Always the Bridesmaid

‘I wanted to talk to you guys about that,’ Lauren said, looking slightly shifty and curling the ends of her blonde ponytail around her index finger. ‘So, it’s like this. Michael’s grandma is over there.’

She pointed at an elderly lady in a wheelchair who was wearing the most spectacular hat I had ever seen.

‘She’s really sick,’ Lauren whispered.

‘She looks all right to me,’ Sarah replied. ‘What’s that she’s drinking?’

‘Whisky,’ Lauren said. ‘I kept having to top her up so I just gave her the bottle.’

‘And now she’s drinking out of it with a straw?’ I asked.

‘Whatever, she’s sick,’ Lauren said. ‘So we’re definitely going to have to get something figured out sooner rather than later if we want her there.’

‘I think you’re going to have to do it this afternoon if you want her there,’ Sarah said with a frown, unable to take her eyes off the woman. Really, it was the most amazing hat.

‘How soon is soon?’ I asked. ‘New Year’s maybe? Next spring?’

‘Like, August?’ Lauren pulled up her shoulders in a faux wince.

‘That’s not that soon,’ I said, calculating on my fingers. ‘That’s fifteen months, totally standard.’

Lauren smiled with all of her teeth and an apology in her eyes. ‘Like, this August?’

‘This August?’ I asked. ‘As in three months from now?’

‘The first, actually,’ she confirmed, looking to me for support, but I had nothing. ‘It’ll be OK, right? Maddie?’

I stared blankly across the table. Two and a half months.

‘My dad said he’d pay for the actual wedding, and my mom is going it pay for my dress,’ she said, flipping her eyes between the two of us. ‘And I’m not doing some crazed pre-wedding diet that’s going to take six months, so that’s not a thing.’

‘People don’t plan their weddings so far in advance just so they can lose a few pounds,’ I said, deliberately not catching Sarah’s eye. We all remembered her pre-wedding diet. They were dark days. Dark, Slim-Fast-filled days. ‘It takes time to make the dress. The ones you try on are samples. Most designers make every dress from scratch when you order it.’

‘But you’ll be able to help me, right?’ she said with pleading eyes. ‘I just want it to be perfect.’

‘Of course I will,’ I replied automatically. ‘But if you want to organize a wedding in three months, you’re going to have to make compromises.’

Why did I suddenly feel like I was at work? Oh, that’s right, because my best friend had just hired me to pull together her wedding in three months and she was planning on paying mates’ rates, i.e. nothing.

‘It’s going to be fine. It’ll be awesome,’ she said. And she was smiling again, clearly having stopped listening to me halfway through. ‘I just know you’re going to help me have the perfect wedding. I‘ve done some research to help you. Do you think we could get the carriage they used at the royal wedding? They can’t be using it now, right?’

Before I could say anything, she reached underneath the sofa, pulled a giant powder-blue ring binder out of her tote bag and dropped it onto the table in front of me with a thud.

‘This is where I’m at so far,’ she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder, all business. ‘Do you want to go through it now or do you want to take it with you and get back to me later?’

‘I think I might take it with me,’ I said slowly, leafing through the pages. Vintage Rolls-Royces for the bridal party, Routemaster bus to take the guests to the reception, Monique Lhuillier, Vera Wang, Jenny Packham, fireworks displays, swans, doves, swing bands, pick-and-mix counter for the reception, chocolate fountain, champagne fountain, sherbet fountains … it was my all worst nightmares wrapped up in a best-friend bow. I wanted to help Lauren, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit sick. ‘You know, I might not be able to get all this for August.’

‘Of course you will,’ she said confidently. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘I mean, yes, I am,’ I agreed. ‘But putting this together this quickly is going to be a full-time job, and at last count I already have one of those.’

‘Can I get you anything at all?’ A waitress appeared at my elbow, pad at the ready.

‘Three champagnes please,’ Sarah said quickly. ‘Do you two need anything?’

Against all the odds, the party was fun. I made a deal with Lauren to keep Sarah away from her dad, and Sarah made a deal with me to keep a glass of champagne in her hand at all times. Thank goodness I’m used to managing conflict on a daily basis.

‘He is fit, though,’ Sarah said, leering at the aforementioned father from our new perch outside the marquee. ‘For an older man, I mean.’

‘He’s Lauren’s dad,’ I said as I looked over at the sixty-something-year-old man clutching the arse of his thirty-something-year-old second wife and gipped. ‘I just don’t get it.’

‘He’s a silver fox,’ she said, actually swooning as he flicked a hand over his far-too-luxuriant-for-my-liking grey locks. ‘Imagine all the things he could teach you.’

‘Like the current value of a shilling and what things were like “when he was a lad”?’

‘Piss off.’ Sarah slid her finger inside the top button of her silk blouse and pulled it away from her neck. ‘I bet he knows his way around a bed.’

I stuffed a piece of puff pastry into my mouth. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘Ladies, I’ve been thinking.’ Before Sarah made me actually vomit, Lauren dropped into the third chair around our little iron table and all sexual theorizing about our best friend’s father ended abruptly. ‘I’m so sorry about you and Steve. I feel as though messing around with all my wedding stuff is going to be difficult, given everything that’s going on, so if you don’t want to be “involved”, I completely understand.’

Sarah, half-cut and half awake, gave a loud sniff.

‘If I’d known, I never would have done that dumb dinner announcement thing.’ Lauren continued, crumpling her pretty face in a frown, and I knew she meant it − she was the most considerate person I knew. ‘I got carried away.’

Sarah smiled awkwardly and shook her head. ‘And you should be getting carried away − you’re getting married,’ she said, reaching out for Lauren’s hand. ‘Things are weird, yeah, but I want to be a help. I’m sorry if I’ve been weird.’

‘You haven’t been weird at all!’ Lauren said, dashing round the table to give Sarah a hug. ‘You’re going through something so awful, and this is shitty timing. If I could change it, I would, but with Michael’s grandma and all …’

I glanced over at the little old lady in the spectacular hat. The bottle of whisky in her lap was empty now, but the bottle of gin she’d moved on to looked fairly full so I assumed she was all right. And my own personal hero.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Sarah promised. ‘It’ll be better than fine. I’ll be fine and the wedding will be fantastic. Give me something to do − I’m always happiest when I’m busy.’

‘I hate to interrupt …’ Michael, never Mike, leaned over his new fiancée’s shoulder and squeezed her shoulder. ‘But my mum and dad are leaving.’

‘Congratulations, Michael,’ I said, beaming at the groom. ‘Now remember, if you break her heart, I’ll have to kill you.’

He stepped back and stared at me.

‘Why would you say that?’ he asked with big brown Bambi eyes. ‘And at our engagement party?’

No one could accuse Michael of being sharp enough to cut anything. He was very nice and clearly loved the shit out of my friend but I would never forget the time he was discussing films with Sarah and told us all he thought the sequel to Dumb and Dumber was the most underrated film of all time.

‘It was a joke,’ I said, looking to Sarah and Lauren for support and finding none. ‘I was just kidding.’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ he said, gripping Lauren’s hand tightly in his and pulling her away from the table to stand by his side. ‘And you’re supposed to be planning our wedding?’

‘Technically, I’m a bridesmaid,’ I replied. ‘I’m helping to plan the wedding. But I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘Such an awful thing to say,’ he said to Lauren. ‘You know I would never hurt you. Why would she say that?’

‘I know.’ Lauren narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about Maddie, she thinks she’s funny.’

‘I am funny, aren’t I?’ I hissed at Sarah, who shrugged in response.

‘Not as funny as he is,’ she replied. ‘But I don’t think he’s making me laugh on purpose.’

‘I’ll be over in a moment, honey,’ Lauren told her still horrified fiancé. ‘Don’t let them leave until I’ve said goodbye.’

He nodded dutifully and trotted back across the room long legs lolloping, with the look of someone who had just been told his puppy was terminal.

‘Sorry,’ I said, hanging my head in uncertain shame. ‘Sensitive, isn’t he?’

‘What about the bachelorette?’ Lauren suggested, ignoring me completely. ‘We haven’t been anywhere together in forever. We should do something just us girls.’

‘That could be fun,’ Sarah said, looking to me for confirmation. I nodded blankly, slyly checking my phone for a message from Will. Perhaps something along the lines of ‘top shag, will you marry me?’ but alas, nothing. ‘When do you want to go?’

‘Next month?’

‘Perfect. Maddie, what weekends are you working next month?’

‘Huh?’ I said, putting my phone away. ‘What weekends what?’

‘It’s not her fault she’s being stupid,’ Sarah said, batting me in the head with her clutch bag. ‘She’s all shagged out.’

‘Oh!’ Lauren blinked and clapped loudly. ‘Oh my God I forgot to ask you!’

‘Yes,’ I said, not wanting to make too big a deal out of my shagtacular night in front of Sarah. I had given her the briefest of details in an attempt to distract her from goosing Lauren’s dad at the buffet table earlier, but I had a feeling the soon-to-be divorced didn’t want to hear too much about their friend’s amazing one-night-stand at their other friend’s engagement party.

‘And?’

They both stared at me with expectation and it felt weird.

All I’d brought to the table for the last two years, relationship-wise, was how much I missed Seb, and now, out of nowhere, I was the centre of attention. Sarah was getting divorced, Lauren was getting married, I was the only one with shagging stories. Even though they were my best friends, I got the impression that they felt sorry for me sometimes. Having someone new, something promising to talk about, felt like a relief.

‘He’s … I don’t know,’ I said, confused and oddly shy. ‘I like him.’

‘Ooooh, you like him!’ Lauren did a little dance in her seat. ‘Are you bringing him to the wedding?’

‘I think it’s a bit early to be thinking about that,’ I scoffed.

It wasn’t too early. I had thought about it endlessly, ever since he’d left that morning.

Sarah stuffed a whole tomato and goat’s cheese bruschetta into her mouth as a waiter with a shocked face reeled from the drive-by food-snatching. ‘Tell us everything.’

‘His name is Will,’ I started.

‘Will what?’ Lauren asked.

‘Oh,’ I replied, cringing. ‘I don’t actually know.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s a lawyer!’

‘Oh.’ Lauren frowned. ‘Not another one.’

‘How do you know Will isn’t some amazing lawyer who works for a charity or saves children from sweatshops or stops make-up companies from testing lipsticks on rabbits?’ I asked.

‘Is he?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I know he’s a lawyer, I know he was Ian McCallan’s best man at the wedding yesterday, I know he likes to sleep on his left side and I know he likes to walk around my flat starkers in the morning.’

‘What does he look like?’ Lauren asked, tapping away at her phone while Sarah rolled her eyes.

Rude.

‘Dark hair but really, really short,’ I said. It felt strange talking about him like this as though he was someone I’d seen on TV, not someone real. ‘Nice smile, like, you just want to laugh every time you see it. Golden-brown eyes, great bod.’

‘Give me a comparison.’

‘Um, George Clooney before he went grey?’ I said. ‘Only English and without the gay rumours.’

Lauren squinted at me angrily. ‘George is married now! You’ve got to quit saying that shit.’

‘Elton John was married,’ I replied. ‘And he works in Holborn. And one of the ushers from the wedding really doesn’t like him.’

‘Yeah, well, he probably fancies you as well,’ Sarah said. ‘Men only ever fall out over women and football.’

‘Oh, he plays rugby! I know he plays rugby,’ I replied. ‘And the usher didn’t fancy me − he thought I looked like a fat panda, plus he’s engaged. Will says he’s a knobhead and I’m inclined to agree.’

‘Is this him?’ Lauren held up her phone to reveal an iPhone plus-sized photo of the man I’d been having sex with not three hours earlier.

‘Bloody hell, how did you do that?’ I asked, grabbing the phone out of her hand. I fancied him so much I could hardly stand to look at him.

‘Facebook? I put in Ian McCallan and the wedding photos came up. Ladies, meet Will Jennings. His profile is private but the dumbass who just got married still has his set to public.’

‘Maddie Jennings,’ I said. Online stalking was the best. ‘I like it.’

‘Have a minute,’ Sarah warned, balling up her napkin as she finished her food. ‘What happened last night?’

I didn’t know what to share. We’d snogged like teenagers, and as soon as we were through the door my knickers were round my ankles. It was such a long time since I’d felt anything for anyone, to feel so wanted and to want someone else so much was totally overwhelming.

‘Honestly?’ I asked. ‘You want the details?’

‘I do!’ Lauren squealed.

‘I mean, did you talk about seeing each other again?’ Sarah overruled. ‘Are you properly going out?’

‘Well it’s only been one night so far. Also, I don’t think people actually have the “are we going out together?” conversation in their thirties, Sarah,’ I said. As if I’ve got any idea what I’m talking about. ‘But yes, we did make plans. He said maybe Wednesday.’

‘Which one of these is the usher that fancies you?’ Lauren interrupted, waving a group shot from the wedding in my face.

‘This one.’ I took the phone and enlarged it to show Tom the Usher. ‘But he doesn’t fancy me, honestly − he was just awkward. It was a painful exchange.’

‘He totally fancies her,’ Sarah whispered to Lauren. ‘Let me see him.’

‘He’s kind of nice too,’ Lauren said, passing the phone around the table. ‘Is he a giant or something?’

‘He is ridiculously tall,’ I confirmed. ‘I think this one is his fiancée.’

I swiped through to the next page to show the bridesmaids, zooming in on the obscenely attractive blonde girl who I was fairly certain was called Vanessa.

‘Shit.’ Sarah leaned across the table along with Lauren to get a better look. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to look better than the bride on her wedding day.’

‘I’m putting the two of you in trash bags,’ Lauren muttered, tapping on the screen. ‘Tom Wheeler. Maddie Wheeler. I kind of like it.’

‘I wouldn’t change my name anyway,’ I said, going back to the picture of the groomsmen and staring at the screen. Gawky Tom on one end of the photo, laughing Will at the other.

‘What happened to Maddie Jennings?’ Sarah asked.

‘She went to prison for killing her best friend,’ I said, looking up for signs of more canapés and handing the phone back to Lauren. ‘Now, tell me more about these trash bags. I need to get them ordered.’

Being a bridesmaid can be hard work! But your bride chose you because she knows you’re the woman for the job. Use this space to remind yourself of your own unique qualities and why your bride can rely on you during this special time.

If you could be anyone, who would you be?

It’s taken me 31 years to find a pair of jeans that fit properly − I’m not starting that all over again. I’ll stick with myself.

If you had to choose between world domination or world peace, which one would you pick?

Would I still be in charge if I chose world peace?

Who or what inspires you?

Lorraine Kelly. Imagine getting up that early for that many years and still having a smile on your face.

What is the one thing you wish you could do if given the chance?

Not end up alone.

Where do you see yourself five years from now?

Still trying to answer this question.

7

Monday May 18th

Today I feel: Conflicted.

Today I am thankful for: Nurofen and Dolly Parton.

‘Maddie, can I talk to you for a minute?’

It’s not every Monday morning I’m yanked into the gents’ toilets by the head of HR, but I’m a curious soul so I went along with it.

‘Is something wrong?’ I asked while Matilda Jacobs checked to make sure all the stalls were empty. I wasn’t sure what would happen if they weren’t; what was the poor sod supposed to do, go to HR?

‘No,’ she replied, washing her hands. ‘It’s just that this is the only place we can talk without Shona listening.’

‘How have I never thought of this before?’ I wondered out loud. That was why they paid her the big bucks. ‘She’s not in today, though, it’s fine. What’s wrong? Why do we need to be Shona-proofed?’

Matilda was a decent woman. She’d been at the company almost as long as I had, only she’d started as the HR assistant and now she was head of the department. I’d started as Shona’s events assistant and I was now Shona’s events assistant. You can see how our career paths have not enjoyed the same trajectory.

‘You know we’re advertising Victoria’s job?’ she asked, folding her arms over her enormous bosoms. It was the only word for them. They were bosoms.

‘I do,’ I replied. ‘Actually, I’ve got a CV for you.’

‘So you are going to apply for it?’ Matilda’s eyes were as big as saucers. ‘That’s fantastic.’

‘Oh, no,’ I said, cutting off her enthusiasm. I had Sarah’s CV. As much as the idea of working with my best friend made me want to do a little sick, I could hardly refuse to help her out right now. ‘Wait, what? Why?’

‘Because Shona emailed me this morning and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to accept an application from you for the position,’ she said.

Shona. What a massive bastard.

‘Of course, I told her if you wanted to apply, we were legally obliged to put you through the process, the same as any other applicant.’

‘But I haven’t applied,’ I said, panic starting to rise. ‘I have a friend who wants to apply for the job. I’m not going to apply for it.’

‘Yes you are,’ Matilda replied. ‘I want a CV on my desk by the end of the day.’

‘No, really, it’s fine,’ I insisted. ‘I’m very happy doing what I’m doing now. The management side of things doesn’t interest me that much.’

Matilda stood very still, looked me square in the eye, and smiled.

‘Maddie,’ she said. ‘You’re being an idiot.’

I wasn’t sure that line came out of the HR best practice handbook. ‘I am?’

‘You are,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m not asking you to apply to be CEO. I’m asking you to apply for a job you have, to all intents and purposes, been doing for the last nine years. Only I’m asking you to do it for more money, better benefits and without reporting in to a woman who told the MD he couldn’t promote you because she was worried you were taking crystal meth. You didn’t hear that from me.’

‘I wondered who was leaving those rehab brochures in my pigeon hole,’ I breathed. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’

Matilda looked up at the polystyrene panels in the ceiling. ‘Victoria was a very good friend of mine and Shona is not my favourite person in the world.’

‘So it’s not because I’m really, really good at my job then?’ I asked, slightly deflated. Matilda replied with an expression I hadn’t seen since year ten maths class.

‘I’m not here to blow smoke up your arse, Maddie,’ she replied. ‘I’m here to do the best for the company. You should be applying for this job, bottom line. The fact that it will piss off a woman who gave me a six-month subscription to gay.com for my secret Santa last year is a happy coincidence.’

‘I didn’t know you were gay,’ I said.

‘Because I’m not,’ she replied. ‘She told me at the Christmas party that I give off a vibe and should probably get nice shoes if I didn’t want everyone to think I was a dyke.’

‘Classy.’ I’d missed that party because I was in the office sticking Swarovski crystals onto one hundred tealight holders for a winter wedding the following day. Good times.

‘You can email the CV or bring it over, whichever is less likely to cause a fuss. I know she monitors your emails.’

I did a double-take. ‘She does what?’

‘She reads your emails.’ Matilda nodded. ‘Technically all managers can read their employees’ emails, but Shona is the only one who takes advantage of the privilege. I think she’s also your next of kin according to your company pension, so let’s hope nothing happens to you before you get on the phone to Legal & General.’

‘Is that a joke?’ I asked as she pushed past me, folding her sleeve around her fingers to open the door.

‘The fact that you’ve got to ask is why you should apply for this job,’ she called back. ‘Do it now, Maddie.’

‘Morning, Maddie.’ Paul the Perv, deputy sales director, walked in as she walked out and gave me a wink. ‘Any particular reason you’re in the gents?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I said.

‘Let me be the first to welcome you,’ he said, unzipping and beginning to pee right next to me. ‘You’re welcome in here any time.’

‘Thanks, Paul,’ I said, heading straight for the door.

It’s just like they always say. You go nineteen months without seeing a single penis, and then two come along at once.

It should have been a relaxing couple of days. Shona was on an overnight with a PR, checking out some new hotels they were looking after so we could use them for future events, and I didn’t have anything especially pressing on my agenda. I was looking forward to getting some paperwork out of the way, finding a caterer for Lauren, maybe doing a little light online shopping and leaving dead on the dot of five-thirty.

I settled in to my ergonomically sound and bloody uncomfortable chair, cupped my mug of tea in one hand and opened my email to IM Sarah for advice on the job front. Only I couldn’t. HR wanted me to apply for a job that she wanted. She’d asked me if I thought she was in with a chance at Lauren’s engagement party and of course, I’d said yes. Because, according to the CV she had sent me that evening, she was definitely qualified for it. Plus she had more than enough on her plate with the Stephen situation. I’d never seen her so messed-up about anything; I didn’t want to make things more difficult for her. This definitely had to be an in-person conversation. I couldn’t talk to her about this on email.

Instead I clicked on Lauren’s name in the instant messaging bar, sent a dancing lobster and waited for her to respond.

‘You’ve got crabs????’ she typed immediately.

‘No, I haven’t got crabs,’ I replied. I’d know if I had crabs. Wouldn’t I? ‘I’ve got a work problem, I need some advice.’

‘Sounds like a Sarah problem TBH.’

Like I didn’t know that already.

‘I can’t ask Sarah, that’s why I’m asking you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t get offended,’ I typed as quickly as I could, one eye on Shona’s glass-walled office beside me. In some ways I preferred it when she was in there: at least then I knew where she was. Having her out and about was like knowing there was a spider somewhere in the flat but not knowing when it was going to jump out at you. ‘They’ve asked me to apply for a promotion at work but it’s the same job Sarah wants to apply for.’