The Bridesmaid Pact (4 page)

Doris

‘Welcome to Disney’s Fantallusion!’ the audio recording boomed out as we stood in the chilly March night air waiting for the fireworks. We’d missed the start of the parade, but were just in time to see the brightly lit floats carrying all the Disney characters from Jasmine and Aladdin to Belle and the Beast into the Central Plaza and up towards the Town Square. Jasmine and Aladdin’s carpet actually flew, and Belle and the Beast did a majestic waltz. It was glitzy and tacky and I didn’t care one bit. I was like a pig in clover.

This was why I’d come, for the delicious feeling of it being night and the place being brightly lit and all my favourite Disney characters dancing on great big fuck-off platforms. It reminded me of when Dad took me to Florida every year, and made me feel like a kid again: warm, safe and secure. There was something about the memory of those trips that made me yearn for a more innocent time, when I really did believe in a happy-ever-after. As usual, when I thought about Dad, and remembered the way he used to squeeze my hand, and say, ‘Look, kiddo, is that the best or what?’ whenever a particularly big rocket went off,
I got a lump in my throat. I still missed him so badly, I could almost hear his voice in my head. I hadn’t wanted him to die, but neither had I wanted him to live the way he had been living.

The place was buzzing with families, huddling together for warmth. There were masses of excited children rushing around in the dark, small children trustfully holding their parents’ hands, just like I had on that long-ago childhood trip. Mind you, judging by the wails of some of the younger ones, they were ready for their beds. I felt a pang and thought about Woody, my eight-month-old. Tonight was the first night I hadn’t put him to bed since he was born, and I missed his baby smell, and his chubby cheeks and the way he cooed when I poured water over his head in the bath. I loved the way he clapped his hands and played peek-a-boo under the blankets. Woody had brought joy back into my life, during a time when I thought I’d never feel happy again. When he was bigger, I’d have to come back with him and Darren. If I were still able to of course. I shoved the thought from my mind. I’d promised myself no negativity this weekend. None. Whatsoever. It wasn’t allowed.

‘Fantallusion?’ Beth rolled her eyes. ‘What kind of word is that?’

‘Does it matter?’ I said. ‘Isn’t this fun?’

‘No!’ the other three said in unison. ‘We only came because you wanted to.’

‘You have to admit, Do, it is incredibly tacky,’ said Caz.

‘Says the girl who got married in a Las Vegas wedding chapel,’ I retorted. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of tack. You lot ought to know me well enough by now. Talking of which, why aren’t you all wearing your flashing Minnie Mouse ears?’

‘If this wasn’t your weekend, I think I might have to kill you,’ said Caz, but she put on her ears anyway. And afterwards, even Caz had to admit we’d been treated to the most fabulous firework display any of us had ever seen.

When it was over, we slowly made our way back through the crowds to our hotel. It had been a good call to be staying so close to the park; apart from the obvious pleasure of staying in a
Toy Story
-themed bedroom, I was grateful not to have to walk too far. I tired so easily these days. Darren hadn’t wanted me to come, of course, but I had laughed off his concerns. Nothing, but nothing was going to ruin my hen weekend with the girls.

‘I hadn’t realized you were that pissed,’ Caz laughed at me as I stumbled and fell for the second time, as we reached the entrance of the park.

‘Must be out of practice,’ I said. ‘I’ve had nine months off, remember. And I don’t go out that much any more.’

If only I were pissed. If only things were that simple.

We got back to my room, raided the minibar and were soon all sprawled out on the massive double bed having a general gossip session. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. It did me so much good to be with the Fab Four. It always had done. Ever since we first met and I called us by that name.

I’d just moved to Northfields. Mum had got a job on a soap in London, while Dad was able to take up a research post at a London university, and it was convenient for town. They both wanted me to go to school in the UK, because Mum didn’t want me growing up with an American accent and Dad preferred the academic rigour of the English education system. They could have afforded to send me private, but it went against their principles and they wanted
me to go to a Catholic school, which is how I ended up at St Philomena’s primary school, sitting next to Beth McCarthy, who wore dark plaits, had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and who barely ever said anything, just sat there chewing her pen. It didn’t matter to me though, like I was always telling her, I could talk enough for the both of us.

Beth, Sarah and I went to Brownies together, so soon I found myself playing with them on a regular basis. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sarah was easy and confident, in a way that Beth wasn’t, and I liked her instantly. But I was always conscious of another scraggy-looking dark-haired girl with the palest face and dark circles round her eyes, hovering angrily on the fringes, refusing our offers to play and yet never quite being able to tear herself away. That was Caz. She’d known Sarah forever and was jealous of me to begin with, I think. But I made her laugh, and over time she realized I really was no threat. I just wanted to be friends with everyone. Still do.

‘So, how are the wedding plans going?’

‘Great,’ I said, in reply to Caz, who had asked the question casually, from the edge of the bed, even now acting like the outsider. My heart ached for her. I wish she could give up on some of that stubborn pride and realize that none of us hated her, not even Sarah. Not really. In fact it was Sarah’s confession to me about the way things were between her and Steve which had made me determined to have Caz here. I’ve always thought it stupid for two women to allow a man to come between their friendship. Particularly when it’s a worthless one like Steve.

‘Are you keeping up the Disney theme?’ Caz said – she was the only one who wasn’t privy to all my plans.

‘What do you think?’ Sarah grinned. I shot her a grateful
look, I knew how hard this was for her and she was at least trying. ‘She’s going for the whole Cinderella-getting-married thing. If it were up to Doris she’d even have a pumpkin carriage.’

‘Believe you me, I tried,’ I said. ‘It’s the only thing you can’t apparently buy on eBay.’

‘So what are your bridesmaids going to be wearing then?’ Caz asked.

There was an awkward pause and no one said anything.

‘What? What have I said?’ asked Caz.

Beth looked at me and blushed and then lowered her eyes again.

‘I’m not having bridesmaids,’ I said.

‘What?’ Caz looked at me in disbelief. ‘But…but…Bridesmaids. Getting married. The Bridesmaid Pact. I mean that’s
your
thing. I know the rest of us have cocked it up, but I just assumed you wouldn’t.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Sarah cattily. ‘The rest of us didn’t cock it up. Besides, if Doris has any sense she’d never invite you to be her bridesmaid. You only bring trouble.’

‘Oh that’s right, rub it in,’ said Caz. ‘Isn’t it possible that a person can change?’

‘You tell me?’ The hostility that had been bubbling under the surface all evening suddenly burst out into the open, to my utter dismay. I’d so hoped Caz and Sarah could sort things out. As ever, I was too optimistic. Darren’s always telling me my chief failing is that I look for the best in people and situations. Maybe some hurts can never heal.

‘Girls, girls,’ I said clapping my hands, and trying to lighten the mood, ‘that’s exactly why I can’t have any bridesmaids. I don’t want it to be pistols at dawn at the altar.
If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you. So there are going to be no bridesmaids at my wedding. End of.’

Caz opened her mouth and shut it again, rendered for once in her life speechless.

‘Don’t all gawp at me,’ I said. ‘You should be grateful. You should have seen the dresses I was planning to make you wear.’

August 1996

Billy Idol was screaming out it was a nice day for a white wedding, which seemed appropriate in a bar in Las Vegas. I couldn’t resist the craving for the next drink, though I knew I needed it like a hole in the head.

‘Oi, Charlie boy, gezza ’nother drink.’ I was aware vaguely in some dim dark recess in my brain that I’d probably had enough and I was definitely slurring my words. The sensible thing would be to go to bed right now. Call it a day with these very nice and fun-loving work colleagues with whom I’d spent the last couple of days bonding in Las Vegas on the first solo photo shoot of my career as a make-up artist. But my sensible head never won over my drunken one.

‘What are you on again?’ Charlie looked in about as good shape as I was. He had wandered up to the bar. He turned to look at me as he said this, and leaned rather nonchalantly against the bar. He missed, narrowly avoiding smashing his chin before righting himself.

‘Vodka and coke,’ I said, giggling hysterically. Our companions, Charlie’s boss Finn, and Sal, the PA to the spoilt model whose photos we’d all been involved in taking for the past couple of days, were nuzzling up to each other
in one of the deep-red heart-shaped sofas that littered the bar. It had not been a very well kept secret that they were shagging the pants off each other, despite Finn’s heavily pregnant wife at home. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. I was no angel, it’s true, but shagging someone who was hitched with a baby on the way seemed like a complication too far to me. I wondered if he was worth it. Then, looking at his rugged, wrinkled face, I decided he wasn’t. Finn must be nearly twenty years older than Sal. What on earth did she see in him?

Now Charlie on the other hand…Over the last couple of days I’d decided he was a bit of all right. Tall, dark, conventionally good-looking with a fetching quiff that fell over his eye that he brushed off in a movement that I found at once attractive and endearing, Charlie was rather lovely. And might be just the thing to take my mind off the humiliation of Steve’s rejection.

I’d always known Steve would go for Sarah in the end, despite all his flirting. They always did. Her pretty girl-next-door good looks always won them over, even if they were initially attracted to my wildness. My spiky aggressiveness was in the main too much for most of the men I encountered. Far too toxic, as I’d been told on more than one occasion. They enjoyed the shag, but they never hung around long enough to keep their spare PJs in my cupboard.

When we’d met him out drinking in Soho, it was obvious that a cityboy slicker like him would go for Sarah, the safe bet, rather than her more wild and unpredictable friend. Not that it stopped him flirting with me, mind, and making lewd suggestions about what he’d like to do with me when Sarah wasn’t around. I’d bet a million dollars he never said anything to her like that. I should have been a better friend
to Sarah. I should have warned her what he was like. But annoying prick as he was, Steve also happened to be one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever met. Talk about love god. And I really did like him, and couldn’t help the stab of jealousy when he chose Sarah. So after that, when we were all out together, I never stopped his surreptitious flirting with me, reasoning that it couldn’t do any harm. He made me feel so good about myself, and I, despite all my chippiness and bravado, needed a morale boost from time to time. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, of course.

So when he finally moved things up a notch, when I bumped into him while clubbing without Sarah, I didn’t even think about her. And after we’d danced and snogged and gyrated our way round the dance floor, I thought we’d inevitably end up back at my flat. I didn’t think I cared, but the feeling of rejection when he left me so coldly, so humiliatingly on the dance floor was one I was unprepared for. I hated the feelings of churned-up misery he’d stirred up in me. It made me furious to feel so weak. But after all he and Sarah were engaged, what did I expect? And I was left alone. Bruised, sore, guilty, furious with myself for still hankering after him. And not a little jealous.

Yes, I could do with Charlie to lighten things up. He’d been so understanding, and he seemed to like me…

‘What time is it?’ I jerked awake, and suddenly realized I’d dozed off on Charlie’s shoulder. There was no sign of the other two. Presumably they’d gone off to consummate their passion. Well, good luck to them.

‘Three a.m.,’ said Charlie. ‘But hey, the night’s still young. We’re in Vegas don’t forget. Ever played blackjack?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But there’s a first time for everything.’

So suddenly we found ourselves running through the hotel’s casino, like a pair of school kids. There were roulette wheels and card tables, in the plushest of surroundings. It was such an outrageous, extravagant kind of place, like being in a James Bond movie. I felt right at home. I could be anything I wanted here.

We found a table where a game of blackjack was just starting, and soon we were betting money we couldn’t afford on a game I barely understood. I was drinking vodka like it was going out of fashion, but here, in this atmosphere, I felt alive in a way I never had, and carried away on a feeling of indulgent recklessness. Charlie was lovely too, really attentive in a way none of the guys I’d ever been with had ever been before. I was enjoying the sensation so much, I let my guard down. And it felt great.

‘Hey, look over there,’ I nudged Charlie. ‘There’s a wedding couple.’

‘So?’ said Charlie, who was looking at his hand trying to work out if he was going to make twenty-one or have to go bust. His last five dollars were riding on it. I’d had to give up a couple of hands before, as I’d run out of money.

‘Isn’t it cute?’ I said, suddenly fascinated with this couple. They seemed to represent something I never thought I’d have. ‘I bet there’s a little chapel next door where you can get hitched, just like that.’

‘There is, honey,’ a Texan blonde with a pink rodeo hat and tasselled pink denim jacket next to me, drawled. ‘It’s called Love Me Tender, and they’ve got an Elvis impersonator who’ll marry you for a few dollars.’