‘How do you feel?’ Rachel is sitting at what has always been our favourite table in the transport café at the edge of town. We used to come here when we wanted to get away from everybody. We could plot in private, and not be found.
Meeting here is like a reunion, a chance to catch up before we face the fray. Sorry, enter the bridal shop. Last night, it had seemed like a good idea, and we’d laughed about having our greasy spoon hangover cure. This morning a long lie-in seemed like a better idea.
A bit queasy is the understatement of the year. I don’t think staying up until 4 a.m. drinking beer with Freddie was a very good idea.
‘I feel like I did after your 21st birthday party.’
We’d raided her parents’ drinks cabinet and regretted it for days afterwards. I think it was the mix that did it, and the fact that we were both on some weird grapefruit and kiwi diet. Who knew you could puke long after all the multi-coloured contents of your stomach had been emptied down the toilet?
‘Me, too. That’s why I thought we should come here! I’ve ordered.’ She grins.
I grin back. Not sure whether our hangover cure of a greasy breakfast will still work these days. Or whether it would send me running to the bogs, which you honestly don’t want to run to. They always used to be a toilet paper free zone where you had to hold your nose to stop yourself gagging.
This is going to be kill or cure. At least it’s taking my mind off the idea of going to a bridal shop and looking at dresses, which made me feel all trembly when I got out of bed this morning.
At least if I end up puking or coming over all faint, I can blame the breakfast now and not the fact that the very thought of wedding shopping has brought me out in a cold sweat.
‘Here you go, my lovely.’
Two plates of food appear, and they look quite different to how I remember. No grease in sight. I sniff cautiously. My stomach only lurches a little bit, and the smell of bacon makes my mouth water. In a good way I hasten to add.
We eat in silence. Slowly at first, then speed up when we both realise that what is going down is staying down.
‘Crumbs, I needed that.’ I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth and take a good gulp of coffee. I still feel pretty ropey, but human ropey rather than zombie ropey.
‘Heard from Queen Coral?’
‘Nope.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to forget her and enjoy my break! Now come on, tell me about your bloody wedding plans. I can’t believe we didn’t get chance to talk about them last night!’
‘It’s all so totally amazing.’ She’s hugging her mug of coffee and has that dreamy look in her eye. ‘And,’ she really is glowing now, ‘we’re getting our dream house! His parents and mine clubbed together to give us money towards the down payment on this new house on the Laidlaw estate. Oh, gosh, Jane, you should see the plans, it’s going to be amazing!’
The Laidlaw estate is one of those posh, gated-community places. The type with security cameras and gardeners. ‘Wow! That’s fabulous.’ If it had been anybody else I’d have worried that their motivations for marrying Michael were suspect, but Rachel is doing it for love. I know she is. And, actually, her parents are better off than his anyway.
‘It’s got four bedrooms!’
I am speechless. Four bedrooms means it’s a family house, she must be expecting twins or triplets or something. ‘Impressive, you’ll be well set up for a family.’ How do I say this? ‘If you’re, er, planning on starting one, like soon?’
Her face falls slightly, which makes me wish I’d never asked. ‘I’d love to, but Michael says it’s for the future, he doesn’t want to rush things. He says we’re too young and he’s not ready for the huge responsibility, he wants it to be just the two of us for a while. Isn’t that nice?’
‘Ace.’ I have to stop thinking negative thoughts, but there are two rocketing round in my head. First, Michael doesn’t want responsibility and secondly at least if there’s no baby and it all goes wrong … which it won’t. Of course, it won’t.
‘I’ll bring the plans next time we meet up, if you’d like to see them that is? I get to pick my own kitchen, and everything.’
‘Of course, I want to see your house! So what kind of kitchen?’
Picking out electric appliances isn’t really on any wish list of mine but each to their own.
‘It’s so difficult to choose, but Michael is great. He’s got this image in his head already. I wasn’t sure about the whole minimalist thing, but he’s persuaded me. It’s timeless, you know.’
Sexploits aside, this is just one of the things that’s always made me wary about Michael. He persuades Rachel to do stuff and he’s gradually taken away her ability to decide what she really wants. I know relationships are all about compromise, but it always seems to be her that is always giving way. A bit like the toxic relationship I have with Coral, but that’s called boss and employee. It’s acceptable, even if it’s not very nice. And it’s a stepping stone, I’ll be moving on when the time is right. But the time to move on from your marriage is never supposed to be right, is it? Gaining two years of experience before quitting for a new challenge isn’t exactly de rigueur, it’s not the done thing at all.
‘You don’t fancy something with character, you know, a bit different?’
‘Well, I did see some nice stuff, but he’s right, we’ve got to go with the house, what will work.’
‘Great, can’t wait to see it!’
‘He’s been ace over the wedding plans as well, I don’t know how we’d have done it without his ideas, and he’s so busy at work as well.’
‘Fab!’ The niggle in the pit of my stomach grows. Why does this all feel like it’s all about Michael and what he wants? ‘What have you decided on, where are you getting married?’ I just know she’s either going to name the poshest restaurant in town, or the small estate with the Jacobean hall on the outskirts. She’s lusted after both places since she was sixteen. Our dream wedding locations. Well, apart from a Caribbean island, but I’m not sure that’s Michael’s bag. He’s the type that broils in the sun.
‘Well, we were going to have a big marquee at my parents’ house. They’ve got a massive lawn so we could invite all our really good friends. But then when we started to make a proper list we ended up with a hundred and fifty!’
‘Wow!’ This could become my new, most overused word. Rachel has always dreamt of a small and cosy wedding, saying her vows surrounded by just her nearest and dearest. But one hundred and fifty people and a manicured lawn on the outskirts of Windsor? That is some leap.
‘So then,’ there is a dramatic pause, ‘Michael said he wants to show me off, and we can’t not invite everybody, isn’t he sweet? So, guess what?’
‘What?’ I daren’t guess, it might get me in trouble.
‘We booked Startford Castle!’
I’m confused. ‘The Startford Castle? But that’s, like, where, it’s like where celebs go.’ This was so not what we’d always talked about. This was the totally over the top type of wedding venue we’d taken the piss about.
I stare at Rachel. It’s like she’s morphing before my eyes into the type of girl we used to laugh about.
‘Well, it is my wedding.’ I detect a trace of huffiness in Rachel’s tone. ‘And like Michael said, I’m only going to do it once, and as Sal said, everybody will be watching and tweeting about it.’
I’m about to say, ‘they will?’ But I bite it back.
‘Stuff Sal for a minute, stuff everybody else. This is your wedding, Rach. It’s your day, the one you will remember. No offence, but nobody else who sees it on social media will give a damn a few weeks later.’
‘Tell it like it is!’
She is so not happy with me. I reach out, touch her hand and hope that the contact will show her that I mean well, that I want it to be right for her. That I’m saying this for all the right reasons. ‘I will! Sorry, but it’s what you want that’s important, Rach.’
‘This is what I want, Jane. I thought you’d be happy for me!’ She is frowning. ‘I know you hate weddings.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t—’
‘But I thought as my best friend you’d be able to put that to one side rather than just picking fault with everything.’
‘I’m not picking fault.’
‘You are! Look, I’m really sorry about what happened, you know I am. I thought you’d want to be involved. But if you can’t handle it and you don’t want to be here then just say the word.’
I can feel hot tears prickling in my eyes. ‘Rach, I do want to help you plan your wedding, honest, I’m so happy for you.’ I look her in the eye, hers are glistening, and I know mine are, too. ‘Maybe I’m not completely over things.’ I gulp, and blink to clear my vision. ‘And it is bringing it all back, but I’m so happy for you, really. I’m not anti-marriage, I’m not. Not for you.’ Her fingers tighten around mine. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to criticise. Honest, say you believe me?’
She nods. ‘I am sorry about what happened to you.’
‘I know you are, you saved my life after. You’re my best friend.’ No way can I spill my Michael-doubts now. There is no way she’d believe me, she’d just think I was trying to cause trouble between them. I try to steer us back onto safe ground. ‘It’s just it’s so different from what I thought you’d do, it’s so,’ I struggle for a word, ‘big?’
Rachel grins, her normal good humour restored. ‘I know, it’s amazing isn’t it?’
‘Totes.’ What else can I say? If that’s what she really wants, then it is amazing. I could have said lots of other words though, I’m not usually a ‘totes’ kind of person, but my brain has frozen. ‘But you are sure this is what you want and how you want to do it, Rach?’ I try and ignore the way her smile has slipped slightly again. ‘I mean, you always said you wanted to get married at a quiet little spot with just a few people …’ See, I’m my own worst enemy, the second we get back onto solid ground, I shake the tree again. Luckily, Rachel isn’t taking me too seriously.
‘Oh, God, that was when we were kids, Jane. This is now, this is real! Anyway, his mum talked to mine, then they insisted we should go the whole hog! Oh, Jane, you should see what the wedding planner came up, you’ve never seen anything like it, it’s going to be amazing.’ All I can think of is His and Her Beckham-style thrones, a million white doves and my bestie standing in the middle of it in the biggest meringue dress you’ve ever seen. With a tiara. I feel queasy again. ‘I’m so lucky!’
‘He’s the lucky one, getting a girl like you!’
‘Aww, thank you.’
We have a hug.
‘To be honest, we’ve not actually arranged that much yet, so I wanted to ask a massive favour …’
She pauses. I wait. The silence lengthens. It’s getting awkward.
Then I realise she’s waiting to be cued in.
‘Ask away!’ I am going to have to make up for my bad thoughts about the groom to be, I am going to throw myself wholeheartedly into helping my best friend arrange her wedding. I am, I am, I am!
‘Will you sort my hen party with Beth?’
Oh, shit. The hen party. The scene of my humiliation, the event I made a complete spectacle of myself at. If I never had to go to another hen party in my life I’d be happy.
Except I do have to. I’m Rachel’s best friend. I have vowed to throw myself into this in every way possible.
She’s waiting, so I nod and smile in what I hope isn’t a sickly way. ‘Of course.’ It comes out croaky, so I try again. ‘With Beth?’
‘Yes, Beth! I mean you know me so well, but I didn’t want to force the whole thing on you, ’cos I know how busy you are, and she pointed out she’s got lots of free time and she’s ace at organising stuff.’
This is code for what we both know – I am not a planner by nature. I wing it.
‘Beth?’ I get the ‘somebody else doing it’, but not the Beth bit. As in, the Beth with the baby so she can’t be a bridesmaid bit.
‘Well, she really, really wanted to. She said like, as she couldn’t be a bridesmaid she wanted to do something, you know, be involved. So she asked if she could do this. That is okay is it? I mean I know you’re my bridesmaid and …’
At least with Beth involved this will be nothing like my hen party, it will be totally alternative if I know her. This is good.
‘It’s more than okay. Beth’s cool, she will do a way more awesome job than I would.’ I pause. ‘But what about the baby? I thought that’s why she couldn’t …’
‘Well, like she said, she can do this at home, or online, it’s her kind of wedding present to us she said. Isn’t that sweet?’
‘Er, yes.’ Beth could never be described as sweet. But she has, as they say, got her shit together. Even if she doesn’t look like she has. Although, God knows how the baby happened. The shit without the together.
‘She’s going to come to the fitting, just to like …’
‘Tell us how pretty we look in pink?’
‘Sod off.’ Rach flicks the froth off her cappuccino in my direction. This place never did cappuccino last time I came, wow how it’s changed. ‘Beth’s our guest of honour.’
It is beginning to dawn on me though why Beth passed on the bridesmaid role. She is so not pink, flouncy, or slinky in satin. She’s more black leather and Doc Martens.
She is a laugh though, and if Rach tries to swaddle us in anything ‘icky, then if anyone can save us it will be Beth. With her potty mouth. And truth.
I sometimes wish I was more like Beth. Willing to say what I think, and to hell with the consequences, ’cos, you know it will work out for the best.
The clock on the wall suddenly catches my eye. Bloody hell, talking about swaddling. ‘Look at the time!’ That’s the thing with wedding planning, all of a sudden your whole life is controlled by the clock, driven by dates on the calendar. You’re caught on this treadmill of ‘stuff that has to be done’. That might explain why when mine stopped I felt like life had lost all purpose.
That, and the fact I was no longer going to be a wife, potential mother, and house owner. I’d been about to take that giant leap into a new future and fallen flat on my face. My feet had been taken from under me and I’d floundered.
After I’d unpicked all the planning that had been in place.
‘Sugar,’ Rach downs the rest of her coffee. ‘We’re going to be late. Come on, come on. Oh, God, Debs will kill me!’
Debs, it turns out, owns the bridal shop. I know this because above the window it says ‘Deb’s Divine Dresses’. I expected something slightly different from a posh designer frock shop. I don’t know quite what, maybe Esmeralda’s Emporium, or Beatrice’s Bridal Gowns. Know what I mean? Anyway, Debs is at the door, and she is as lovely as Rachel said.
‘Come in, come in my lovely. The other girls are here, I let them try on one of those dresses you’ve been looking at while they were waiting. Hope you don’t mind? And I’ve opened the bubbly, we’re all set for some fun!’
I’m not sure I’m up to ‘fun’, but when the bubbles hit my nostrils I don’t feel nauseous, which is a definite improvement on how I felt two hours ago.
Then I try the dress on.