The Bridesmaid Pact

Sarah

Had I known what Doris’s ‘treat’ for us was going to be, I’m not sure I’d have gone on her hen weekend. Bless Doris, with her understanding boyfriend who’d do anything for her and dippy but wonderful mum who babysits at the drop of a hat, she can never quite get that life for other people is slightly more complicated. All she has to do is flutter her eyelashes at Daz and he’s putty in her hands, so arranging a weekend away without the baby isn’t the major undertaking it is for me. Besides, she doesn’t have school runs to factor in. Having persuaded Steve that he owed me big time was an undertaking in itself. I didn’t directly want to broach the subject of why he owes me, because I couldn’t face the lies and self-justifications. Better let him fret a bit about what I knew or didn’t know rather than having a full-blown and ultimately meaningless confrontation about it. We’d been there too many times and I just didn’t have the energy to do it again.

So Steve agreed to ‘babysit’ his own children for the weekend. For all his other faults, Stephen is a good dad, when he can be persuaded to take time away from his precious office and pay any attention to the kids. I can’t take that away from him, and he hadn’t griped as much as I thought he would about me having a girlie weekend with my best friends. Or rather, my best friends barring one.

I knew I hadn’t behaved well when Dorrie opened the door and produced Caz. Beth was right. What happened was a long time ago, and maybe I should forgive and forget. But just seeing her again had churned up all my jealous hateful feelings and the white-hot anger that I had carried with me for years. Caz was supposed to be my best friend and she had betrayed me in the worst way imaginable. And although with hindsight and a much better knowledge of my husband’s behaviour, I could see her side of the story, it still didn’t take anything away from what she’d done. Whatever way you cut it, Caz had broken my trust and I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive her for that. Just seeing her again had been like reopening an old wound. A knife twisted in my stomach as I wondered, yet again, whether Steve had found her more sexy than me, whether he’d ever thought about whether he made the right choice. I know I did.

But this wasn’t my weekend to spoil, and I love Dorrie too much to want to ruin things for her. So when Beth and I met them, fresh from their trip up Space Mountain, I took a deep breath and said as casually as I could, ‘So, how’s it going then?’

Caz looked at me a little cautiously. I couldn’t blame her, seeing as I had snapped her head off earlier.

‘Er, OK,’ she said. ‘Still travelling the world, tarting up ungrateful models.’

‘Sounds a lot more fun than the school run and the washing,’ I said. Honestly, trying to make out her life was somehow dull and mundane, she had no idea how the real world operated. There were days when I’d give anything to be young, free and single again.

‘Well it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Caz said. ‘There are times when I live out of a suitcase, and generally speaking I see nothing of the country but a series of nameless hotels. It’s not that exciting.’

‘More exciting than my life,’ I said.

‘But you’ve got the kids, and Steve—’ she said, then wavered a little.

‘Oh yes, Steve,’ I said sweetly. ‘Yes, I have got him, haven’t I?’

An awkwardness hung between us, and Dorrie and Beth who’d been looking on nervously from the sidelines, both jumped in with ‘Let’s get some candyfloss’ (Beth) and, ‘I don’t care how old you are, we are all going to go and have our photo taken with Goofy, right now’ (Dorrie).

Dorrie grabbed my arm and Beth grabbed Caz’s and they manhandled us over to where a queue of children was patiently waiting to have their picture taken with Goofy. We were the only adults in the queue.

‘Dorrie, do we have to do this?’ Caz groaned. ‘I feel like such a dork.’

‘Me too,’ I said, and momentarily forgetting my animosity to Caz in the face of such mortification, I grinned at her. I’d forgotten this, how Caz and I always used to stand together against Dorrie’s battier ideas.

‘Yes, we absolutely do,’ said Dorrie in mock serious tones. ‘This is my weekend and you will do things my way. That is all.’

Beth giggled, ‘Dorrie, everyone else having their photo taken is about two foot tall. We’ll look ridiculous.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Dorrie. ‘We are having a picture with Goofy and that is that.’

So ten minutes later, we all stood posing like idiots next to Goofy. Dorrie of course had thrust her arm through his, but I refused point blank to let him put his arm round me. It was bad enough to be standing next to an adult dressed up as a cartoon character without having to be hugged by him. To make matters worse, Dorrie wanted thousands of pictures with him, ‘For posterity,’ she said. ‘I may never do this again.’

‘We certainly won’t,’ Caz muttered, and I couldn’t help grinning.

‘Isn’t this fun?’ Dorrie beamed as she got us to all link arms and stand in front of Goofy for a final photo. Caz and I studiously stood on either end as far apart as we could get.

‘Good, can we go now?’ I said as we broke up after the last shot. A huge crowd of toddlers was building up, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute.

‘Oh look, look,’ Dorrie waved madly, ‘it’s Mickey! Cooee, come and have your photo with us, Mickey.’

So we all stood in line again, this time having no choice but to link arms with Mickey and Goofy. I produced a series of contorted smiles as the endless torture went on.

‘Honestly, Dorrie, I’m going to kill you for this,’ I said.

‘But just think of the great photos we’re going to have,’ said Dorrie, beaming brightly. I have never known anyone be so positive as Dorrie – no wonder she loved all things Disney.

Finally the marathon photo session came to an end, and the poor beleaguered minder was able to hand back Dorrie’s camera.

‘Right, can we go now?’ hissed Caz. ‘I’ve had as much of this as I can take.’

Unfortunately, Goofy didn’t seem to think so and insisted that not only was hugging required, but kissing too.

‘Dear god,’ I said laughing hysterically as we finally made our way to the candyfloss stall. ‘I can’t believe I have just been snogged by a cartoon character.’

‘I told you it would be fun,’ said Dorrie, with self-satisfaction. ‘I so love it when I’m right.’

‘Oh, do shut up,’ we said. Suddenly it felt like old times. I glanced at Caz, wondering if she felt the same. Could we possibly reclaim our past after all?

‘So, are we still having fun?’ Dorrie had gathered us all, like the mother hen she was, and insisted we wait out a spring shower in a café crowded with families: small children darted here and there, toddlers screamed and were pacified with soothers and bottles. I had a pang of longing for my own family, at home without me. I knew the boys would love Euro Disney. I had a sudden fantasy of Steve and me finally sorting out our problems and coming here for a family celebration. Then dismissed it. That was never going to happen.

The café staff were evidently overrun, as the place was overflowing with plastic cups and plates which hadn’t been cleared away. I was beginning to get a headache, not helped by the endlessly cheery music. I’d only been here a day and already I was fed up with the place, longing to have a hot drink out of a proper mug, rather than a Styrofoam cup. And really, if I were being honest, I wanted to be at home with the children.

‘Yes, Auntie Dorrie,’ grinned Caz. ‘Honestly, we’re not your children, and we’re not Darren. You can talk to us like normal human beings, you know.’

‘Sorry,’ Dorrie looked shamefaced. ‘I don’t mean to go on, but you know how much I love everything Disney and I just want everyone to have a good time.’

‘It’s great,’ I assured her, lying through my teeth. The only other people apart from Dorrie who could have dragged me here were the children – I felt the familiar tug of my heart, the boys would have had a blast here. I’d have to promise them I’d take them to make up for leaving them behind for the weekend.

‘Good,’ beamed Doris. She was always happier when other people were happy. ‘So what do you all want to do tonight?’

‘Any chance we can escape into Paris?’ Caz said hopefully. ‘I know some great cafés in Montmartre.’

‘Caz, even you must know that’s not an option,’ laughed Beth. ‘I’m sure Dorrie is just being polite. What do you want to do tonight, Dorrie? After all, this is your weekend.’

‘Well, there’s a Wild West show in Disney Village,’ said Dorrie.

Caz groaned. ‘You are so not going to make us go to that, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s bound to be full of screaming five-year-olds.’

‘And what’s wrong with five-year-olds?’ I snapped, my longing to see the children leaving me slightly oversensitive. Beth shushed me, clearly not wanting to get in a row, but Caz just rolled her eyes.

‘We’ll go to the later version,’ said Dorrie, ‘and I promise there’ll be drink. And Sarah, no more texting.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. I’d been surreptitiously texting Steve on and off all day to see how he was getting on. This was the first time I’d ever been away from the kids for any length of time and I was missing them badly. I wasn’t, oddly enough, missing Steve. It was peculiarly restful not having to think about Steve, or us, or what I was going to do about the monumental mess my life was in.

‘So it’s agreed, then?’ said Doris. ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and then we can probably still have time to see the fireworks before the evening ends.’

A couple of hours later we were all sitting in hysterics around a barbecue as we watched a spectacular show. It started with two cowboys in a mock brawl, which was so convincing we nearly moved tables as they came crashing towards us. They moved on then to have fun with a bucking bronco, and on discovering it was Dorrie’s hen weekend, they insisted she had a go, much to her delight. The show wrapped up with songs from Annie Get Your Gun and Oklahoma!. It wasn’t what I’d have chosen to see, and despite my slight thawing earlier on, I’d still have preferred to have spent the evening without Caz, but I had had enough beer to begin to relax and enjoy myself.

At least Doris had let us give up our Minnie Mouse ears in favour of cowgirl hats. Caz had flirted with the bar staff enough to blag some extra drinks and the mood was mellow. The main thing was that Doris was having a great time. She had been uncharacteristically tense of late, and Beth and I had been worrying that she’d been holding out on us over something, but listening to her launch into some outrageous tale involving Darren, a condom and an embarrassing encounter with Darren’s mum, I felt she was relaxing into her old self once more.

‘So how are things?’ Caz had sidled round to my side of the table, while Doris and Beth were indulging in a giggling conversation with a French actor who called himself Rodeo Bill.

‘Fine,’ I said, thinking, If only you knew. There was a time when Caz knew everything that was going on in my head. Despite what she’d done to me, part of me still missed her friendship terribly.

‘Is that fine, as in “Everything’s great” fine, or fine as in “Shut up and leave me alone” fine?’

Damn Caz. She always could see right through me.

I picked away at a beer mat, unwanted tears suddenly springing to my eyes.

‘Everything’s fine, honestly,’ I said. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘No, no of course not.’ Caz looked sad when she said this. ‘You know, Sarah, if I could turn the clock back—’

‘Well you can’t,’ I said. ‘What’s done is done.’

‘And will I ever be forgiven?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘I don’t know, Caz,’ I said. ‘How would you feel if you were in my shoes?’

‘Point taken,’ Caz said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

She looked so forlorn I nearly took pity on her and told her the true state of my marriage, but somehow I couldn’t. That would mean acknowledging how wrong I’d been to trust him and not her.

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I said harshly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Caz said again. ‘Truly I am.’

‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’ I said. ‘Come on, this is Dorrie’s night. We shouldn’t spoil it for her.’

‘Fine by me,’ said Caz. She turned to Doris and Beth. ‘Is it time for fireworks yet?’

‘Lordy, is that the time?’ Dorrie said, giggling. Dorrie didn’t tend to do really drunk, but I was glad she was having a good time. She got up slightly giddily, and stumbled against the chair. She must have tripped over her feet because suddenly she was lying on her back on the floor looking up at us.

‘I didn’t realize you’d had that much to drink,’ I said laughing. ‘Honestly, Dorrie, what are you like?’

Dorrie didn’t say anything for a minute, then laughed and said, ‘I must have had more than I realized. Come on, pull me up.’

I leant over and helped her to her feet. There was a fleeting moment when I had the slightest of feelings that she wasn’t happy about something. But it was gone in an instant. Dorrie was on her feet and demanding to be taken to fireworks.

‘Then it’s back to my room to polish off the vodka I bought on the way,’ she said.

‘Fireworks then vodka, it is,’ I said, linking arms with her. Beth joined her on the other side, and then I was aware that Caz was hovering next to me. I still hadn’t forgiven her, but not to grab her arm seemed really churlish.

The four of us walked arm in arm back towards the park. Well we would have walked, but of course Dorrie insisted we dance and sing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’. I wondered if she really believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Knowing Dorrie, she probably did.

‘Isn’t this great?’ Dorrie smiled at us and squeezed my arm. ‘The Fab Four finally back together. This has been the perfect hen weekend.’

The Fab Four might have been together temporarily, but I couldn’t see it lasting. I had no plans to see Caz again, whatever Dorrie might have thought. Too much water had gone under the bridge. Caz might be sorry, but for me, it was too late.

Chapter Four

Doris

‘Welcome to Disney’s Fantallusion!’ the audio recording boomed out as we stood in the chilly March night air waiting for the fireworks. We’d missed the start of the parade, but were just in time to see the brightly lit floats carrying all the Disney characters from Jasmine and Aladdin to Belle and the Beast into the Central Plaza and up towards the Town Square. Jasmine and Aladdin’s carpet actually flew, and Belle and the Beast did a majestic waltz. It was glitzy and tacky and I didn’t care one bit. I was like a pig in clover.

This was why I’d come, for the delicious feeling of it being night and the place being brightly lit and all my favourite Disney characters dancing on great big fuck-off platforms. It reminded me of when Dad took me to Florida every year, and made me feel like a kid again: warm, safe and secure. There was something about the memory of those trips that made me yearn for a more innocent time, when I really did believe in a happy-ever-after. As usual, when I thought about Dad, and remembered the way he used to squeeze my hand, and say, ‘Look, kiddo, is that the best or what?’ whenever a particularly big rocket went off, I got a lump in my throat. I still missed him so badly, I could almost hear his voice in my head. I hadn’t wanted him to die, but neither had I wanted him to live the way he had been living.

The place was buzzing with families, huddling together for warmth. There were masses of excited children rushing around in the dark, small children trustfully holding their parents’ hands, just like I had on that long-ago childhood trip. Mind you, judging by the wails of some of the younger ones, they were ready for their beds. I felt a pang and thought about Woody, my eight-month-old. Tonight was the first night I hadn’t put him to bed since he was born, and I missed his baby smell, and his chubby cheeks and the way he cooed when I poured water over his head in the bath. I loved the way he clapped his hands and played peek-a-boo under the blankets. Woody had brought joy back into my life, during a time when I thought I’d never feel happy again. When he was bigger, I’d have to come back with him and Darren. If I were still able to of course. I shoved the thought from my mind. I’d promised myself no negativity this weekend. None. Whatsoever. It wasn’t allowed.

‘Fantallusion?’ Beth rolled her eyes. ‘What kind of word is that?’

‘Does it matter?’ I said. ‘Isn’t this fun?’

‘No!’ the other three said in unison. ‘We only came because you wanted to.’

‘You have to admit, Do, it is incredibly tacky,’ said Caz.

‘Says the girl who got married in a Las Vegas wedding chapel,’ I retorted. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of tack. You lot ought to know me well enough by now. Talking of which, why aren’t you all wearing your flashing Minnie Mouse ears?’

‘If this wasn’t your weekend, I think I might have to kill you,’ said Caz, but she put on her ears anyway. And afterwards, even Caz had to admit we’d been treated to the most fabulous firework display any of us had ever seen.

When it was over, we slowly made our way back through the crowds to our hotel. It had been a good call to be staying so close to the park; apart from the obvious pleasure of staying in a Toy Story-themed bedroom, I was grateful not to have to walk too far. I tired so easily these days. Darren hadn’t wanted me to come, of course, but I had laughed off his concerns. Nothing, but nothing was going to ruin my hen weekend with the girls.

‘I hadn’t realized you were that pissed,’ Caz laughed at me as I stumbled and fell for the second time, as we reached the entrance of the park.

‘Must be out of practice,’ I said. ‘I’ve had nine months off, remember. And I don’t go out that much any more.’

If only I were pissed. If only things were that simple.

We got back to my room, raided the minibar and were soon all sprawled out on the massive double bed having a general gossip session. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. It did me so much good to be with the Fab Four. It always had done. Ever since we first met and I called us by that name.

I’d just moved to Northfields. Mum had got a job on a soap in London, while Dad was able to take up a research post at a London university, and it was convenient for town. They both wanted me to go to school in the UK, because Mum didn’t want me growing up with an American accent and Dad preferred the academic rigour of the English education system. They could have afforded to send me private, but it went against their principles and they wanted me to go to a Catholic school, which is how I ended up at St Philomena’s primary school, sitting next to Beth McCarthy, who wore dark plaits, had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and who barely ever said anything, just sat there chewing her pen. It didn’t matter to me though, like I was always telling her, I could talk enough for the both of us.

Beth, Sarah and I went to Brownies together, so soon I found myself playing with them on a regular basis. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sarah was easy and confident, in a way that Beth wasn’t, and I liked her instantly. But I was always conscious of another scraggy-looking dark-haired girl with the palest face and dark circles round her eyes, hovering angrily on the fringes, refusing our offers to play and yet never quite being able to tear herself away. That was Caz. She’d known Sarah forever and was jealous of me to begin with, I think. But I made her laugh, and over time she realized I really was no threat. I just wanted to be friends with everyone. Still do.

‘So, how are the wedding plans going?’

‘Great,’ I said, in reply to Caz, who had asked the question casually, from the edge of the bed, even now acting like the outsider. My heart ached for her. I wish she could give up on some of that stubborn pride and realize that none of us hated her, not even Sarah. Not really. In fact it was Sarah’s confession to me about the way things were between her and Steve which had made me determined to have Caz here. I’ve always thought it stupid for two women to allow a man to come between their friendship. Particularly when it’s a worthless one like Steve.

‘Are you keeping up the Disney theme?’ Caz said – she was the only one who wasn’t privy to all my plans.

‘What do you think?’ Sarah grinned. I shot her a grateful look, I knew how hard this was for her and she was at least trying. ‘She’s going for the whole Cinderella-getting-married thing. If it were up to Doris she’d even have a pumpkin carriage.’

‘Believe you me, I tried,’ I said. ‘It’s the only thing you can’t apparently buy on eBay.’

‘So what are your bridesmaids going to be wearing then?’ Caz asked.

There was an awkward pause and no one said anything.

‘What? What have I said?’ asked Caz.

Beth looked at me and blushed and then lowered her eyes again.

‘I’m not having bridesmaids,’ I said.

‘What?’ Caz looked at me in disbelief. ‘But…but…Bridesmaids. Getting married. The Bridesmaid Pact. I mean that’s your thing. I know the rest of us have cocked it up, but I just assumed you wouldn’t.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Sarah cattily. ‘The rest of us didn’t cock it up. Besides, if Doris has any sense she’d never invite you to be her bridesmaid. You only bring trouble.’

‘Oh that’s right, rub it in,’ said Caz. ‘Isn’t it possible that a person can change?’

‘You tell me?’ The hostility that had been bubbling under the surface all evening suddenly burst out into the open, to my utter dismay. I’d so hoped Caz and Sarah could sort things out. As ever, I was too optimistic. Darren’s always telling me my chief failing is that I look for the best in people and situations. Maybe some hurts can never heal.

‘Girls, girls,’ I said clapping my hands, and trying to lighten the mood, ‘that’s exactly why I can’t have any bridesmaids. I don’t want it to be pistols at dawn at the altar. If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you. So there are going to be no bridesmaids at my wedding. End of.’

Caz opened her mouth and shut it again, rendered for once in her life speechless.

‘Don’t all gawp at me,’ I said. ‘You should be grateful. You should have seen the dresses I was planning to make you wear.’

Caz

August 1996

Billy Idol was screaming out it was a nice day for a white wedding, which seemed appropriate in a bar in Las Vegas. I couldn’t resist the craving for the next drink, though I knew I needed it like a hole in the head.

‘Oi, Charlie boy, gezza ’nother drink.’ I was aware vaguely in some dim dark recess in my brain that I’d probably had enough and I was definitely slurring my words. The sensible thing would be to go to bed right now. Call it a day with these very nice and fun-loving work colleagues with whom I’d spent the last couple of days bonding in Las Vegas on the first solo photo shoot of my career as a make-up artist. But my sensible head never won over my drunken one.

‘What are you on again?’ Charlie looked in about as good shape as I was. He had wandered up to the bar. He turned to look at me as he said this, and leaned rather nonchalantly against the bar. He missed, narrowly avoiding smashing his chin before righting himself.

‘Vodka and coke,’ I said, giggling hysterically. Our companions, Charlie’s boss Finn, and Sal, the PA to the spoilt model whose photos we’d all been involved in taking for the past couple of days, were nuzzling up to each other in one of the deep-red heart-shaped sofas that littered the bar. It had not been a very well kept secret that they were shagging the pants off each other, despite Finn’s heavily pregnant wife at home. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. I was no angel, it’s true, but shagging someone who was hitched with a baby on the way seemed like a complication too far to me. I wondered if he was worth it. Then, looking at his rugged, wrinkled face, I decided he wasn’t. Finn must be nearly twenty years older than Sal. What on earth did she see in him?