‘It’s too short, isn’t it?’ I like skirts just above the knee because if they’re any longer they’re at the top of my footballer-calves and make my legs look like tree trunks. Hem above the knee and I have shapely legs, hem below, I have chair legs.
Unfortunately, when I said little green dress, I forgot there were two. This is not the just above the knee one, this is the mid-thigh one.
I squealed when he handed the bag over, then felt like screaming when I peeped inside. But how could I even let on? He’d ventured into my room, rooted in my drawers and almost saved my bacon. And I loved him for it, even if my head was shouting, ‘Sheeeet!’ in a very melodramatic way.
Maybe thick black tights would save the day. Or a long coat.
The coat idea is a no-go. Unless I wear a parka (bit heavy), or my Dad’s black funeral coat (defo says funeral not wedding), which I don’t think will work. For one, the sleeves are too long – I know because, in my desperation, I tried it on.
The tights do make my legs less noticeable, which is a definite bonus.
I am wondering about sewing the hem of the dress to them or putting my jeans back on when I hear Mum quizzing Freddie and decide I really do have to get a move on.
So I scurry downstairs, and accept his very insistent offer of a lift. Then discover that mid-thigh is fine, until I sit in a car. Or stand up. Or wiggle. Or move at all really. And that thick black tights just give this dress something to cling onto and climb up.
Hopefully this is a ‘stand-still, clutch a canapé and chat’ type of party.
‘Can you just look the other way, please?’ We’ve pulled up, so it is safe to ask. ‘Ouch, bugger, oh, frigging hell, how am I supposed …’ Some girls can take their entire wardrobe off in a car and put a new one on. I can’t. I don’t think I was born bendy enough.
‘What are you—’
‘Trying to take these bloody tights off. Don’t look, don’t you dare turn round!’
‘Oh.’
‘Shit, I’m stuck, buggering, bugger. My foot is, can you …’
‘Am I allowed to look now then?’
‘My foot is stuck.’ Word of warning, don’t ever put one foot on the dashboard when your thighs are bound together by a tight dress, and your knees are in the deadly grip of a gusset that believe me isn’t giving extra stretch. ‘I’ve got one foot on the dash, and the other is wedged under the glove compartment, and I’m getting cramp!’
‘Oh, look, lots more guests arriving.’
‘Shit, what, where?’ I twist around and crick my neck. Seeing me spread-legged is so not what an engagement party is supposed to be about.
‘Kidding. Here.’ He hauls me upright on the seat, and my legs snap together like the jaws of a hungry crocodile.
‘Thanks.’ I take a deep breath and try to wriggle the hem of the dress down to a decent level. ‘That was mean, saying that.’
‘Sorry.’ His grin doesn’t say sorry, his grin says I’d be better off begging him to take me home.
‘I should have asked you to bring my black dress.’ The down to the knee, no cleavage showing, dress.
‘Too late now.’
‘I need to go back and change.’
‘I thought you had nothing else to wear?’ He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and makes me laugh.
‘True.’
He kisses me on the cheek. It’s a fleeting touch of his lips against my skin, but it sends a tiny shiver all the way down to the base of my stomach. He’s never kissed me before, he’s blown kisses, hugged me. But never actually kissed me.
I look out of the window self-consciously and wonder what would have happened if he’d done that in Brighton. When we had our moment. On the seafront.
Oh, how ridiculous! I’m being daft, it was a friendly peck on the cheek for heaven’s sake, not an invite to start fantasising. I’ve done it to him without thinking, it means nothing. He’s just never done it back.
I dare glance back at him, knowing I’ve got pink cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Phew. That’s good. If he ever guesses about the route my thoughts take me on sometimes, we’re stuffed. He’d be out of here faster than a rocket out of a rocket launcher.
‘Stop panicking, you look gorgeous. It will be great, honest.’ He looks me in the eye. ‘You’ll be fine.’
He’s right, well, at least on the dress front. I’m not sure about the physical contact kiss-front. It muddles my brain, or my body at least. Treading on dangerous ground.
‘I’ll be fine.’ I’ve just got myself all worked up because this feel likes a big deal. It is the first step along the ‘Rach is getting married and I’m going to her wedding’ route. And that’s why the kiss made me feel like that. Nerves. Panic. Nothing to do with lustful thoughts that are strictly out of bounds.
‘You will. You just need to get this over with.’
‘I do.’ I’m still frozen to the spot.
‘Go on then.’ He nudges. ‘Get your bum out of my car. The party will be over before you get there!’
I swing my legs out, knees glued together. I’m sure I read in Cosmo that this is the way ladies avoid knicker flashing. Although I think I might have already done that.
Which reminds me, I think I forgot to put my no VPL ones on. I really, really want to check. I think about pretending I’ve dropped my bag then I can have a sneak peek between my legs but that would look like I’m puking and would be weird with Freddie (well, anybody) sat next to me.
‘Have fun.’ He winks. ‘You look amazing.’
‘You wouldn’t like to? No. No.’ Inviting him in would start a million and one rumours.
As I wiggle my way towards the massive front door, keeping my knees together to avoid a riding-up incident, I realise I’ve got my fingers on my cheek. Where he kissed it. Bugger. I really am going to have to stop myself liking him quite so much.
It was a friendly gesture.
When he said I looked gorgeous and amazing he was just being nice, boosting my confidence.
Freddie is my flatmate. The perfect best male friend. And even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t do relationships. Apart from with the one from his past.
Like he said, mates are better.
‘Aww, it’s so lovely to see you again, Jane. How are you?’ Rachel’s mum wraps me in a Chanel-scented hug, then holds me at arm’s length. ‘You look wonderful!’
‘All over that stupid bugger, are you?’ Her dad nudges me in the ribs. ‘Bet you’ve got a new man, eh? Is that him dropped you off? Where’s he gone, parking up?’ He winks. He’s always been the ‘bigger than life, dad-dancing, chasing you round the house, tickle you to death’ type. Though I’m not sure that’s appropriate with thirty year olds, even if it was when we were eleven. In fact, was it then?
‘He’s, er, a friend.’
‘She lives with him!’ Rachel bounces up and grabs me in a hug. ‘Come on, come on.’ She’s pulling me across the hallway, and I manage a limp wave at her parents before she corners me and whispers in my ear. ‘Don’t worry, Andy isn’t here.’
I resist the urge to do a fist pump. ‘Thank God for that!’
‘But Jack is.’
‘Oh, no, you’re kidding?’
‘We had to invite him, I mean he is the husband of my bridesmaid.’
‘I don’t think you had to spell that one out.’
‘Sorry.’ She pulls an apologetic face. ‘And he’s the, er, best man.’
‘Great, him and Maddie can walk down the aisle side by side. Bugger.’
‘And Andy’s an usher. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, but he’s been Michael’s mate for so long just like you’ve been mine, but at least he’s not here today.’
This is getting to be Ex’s Reunited, without the united bit. There’ll be a fistfight between the pews if we’re not careful.
‘You couldn’t keep an eye on Mads, could you? I swear she’s already had three glasses of bubbly, and you know she’s never been a big drinker.’
‘Sure. Of course.’
‘Come on, let’s get you a drink, then we’ll find her. Oh, and Beth’s here, isn’t that brill!’
That one piques my interest. Beth used to be a real laugh, I’m not quite sure if she’s completely reinvented herself, or whether the old Beth lies dormant beneath her motherly boobs, but I’m dying to find out.
‘With the baby?’ It could be hard to see beyond the bosom if she has a newborn clasped to it.
‘She got a babysitter.’
‘I certainly did.’ The girl herself has popped out from the kitchen, clutching what looks to be a massive mojito. ‘I wasn’t going to miss this for anything. God, it’s weird, I feel like I’ve forgotten a bit of myself, but it’s so bloody brilliant being off duty! Bloody hell, Jane, it’s good to see you, how long has it been? You’ve not changed, well, you have a bit, but the scaffolding is still the same!’
The old Beth is still there, and it’s such a relief I start to cackle hysterically, then stop and bury my nose in the glass of bubbly that Beth has pushed into my hand.
She’s got less black kohl round her eyes than last time I saw her, and her short spiky hair has lost some of its, well, spikiness, but there’s a stud in her nose, a piercing at the tip of one eyebrow, and she still swears like a trooper.
Our parents didn’t like her, but we all loved her.
‘Mouth like a sewer,’ more than one mother had been heard to say, when they all thought we weren’t listening. Which made us even keener to draw her into our clique, we needed her in our gang.
‘Oh, Beth, Beth, Beth, it’s really you!’ Maddie has crept up behind me and is now jumping about like a lunatic. I glance at Rachel, who mouths ‘Prosecco’ and grins.
‘Mads, Mads, Mads, it really is!’ Beth mimics Maddie, then grabs her in a bear hug. ‘Now you have changed, what happened to mousy Mads?’
‘Mousy? You didn’t call me that, did you? Who called me that?’
‘Everybody was mousy compared to Beth.’ Sally’s judgmental tone cuts into the conversation. We all spin round.
‘Fuck me, it’s the scarlet woman!’ Beth laughs so loudly I can’t help but smile. ‘Just like old times, eh?’
They look at each other. Just like old times. Sal was never that keen on Beth, I think because she couldn’t compete with her. They were too different, and Beth wasn’t into one-upmanship, she did her own thing and to hell with what people thought. ‘Corrupted poor innocent Jack, I hear, and,’ her eyes are twinkling, ‘squashed him under your well-maintained thumb.’ Sal straightens her spine, her eyes narrow. Trust Beth to say what we’ve all been dying to, but not had the balls. Or been too polite. ‘Wouldn’t have thought you were his type to be honest, and,’ she tips her head on one side (as I tip my Prosecco down my throat), ‘wouldn’t have thought he was yours. Don’t you fancy a man who’s a bit of a challenge, who can man handle you, in a purely figurative way of course. Although,’ she laughs, a tinkly, pretty laugh that’s always been at odds with the feisty girl we love, ‘look where that got me! Maybe you should just stick with it, Sal. Sorry Mads.’ She gives Maddie a quick hug. Beth all over. She always was as quick to kiss and make up as she was to shit stir and say what she thought.
Why the hell was I worried about my dress? Nobody is even going to notice what I am wearing with sparks like this in the air.
‘Well, now, lovely ladies, bit of bad news, I’m afraid!’ Luckily, Rachel’s Uncle Peter lurches into the middle of our little group before it all ignites. ‘Jack has had an urgent work call.’ He’s a vet. ‘Apparently, a greedy snake has over done it on the fat mouse front and is choking! What’s the chances, eh? Never a dull moment!’
What are the chances indeed? But this is good, and even better that the man in question hasn’t dared to set foot within a hundred yards of our little group.
‘Oh, Jane, I’m so, so pleased you said you’d be my bridesmaid.’ I’ve never been good at juggling a glass of wine and a plate of nibbles, so Rach and I have found a spot on the stairs for a drunken catch up. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with it though?’
She’s frowning with concern, and I can feel myself welling up. I can’t lie, thinking about this wedding has been keeping me awake at night and making my stomach churn in the day. That’s partly why I knew I had to feel good about myself this evening, being dressed to my best was bound to make me feel more positive, right? Well, that didn’t start well. Although maybe having my legs bound together with a gusset is a sign.
‘Of course, I’m sure. No way would I miss your wedding!’ I hug her and take a moment to compose myself, and hope the tears go back in and not spill over my face – the one bit of me that didn’t prove too much of a problem. I might not have brought an appropriate frock, but I did bring my entire make-up arsenal.
‘Oh, Jane, I mean, I know this must be difficult, and you must hate weddings.’
See? Everybody is going to assume that if I say anything negative, it’s sour grapes, because I hate weddings. ‘I don’t hate weddings, just ones with Andy. And I’m not planning on one of my own any time soon.’ Not that anybody is asking.
‘I do love him, you know.’ Rachel suddenly puts her plate down and grasps my hands in hers. ‘I know you worry, but he’s not the silly idiot he used to be at school you know. This is right, this is what I really want.’
‘I know.’ I smile. ‘And that’s all that matters.’
‘The whole Sara thing was a silly mistake you know.’
I frown, I can’t help myself. This has come out of the blue. Who is Sara? I don’t remember a Sara from school. ‘Sara? I thought it was Emily?’ Oops, done it again, engaged mouth before brain. But, in the bright (too bright if you ask me) light of day, it is time to be honest. Somebody has to be. I owe it to Rachel to make sure she’s not just going to have the best day of her life, she’s going to have the best life.
‘Emily?’ She frowns, then suddenly laughs. Which rather takes me by surprise. ‘Oh, God, Jane, I’d forgotten about her! That was so funny!’
‘Ha-ha, yeah, how could you forget Emily?’ The Emily incident was a long time ago, in fact a very long time ago. We were studying for our A levels, and it cemented our friendship as solidly as, well, cement.
Michael had been caught cuddling up with cute little Em in the school bogs by Ed, who had posted the photo on Twitter and it had gone viral. Well, fairly viral, viral within the school, which was pretty impressive back then. These days it would be seen more as a case of hiccups than a virus.
‘That was so funny!’ It wasn’t at the time, but I can see now that Rach might think it is. ‘Emily was nothing, I mean that was ages ago, and I mean we weren’t exclusive or anything.’ She grins. ‘Exclusive would have been so uncool. She was pretty uncool, anyway, wasn’t she?’
I nod. She had been. Pretty, quiet, and a bit aloof.
‘She was upset because her hamster had died. Do you remember?’ I nod. That had been the story at the time. ‘She was like, really upset and hiding in the cloakroom because she couldn’t stop crying, and all Michael did was hold her hand. Typical of Ed to barge in and post a frigging photo on Twitter. He was so jealous of Michael you know, and he was so into Em. Anyway, Emily sent me this text saying how kind Michael was, and how lucky we were to have each other. She said it was hard to understand if you haven’t had a hamster.’
I nod. It’s hard to understand if you have had a hamster. ‘So, erm, Sara?’
‘Oh, no, she wasn’t from school. She was the one in the photo at his works Christmas party, the one who rang me and said I was living in a dream world if I thought he was ever going to marry me.’
‘Oh my God, right! That was when you ditched him?’
‘Too right.’
I remembered this well, I’d just not known her name. Rachel had only ever referred to her as silly bitch and stupid cow. Never Sara. Sara was the reason she’d ditched him, and why I’d decided I didn’t need to tell her about Lexie.
They’d split, it was over. My secret was safe.
Until they got back together again.
I’d been so proud of her when she’d bawled him out, even better she’d given his best jacket to the tramp he passes every day by the bus stop and locked him out of the house.
‘He admitted everything to me before he proposed. It was so sweet, he was so honest and open about it and said that snogging her was the biggest mistake of his life, and he’d do anything to prove I could trust him. He’d been drunk but knew that wasn’t an excuse. He’s grown up, Jane.’
‘That’s brilliant, Rachel.’ I cross my fingers out of sight under my knees. I really do hope she’s right, for her sake. And for his, because if I find out that that he’s still a serial shagger then he’s going to be as dead as Emily’s hamster.
But is now the time to tell her about Lexie? While we’re clearing out the Michael closet?
‘I’ve been going on and on about my wedding, what about you? You’ve still not told me about Brighton,’ she winks, ‘and Freddie.’ The sudden change in conversation makes my mind up for me. Now is not the time to rock the boat. Michael is a reformed character. He’s admitted his mistakes and they have clearly worked through it. Everything is going to be fine.
‘Stop leering, you look creepy! There’s nothing to tell. You know that! We’re friends.’
‘You do fancy him a little bit though, don’t you?’ She has her head tipped on one side.
‘You’re not going to get like all these other brides-to-be and try and get their friends hitched are you Mrs Matchmaker?’
‘You didn’t answer the question!’ She laughs.
‘I’m too busy to date, nobody would have me!’
‘Freddie would.’
‘Will you drop it? Friends works for us, it’s,’ Freddie’s word jumps into my mouth, ‘less complicated.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You know what it’s like at the mo, I’m busy working for Coral. Once I’ve got established it’ll be different.’ I look her straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want a repeat of Andy.’
‘I know.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘They’re not all like Andy though, if you find a man who loves you because of your passion, your work, not in spite of it then you’ll realise that.’
Freddie’s back in my head. The one man who’s always encouraged me, even helped me. The man who likes me for my passion, my work.
I feel the inward sigh and fight to keep it hidden, the man who really is out of bounds. Maybe I need to settle for kisses on cheeks and friendship and discount the prospect of ever finding a happy ever after and getting married. I push the thought down and put my best smile on my face.
‘That’s pretty deep after a bottle of Prosecco.’
She giggles. ‘I’ve been saving it, I’ve got it written down.’ We both drink our bubbly, slightly self-consciously. ‘Coral’s New York photos are pretty crap, nowhere near as good as your pics.’
I grin back. I love her solidarity. ‘I’m going to really have to sparkle on the next shoot though, or I’ll be dead meat.’
‘Might be the best thing?’ Her voice lifts at the end in a question.
‘Have you been talking to Freddie?’
‘No, why?’ She looks at me suspiciously.
‘Nothing.’
‘He agrees with me, doesn’t he? I knew it!’
‘We talked a bit.’ I shrug, trying to play it down. ‘I know you both think I’m mad working for her, I think I’m mad sometimes.’ I study my feet for a moment, trying to work out how to explain. ‘But I’m not ready to break out solo yet.’
‘Ahh, yeah, forgot you’re Miss Perfection.’
‘It’s not just that, I need the contacts, I need to build my rep. You know I can’t afford to take time out and do a course.’
‘You don’t need a course, your photos are fab!’
‘Some people just look for stuff like that, where you studied, who you know.’ I shrug and look her in the eye again. ‘I didn’t study so I’ve got to work on the who I know bit.’
‘Sometimes you just gotta go for it, girl, even if you’re not one hundred per cent ready. Work, new job …’ There’s a long pause. ‘Man!’
I flick brownie crumbs at her. ‘I knew you were going to say that!’
‘Seriously, though, Coral is shit. She’s bad news.’ She’s right of course, but everything is going great for Rach at the moment, her glass is definitely more than half full.
Mine is more on the empty side. Everything I touch turns crap. I need to get this right, when I jump ship I need to know it’s the right time to let go of the security of a steady income, and I need to know I can prove to bloody Andy that this isn’t a stupid little hobby. I’m not rubbish at everything. I have made some right choices in life.
I also need to prove it to myself.
‘You don’t need to tell me! I’m being a wimp, but I’m not ready to do it yet.’ I daren’t. What if it turns out that my judgement about my abilities is as crap as my judgement on blokes?
‘What does Freddie say?’
‘Just that I need a plan, that I need her to credit my stuff.’
‘He’s not wrong, you know.’
‘I know.’
Rachel knows about the sacrifices I’ve made because of this job though. I’ve had to cancel girlie night’s out at the last minute before now, and she knows that it gets worse than that. After the dust had died down over my not-to-be-wedding, I’d realised that it was having to race off one Friday evening to attend to Coral that had probably been the final straw for Andy. He’d invited a gym-buddy and his girlfriend round for a meal. I’d forgotten and burst through the front door at 9 o’clock with a Chinese takeaway for two, a job lot of prawn crackers, and a lot of swearing.
To say it hadn’t gone down well is an understatement. Particularly when the gym-buddy’s girlfriend discovered she had a mild seafood allergy and her face swelled up like a blowfish and the rest of the evening we couldn’t understand her as she sounded like she’d just had her mouth anaesthetised or swallowed a bag of marbles.
Coral has a lot to answer for.
I mean, I do know that if my relationship with Andy had been the genuine article then it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have been happy to accept me as I am, a bit of a workaholic. That’s just the way it is in jobs like mine.
‘You know I’ll help you any way I can, don’t you?’
‘I know you will, Rach. And I have got a plan. Freddie helped me put it together.’ She raises an eyebrow, which I ignore and instead just talk firmly in what I like to think is my professional voice. ‘I don’t intend working for Coral forever.’ I also know that it’s all about taking baby steps. Rachel’s wedding is a biggie for me. I’m not so daft that I’m going to pretend it isn’t. But once it’s over, and I’ve proved to myself that I can survive trying on a bridesmaid’s dress, a hen party, walking up the aisle, and seeing Andy all dressed up for somebody else’s wedding, then I know I’ll be ready to start putting my spreadsheet into action. Freddie loves spreadsheets, he’d run his entire life via spreadsheet if he could. And he helped me put one together. It’s not exactly a five-year plan, more of an escape plan.
‘Good! You’re too good to put up with her crap, Jane.’
‘You’re telling me!’ And I do know. ‘Like I mean, all this blew up cos of Daniel’s bloody pooch in a pouch.’
Rachel snorts Prosecco bubbles up her nose and splutters. ‘He’s not has he? I mean he does look well packed in those photos, but you never know what kind of padding is in there, do you?’
I bury my head in my hands, then peep at her through my fingers because she’s giggling. She’s happy, she looks so well, even tipsy. In fact, you know that phrase ‘positively blooming’? That’s Rachel.
Sugar! She’s not, is she? I can’t ask her outright, though, because she’ll think, 1. I’m saying she’s fat, or 2. I’m saying it’s a shotgun wedding.
‘Oh, goodness me, Rachel.’ I’m rescued from the conundrum by Rachel’s mother.
Who has just stepped onto Rachel’s abandoned plate and has a skewered prawn on the heel of her shoe. ‘What on earth? Oh, no, I knew this food was a mistake. Everything okay, girls? Dress fitting tomorrow, isn’t that exciting?’
It’s late by the time people start to drift off, and I’m the last to leave. Stopping for a last hug with Rachel and feeling so pleasantly tipsy I actually congratulate Michael in person. I hope the look I give him is piercing, and not squiffy.
They look so happy, hands entwined as we say goodbye that I feel bad that I’ve ever even thought about telling Rachel the dirty secret I know about her fiancé. Telling her about Lexie now could ruin everything and even a cynic like me can see that they’re madly in love. How could I even think about hurting my best friend in the way Andy hurt me?
How could I ever risk her having doubts, having the whole thing ruined?
I let him kiss my cheek, then I weave my way down the driveway happy in the knowledge that I’m doing the best thing for everybody. Keeping my mouth shut.
Now all I have to do is sneak into the house without Mum hearing, or I’ll get the kind of inquisition that no self-respecting woman over twenty-one should ever have to endure.