She felt disgusted with herself for not seeing what was going on. She’d actually stood up for Aimee to their friends when they’d said she was getting above herself. She’d made excuses for her behaviour, saying that she was very busy. Gwen hadn’t wanted to believe what the girls were saying, that Aimee wasn’t interested in friendship with them any more, that she’d moved on and left them trailing in her wake.
They were right, Gwen acknowledged, remembering the unreturned phone calls, the unanswered texts and emails. Aimee wasn’t interested in them and she was a fool for trying to hang on to what was obviously no longer a friendship. She was a fool and an idiot and a doormat. Tears prickled her eyes as she walked with her head down, afraid people would notice that she was crying. She felt gutted. The others wouldn’t be surprised, but she’d still believed that she and Aimee had a friendship and that, when the other woman wasn’t so busy, she would have had time to go for lunch, or a drink, or even a coffee to catch up with what was going on in their lives.
It certainly was now more than obvious that Aimee didn’t give a hoot and that Gwen was the needy one in the relationship. If she was needy, then there was no equality in the friendship. Aimee had seen that and spun her up and down like a yo-yo when it suited her. And she had let her do it, Gwen thought with dismay. Why had she struggled so long to keep up the friendship? What was the point in trying to keep something going when it had clearly faded away? Their friendship, if it could ever really have been called a friendship, was long past its sell-by date. Aimee put no value on it and never had, Gwen realized, suddenly feeling extremely foolish over the years she’d spent investing so much into a non-relationship. She had good friends. She didn’t need to be with someone who cared less about her.
No one had ever looked down their nose at Gwen before or made her feel small. And she had just allowed someone to do that to her. How dare Aimee Davenport belittle her? Who did she think she was, the jumped-up little snob? She had some nerve. Gwen came to a sudden halt. She wasn’t going to let that bitch get away with that. She wasn’t going to let that snooty wagon walk all over her and treat her like dirt. She wasn’t going to be a doormat for Aimee Davenport to wipe her posh shoes on ever again. And she wasn’t going to take any more of her rudeness, because it was rude and dismissive not returning calls, texts or emails. It was rude making arrangements and then breaking them because some ‘business thing’ had come up. It was downright bad-mannered ignorance, she fumed. Good manners cost nothing. Her dismissive little stunt five minutes ago was the last such stunt she’d ever pull on her, Gwen vowed, her jaw jutting aggressively.
‘Kids, come back. I just need to have a word with someone, it won’t take long, and I don’t want any arguments,’ she said in a tone that brooked no dissent. Her two girls looked at her and at each other, startled by her uncharacteristically determined tone, and followed meekly behind as Gwen turned on her heel and hurried back the way they’d come, her eyes pinned firmly on Aimee’s black-clad form in the distance.
‘You girls OK in the back?’ Barry glanced in his rearview mirror at his daughter and niece and smiled.
‘Fine, thanks,’ said Debbie happily.
‘Nice car,’ approved Jenna.
Barry turned to look at Connie, seated beside him. ‘You OK, Connie?’
‘Great,’ she assured him, thinking that Barry and Aimee had a very nice lifestyle as she touched the soft cream leather of her extremely comfortable seat and felt the refreshing cool whisper of the air conditioning against her cheek. Would Barry and she have been so affluent if he’d stayed with her? Who knew? Her mobile rang and she saw with surprise that it was the agency. What did they want? she thought in dismay. They knew she’d taken a few days off for the wedding. ‘Yes?’ she said, unimpressed that they were ringing her on her day off.
‘Don’t worry, Connie.’ She could sense the smile in the office manager’s voice. ‘I know it’s Debbie’s wedding day, but something’s come up that might be long-term and might suit you. It’s part-time, job-sharing with another nurse, and it’s near Greystones, so I thought of you.’
‘Right, sounds interesting. Tell me more,’ Connie said perkily, relieved that there was no emergency that would eat into her few days’ leave.
‘An elderly lady in her early seventies who lives on her own, has mild Parkinsons and oodles of money, so she employs round-the-clock nurses. You wouldn’t have to do nights. Just mornings or afternoons. I know you wanted to cut down your hours and I thought this would be right up your alley. The nurse you’d be replacing is going on maternity leave and isn’t sure if she’s going to come back. Want to give it a try?’
‘Sure,’ Connie agreed. This sounded exactly what she was looking for.
‘The only thing is, you’ve to go and meet Mrs Mansfield so she can interview you, and one of her little foibles is that she doesn’t like nurses wearing trousers and likes them to wear a cap and look like “proper” nurses.’
‘Hmm – is she difficult?’
‘No, not at all. She just likes nurses to look like nurses, so she told us.’
‘I could live with that if the money and conditions are right and if Mrs Mansfield and I click.’
‘I couldn’t imagine anyone not clicking with you, Connie,’ her manager said warmly.
‘Oh, trust me, there’s one or two.’ Connie laughed.
‘I’ll text you the address and phone number and you can make contact with her in the next few days. I hope it suits you.’
‘Thanks a million for thinking of me, I’ll let you know,’ Connie assured her.
‘Enjoy the wedding.’
‘Will do, bye,’ Connie said gaily, delighted with this turn of events. How timely for this to occur just when she’d been considering working fewer hours and taking time out to enjoy her life. Maybe it was a good omen.
‘Good news?’ Barry asked as they came off the slip road on to the N11.
She told them the gist of it.
‘Just what you were looking for, Mum, go for it,’ Debbie urged. ‘You shouldn’t have to keep working full-time. You can take the Dart into town and we can do lunch, or meet up for a drink after work and go shopping, and spend time together on your days off.’
‘That would be nice, Debbs. I’d enjoy that.’
‘Mam and I could meet up with you and we could have a girly night every so often,’ Jenna interjected.
‘Now that would be fun,’ grinned Connie.
‘You wouldn’t have to commute,’ Barry commented, as he put his foot down and they cruised smoothly along the fast lane.
‘I know, that would be a real bonus and it would save me a bob or two. It sounds like the perfect job for me.’
‘Well, I hope it works out for you, you deserve it.’ He gave her hand a quick squeeze and she squeezed back, with a burst of happiness, delighted that they were driving their daughter to her wedding and that all was well between them.
She glanced at her watch and wondered had Bryan left for the church yet. Debbie had assured him that she wouldn’t be late. It wouldn’t do him any harm to be left twiddling his thumbs for a while and wonder if she hadn’t changed her mind, Connie thought caustically, and then gave herself a silent telling-off for being nasty about her prospective son-in-law.
The traffic was flowing freely and it seemed like no time before they were driving around Stephen’s Green with Debbie on the phone to a friend of theirs who was holding a parking space for them outside the church, which faced directly on to the street.
‘We’re just coming now, Martin, we can see you. Has Bryan arrived? Tsk! Typical. OK, see you in a sec,’ she said, sighing.
‘Martin’s pulling out so you can pull in, Dad – see the red car there? – and Bryan’s not here yet,’ Connie heard Debbie say as Barry indicated to pull into the space that had been held for him. A small group of their friends stood chatting at the church entrance, waving at her as they manoeuvred into the parking space.
Connie bit her lip. She could smac
k Bryan. How mean of him not to be at the church. Debbie had promised him she wouldn’t be late and he didn’t even have the decency to make sure he was here before her. A little flicker of doubt ignited. Just say he left her daughter standing at the altar! Debbie would be devastated but, if Connie were honest with herself, she’d be just as happy. Debbie would get over him and meet someone more worthy of her. She turned around and saw the tense anxiety in her daughter’s face. I’ll kill the bastard, she thought.
‘Look, here he is, keep your head down so he doesn’t see you. It’s bad luck.’ Jenna held her bouquet up over her cousin’s face as a motorbike roared to a stop just ahead of them, Bryan astride it, behind Kenny, grinning from ear to ear as he took off his helmet and handed it to his best man.
His brother-in-law Kevin hurried over and took the keys from Kenny. ‘I’ll park the bike – you go on up to the altar,’ he suggested helpfully.
‘Is Ma here?’ Bryan asked, in no hurry.
‘Yes, she’s in the church and Vera’s parking. Get your ass up the aisle pronto, you’re keeping your bride waiting,’ Connie could hear him saying. At least he had some cop on, she thought crossly as Bryan disappeared into the church porch.
‘No rush, Debbie,’ she murmured. ‘We better give them a minute or two to compose themselves. Let’s turn our phones off before we go into the church,’ she suggested.
‘OK, Mum. At least he’s here now,’ Debbie said, relieved, as she and Jenna switched off their phones. Martin tapped on the window with a pay-and-display docket for Barry. ‘Got one for you when I was getting my own,’ he said kindly.
‘Thanks very much indeed,’ Barry said appreciatively, taking it from him and sticking it on the dash. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘A pint some time,’ Martin laughed, winking at Debbie before moving off to join the throng of guests and usher them into the church so he could start taking the wedding photos.
‘That was helpful. Nice chap,’ Barry remarked. ‘Are you nervous?’ he asked, turning around to look at his daughter.
‘No, I feel quite calm now that we’re here,’ she told him. ‘I think I’ll get out and straighten myself up, now that Bryan’s gone in.’
‘Let me open the door for you,’ her father offered. ‘So this is it,’ he smiled, as he helped her to step out on to the pavement.
‘Yeah, Dad, I guess it is. Thanks for driving me in.’
‘It was a pleasure. I loved being with you and your mother this morning, and thanks for including me.’ He looked so earnest that her heart melted and she felt affection for him. It was such a good feeling after all the years of bitterness and anger she’d directed towards him. On impulse she took his hand. ‘Do you want to walk up the aisle with Mum and me?’
‘Debbie!’ he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Dad.’ She leaned over and kissed him.
‘Maybe you should ask your mother. I wouldn’t want to muscle in. She’s the one who reared you, after all. She’s entitled to give you away,’ he said hesitantly, not wanting to cause any resentful feelings in his ex-wife.
‘She’d be happy about it, honestly. She asked me would I like you to give me away. She said she didn’t mind,’ Debbie told him. ‘Open her door and I’ll say it to her and you’ll see,’ she said confidently.
‘I asked Dad if he’d like to walk up with us – is that OK with you, Mum?’ she asked lightly, knowing what her mother’s response would be.
‘That’s fine with me, darling. I’m delighted. I think it’s the right way to do it.’ Connie smiled broadly as she got out of the car. ‘This is the way it should be.’
‘Thanks, Connie, you’re the best,’ Barry said huskily, delighted. Connie felt emotion overwhelm her and her lip started to wobble.
‘Stop, Mum, you promised,’ Debbie warned, swallowing.
‘Right, you guys, smarten up. Tears are not allowed.’ Jenna came around the back of the car and wagged her finger at the three of them.
‘Debbie, your bouquet’s crooked. Connie, your label is sticking up, let me fix it. Barry, straighten your tie. You can cry all you like after Martin’s taken your photo,’ she instructed bossily, and they laughed as the moment was broken. Martin busied himself taking the photos, but he was experienced, and he snapped quickly, knowing that spontaneity went out the window if the photo wasn’t taken in the first few moments. He took a dozen in various poses before telling them he was going up to the altar to position himself for Debbie’s arrival.
They were just arranging themselves to make the walk up the aisle when Barry looked to his right and saw Aimee heading briskly in their direction.
‘Oh! Here’s Aimee, we should let her go in first, I suppose. She must be running late,’ he murmured. ‘Who’s that behind her? I know that woman.’ He squinted in the bright sunlight. ‘Oh, it’s her friend Gwen. Don’t know what she’s doing here.’ Connie, Jenna and Debbie turned to look as Barry’s glamorous wife hurried towards them.
‘Come on, Aimee, don’t keep us waiting,’ Barry called, thinking his wife looked a total knockout in her wedding outfit. He hadn’t seen that dress on her before. It was classy, he had to admit, feeling a moment of pride as she came up to him.
‘Sorry I’m late. Are the girls here?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see them. They’re probably inside. Didn’t they come with you?’ he asked, perplexed.
‘No, I got delayed. They came in themselves. Debbie, you look lovely,’ Aimee said distractedly, just as she heard her name being called.
‘Aimee, a word, please.’ A grim-faced woman marched up to them and her tone was decidedly unfriendly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Aimee looked horrified as she saw Gwen bear down on her with a face on her that would curdle milk. Oh no, this can’t be happening! She almost groaned in dismay. ‘Gwen, I’m delaying the wedding, I need to be in the church. I can’t stop to talk – I’ll call you tomorrow,’ she said lightly, her tone disguising her panic.
‘This won’t take long, believe me,’ her friend said cuttingly. ‘Just who do you think you are, pulling a stunt like that, you toffee-nosed bitch?’
Connie, Debbie and Jenna couldn’t believe their ears as they turned, stunned at Gwen’s aggressive remarks. They watched agog as Aimee blushed crimson, mortified beyond belief that her friend was creating such a scene in front of them.
‘Now just a minute, Gwen,’ exclaimed Barry. ‘You can’t talk to my wife like that.’
‘Yes I can, Barry. I won’t let anyone treat me like dirt.’ Gwen turned on him in fury, her eyes like flints.
‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. There’s no need to be like this, Gwen, calm down,’ he insisted, perplexed.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gwen.’ Aimee tried to regain control of the situation. ‘I know I didn’t have time to stop and chat back there. I was with a client and I was running late for the wedding. Honestly, that’s all there was to it,’ she placated. ‘I’ll phone you tomorrow and we’ll have a good natter.’
‘You needn’t bother your skinny ass, Aimee Davenport,’ Gwen exploded, furious that Aimee was talking down to her as if she were a six-year-old. ‘You didn’t want to introduce me to that flashy guy you were with. You pretended you hardly knew me. You were ashamed to stop and talk to me because you think you’re someone and the other girls and me are nobodies now that you’ve gone up in the world. We’re OK to phone when you’ve something to boast about like your “fabulous new state-of-the-art kitchen” or your “to-die-for” landscaped deck.’ She imitated Aimee’s D4 accent. ‘Well, let me tell you something, you sad wannabe, some day you’re going to need your friends and you won’t have any. And how dare you look down your bumpy nose at me—’
‘For God’s sake, Gwen,’ Aimee interjected hotly. ‘This isn’t the time or the place. You’re embarrassing me. Please, not now, let’s have this discussion another time,’ she urged, humiliated that this was taking pla
ce in public and in full view of Barry’s first family. She couldn’t believe that Gwen had flown off the handle like this. It was totally out of character. Her friend was usually so easygoing.
‘I couldn’t give a fiddler’s if you’re embarrassed. Have a taste of your own medicine and see what it’s like.’ Gwen was as white as a sheet, her voice shaking. ‘I’m finished with you, Aimee, not that it will make any difference. You’re probably just as glad. You don’t know what it means to be, or to have, a friend, and I feel sorry for you because you’re the loser, believe it or not. Go live your flashy life with your flashy friends, and I hope they’ll be there for you when you need them.’
‘Ladies – and I use the term lightly,’ Connie’s tone left them in no doubt as to her feelings, ‘this is way out of line. Can you both go and sort out your differences elsewhere?’
Gwen turned to face them. ‘Girls, I’m so sorry for this, but you can blame Aimee here, she’s starting to believe her own publicity. I’m sorry for you, Barry, you’re a nice guy – too nice for the likes of her – and I don’t care if you’re annoyed with me for saying it. Sometimes you have to have your say. I apologize for delaying your wedding.’ She turned on her heel and strode off, leaving a stunned silent group standing on the pavement.
‘I’m sorry about that, it was a misunderstanding,’ Aimee murmured, crushed, her hand shaking as she placed it on her husband’s arm for support. ‘We should go in and not keep Debbie waiting any longer,’ she suggested.
‘Actually, I’m walking up the aisle with Debbie,’ Barry said curtly, wondering what in the hell had happened. He couldn’t believe the spat that had just occurred with his usually poised and sophisticated wife and one of her friends.
‘Oh!’
Aimee’s exclamation hung in the air like a firecracker about to fizz as she digested this piece of information, and another awkward silence descended on the group. ‘I should go in then,’ she said coldly, feeling like a pariah as a taxi pulled up alongside Barry’s car and Melissa and Sarah tumbled out, all legs and high heels and giggles.
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