The Bridesmaid Pact (8 page)

Summer 1997

It seemed appropriate that for weeks the news had been full of Diana and Dodi’s affair on the Med. The fairytale had ended, the image of fairytale princesses was getting daily more tarnished and since my spectacular error of judgement in Las Vegas, I’d sworn off men. Charlie had been remarkably forgiving about the whole thing and we’d somehow managed to stay friends. I knew for me the promise of a happy-ever-after wasn’t coming anytime soon.

And then, there he was, in a bar in Soho. I hadn’t seen Steve on his own for months. He was, after all, just about to get married to my best friend. But once again, there was that connection, and unlike last time, he didn’t attempt to brush away my advances.

I knew even as I sat down next to him that I was doing the wrong thing. But a combination of anger at him for not choosing me – let him see what he was missing! – and a sort of self-hatred which has always been my fatal flaw, led me not to care. Besides. He was here with me. Not with her. I knew it was wrong to want him as much as I did. But I had wanted him from the first time we met. And he didn’t want me. They never did. I was the one they chose
for a quick shag, Sarah was the one they chose for the long term. And this time, he’d really made it clear he was playing the long game. This time, I’d lost him for good.

Except. Here he was, nearly married, in a bar with me. Playing footsie under the table, looking at me with lascivious eyes, accidentally touching my hand when there was no need.

I could lie and say I was so drunk I didn’t know what I was doing. I could pretend that it ‘just happened’ like they always say in the problem pages. But it wouldn’t be true. These things don’t ‘just happen’. You have to lose control of the bit of you that’s screaming that this is so
so
wrong, you have to let go of your moral compass and go on a journey into a morass of grubby decisions that you’ll later regret. You have to choose all that. It doesn’t
just happen
.

Even at the moment I let him into my flat, I could have ended it then, after the coffee, before we’d gone too far. But I was drunk on power and lust and the feeling I’d won for once. Besides, I wanted to know what he was like, this golden boy, whom I’d adored for so long.

And once we’d kissed and cuddled and got down and dirty, there was a point, a moment when I could have said no, this is wrong, we mustn’t go any further, but I didn’t. I was carried on a wave of passion into a world where there were no commitments, and I didn’t betray the people I loved, and the man I was with loved me for myself, not for the undoubted quick bit of fun I undoubtedly was.

It was only in the morning, when I woke up, and saw him already dressed, already distancing himself from me, that I felt ashamed. I didn’t know how I was ever going to face her again. I didn’t know how I was ever going to face myself. I felt wrong and dirty and so very, very bad. A sudden vision
of my mother, in her worst vengeful mode, swam before my eyes. ‘You’re a dirty little hoor,’ she hissed in my ear. ‘I always knew you’d turn out no good.’ I turned my face to the wall and wept.

Summer 1997

‘Where is she?’ I stood in my bridal finery in the changing room of Wedding Belles bridal shop, while Jeanette, the snooty manager who made me feel about five years old, tacked and adjusted my dress for its final fitting. Beth and Dorrie were ready to try on their bridesmaids’ dresses but there was no sign of Caz. She was over an hour late and there was no answer from her flat. Even her newly acquired mobile phone appeared to be switched off.

I was beginning to get really fed up with Caz. She could barely bring herself to show any interest in my wedding, apart from teasing me about becoming domesticated and boring. I knew weddings weren’t her thing, but I was hurt by her lack of interest. And she never had a good word to say about Steve. I wished she could get off my back and just be happy for me. Now it appeared she couldn’t even be bothered to turn up on time for my fitting.

‘You’re going to look fabulous, girl,’ beamed Dorrie, as usual bringing a positive note to the proceedings. And I have to admit, looking at myself in the mirror, I really liked what I saw. The dress was a classically elegant off the shoulder number, with a trimmed-in waist and flowing
gown. The diamante beading, which Jeanette had lovingly sewn into the bodice, sparkled and shimmered when I walked and the satin skirt with its lace trimming just looked and felt fabulous. My tiara, my ‘something borrowed’ from my grandmother, allegedly had real pearls (I thought they were more likely fake myself but they looked the part), and my veil too had the same diamante beading.

‘That is very nearly right,’ said Jeanette, loosening some material around my waistline, ‘though I’m not usually letting out dresses at this stage.’

I wanted to thump her. I had tried desperately hard to lose weight prior to the wedding, but a combination of long shifts and too much overtime to help save money had led me into bad eating habits. I had a month to shift the excess that I’d put on. I didn’t think I was going to manage it. Steve’s attitude didn’t help either, he’d made me painfully aware that I was carrying a little too much weight and it was making me feel insecure. Steve was so gorgeous he could have anyone, and though he’d chosen me, there was always a small part of me that doubted that choice, and wondered if he’d stay the distance.

‘Do you think I look too fat?’ I said in panic, when Jeanette left the room to fetch more pins. My stomach suddenly appeared to me to look as if I was four months gone.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Dorrie. ‘Ignore her. You look womanly, curvaceous, sexy. Steve’s not going to know what’s hit him.’

‘Are you sure?’ I said. I was still a size twelve, just, but as I was more used to being size ten, I felt like a heffalump.

‘Absolutely,’ said Beth, as usual being quietly observant in the corner. ‘You look great.’

‘Thanks girls,’ I said. I couldn’t put my finger on why
I felt so wobbly and uncertain. But Caz’s non-appearance had unnerved me, and I hadn’t spoken to Steve since yesterday lunchtime. I’d wanted to have a quiet night in with him the previous night, but he’d muttered something about having a pre stag with some of his work colleagues and stayed out in town. If I knew Steve, he’d be fit for nothing till after lunch and even less likely to show any interest in wedding plans. We’d booked to go and see the caterers at the hotel this afternoon to go over the menu and Steve was meant to be organizing the printing of the order of service, but didn’t seem to have even started on that.

My stomach shrank into a familiar ball of anxiety. Maybe he was having second thoughts? Perhaps Steve didn’t really want to get married after all. Was it right to feel this in secure about the man I was marrying? I know most brides get cold feet, but the way things were going at the moment, mine were like blocks of ice. The only thing I was sure of was that I loved Steve and I wanted to marry him. He said he loved me, but he’d been cagey and elusive of late and it was making me feel agitated.

‘You really think so?’ I said, biting my lip and trying not to let either of my friends see the way I was feeling.

‘We really do,’ said Beth.

‘You’ve not got last-minute jitters, have you?’ said Dorrie, poking me in the arm.

‘I have a bit,’ I said.

‘That’s only natural,’ said Beth. ‘I’m sure it happens to everyone.’ She looked a little wistful. Despite making a bit more effort with her appearance, Beth still hadn’t met her Mr Right, and since Andy the bastard, there was an air of victimhood about her that left men wary. I longed to tell
her to lighten up but Beth could be so sensitive I didn’t want to upset her.

‘It won’t happen to me,’ declared Dorrie. ‘I know I’ve met the man of my dreams already. And I won’t have any doubts about marrying him ever.’

‘Has Yakult Man asked you yet?’ I said. Dorrie had been seeing Darren for the last six months and seemed blissfully happy.

‘Not exactly,’ said Dorrie, ‘but we’re made for each other. It’s only a matter of time.’

Bless her. How can anyone be that blindly romantic and idealistic? But Dorrie wouldn’t be Dorrie if she wasn’t.

Jeanette came back to finish tacking and re-tacking, before finally declaring herself satisfied. Then she turned to me and said, ‘If your other bridesmaid isn’t here, we really had better get on with the fitting, I have another appointment at twelve.’

‘I’ll try Caz again,’ said Dorrie, diplomatically, as I went to get out of my dress. I was furious.

Still finding no answer, I resigned myself to letting the other two get changed and letting Caz go shift for herself.

I’d chosen halterneck dresses of deep-red silk for my bridesmaids. It complemented their dark hair, and all three were going to look stunning. Dorrie’s current Sarah Jessica Parker-style hair was going to look lovely pulled up away from her face with a few curls dangling down, and now Beth had cut her hair into a neater style, I felt there was something I could do to make her look glamorous on the day. Caz’s sharp features were perfectly framed by a Linda Evangelista-type bob, and while I longed for her to have a softer look, she did look great in the dress on the previous time she’d tried it on.

Eventually we were done.

‘God I’m starving,’ declared Dorrie. ‘Pizza Hut anyone?’

Our teens had been dominated by visits to the Pizza Hut on the High Street, which was just a couple of doors down from Wedding Belles.

‘Oh, go on then,’ I said. ‘I still have a soft spot for their salad bar.’

We were making our way up the High Street towards Pizza Hut, when I saw her: Caz was running towards us in a blind panic.

‘Sarah,’ she said, when she reached us, ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Rough night was it?’ Dorrie whistled. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

Caz looked truly dreadful. Her face was pale and her dark circled eyes looked as if they might have been crying. She had obviously thrown on any old clothes that had come to hand, and hadn’t even done her make-up.

‘No one,’ said Caz, but she didn’t catch my eye when she said it. ‘Just too much to drink. Sorry, Sarah, I didn’t mean to miss the fitting but I only just woke up.’

‘Well you’re here now,’ I said, with a sigh. ‘Come on and have a pizza with us.’

‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ Caz looked really uncomfortable. ‘I’m not feeling that great, and well, the thing is, I’ve got something to tell you…’

Suddenly my heart turned to ice. I thought back to last night when I’d tried to ring Steve late at night and there was no answer from his flat. Surely she couldn’t have been

– she wouldn’t have, would she?

‘Oh?’ I tried to keep my voice calm and natural. I was being ridiculous. I knew Caz had liked Steve before I got together with him, but nothing was going on between them. I’d have known.

‘It’s just…sorry, Sarah. You know weddings aren’t my thing. I just don’t think I can be your bridesmaid after all.’

This was so unexpected, I nearly laughed with relief. But then I felt angry again. How dare she let me down like this at nearly the last moment?

‘What the fuck?’ I said. ‘You can’t just do this to me. What about the dress? It’s already paid for.’

‘I’ll pay for the sodding dress,’ said Caz. ‘I promise I will. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it.’

With that she turned round and strode away, leaving the three of us open-mouthed standing on the street.

Sarah

I’d just come in from taking the kids to their Saturday morning football lessons. Our tiny hall seemed to be full of fighting children – amazing that two small boys can take up so much space – dropping bags on the floor, causing the usual chaos. They were hungry, and tired. So was I. I’d not been sleeping much recently and today, ringing Steve, who was out at a corporate works do and getting Kirsty smarming at me down the phone had sent my self-esteem plummeting. I’d lost my appetite at lunchtime, but now I felt bizarrely hungry. Steve and I had been skirting around the issue of Kirsty for days now. We had to deal with it eventually. But was I ready to go that far?

The phone rang and Sam picked it up.

‘Hello Auntie Beth,’ he said. ‘I’ve just swum fifty metres. And William is a poo head.’

‘Auntie Beth doesn’t need to hear that,’ I said laughing. ‘Come on, hand it over, scamp.’

‘I’m hungry,’ wailed William.

‘Tea in five minutes,’ I promised, taking the phone from Sam. ‘Hi, madhouse here, what can I do for you, Beth?’

‘Sorry, is this a bad moment?’ Beth sounded anxious and strained.

‘It’s always a bad moment,’ I said.
Particularly now
, I thought, but added, ‘What’s up?’

‘I just thought you ought to know,’ said Beth.

‘Know what?’ I was only half paying attention as I yanked William away from the piece of wallpaper he was peeling off.

‘Dorrie just rang,’ said Beth. ‘She spent last night in hospital with Woody—’

‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Is Woody OK?’

‘I think he is now,’ said Beth, ‘some kind of vomiting bug, but the point is she met Caz there. The thing is, Caz’s mum died last night. They think it was heart failure, but…’

‘We always said the drink would kill her,’ I said bluntly. ‘Well if you ask me, I’m surprised she lasted this long.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ said Beth. ‘I know she was difficult, but she was Caz’s mum.’

Caz’s mum. She had to be the most vicious spiteful woman on the planet. I once had the misfortune to spend a summer working with her in Marks & Spencer’s. No one was immune from her bitter tongue, not even her daughter’s best friend. Mind you. I heard how she spoke to Caz, so maybe that was no great surprise. Mum always said it was because Caz’s dad had left her with a baby, but then Dad would snort and say he wasn’t surprised he left, so who knows, maybe she was always a bitter old bag.

What I did know was that Caz had had the most miserable of upbringings. Though she didn’t talk about it much, it was clear as we grew older that her mum drank too much and took it out on her daughter. No wonder Caz was always on the offensive. Of all of us, she found Dorrie’s house the
most comforting. It must have seemed like a haven from her real life. I had a sudden flashback to the angry, desperate little girl I’d first befriended in reception. Somehow I knew underneath that hard exterior there was a softer Caz just longing for the opportunity to be loved, and to love back. I had a sudden pang of longing for the friendship we’d had and lost. I knew Caz didn’t get on with her mum but apart from an aunt, she didn’t have any other family. Caz had never bothered to look for her dad, reckoning that if he’d wanted anything to do with her, he’d have come looking by now.

‘Yes, sorry,’ I said. ‘Poor Caz. Have you spoken to her?’

‘I sent her a text,’ said Beth. ‘I didn’t know what to say. It’s been so long since we’ve really seen her, I don’t know if she even cared that much about her mum.’

‘I think what Caz feels about her mum is far more complicated than any of us can understand,’ I said. I took a deep breath. Because Caz had no family to speak of, she often said we were better than family. ‘Do you think she’d speak to me?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Beth, ‘but I think she might. She seemed pretty sorry about everything when we met.’

‘When did you meet Caz?’ I was surprised. Beth hadn’t mentioned seeing her.

‘A couple of weeks ago,’ said Beth. ‘Just after we went to Euro Disney. I just felt I’d like to make things up with her. I can understand you wouldn’t feel like that.’

I thought about Steve, who was probably going to ring again tonight saying he was going to be working late, when no doubt he’d be with Kirsty. If it hadn’t been Caz, it would have been someone else. For the first time I wondered if it had really all been her fault.

‘Well, maybe I won’t ever make things up with her,’ I said, ‘but I feel I should at least acknowledge what’s happened.’

‘I’m hungry!’ William came tugging my legs.

‘Damn, have to go,’ I said. ‘Can you text me Caz’s number?’

‘Sure thing,’ said Beth.

I put the phone down and took William into the kitchen. No time to think about Caz now. Children needed feeding, and I needed to not let them see how exasperated I was with their dad when he did ring to say he was staying longer at work.

It was nine o’clock before I eventually sat down with a glass of wine. Apart from Joe, who had called in at teatime, to let me know he’d got tickets to take the boys to see Arsenal, I had barely seen another adult all day. I hated the feeling of emptiness and loneliness that came over me at this time of the evening. I shouldn’t feel so lacking in companionship, but I was. Steve hadn’t even bothered to ring, just texted to say he’d be late, presumably the corporate do had spread into a drinking session in town. Part of me was relieved. If he wasn’t here, we couldn’t talk about anything. I knew I was being an ostrich about things, but even though I could feel the inevitable coming – somehow this business with Kirsty seemed much more serious than anyone else that Steve had been involved with – I didn’t want to face up to the reality. Diving into domestic chores in all their mind-numbingly boring comfort, was as good a way as any to avoid thinking about things.

I flopped in the sofa and switched on the TV. There was nothing much on, so I turned the TV off and went to the table in the hall where I’d scribbled down Caz’s number on
a notepad. I wasn’t sure she’d want to hear from me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to ring her. But I thought about my parents, fortunately still hale and hearty in their early seventies, and my two lovely brothers, who didn’t live nearby but were in regular contact. None of them difficult, all of them loving. I couldn’t conceive the kind of life Caz had led with her mum, but I did know that however much Caz might claim to hate her, she had always longed for things to be different. And it was for that reason, and for the memory of the friendship we’d once had, that I picked up the phone.

My hand was shaking as I dialled her number. She might be really angry and think I was interfering. Perhaps I
was
interfering – maybe it was too late for us.

‘Hello,’ Caz answered the phone. She sounded hesitant and a bit subdued, not at all like her normal confident self.

‘Caz, it’s me, Sarah,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve rung at a bad time, but Beth told me what happened with your mum, and I just wanted to say how sorry I am.’

There was an agonising pause – oh my god, was Caz actually crying?

‘Caz, are you OK? I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have rung,’ I said.

‘No, no, you’re fine,’ Caz said, sniffing. ‘It’s just all been a bit of a shock, and well, I’ve never been good at dealing with kindness. And I know I don’t deserve it from you.’

That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting at all. I didn’t know what to say. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ I finally said.

‘Get me away from Auntie Nora,’ said Caz, a little of the old feistiness returning. ‘She’s driving me demented. Thinks I can’t do anything. And there’s so much to do.’

‘Could you hook up for coffee on Monday? I can be free when Sam’s at school and Will’s at nursery.’ Actually I was
free most days. There was housework to do, certainly, but Steve insisted we had a cleaner, as he thought it demeaning for me to do it. He also thought it demeaning for me to go back to work, so most of the time I felt in this kind of useless limbo, of feeling I should be a lady who lunches, when that is so not me. How was it that I had been persuaded to quit nursing, a job I loved, so readily? Not for the first time, it occurred to me that I had let Steve control far too much of my life.

‘I’m not sure I can do Monday during the day,’ said Caz. ‘We have to go to the funeral parlour and I need to sort out the flowers, but I could get away in the evening. Any chance you could meet me in a pub somewhere?’

I took a deep breath. Steve was always difficult when it came to me having evenings out with the girls at the best of times, I could imagine what he’d say when he dis covered I was seeing Caz for the evening. I looked at the clock, nearly 9.30 and no sign of him. Bugger Steve. I’d get a babysitter if necessary. And if he didn’t like it, tough.

‘Yes, that would be great,’ I said. ‘When and where?’

Caz, it transpired, was staying with her Auntie Nora, who lived in a flat above an electrical shop on the High Street, while they sorted out funeral arrangements. Like Dorrie, I’d come back to live in Northfields after I got pregnant. Steve had bitched about it being away from London, but agreed with me that his city flat wasn’t the best place to bring up a child. Luckily he’d had a huge bonus that year, and we were able to retain both the flat, which Steve rented out to various colleagues, as well as put down a deposit on our new house, which was round the corner from my parents, fifteen minutes from the High Street.

So it was a short walk to meet Caz in the Green Man, another of the haunts of our youth, though it was a far cry from the days when we’d snuck in there and tried to get served at the bar. I’d suggested to Beth she join us too, just in case it got awkward, but she mumbled something about feeling under the weather, so I left it. I wondered if she was pregnant. She’d never said anything about babies, but the look in her eye sometimes when she looked at Dorrie with Woody made me rather think she’d like one.

‘Couldn’t face staying at Mum’s,’ Caz explained, when we finally met up. ‘It’s where she – well, anyway. Wussy of me I know, but then I figured Auntie N probably needs the company, even if we do drive each other insane.’

‘What happened?’ I said. It was weird sitting here with Caz. It wasn’t as though the past was erased, but in the light of her mum’s death, I was certainly gaining a new perspective on it.

‘She – well, oh god, this is so awful.’ Caz’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s all my fault, you see.’

‘What, all your fault that she’s spent the last thirty years drinking herself into a coma? Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘Come on Caz, can’t you see? She chose her lifestyle, you didn’t do that to her.’

‘But I did,’ said Caz. ‘She rang me the other night. I knew she was pissed, and so I ignored her. I’ve been going over it again and again since. If only I’d gone round, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen, and maybe she’d still be here.’

‘And maybe the moon is made of cheese,’ I said. ‘Come on, how many times have you rushed round there in the middle of the night for a false alarm? She chose to live like that. You didn’t make her.’

‘It’s not just that,’ said Caz, ‘I…god, I don’t know even how to say this. But the last words she said. Do you know what they were?’

‘What?’

‘She told me I’d ruined her life. Can you imagine your mum saying that to you?’

‘Oh, Caz.’ Instinctively I gave her a hug. Whatever she’d done to me, she didn’t deserve this. ‘Are you sure that’s what she said? Maybe you misheard her.’

‘Well, she did mumble it,’ said Caz, ‘so I can’t be sure, but I can be sure of the look in her eye. She hated me. My own mother hated me.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ I said. ‘For heaven’s sake, your mum was an alcoholic, and very mixed up and twisted. It was an evil thing to say and do to you. But then she always was a bit of a witch.’

Caz smiled a little through her tears. ‘She was, wasn’t she?’

‘Do you remember the time we came round to yours after school, and she came home from work and threw us all out and made Beth cry?’ I said. ‘Other mums never did that. Yours was…well, whatever her problems were, they weren’t of your making.’

‘Do you really think so?’ said Caz, shivering. ‘I can’t get the look of hatred out of my mind.’

‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s drown our sorrows and try and forget all about her.’

‘So what sorrows are you trying to drown?’ Caz asked as I came back from the bar. I noticed she’d been to the loos to sort herself out. She came back immaculately made up, the mask back on. You had to hand it to Caz, she was a control freak extraordinaire.

I made a face. I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell Caz
what was going on at home. ‘Oh, nothing much,’ I said. ‘Just fed up with domesticity. The children are great, they really are, but sometimes I really miss working.’

‘Well you’ve only yourself to blame,’ said Caz. ‘That’s why I’ve always steered clear of settling down. Babies seem like far too much hard work for me.’

There was an awkward pause, neither of us wanting to go into the reasons for Caz’s lack of domesticity.

‘Can’t you go back to work?’ said Caz. ‘That might make you feel better.’

‘I have thought about it,’ I admitted. ‘But it’s not that easy finding a part-time job which fits in with the kids. Besides, I’ve lost my nerve a bit.’

‘You?’ Caz looked incredulous. ‘But you were always the together one, why on earth have you lost your nerve?’

‘It’s called staying at home with small children,’ I said. ‘It tends to make you forget your normal skills set. I’m not sure I’d be any good at my job now. It’s been six years, suppose I can’t hack it?’

‘You’ll never know till you try,’ said Caz. ‘What does Steve think?’

Another frisson. The first time his name had been mentioned.

‘I haven’t told him yet,’ I said (not that he’d probably care if I did).

‘Oh,’ said Caz. ‘Sarah, everything is all right, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, fine,’ I said. ‘Everything’s just fine, why wouldn’t it be?’

‘No reason,’ said Caz. ‘I just hope you’re happy.’

I resisted the urge to retort that it was none of her business whether I was happy or not, and sipped my drink, before lying, ‘Of course I’m happy. I’ve got two wonderful
children, a lovely house and a gorgeous husband. I’m sure most people would envy me.’