by Anna Bell
The only consolation is that now pretty much everyone knows that we’re getting married and that I’m moving. All I’ve got to do now is tell Danny about the amended timescale and then I’ll have no more secrets from anyone.
Chapter Twenty
Um – I think your mum has played some April Fools joke on me. She told me that you were trading NYC for the Lakes? What are you thinking you crazy, crazy man. Just in case it’s really true I’m sending you a present, as you’ve probably forgotten how to be British after all your jet setting.
Parcel containing Very British Problems; Lydia to Danny, April 2017
I usually love January as it’s quiet in the office. Most of us take time off in lieu of the extra time worked at the Christmas parties and there are very few events to organise, but now that I’m on my trial promotion I’m working harder than ever. I’m currently knee deep in researching proms and wedding-dress balls.
‘Morning, Lydia,’ says Tracey, as she swans past. ‘I’ve got your new job description hot off the press from HR. I’ve had a look through it and it seems OK to me, but can you just give it a once over and check it’s all there?’
I take the piece of paper.
‘Thanks, Tracey. I’ll give it a look and get it straight back to you.’
I start to scan the job description, not quite able to believe I’ve waited for so long to do this role, and here it all is in black and white. I can’t help but thinking it would be much more of an entertaining, and realistic, read if it was annotated with real life examples.
Problem Solving in high-stress situations – E.g. Must be able to think on your feet when you catch the local Mayor in a compromising position with a guest whilst touring with a press photographer around the building.
Excellent customer service skills and ability to liaise with VIPs – E.g. Must not turn into fangirl when Claudia Winkleman turns up to host an event. You must absolutely not ask her to do your eye make-up.
Ability to deliver projects on time and to budget – E.g. Must be able to have a thick enough skin to stand up to clients who try and bully you into having actual gold statues as props.
I’m starting to get excited as I read through what my new job will entail. It’s similar to what I’ve been doing up until now, but on a much bigger scale, and with more responsibility. It’s more client facing and far more creative.
‘Have you seen Helen?’ asks Fred, who works in our estates team. ‘I sent her an email this morning about sending through the layout plan for the event tomorrow as we need to start set up this afternoon. It’s not like her to send it over so late.’
‘I’m sure she’ll send it over soon. She’s just nipped to the loo, so when she’s back I’ll get her to email it to you.’
‘Great, thanks, Lydia. Congratulations on the promotion, it’s about time.’
‘Thanks, Fred,’ I say, beaming.
I look over at Helen’s computer. It’s on the screensaver, meaning she must have been gone for over twenty minutes – that’s a pretty long bathroom break and I figure I should go and find her.
I scan the open-plan office as I leave, but there’s no sign of her. I poke my head into the little kitchenette, which is empty.
I walk into the toilets and push the doors of the stalls to see if they’re vacant and see that the last one is occupied.
‘Helen,’ I whisper as I knock.
I hear a sniff like she’s been crying before the toilet flushes. I feel a little awkward as I wait for her to come out.
She opens the door and pats her hair as she walks past me. I try to pretend that I haven’t noticed her red, puffy eyes.
‘Is everything OK? Do you need to go home?’ I say, walking up to her and resting my hand on her back.
‘No, no,’ she says, forcing a smile as she washes her hands. ‘I’m fine. Absolutely fine. Fine, fine, fine.’
‘Don’t forget that I’m supposed to be taking some of your workload, so if you’re feeling overwhelmed with too much you can always pass some of your events to me.’
She smiles warmly. ‘Thanks, Lydia. I might need to take you up on that. It’s all got so busy.’
‘That’s why Tracey promoted me. And Helen, you know I’m here for you if you need to talk about anything else, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, but totally not needed. I’m just coming down with a cold or something. I’m all snuffly and it’s playing havoc with my eyes.’
‘Sounds more like an allergy,’ I say, despite the fact that we both know it isn’t.
She rummages through her make-up bag that she’s been carrying and puts some Touché Eclat under her eyes.
‘Yes, perhaps. Maybe I’m allergic to Ben’s new aftershave.’
‘It is pretty overpowering,’ I say, giggling. ‘Fred’s been looking for you. He wants the layout plan for tomorrow’s event.’
‘Crap, I meant to send that last night. I totally forgot. Thanks for finding me, I’d better go and do it.’
‘Are you sure you don’t need me to get involved?’
‘No, I’m fine. I just need to get my head back into it after the holidays, that’s all. Besides, you must have a million things to do, what with your new responsibilities.’
‘Tell me about it. Plus, I’ve got to start training Jenny up to take over parts of my old job.’
‘She’ll do a super job. She’s so organised. Oh God, not that you’re not,’ she says quickly.
‘I know what you mean, I think she’ll do a cracking job too.’
‘As will you.’
‘Thanks.’
I feel myself blushing. Everyone’s been so lovely about my promotion. It’s really getting to me, especially as I can’t share the news with anyone at home. I can feel myself welling up. I’m worried that Helen’s not going to be the only one leaving here with puffy eyes at this rate.
‘I guess we’d better get back to it then,’ says Helen, giving herself one last look in the mirror.
I give her a sympathetic arm rub, wondering what’s really going on, before we head back into the office.
*
I left work late today which meant that when I parked my car at home, I was left with a dilemma, I could either go straight to the pub quiz and be early or I could pop into my flat for a little bit and inevitably be late. In the end, I plumped for being early as I figured that if I went home, I would have a) collapsed on the sofa and not managed to get up again or b) faffed around getting changed.
I push open the door to The Dog and I scan our usual table just on the off-chance anyone else is here already and spot Ross nursing a half-drunk pint. Bugger. He’s the last person I want to be alone with.
I give him a quick wave and head on over to the bar. I’m hoping that if I take enough time, Lucy, Caroline or Rob will have arrived to rescue me.
‘What can I get you?’ asks the barmen.
‘Oh, um, I’ll have a large Malbec, please, and a pint of Stowford Press.’
‘Coming right up,’ he says.
He’s overly cheery and obviously new. The rest of the bar staff are slumped at the end of the bar enjoying the calm before the storm. The Dog has a late licence so most of its business is late at night. Not that I know much about that these days. The quiz finishes at 10 p.m. and I’m usually tucked up in bed by eleven.
The drinks are handed to me and I string out paying for them as long as possible by counting out coins, whilst watching the door. No one else has arrived by the time I’m finished and I’m forced to take the drinks over to the table.
‘Here you go,’ I say to Ross, sliding the pint across the table to him.
‘Thanks,’ he says, taking it and giving me a small smile.
We sit for a moment in painful silence. It’s so weird to think that we were once boyfriend and girlfriend. We weren’t lovers like Danny and I are. There was never that kind of passion, and the sex was more of a B+ than an A* like it is with Danny, but there was something there that worked. Once upon a time I was happy; we both were.
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I try and shut out the good memories that are now playing like a film montage in my mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it was me that suggested we break up and I’m super loved up with Danny – why am I now sad remembering our ‘best bits’?
‘So, you’re here alone tonight, then?’ he says, sipping his new pint.
‘Hmm, yes, Danny’s up in the Lakes. Look,’ I say, swirling the wine round in the oversized glass, ‘I should have told you. I meant to tell you, or at least I wanted to tell you before you saw him.’
Ross shrugs his shoulders and keeps quiet causing me to get flashbacks of when we used to argue.
‘I didn’t think that you would be that bothered since you’re with Jules.’
Ross sighs and takes a deep breath before he folds his arms.
‘That’s not the same thing at all. First, Jules and I are dating, we’re nowhere near getting married. And second, I didn’t spend the whole time that we were together telling you that Jules and I were just friends and that you had nothing to worry about. Even when you were sending each other Christmas baubles of naked Santas.’
I guess when he puts it like that . . .
‘Every time one of those bloody packages arrived you told me that there was nothing between you and there never would be, and I believed you. Then, a few months after we break up, suddenly you’re getting married to him, and so quickly. It’s as if you don’t need any time for the engagement as you’ve been building up to the marriage for years.’
‘Ross, it wasn’t like that. We were just friends. I promise you that when we were together it was just letters and nothing more. Honestly.’
Ross spins his pint slowly round on the table. It’s his trademark move when he’s thinking.
‘I’m happy that you found Jules and I guess I was hoping that you could be pleased for me too.’
‘You’re happy for me that I’m with “Wonder Girl”.’
I bite my lip.
‘I know that you girls don’t like her. You think that she’s annoying and over the top, but she’s nice, Lydia. She’s really nice.’
‘I know she is, and I do like her. It’s just weird seeing you with someone else,’ I say, and this surprises me as much as it does him.
He drinks his drink before slamming the glass down on the table.
‘Then imagine that in reverse – but worse, like if I was with someone you were jealous of the whole time we were dating. And you went with him to see the Mary Rose,’ he says throwing his hands up in the air incredulously as if that was the worst bit. ‘You never wanted to go and see that with me. You always said it was boring. And then suddenly you go with him.’
I feel awful as I knew that Danny would get a kick out of it and that’s why I took him. I never even stopped to think that it wasn’t what I would have picked to do for an afternoon; I wanted to please Danny. And yet, Ross is right, I’d never gone with him.
‘But that was different. We lived together and we were always doing things without each other. We never really did the whole going-on dates thing, did we, because we just ended up together.’ I shake my head. ‘That came out all wrong. I just meant . . .’
‘I know what you meant. It was different with us. We drifted together and what started out of convenience turned into a habit.’
‘No, that’s not what I was saying.’
‘But it boils down to the same thing. You’re in a whirlwind with him, I get it, but have you stopped to think about what you’re doing? Have you asked yourself why he’s in such a hurry to get married? What’s he hiding?’
‘He’s not hiding anything. We’re in love.’
He blows through his teeth. ‘Sure, love.’
He laughs bitterly and slips on his coat as he stands up to leave.
‘Are you not staying for the quiz?’
‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘Ross, please don’t go. I want us to be friends. Can’t we work this out?’ I say pleadingly. I hope that I haven’t finally broken up the friendship group like everyone feared we would.
‘I don’t know, Lydia, I don’t know at all.’
He gets up and walks out of the pub in a hurry and I’m left looking at my glass, wondering if I should go after him. I hesitate for a while, not knowing what I’d say to him, but I guess I should at least try to talk to him. I stand up to go just as Rob and Lucy walk into the pub their arms linked.
They make a beeline for the table and I sink back down into my chair.
‘So where is this ring, then?’ says Rob, yanking at my hand. ‘Bloody hell. Even I’m jealous of that one. If Gavin and I ever get married, then I want a mengagement ring. Why is it women get all the fun?’
‘Dunno,’ says Lucy, ‘but with the ring comes great responsibility. Like embroidering one hundred napkins according to Ed’s mum. That was her actual idea for a wedding favour, me embroidering the initials of every wedding guest. The last time I sewed it was under duress during Home Ec. I need a drink.
‘Same again? Kronenbourg?’ she says, turning first to me and then Rob before she goes off to the bar.
‘I see Ross has been and gone,’ says Rob, sliding the empty pints to the edge of the table as he takes his seat. ‘I take it he didn’t take your news well?’
‘Not exactly. But it’s a bit hypocritical. He’s been dating Wonder Girl for weeks and brought her out with us on a number of occasions and I’ve been nice to her.’ Rob gives me a look. ‘I’ve been mainly nice to her – to her face, anyway. He’s moved on, why can’t I?’
‘I think perhaps because you’re getting married. Didn’t you always poo-poo his ideas of you two getting married?’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t want to get married then.’
‘And now you do. It’s a bit of a kick in the balls. Plus, you have been writing to Danny all these years.’
‘You’ve spoken to him already, I take it?’ I say, sipping my drink.
‘We went out for a drink last night. He’ll come round, just give him some time. Break-ups can be complicated.’
I give Rob a look.
‘I was watching a phone-in on This Morning the other day about this type of thing.’
‘Working from home’s going well, then?’
‘Most of the time.’
Lucy returns with the drinks, just as Caroline runs in. She unravels her coat to reveal a jumper with a small splodge of baby sick on her shoulder and her hair is half hanging out of its bun. She’s far from the Caroline of old who used to iron her underwear and bedclothes and would never go out with a strand of hair out of place. Not that any of us care, we’re just happy she’s here.
‘It’s been one of those days. Where’s Ross? Not like him to be late,’ she says, as she sits down next to me.
‘Been and gone,’ I say.
‘Oh, OK. Well, let’s just hope there’s no sports round this week. Oh God, Lydia, I forgot. Baby brain. Let me see the ring. That’s gorgeous,’ she says as I obligingly show her my hand. ‘I can’t believe you’re getting married so soon.’
‘I know, are you sure you’re OK about not coming?’ I say to her and Rob. I feel awful that they’re not invited but we had to make the cut-off somewhere.
‘Well, of course I’m pissed off. But I can’t really talk as Gavin and I always said we’d marry in Vegas and fuck everyone else off. So I’m with you, Lyds,’ says Rob, chinking my glass.
‘And I’m gutted, I really am, but at the same time I couldn’t imagine how we’d manage it logistically. Ethan doesn’t do more than about two hours in his car seat before he screams the car down, and he doesn’t sleep at home, so I can’t imagine he’d sleep in a hotel room. And I couldn’t come on my own as I can’t express that much milk, and he’s stopped taking the bottle and, bloody hell, my head’s going to explode just thinking about it.’
I hold her hand and give it a squeeze.
‘And breathe. We’ll have a meal out here one night afterwards to celebrate.’
‘Yes,’ she
says. ‘An evening out, that might just work. And I’ll try to make it to the hen do.’
‘Um, I’m not having a hen do.’
‘What?’ snap Lucy and Caroline.
‘You have to have a hen do,’ says Lucy. ‘How else will I take revenge for mine?’
‘You haven’t had yours yet, how do you know that I’m not going to do something really nice?’ I say, remembering that I was supposed to contact her uni friend to start organising it.
‘Well, I need to be prepared, just in case.’
‘There’s no hen do,’ I say again. ‘Just a tiny wedding and a tiny meal down here afterwards. OK?’ I say, raising my sternest eyebrow at Lucy.
‘OK,’ she says, nodding, and I almost do a fist bump with myself under the table. I’d expected more resistance. And with that, I feel as if I can change the topic of conversation. ‘So, did everyone have a nice Christmas?’
‘Ethan had a growth spurt and fed for seven hours straight so I got pinned to the couch,’ says Caroline.
We all pull a sympathetic face.
‘No, it was a Christmas miracle. I got to sit and watch TV for seven hours without having to lift a finger. Matt had to keep bringing me food and drinks and I ate a whole tub of Quality Street – it was amazing.’
‘Gavin and I had a massive fight. Do you know, he actually wanted to watch the Queen’s speech at Christmas. I mean, who actually watches that?’
‘My mum,’ say Lucy and I together, laughing.
‘Exactly.’
‘Right,’ booms a voice out of the speakers. ‘Question one of the quiz is coming up, come and get your quiz sheets.’
‘I’d better nip to the loo. Anyone want another drink?’ asks Rob.
‘No, thanks,’ I say.
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ says Lucy. ‘Gin, Caroline?’
‘Lovely, thank you,’ she says as Lucy disappears off to the bar, then she turns to me and lowers her voice. ‘Whilst they’ve gone I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but there hasn’t been the right time. We’re having Ethan christened next month and we wondered if you’d be godmother.’