No One Wants to Be Miss Havisham

She watched as the dance continued, her breathing increasing in time with young Edie’s. The anticipation that she knew she’d felt as she danced closer to her quarry; the unsuspecting Tom, who was leaning against one of the marquee poles. He was surveying the dancers whilst surreptitiously drinking a stolen glass of champagne.

“Hi…” young Edie croaked out as she wriggled in front of him. It really did look like she was trying to shed a too tight skin.

He hadn’t heard her.

“Hi!” she shouted.

It reached every corner of the marquee. Trust the damn DJ to cut the song for one of those shout back moments. Heads whipped round to look at her.

“Er… hi,” he replied uncomfortably. He took another swig of champagne. His eyes were desperately looking round for escape; or was it to check he hadn’t been seen with alcohol?

“Can I have some?” the teenage girl asked and the watching woman’s stomach knotted in synch.

“Well, you’re a bit young to be drinking,” he said, worried.

“I’m old enough! I’ve drunk champagne loads of times!” Twice at least and then only a sip from her Dad’s glass at New Year but this was Tom. She was going to lie, wasn’t she?

He looked at her, unconvinced.

“Walk away. Walk away,” whispered older Edie.

Oh God, it was like watching a car crash about to happen and having no way of stopping it.

“Come on, outside,” he said as he looked round and snagged the whole champagne bottle and sauntered out.

The teenage Edie glowed.

It made the older Edie shiver; she had never seen that look on her face before.

It was the look that Mel had when she looked at Barry. What her parents had once had. Even drippy Rachel had looked like that. Lit from inside with the wonder that was love. But what she saw on her teenage face was even purer.

This was first love.

It was an effing disaster.

She lunged at herself. Her hands went straight through her own arms.

“We’ve got to stop her! I mean me!" she said.

“This is your past. You can’t change the past,” the Spirit said as she twirled gently to the music on the dance floor, making her skirt rustle.

“But she is going to be devastated. Mortified. For years she is not going to be able to look at champagne, never mind drink it. Or rather I won't." Edie was desperate and confused.

She had to stop herself from making this mistake. Again.

“You can’t change the past,” repeated the Ghost.

“Well I’m going to try!” she said.

She hurried across the dance floor, the dancers somehow avoiding her as if a force field surrounded her.

Her stomach felt as if it were round her ankles. Her skin flushed and then paled as she remembered; it crawled in repulsion at her stupidity. She’d relived it time and time again, woken up sweating on many nights. She couldn’t go through it again.

She burst out of the marquee into the deep dark night. The stars scattered across the sky, twinkling down, winking at her. Was the whole world laughing at her?

“Ow!” she heard a muffled shout.

It was beginning… her teenage self had just tripped over the guy rope to the marquee. If she turned around she would see herself. Her dress would’ve flown up and she’d be sprawled across the ground.

She turned.

Yes, there she was.

And she really had shown her knickers to the world.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” young Edie said, voice high and squeaky.

“Give me your hand,” Tom said putting down the stolen bottle.

He held out a hand and hauled her up.

Old Edie had to stop this.

“Edie!” she shouted, “Edie, go back inside!”

No one answered.

She jogged over to the teenage couple and tried to grab young Edie’s arm. It passed straight through as if she were a ghost.

“You’re only a visitor here,” the small muffled voice came from the vicinity of her elbow.

“Really?” She was getting annoyed. “Well if that is the case where did you get the sausage roll?”

The Spirit gave a fake smile as she carried on eating the stolen sausage roll, then turned back to the couple in front of them.

“Oh dear”

Edie looked up.

Young Edie was attempting to pout sexily whilst leaning against a tree. It was less a pout and more a scowl.

And it was just about to get much worse.

“So can I have a drink then?” Edie junior croaked.

She really hadn’t purred in the sexy way she had thought.

“Have you got a cold or something? Because I’m not having your germs!” Tom asked.

“No,” she coughed. “No, I’m fine. No germs, honest.”

No germs. Nothing contagious. Because it isn’t like you can catch stupidity, the older Edie thought.

Tom passed over the bottle of champagne and young Edie took a large swig from it.

The watching woman’s nose itched in sympathy as the bubbles hit the teenager and started her sneezing.

“You have got a cold! Sheesh, Edie! I’ve got my exams coming up I can’t be ill!”

“No! It was the bubbles. I’m really OK.” She spluttered.

For a few minutes they stood sharing the bottle, passing it back and forth. The memory of that night came back to Edie and she remembered her mind had been racing like a hamster in a wheel trying to think of something witty to say. And how the champagne was acidic on her stressed stomach, making it roil queasily.

“Hey Tom!”

And suddenly there was Justin, and Edie was now the third wheel.

The relief on Tom’s face was just as hard to see a second time.

“Champagne! Good one! Hand it over, Dick!” Justin swaggered up.

Both Edie’s top lips curled at the offensive contraction of her surname. But the younger one silently gave up the bottle.

“Ciggie?” Justin expertly tapped out a cigarette from a pack he conjured up from his pocket.

Tom took one like a proper smoker and then the pack was in front of Edie.

“Don’t do it,” she whispered. Please let this young Edie make a different choice. “Don’t do it.” Her hand was at her mouth.

The teen reached out and inexpertly took a cigarette. It looked awkward in her straight fingers, the tube of tobacco too near the palm.

A flame erupted from the Justin's lighter and the two boys leant forward and lit their cigarettes.

Teen Edie leant forward, the cigarette trembling in her hand.

The sudden smell of burnt hair and hairspray fought with the jasmine.

“Silly mare, you’ll go up in flames!” Tom pulled her back and peered through the gloom at her fringe.

“You’ve taken off at least an inch. Here, take mine.”

Tom passed over his cigarette and took Edie’s unlit one; which he soon had lit.

The larger Edie groaned.

“That bad, huh?” the little Ghost whispered mesmerised by the scene, the half-eaten sausage roll was hovering by her mouth.

Bad? The worst was just a few drags away.

The glowing end of the cigarette wavered as she brought it up to her mouth. The teenage Edie sucked on it quickly and coughed out the smoke immediately.

“Have you never done this before?” Justin asked.

“Of course I have,” she spluttered.

“Yeah right! Well you’re supposed to inhale,” he said and proceeded to demonstrate.

Edie lifted the cigarette again. This time she inhaled.

The memory of the acrid smoke filling her mouth and then her lungs came burning back to her as she watched. Older Edie knew the moment when her teen body rebelled against all the abuse. Her older body tried to relive the memories as she watched herself experience them.

The terror from the lack of oxygen and her dizzy head added to the roiling stomach from tension and champagne. The eyes became wide with the dawning horror that the old saying ‘better out than in’ was about to play out. The sheer panic as her body convulsed, sides aching.

And then came the eruption.

All over Tom’s shoes.

Mortification flooded both of Edie’s bodies.

“Ahh man! That is gross!” cried Justin.

Bent over, all the young Edie could do was throw up again and again, tears dripping from her nose until they were the only liquid left for her to expel.

She had wanted the earth to swallow her up then and there. Even all these years later she would happily wish for it again. She watched as Justin backed away in disgust. Hadn’t Tom gone as well?

But he hadn’t. She didn’t remember him staying. She watched open mouthed as she saw Tom hesitantly raise his hand and slowly rub her young back in sympathy.

He’d rubbed her back?

Dumbfounded, the older Edie watched. How come she had never known that he’d stood there rubbing her back? She would’ve known surely.

“Go away!” rasped the teen.

And he went.

Edie looked at herself. The bedraggled vomit sprayed hair, the green white face with black streaks from too much mascara, which had now been cried off.

“Take me home,” she turned to the ghost. “I’ve learnt whatever you wanted me to. I’ll agree to anything just let me go home.”

The flower girl looked up at her pityingly.

Pity. Edie cringed. She wasn’t pitiful, goddammit.

“There are a few more things you have to see,” the Spirit said solemnly.

“No!”

“No?” the Spirit raised an eyebrow.

“No. N.O. I’ve had enough of this circus, I want to go home to my own bed.”

“Oh you’ll be lying in your own bed soon enough, wrapped in a chain,” the Spirit retorted.

A small sprinkle of pink glitter fell from its fingers.

Edie shuddered.

Not the pink glitter.

She caved.

“OK, your way then,” she sighed.

Chapter 6

Another fade out. And then fade in.

Another wedding reception, she recognised the Little Hanningfield village hall again. Green and white bunting and streamers covered the walls and the ceilings. Lights flashed as the disco played on the small stage at one end, the stage that had held the annual nativity play but now played host to a middle aged man who was dad dancing behind the decks.

Tables at the other end were groaning with a buffet of pork pies, sausage rolls, cheese and pineapple hedgehogs and sandwiches, punctuated by bowls of crisps.

The hall was full of people either hanging round the food or in the middle of the floor, dancing. They were dressed in the style people had worn when she was at university.

The she caught sight of herself, happily dancing with Mel. Her hair was much longer, her face smiling. Glowing with hope and ideals.

“This was Justin Douglas’ wedding,” she said, remembering, “It was my final year at uni. Mel and I were invited for the evening do. She said it was the wake of our childhood dreams. She had still been hoping Justin would marry her."

She smiled as she watched herself twirling Mel around wildly by the hand, neither of them caring about the boys who were circling them on the dance floor.

“We were so happy that summer. We’d got jobs at the local pub.” Her foot tapped along to the beat of the song. “We thought we could rule the world.”

She missed the certainty that everything would somehow come out right. She didn't know why, she already knew by then that life wasn't fair.

And then she saw him. He was just coming through the door. Tom. He was taller than he'd been at his brother's wedding and his shoulders had filled out from the rowing she knew he’d taken up at Oxford. His hair was longer and not suppressed by hair gel. The curls and ringlets were spiralling onto his forehead.

The older Edie smiled. She looked at her younger self who was twirling, oblivious to the look of admiration that was written on his face as he watched her. She'd never known he'd looked at her like that. As if struck by a thunderbolt and as though he suddenly saw her for the first time.

"He looks smitten. A smitten kitten," the flower girl said smugly. Edie could feel herself blush like a teenager.

"Don't be silly." She wanted to nudge the little girl with her elbow and then tell her more about how this beautiful boy loved her. Or had loved her.

"He told me that this night was when he fell for me." She watched as her student self stopped twirling, looked up and saw Tom watching her. His face was neutral by then, he'd hidden the look that her older self had seen earlier behind a mask. Maybe if she'd seen his face that night things would've been different?

"You really think just seeing the smitten kitten look would've stopped everything that followed?" the ghost raised an eyebrow and looked at her dubiously.

"It might've done." Edie lied to herself.

The ghost tutted and shook her head as if Edie was a hopeless case.

Edie watched as Tom came walking towards her past self and Mel.

She hadn't thought about it in years. The way her heart had stuttered when she realised that Tom had finally noticed her. The way he’d brushed past Mel, just like he was doing now. The way Mel started to laugh, startled by his single mindedness. The way he'd grasped Edie’s hand. The way her entire world, at that moment, became focused on only him. She couldn't catch her breath. She thought she’d faint.

Older Edie felt a faint echo of that feeling rush over her.

"You really need to work on that sexy look," the little Ghost had her face scrunched up in disgust as she watched the scene.

Edie had to agree; love really must be blind because her student self resembled a goldfish. But she glowed. How she glowed.

And then the music slowed.

"This was our first dance," Edie felt dreamy, she watched as Tom grabbed her hand and drew him to her. "And this was our song."

She remembered her heart racing in double, even triple time to the music. She'd worried that her palms would be sweaty and he'd run away in disgust.

But the words of the song wound round her, heartbreak, regret and lost love. She shivered. Their story had been foretold in that song if only she'd listened to the words.

"Bit depressingly true to life don't you think?" the Ghost piped up.

Edie wondered if damnation was preferable to listening to snarky asides from a pint sized pot of ectoplasm.

"Don't even think it." The wise old eyes of the flower girl stared up at her fiercely. Edie quickly held her hand up and shook her head, backing down.

She looked back at the dance floor. Tom's hands were holding her younger self closely; she had her head tucked into his shoulder. She’d always fitted perfectly in that space, as if it had been specially made for her.

What if? She thought as she watched him bend his head.

If only, she sighed as she saw their first kiss.

Tears welled up, her heart felt as if it would break all over again. They'd lit up that dance floor with their love; it had been perfect.

She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers, burning away all the yearning she'd had for years into a perfect moment. The way her body had wanted to merge with his.

"Oi you two, get a room." The drunken groom came barrelling into them and tore them apart. “Hey, what you snogging Dick for?” Justin screeched with laughter but Tom had grabbed her and held her close.

"I get it." The older Edie could feel the tears burning on her cheeks. "I should never have broken up with Tom. You need to understand it was…"

"No, Edie," the Ghost stamped her foot. "You need to understand. This isn't about being with this boy or that man. This is about you and your choices."

"I get it, I need to make better choices. Can I go back now?" She wanted to go home and curl up in her bed and cry for her old self. Tears for the girl on the dance floor. Where had she gone?

"Not yet. You need to see one more thing."

"But I…" Edie wracked her brain for another wedding. There were so many going back over the years. From the bright primary colours of her teens, gradually fading to pastel and then grey in her memories. The fun was sucked out of them until it was all just ashes in her mouth.

The spirit grabbed her hand and with a lurching twist and turn they moved location.

A restaurant, a familiar restaurant with people dressed in the fashion of the last decade or so. She wondered absently how anyone had ever thought it had looked good.

“This was Tom’s and mine favourite restaurant,” she said confused. “This is where we celebrated our first jobs,” she spun round looking at the place. “But I don’t understand? There hasn’t been a wedding here. Or at least I’ve never been to a wedding here.”

When was the last time she'd been here? Not since they'd broken up. At first it had been too difficult. She snorted, as she realised she had been about to say 'it had been too full of ghosts.' And then she had put all thoughts of Tom and her life with him in a box in her mind, shut it tight and carried on.

Never let the bastards see you cry.

The Ghost beckoned her to the far corner without speaking. And there in the shadows at the back, at the most intimate table was Tom. A grown-up Tom, the age he’d been when they were last together.

Blond hair ruthlessly held down and cut short to eradicate the curls he hated but she'd loved. His face was not the boy who had rubbed her back or the face of the student who'd kissed her at a wedding but the face of the man she had lived with, loved.

“But…I don’t understand” she whispered. “I’m not going to have to watch him cheat on me or anything, am I?” She recoiled at the thought.

“Never have I had a client so completely blind,” the Ghost said. “Of course he didn’t cheat on you. You were the one doing the cheating." she looked disgusted, as though Edie was failing a test.

“I never even looked at another man." Edie said. She wanted to throw something at the Spirit for saying it. "I know what cheating does to people." She shuddered as she thought back to her mother and the fact that she never smiled the same way since Dad left.

“There is more to cheating than being with another man. You cheated on him with your job, your time, your attention until there was nothing left of you for him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said.

“Wasn’t it?” the Ghost countered. She gestured back to Tom.

Edie looked. She didn’t remember this night. Not in this corner. Not with Tom wearing that dark suit that had been tailored to show his leanness, the lining a sedate navy. The light blue shirt made his eyes glow, or was that something else? And that was the tie she had bought for him the last Christmas. Well she hadn’t actually bought it. One of the secretaries had. But he'd loved it and that was what mattered, wasn't it?

There was a bottle of champagne chilling, unopened beside him. She saw the yellow label. They had always said they would only drink that brand for truly special occasions, she remembered. There was a little bunch of her favourite tulips in reds and oranges on the side plate of the place setting opposite him. But this had never happened. Was this some sort of fantasy? Her mind was conjuring up a scene where everything turned out right; it was taunting her with what could've been.

She watched as Tom craned his neck every time the door to the restaurant opened and someone new came in. She saw the way his eyes lit up as the door jangled and how they died a little when it wasn’t the person he expected.

For forty-five minutes she watched. And with each minute his shoulders slumped a little more. She sat at a table nearby, rubbing her chest, which ached more with each drop, with each bit of light that faded in his eyes.

“Would sir care to order?” a waiter would ask every five minutes.

“No, I’ll wait,” he assured him.

And as time went on the waiter’s attitude changed to one of pity.

Who the hell had the audacity to stand him up? Just look at him! She thought.

His phone rang and even the shock of seeing how phones had changed didn’t disturb her as much as the thought he’d been left alone.

“I hope he gives the silly cow what for,” she said, "I mean look at all the trouble he went to."

“Shug, where are you?” his face bright and eager.

Shug.

That was his name for her, short for ‘sugar’ because he said she was as sweet as it. It tugged at her heart and exploded in her brain.

She was the one he was waiting for.

“Not going to make it at all?” his face fell. No, it crumpled. His whole body seemed to curl in on itself. Like the air had been let out of him.

“No, no I understand. Your work is important and if Hilary needs you to stay, you have to. Yes, I know how much she’s done for you. I’ll see you at home. I lo…” he winced at the sound of a dropped phone, which even Edie could hear from where she sat.

“I love you.” He whispered to the dialling tone.

Edie’s vision blurred.

“Would sir like to order?” the pitiful gaze of the waiter was again on him.

“Yeah, I’ll have a double gin and tonic and take back the champagne. We won’t be needing it.”

As Tom stared dejectedly at the table his hand crept to his right hand pocket. Dipping in, he brought a small object up to the table.

A small, black velvet ring box.

No. Edie’s stomach flexed like it had taken a prize fighting punch.

He flipped the lid and there nestled on white satin was the most perfect ring she had ever seen. Small and discreet, not expensive or showy but it wouldn’t have mattered because it would’ve have come from Tom and that was enough.

“No,” she mouthed.

“What was so important that you forgot it was your anniversary of your first kiss? What was so urgent that you couldn't make time for him? What blinded you to your life that you didn’t know that Tom was going to propose?” The Ghost was implacable. Each question fell on Edie like physical blows.

“But we were busy, the Agnew divorce was complex and it was all hands to the pump. It was that work that got me the promotion. Hilary, Ms Satis, she told me I had to focus. That work would never let me down, that it wouldn’t cheat on you. And he knew I wanted to do well. Always be the best you can be, he knew that. But he never said. If he’d said…” she faded out.

“If he’d said that would you have come?” the Ghost asked.

Would she? Would she have wanted to be married so young? She wasn’t sure. Maybe a few years before she would have but then… then she was clawing her way up the ladder and getting married would have gotten in the way.

“We could have had a long engagement?” she said hopefully.

“Edie, you cheated on him. And you cheated on yourself. And you still are."

And with a twirl of flowers and pink glitter the Ghost, Tom, the perfect ring and Luigi’s restaurant vanished.

Edie was alone at last in her cold and empty bed.

Chapter 7

Sunlight streaked in the window and struck Edie in the eye. It had drawn its bow and unleashed it right on target.

She groaned. She felt like she’d drunk a crate of wine and then gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. What had happened?

The scent of jasmine, sweet pea and roses was still in the air.

The Ghost.

Edie sat bolt upright in bed.

A Ghost had visited her, just as Jessica had promised. This was actually happening. She started to shake. People like her didn’t get haunted. In much the same way people like her didn’t turn into vampires or go to séances. It just wasn’t done.

There was no logical reason she could come up with to explain it, though. Even if someone had managed to invent some sort of very high-end interactive experience it couldn’t explain what happened. There were things that were shown to her last night that no one else could have known.

She was going mad.

She stopped shaking.

Yes, she was going mad. That was much easier to deal with than hauntings. Obviously she was overworked and needed a good rest or something. Or some pills. Maybe an extended stay at a health farm. Odd that being mad made her feel better. As if she'd regained some control.