Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
Read Let's Call the Whole Thing Off Online
Authors: Jill Steeples
Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary
Reasons why you should never,
ever
, read your best friend’s diary (even if it has fallen to the floor, pages open oh-so temptingly…):
- It’s morally indefensible.
- She would never trust you again.
- You probably know it all anyway…
So what harm could the tiniest peek do…? Answer:
Lots!
The best reason for never reading your best friend’s diary:
- You might just find out something you really didn’t want to know!
Learning her fiancé, Ed – the guy she’s supposed to marry this weekend! – is having an affair with her best friend, is a devastating bombshell for bride-to-be Anna. Confused, hurt and absolutely livid, she hops on the first train to anywhere-but-here in need of some serious soul searching.
Can she ever forgive Ed? Who is Anna ‘sans Ed’? And more importantly, should she go through with the wedding or should she just call the whole thing off?
Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
Jill Steeples
Also available by Jill Steeples:
Desperately Seeking Heaven
Jill Steeples
lives in a small market town in Bedfordshire with her husband and two children.
From an early age she fell in love with the fabulously funny romances of Jilly Cooper, and vowed, one day, she would have a go at writing one of her own.
Jill loves writing short stories, particularly those with a twist in the tail, and her work has appeared in popular women’s magazines around the world and in a number of charity anthologies.
Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
is her second novel.
Contents
There are 101 reasons (listed below) why you should never, ever, read anyone’s personal diary, especially not your best friend’s diary, even if said item just so happens to fall off their bedside cabinet laying open all those pages of hastily scribbled blue ink in a tempting array.
I took a deep breath …
It is a morally indefensible thing to do.
This is my bestie, for Christ’s sake. If she’d wanted me to know the stuff in there she would have told me.
I probably know all the stuff in there anyway.
My best friend trusts me implicitly.
I wouldn’t do anything to betray my friend’s trust.
I am not the sort of lowlife person to even consider such a thing.
I would be incensed if anybody did the same thing to me.
I know everything there is to know about my friend. She knows everything about me. We share absolutely everything. Best friends. Forever. Together.
It’s probably full of boring everyday stuff.
Went to work. Had pizza. Got drunk.
So if I know it all anyway, have lived through most of it with her anyway, listened to the work woes, shared the pizza, got drunk along with acquiring my very own version of the T-shirt, then does it really matter about those other ninety-one trifling reasons?
No.
So what possible harm could the tiniest, sneakiest peek do?
I took another deeper breath and picked up the diary …
Sunday 31 March
Feel crap. Crap, crap, crap. My head is in a constant state of fuzziness, my thoughts banging against my temples and I just don’t know what the hell to do. I feel sick the whole time, I’m not eating and I’m not sleeping. Only five days to go! Oh god! Just kill me now. What will I do? How will I get through it? I feel so totally alone, there’s no one I can talk to and yet half of me wants to shout it from the rooftops. Put it right out there and … and then what? It’s hopeless. And Anna is just so fucking happy. It’s not fair.
My legs gave way beneath me and I sank down onto the bed, reeling from the spikiness of the words, the emotion jumping off the page and slapping me hard across the face. What the hell did it mean? My eyes scanned the neatly looped handwriting, trying to make sense of something that could have been written in Swahili for all the sense it was making. My heart thumped against my chest, my hands clammy.
Nothing on the page was recognisable as being about Sophie. There was no sign in the torrent of words of the happy-go-lucky, vivacious girl I’d shared a flat with for the last three years. It was like reading the thoughts of a stranger. My quirky funny friend had done a bunk. Either that or she’d turned into a manic depressive overnight. Or had her mind and body taken over by an alien.
Only five days to go?
What was that all about? I was counting down the days in an excitable, couldn’t-wait way, but Sophie was talking as if she was preparing for her own funeral. Unease spread through my body, reaching the tips of my fingers and toes. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I blinked them away. Why shouldn’t I be happy? It was meant to be the happiest time of my life. And I’d thought Sophie shared that happiness. Wasn’t that what best friends were meant to do? But Sophie, for reasons known only to Sophie, was choosing this moment of all moments to throw a hissy fit, to act like a prima donna because … because of what? Was she jealous? Was that it?
I closed the diary shut, a shudder prickling at my skin. Holding it at arm’s length I put it back carefully on the bedside cabinet as though the whole thing might explode in front of me. Which it might. Along with our friendship.
If Sophie hadn’t wanted to be chief-sodding-bridesmaid then all she’d had to do was say so.
***
Reason number ninety-something or other for not reading your best friend’s diary – although to be honest I was way past caring now –would have to be:
You might just find out something you really didn’t want to know.
And the danger with that is when you do find out whatever it is you didn’t want to know there’s no way of undoing that knowledge, of stuffing it back in the box and slamming the lid shut. It was out there, hovering like an ugly wart over my shoulder.
And now I’d have to say something,
put it right out there,
as Sophie had said, but how could I without her finding out that I’d been snooping around where I shouldn’t have been.
Oh by the way, Sophie, that whole bridesmaid thing? Don’t worry about it. I mean, if you’d really rather not, then I quite understand. I mean, it must be a real drag for you wondering how you’ll manage to get through such a tiresome event, having to take on the responsibility of looking after me on what should be the happiest day of my life. Let’s just forget about the whole thing, shall we?
It just didn’t make any sense.
Maybe it was the dress. Thinking about it, Sophie had been distinctly underwhelmed when she’d tried it on. She’d twirled around self-consciously in the fitting room of the bridal shop, looking glum.
‘It’s a bit purple, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, perfectly purple, it looks gorgeous against your blonde hair and your lovely skin. Crikey, Sophie, you’ve lost so much weight. What’s going on?’ I’d grabbed hold of the excess material in a fistful at the back of the dress. ‘It’ll need taking in.’
‘I’ve stepped up my sessions at the gym. Need to look good for your big day, don’t I?’
‘You’d look good with a paper bag over your head.’ I sighed, distracted by six small lilac lovelies who were swooshing in and out of the curtains of the changing cubicles, whooping with delight.
‘Girls! Settle down. You need to behave like proper princesses when you’re wearing your special dresses. Sophie will be your Fairy Godmother, but she might turn into the Wicked Witch if you’re too naughty. Isn’t that right, Sophie?’
Sophie had nodded with a scowl, adopting her witch persona a bit too convincingly, looking as if she didn’t care what the hell they did.
Maybe it wasn’t the dress.
Perhaps it was the kids. Sophie was an only child. She had no experience of looking after little ones. And my cousins and second cousins were cute, but a bit like live grenades, they needed constant monitoring and careful handling. If Sophie was worried about controlling the mini terrorists then why hadn’t she said something? We could have come up with a plan.
No, none of it made any sense whatsoever.
**
I raced down the stairs, poured myself a glass of water from the tap and then paced up and down the kitchen. I’d never really paced before and the kitchen was tiny so it didn’t take a lot of pacing, but some situations needed concentrated pacing and this was one of them. There was a nervous energy pumping around my veins that I needed to get rid of.
That morning I’d woken up feeling so happy and excited and nervous, knowing I was a step closer to my big day. There was still so much to do: dresses to collect, the florist to contact, hair and make-up appointments to confirm, legs to wax, last-minute honeymoon shopping for bikini no. 4 just to be on the safe side and dozens of other calls to make, but now all I had running through my head was Sophie’s plaintive
it’s not fair.
What wasn’t fair?
A sense of doom lodged in my heart and I had a feeling it had no intention of moving out anytime soon. I took another glug of water, a steadying breath and taking the stairs two at a time raced back up to the bedroom.
Grabbing the diary, my eyes devoured the words on the first page that fell open.
Friday 16 February
What an amazing day! We went to the park and walked round the lake holding hands like a proper couple and it all felt so normal and lovely. And we didn’t talk about the ‘situation’ because he told me not to and I knew it would only end in a row and I didn’t want that to happen, not today. I just wanted it to be special. And it was! We came back and fell into bed and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. God, he makes me laugh that man! It just feels so right when we’re together, as though we were made for one another. And the sex is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I can never imagine tiring of his firm, hard body and those sweet, insistent kisses of his make my toes curl in delight. He’s always so hungry for me and it just makes me feel so wonderful and beautiful. Like a goddess! Aargh, he takes me to heights I didn’t think possible.
Oh, well, that made perfect sense. Relief seeped out through my shoulders. A man! It would have to be a man. A sex god to boot. Typical! My fingers fast forwarded a couple of pages.
Monday 19 February
The bastard! I can’t believe it! He called round today and told me it was over. WTF! After last week as well, when I thought we’d reached a new understanding and intimacy. We can’t carry on because it isn’t fair on me (!) and as much as he adores me there isn’t anything else he has to offer. Funny how he’s suddenly developed a conscience. Gave me a load of crap about how it was only ever meant to be a bit of fun and falling in love wasn’t part of the plan. But it’s a bit too late for that now! I love him more than any man I’ve ever loved and I know he loves me too. I told him I was prepared to wait, but he said ‘No’, he couldn’t do it any more. And then he told me straight – he was never going to leave her and I’ve got to get used to the idea – we have no future together. My heart is breaking. Not sure how I’ll ever get over this.
Oh God, poor Sophie. A broken heart explained everything. The loss of weight, all that mooning around, her lack of interest in anything bridal. No wonder she was dreading the wedding. Clearly she’d got herself involved with some toerag, a married toerag at that, and he was giving her the run-around. And all this time she’s been keeping this huge secret to herself so as not to burden me in the run-up to my special day. That was just like Sophie, thinking of others first. What a sweetheart! Probably all the talk of marriage and lifelong commitment had brought home to her just what she was missing out on.
