing their heads off and doing some kind of silly jive. He had his arms round JoJo – tight – and JoJo appeared to be having the best time ever. Sal wondered how the evening would end for JoJo. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was in this man’s bed and good for her if it was; she had been sleeping alone for far too long. JoJo waved from the dance floor, and Sal waved back; a thoroughly deserved night of passion would do wonders for the woman.
Rose and Tamsin were talking ten to the dozen, to one side of the dance floor. Tamsin was jigging about a bit to the music, and swigging from a cocktail. Elsewhere, the party had thinned out and wasn’t so packed. Lovers were going off into the night; those who’d overdone it were calling it a day. Sal didn’t want to go back to Pregnancy Corner. She didn’t want to be stuck on a chair at the edge of the room. She was pregnant (pregnant!) and she wanted to celebrate. She grabbed Rose and Tamsin and made a circle with them and the others. As they danced together, she looked around all their happy, smiling and in-varying-degrees-drunk faces. The friends she loved. Rose was punching the air and singing along at the top of her voice; JoJo was laughing and spinning around in the middle of the circle, proper drunk showing off, which was lovely to see; Tamsin was getting down with the best of them, a silly grin on her face. And Wendy and Frederick looked blissfully, gloriously happy. With Frederick helping her up, Wendy climbed up onto the bar, and he jumped up after her to the delighted cheers of the assembled crowd, who clapped in time as they danced.
Thank God she’d texted him, thought Sal; it was a punt, but the cavalry had showed up just in time. Everything was going to be all right . . . although it was dependent on one final thing. The final thing was to tell Niall about the baby tomorrow morning and not have him run for the hills in his chequered trousers, his apron flapping behind him. She hoped he would be as happy as she was, somehow. Oh God, she was so nervous about it, but she’d think about it in the morning.
Now it was time to party.
Chapter Sixteen
Rose
‘Hello? Anybody home?’
Rose shut the front door behind her and placed her bag at the bottom of the stairs. The house was quiet. There was no loud, incomprehensible hip hop music playing, no shrieking about straighteners or eyelash curlers, no thundering feet upstairs threatening to come through the ceiling. Were they all out?
She’d texted her mum, from the train, as it left Chippenham, lett
ing her know roughly what time she’d be back. Her mum had said fine, whenever it was they’d be there. She’d also said the girls had been ‘as good as gold’, which Rose doubted, but she admired her mum’s spirit. Rose had texted her daughters, too, asking them how they were and that she was looking forward to seeing them, but only Katie had bothered to reply, with a GIF of a dancing dog in a silly hat and a caption saying ‘Whatever’. Charming! They’d really missed her then. Rose had sighed, put her phone back in her bag and stared out of the window at the passing patchwork fields.
It had been a funny old journey, really: Wendy had left them and set off back to Kent in Frederick’s MG, probably with her hand on his knee the whole way home and gazing with adoration at his profile as he drove; Tamsin had driven back to Islington, but not before they had showered her with hugs and kisses and Sal had laughingly pretended to drop her iPhone in a fountain; and the remaining three of them got on the train at Chippenham where, once settled in their seats, an uncharacteristically quiet mood took hold. JoJo was hungover and content to gaze out of the window with a massive grin on her face. Sal was smugly not hungover but buried her face in her Kindle the whole way home, although Rose could swear she wasn’t actually reading. She had a lot on her mind, didn’t she? With the baby and Niall and everything? Rose hoped Niall would greet the baby news as good news, now Sal had admitted how she really felt about him. Wouldn’t it be amazing if Sal got her happy ending? And Rose had sat and closed her eyes and had a good think.
On her mind had been Jason, and what she was going to do to bring their marriage back from the brink of disaster. She wished she knew when he was going to be home, so she could plan properly, but Rose decided what she was going to do. She was going to text Jason, this afternoon, to say she knew about the affair – there was no point beating about the bush, asking him if it was true, saying she suspected something etc. – she would say she knew, but she wanted them to get through it and make a fresh start. She could be a strong woman, if she tried. She could say what needed to be said. Jason would either deny it, then she would have to decide whether she believed him or not, or he would hold his hands up to it and then, as awful as it would be, they could move forward.
She was also going to deep-clean the house, get the girls to sort out their rooms and dust down the furniture – and the piece of furniture that was going to get the most attention was her. She was no longer going to save clothes for ‘best’ when there was no ‘best’, although she was planning on arranging lots more ‘best’ occasions. She was going to scrub up, wear make-up every day; make an effort with herself. It was about time. She’d loved the dressing up she’d done at The Retreat, the outfits. She would do much more of it, and if she noticed herself more then so, hopefully, would Jason.
Rose had opened her eyes, once this plan had been formulated, and had caught sight of her reflection in the train window. Although she was travelling and normally wouldn’t bother, she had applied blusher and mascara and lip gloss and had made an effort with her hair. She looked pretty good, if she said so herself; her encounter by the lake – despite ending in a far from fairy tale manner – had given her a burst of confidence. She didn’t want to be Frumpy Mummy any more, who didn’t bother with make-up because what was the point. Who wore the same nondescript clothes every day because she had given up trying to look nice. Her episode with impossibly sexy Paul – her nearly kissing him, the very real and accessible offer of going to his room and sleeping with him – had proved to Rose that she could be attractive, if she wanted to be. She could be desirable, if she just gave herself a chance. ‘It’ was still in her possession; she just had to take it out of the bottle and shine it up now and again.
Rose stood in her empty hallway now and listened to the silence. She hoped to God Jason would be up for making the same effort for her and for the marriage. She prayed he would see their marriage as not just a rehearsal, but for life, but what if he didn’t? What if he really was having an affair and her confronting him gave him the impetus to leave? To leave her for Susie . . . and to leave her and the girls to it, in this madhouse of theirs. They needed his man stuff and his briefcases and his rolled-up socks everywhere and his aftershave and his lone, male influence – even his snoring. Most of all, they needed him.
She would text him now. She grabbed her phone from her bag and sat down on the bottom stair. She kept her message short and not particularly sweet.
I know you’re having an affair.
There. It was sent, it was done. What time was it in Hong Kong? Nine in the evening? He was probably out with colleagues (hopefully male colleagues), drinks and dinner, talking business, discussing the finer details of land reclamation. He never answered texts straight away. She’d make herself busy, start doing some jobs. She walked to the utility room (‘Futility Room’, she liked to call it), where about four piles of washing were waiting for her in front of the washing machine, unsorted. Oh, those girls! It wouldn’t kill them to put a wash on, would it? Clearly it would. She started sorting it into coloureds and whites and promised herself she would make the girls implement some changes, too. Everyone in this family needed to step up.
She’d left her phone on the bottom stair. It chimed, to signal a text, and Rose ran back into the hall. Jason.
What? No! Talk to you when I get back! Hopefully Saturday?
She didn’t know what to think. He was so jaunty. So jolly. So dismissive. Because he thought she was a ridiculous idiot, or because he was lying? Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? – the famous line from Mandy Rice-Davies during the John Profumo trial – sprung into her mind. Of course he was going to deny it! He was hardly going to reply with ‘Rumbled! Yes, I am’, was he? Unless he was relieved to be found out and could now leave her, of course . . . Oh, she was so confused! Would she ever know the truth, when she would no proof either way? Apart from the hotel booking. That was proof. She would print off the booking and shove it in his face when he got home, before he had time to even think about it. His reaction would tell her exactly what she needed to know.
She walked back to the Futility Room. She had a plan. That felt good. And now she would get on with the rest of it – just in case he was still hers and their future was together. She would scrub up her life and her home and present him with the best possible version of both. And if she had to whip those three girls of hers with a feather duster until they got their rooms spick and span then so be it.
There was the sound of a car pulling up outside – her parents; there was no mistaking their knackered old Beetle. She looked out of the window and saw her mum and dad, and Darcie, Louisa and Katie, all getting out of the car. Her dad went round to the boot, while the girls yawned and stretched on the pavement, holding the phones they were surgically attached to. Wherever they’d all been – knowing her mum and dad, to the local Lidl, so they could coo and tut simultaneously over all the bargains, or perhaps the girls had dragged them to New Look – they were back.
Rose hurried to the front door to welcome her family.
Chapter Seventeen
JoJo
JoJo was amused to find herself on the street that led to her boutique. She hadn’t actually planned on coming here this morning, after all; she’d planned on heading straight home from Paddington, throwing her bag in the hall and then dashing upstairs to hug Constance. It was the first day of the summer holidays; she’d arranged for Millie to stay on for the day – Holiday Club was due to start tomorrow. But she was on automatic pilot, she knew. She’d walked up this street like a homing pigeon, without really thinking about it. And today she was so not with it she may as well have been trundled up here on a sack barrow, like one of her own wedding dress mannequins. It had been a most unusual morning, preceded by a most fantastic night and her head was full of it, in the most delightful way.
JoJo had woken, at 7 a.m., with the biggest grin on her face. She wasn’t in her own bed. She wasn’t in the room she shared with Wendy. She was in a tiny, sunlit room at
the top of The Retreat, and wedged next to her in the single bed with the now wonderfully creased white sheets, his arm flung up on the pillow, his nose nestled in his sweet-smelling armpit, was her one-night-stand lover, Luke. His hair was endearingly tousled, his skin was smooth and tanned and smattered with cute little freckles; his mouth was curled into a sexy, half-asleep smile.
She’d stared at him for a while, revelling in just how beautiful he was and reflecting on what an amazing night they’d had. The dancing, the laughing; the way he’d taken her hand at the end of the night and whispered, ‘Come back to mine,’ and how easily she’d said ‘Yes,’; the giggling in the lift as they went to the top floor of The Retreat; the tiptoeing up the carpeted stairs to his tiny staff quarters in the attic, shushing each other and snogging at intervals; the amazing, amazing sex. Bloody hell. The amazing, amazing sex! Oh blimey, she’d blushed as she thought about it. She had still been blushing as she’d kissed him on the cheek to say goodbye.
‘Hey, beautiful.’ He’d stirred and opened one eye.
‘I’m going,’ she’d said. ‘Thank you for a wonderful night.’
‘You’re going?’ he’d asked, opening the other eye and staring at her. ‘Where are you going to? It’s early.’
‘Back to my friends, back to my daughter, my life,’ she said. ‘I’m going home this morning. I loved this night with you, though,’ she added. ‘I really, really loved it.’
‘I’m never going to see you again,’ Luke said, lifting his head from the pillow and gazing into her eyes. Gosh, he was handsome, she thought. And he looked quite sad, which she thought was sweet.
‘No,’ she replied, ‘no, you won’t, but that’s OK.’ She sat on the bed and stroked a finger down his beautiful cheek. ‘Goodbye, Luke.’
‘Goodbye, JoJo. Is this where I say I’ll never forget you?’
Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year! Page 22