Croissants and Jam (16 page)

    ‘Better than what? Did you have something else in mind?’ he asks, smiling.

    Oh good Lord, I swear he can read my mind.

    ‘No, no, I mean, it’s better than rushing,’ I reply, sounding like a stupid bloody fool. ‘And we are already late.’

    ‘Yes, we are,’ he agrees.

I nod my consent, and he smiles widely. I check my phone while he buys some poppy-seed crackers and cheese and shake my head when he holds up a hazelnut yogurt. My heart skips a beat when I see there is a message from Simon.

   
Text when you are near the hotel and I will meet you, we’re all going for dinner when you get here.

I notice he does not put a kiss and I feel a sinking in my stomach. Am I blowing my whole future by being stupid with Christian? I check the time and realise I may not make it for dinner and feel a surge of relief. I slip the phone back into my bag and look at my engagement ring. It does look very big and indeed very garish. I fight an urge to remove it. Christian is suddenly beside me.

    ‘I need to phone my fiancé,’ I say.

He nods and walks outside. Simon answers on the first ring.

    ‘Honey, where are you?’

God, why is that always his first question?

    ‘Getting close,’ I reply uncertainly and feel myself trembling. I am useless at lying. I either get all the words back to front or my voice shakes.

    ‘How close?’ he barks like the Gestapo and I feel my back go up.

    ‘I will be there tonight but I may not make dinner, can you take Mum and Dad?’

He grunts, and I think I hear him swear.

    ‘I was taking you for dinner after the rehearsal Annabel, are you now telling me, you won’t be here for that either? Do you think you will make it for
our wedding
? I wouldn’t want our marriage to put you out or anything.’ He is raising his voice and I move the phone from my ear. Oh for God’s sake, why do we need a rehearsal anyway?

    ‘I didn’t want a rehearsal Simon I was only doing that for you…’

    ‘Fine, we’ll have it without you.’

The phone goes dead and I find myself staring at my Blackberry. My God, the bastard hung up on me. Well, I suppose it serves me right. I really ought to go straight there. I decide to tell Christian that we need to drive straight to Rome when my phone bleeps with a text.

    Sorry I was sharp Annabel, but you really try my patience at times. I expect you to be here for our rehearsal. After all, you are the only one who isn’t bloody here. Please get here as soon as possible. What has happened to your sense of responsibility? You have really let me down badly Annabel.

I stare and stare at the text and then finally in frustration delete it. I feel tears run down my cheeks. I cannot believe I am travelling all the way to Rome to marry a man who constantly tries to control me. Oh why did I listen to my mother? Of course she wants to see me married. I imagine she feels a little like Mrs Bennett. Along comes a nice rich suitor and Mum can’t resist. I suppose if I don’t marry Simon, then I most certainly will end up on the shelf as nearly all the eligible men of my age are now married. Christian is standing by the car waiting for me and I make my decision. I will marry Simon and settle down. I am thirty and the time has come to do things sensibly. Two days after my wedding I will attend the fashion show in Rome with my new husband and then we will fly to England and start married life in our new home in St John’s Wood. I look at Christian again and feel my heart leap. I have just a few more hours before we say goodbye and I decide to enjoy them. Simon had a stag do in Rome and I am going to have a wine tasting in Italy. A final fling and why the hell not? After all, wine tasting is innocent enough. God, what am I thinking? The whole sodding wedding party is waiting for me and I decide I’ve got time to go to a wine tasting. I am seriously losing my mind. I gesture to Christian that I am going to the ladies. I rush inside almost knocking over a woman at the sink. She turns and curses me in Italian, at least I think it is Italian, and at least I think it is a curse. I lock myself in the loo and frantically phone Kaz. Thank God, she answers.

    ‘I don’t think I can go through with it, he is such a shithead and I know Mum feels like Mrs Bennett but I really can’t help it,’ I ramble down the phone.

    ‘Bels, Christ, where are you? What do you mean? Oh fuck, let me go outside.’

Shit, she must be with Simon and his parents, and oh God, probably my parents too, oh bugger it. What was I thinking of?

    ‘Bels, what’s going on? Where are you? Everyone is waiting for you.’

I fall onto the loo and almost slide off as the seat breaks. Shit, for pity’s sake.

    ‘Oh God Kaz, I don’t know what to do, I’ve met this guy…’

    ‘What?’ she screams and I wince. ‘What the fuck, Bels. You are getting married tomorrow
and you have all the bloody presents here. Simon is frantic, really frantic.’

I fall back onto the broken toilet seat and groan. I stare down at my cheap supermarket sandals and think how nice they look. Jesus, am I going mad? How can cheap supermarket sandals look nice? Get a grip Bels.

    ‘Oh God, I hope people haven’t spent too much money,’ I say stupidly.

    ‘Jesus Bels, of course they bloody have. Your wedding list was from John Lewis, remember? Bloody hell, I can’t believe I am hearing this. How can you meet a guy coming to your wedding? Anyway where the bloody hell, are you?’

    ‘I’m sitting in a supermarket loo,’ I sigh.

    ‘For fuck’s sake Bels, exactly where are you in
Italy
right now?’

Kaz, my best friend aged thirty-two, single and spends her life speed dating and doing yoga. Kaz has had a string of not very nice boyfriends behind her and is always thrilled when any of her friends find Mr Right and my mum wholeheartedly approves of her apart from her swearing, of course.

    ‘I’m not sure, does it matter? What matters is that I think I could seriously fall in love with someone else. How can I marry Simon if I can actually meet someone on my way to my wedding?’ I ask, suddenly feeling very stressed and fumbling for my Quiet Life.

I hear her exhale heavily and picture her running her assortment of bangles up and down her arm, as she tends to do.

    ‘Look, it is probably just wedding nerves and maybe Simon has handled it badly so far, to him, it just seems like you are not making an effort to get here. You hardly know this guy, who is he anyway and where did you meet him and where does this couple you are travelling with come into all this?’ Her voice trembles and I feel my heart thud.

    ‘Ah…’ I mumble.

    ‘For fuck’s sake, don’t tell me there isn’t a couple?’

    ‘Oh Kaz, he is so like me and…’

    ‘Listen to me Bels, someone like you is the last thing you need right now.’

I slide on the toilet seat and look ahead to the broken tampon machine and wonder what the hell I am doing sitting in a filthy supermarket loo in Italy of all places.

    ‘But, I feel so comfortable with him and…’

    ‘Bels pull yourself together.’

    ‘But how can I be sure that I do love Simon? I mean, surely I wouldn’t be attracted to someone else if I was that much in love with him?’ I wail.

    ‘Well, the thing is…’

    ‘And sometimes I think about Simon and feel nothing and then other times I just know I do love him and oh, I don’t know.’

    ‘I’m sure…’

    ‘And when Christian kissed me...’

    ‘What?’ she squeals. ‘Oh shit, and fuck it Bels.’

The tears rush from my eyes and I sniff loudly.

    ‘God, I’m so confused.’

    ‘You sure fucking are,’ is her response.

I blow my nose loudly.

    ‘What is happening there anyway, what are Simon’s parents like?’ I ask miserably looking at my chipped fingernails.

    ‘Oh, his dad is lovely, his mum’s a bit claustrophobic but your mum is getting on with her like a house on fire.’

    ‘Oh Christ,’ I moan loudly, ‘what am I going to do?’

    ‘Honestly Bels, I can’t even let you travel alone to your wedding without you meeting a wide boy. That is exactly what he is right? A Jack-the-lad and men like that you just don’t marry Bels. Think of the essential credentials, rich, handsome, reliable, eligible and responsible. Now, tell me, how many?’

Oh dear.

    ‘Handsome, probably reliable, oh hell…’

There is a loud rapping on the door and I fall off the toilet seat.

    ‘Bels, are you okay in there? We ought to get going.’

Shit, Christian. I clamber up and check my reflection in the mirror.

    ‘Sorry Kaz, I have got to go, I’ll see you soon.’

    ‘Don’t forget,’ she shouts, ‘Rich, handsome, reliable, eligible and responsible. Your whole future is on this and…’

I turn the phone off and open the door to a concerned Christian. He is frowning and holding a chocolate bar. He looks me up and down.

    ‘Is everything okay?’ he asks, pulling the wrapper off.

I nod.

    ‘Yes, I think I am in the doghouse because I may not make the wedding rehearsal.’

He pulls a face.

    ‘Why are you having a wedding rehearsal? Surely getting married should be spontaneous shouldn’t it, not rehearsed? I mean, you don’t rehearse your funeral do you?’

I watch him walk ahead of me and mentally tick the all-important list. Rich? I frown. Probably rich in debts, but does money really matter I ask myself, after all I earn a good salary at Versity. Yes, but what about when you have children, what then? I sigh. Handsome, I can tick that box, easily, reliable he certainly has been. Eligible he definitely is not, although he has been hinting that things are not good with Claudine. Responsible, well I have to admit he probably is not. I am shaking my head when he turns to look at me.

    ‘There is something the matter isn’t there? Would you prefer we went straight to Rome?’

He is offering me a piece of chocolate which I accept eagerly. There is no doubt that chocolate heals all ills.

    ‘It’s fine,’ I say smiling and taking the map he hands me. Of course, it is far from fine, but I am really past any stage of caring.

Kaz

    ‘Simon tells me, you’re not married?’

Christ almighty, blunt or what? What makes women of a certain age think they can just boldly march up to you and probe into your love life? How would she like it if I boldly asked her about her sex life? I really could not imagine us discussing vaginal dryness over a glass of wine. From the look of her sour face I imagine she has had vaginal dryness most of her married life. Frigidity seems to become her.

    ‘That’s right. Tried it once, found it a bit limiting. You know, only one man in your bed and all that.’

She tries to hide her embarrassment, and I lay a hand on her arm.

    ‘I’m only kidding,’ I say quickly, realising the last thing I need is for Simon’s mother to get upset.

She doesn’t smile. Unless you call the slight turning up of the corners of her mouth a smile. God, where the fuck is Bels? Lunch with this lot feels rather like waiting for a funeral. Alex waves to me from the corner of the small dining room and I start to head over to her when Simon strides in, his face ashen. Oh God, what’s happened?

    ‘Simon, what on earth is the matter?’ asks his mother before I open my mouth.

He inclines his head to me, and I quickly follow him outside.

    ‘Bels just phoned me. It looks like she isn’t going to make the rehearsal,’ he says flexing his neck and unclenching his jaw.

    ‘What the fuck. Where the hell is she?’

He shakes his head and looks so desperate that I want to put my arms around him. Now, that would have his mother talking.

    ‘I’ve no idea but I just snapped at her. She may phone you. Try and get her to see sense for Christ’s sake and try and find out what the hell is going on.’

I squeeze his arm softly.

    ‘I guess she is dependent on these people that are bringing her.’

Why do I not bloody believe this for a second?

He sighs heavily.

    ‘Whatever. I’m going to make some excuse to everyone.’

I follow him back in and wait for Kitty’s little gasp which is a cross between a scream and a sigh.

    ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ bellows Alex’s husband Tom and puts a protective arm around Alex who clutches her stomach. Simon’s mother nods knowingly. Oh yes, she is thinking. I knew this girl was nothing but trouble. Hopefully my son will see sense soon. I watch as she whispers into his ear. What a poisonous bitch. Although, I really can’t understand what the hell Bels is playing at.

    ‘I find it very confusing dear, why is it, she cannot get here for her own wedding?’

Oh, she has a knack does his mother. That bloody husky voice of hers with just a trace of an accent really grinds on me. Why the hell she is wearing a cocktail dress is beyond me. Bloody hell, it was only lunch and she is dressed head to toe in Balenciaga. Kitty rushes up to us, phrase book in hand. God not again. Why does she not grasp the fact that we are all talking bloody English? I really don’t think this is one of those bloody conversations that the sodding phrase book will cover and deliberately knock it out of her hand. We all watch it fall with a plonk into the tureen of soup which still sits on the table. Simon’s father winks at me.

    ‘Oh fuck, sorry Mrs Lewis.’

She cringes and I blush furiously.

    ‘Oh shit, I mean…’

    ‘Perhaps best not to speak at all dear,’ says Julian.

    ‘I don’t know what you’re confused about Mum. It’s difficult for her not being able to get a flight and she feels terrible not being here,’ Simon says firmly but I hear his voice crack. Poor bugger. I envision many hands around Bels’ throat when she finally does get here. I nod in agreement with him and then quickly excuse myself when my phone shrills. Thank God. It is Bels, and she’s sitting in a supermarket loo of all places. I mean, what the fuck? I see Simon straining to see me from the window. He looks devastated poor bugger. Why does she not see what she has in him? He is being so bloody patient with her. I turn away so he cannot see my face. I cannot believe she has met some wide boy.