The Bridesmaid Pact

‘But, how about we try to sort out our differences enough for us to give Doris the wedding she deserves?’

‘What do you mean?’ I said.

‘Eighteen years ago we made a vow. And we’ve failed dismally to keep it so far,’ said Caz. ‘So I think for Doris’s sake, it’s time we actually fulfilled the Bridesmaid Pact.’

Chapter Six

Sarah

‘Good day at work?’ Steve wandered in to the kitchen where I was wrestling with the grill pan which had mysteriously got so filthy it had burst into flames when I’d grilled sausages for the boys’ tea. William had been so terrified it had taken me about half an hour to calm him down, while his older brother Sam had laughed him to scorn. Sam was a budding pyromaniac and I was slightly concerned he might have picked up a tip or two. William was watching TV in the den – it made me smile to think that as an adult I had managed to gain a den, when, thanks to Dorrie, I craved one so much as a child; ironic how little happiness it now gave me – and Sam was struggling with homework involving him writing sentences about going to the park.

‘So-so,’ said Steve. He gave me a perfunctory peck on the cheek. It was an action quite without affection, but he always kissed me when he came in the door. He smelt of booze. Great. He’d obviously been having another ‘business’ lunch. Lord knows what business they actually did at those lunches. It never ceased to amaze me how Steve kept down his job as a financial advisor. But he was a smooth operator, and even in these dicey financial times, he always seemed to come up smelling of roses.

‘What’s for tea?’ he asked, going to the fridge and opening a can of beer.

‘Sorry, I haven’t got there yet,’ I said. I’d barely sat down since picking the kids up from school. We’d rushed straight to the swimming pool after school, then I’d called in on Steve’s mum who’d been in her usual panic about unpaid bills. When Steve’s dad was alive he’d dealt with all the paperwork, and even though he’d been dead for five years now, Maggie still couldn’t get to grips with it. While I was there she’d let slip something that had un settled me rather.

‘Did you have a nice time when you were away, dear?’ she said, once I’d established that she didn’t need to write a cheque for her council tax as she paid it by direct debit, and her gas wasn’t going to get cut off because she was a week late paying her bill. I hadn’t seen Maggie since before going to Euro Disney three weeks earlier, as Steve and I had booked a week in Center Parcs with the kids over the Easter holidays. I wondered afterwards why we’d gone. The boys had had a great time, but Steve barely spoke to me for the whole time we were away.

‘Yes it was great, thanks,’ I said. ‘And Steve did a brilliant job with the kids. I couldn’t believe how tidy the house was when I got back.’

‘Well, they weren’t there that much of course,’ said Maggie. ‘They came to me for their tea on Saturday, and of course, they were out all day on Sunday.’

‘Oh?’ I said. Odd. The kids hadn’t said anything about going out for the day, nor about having tea at Maggie’s. ‘That’s nice, guys. Did Daddy take you on a treat?’

‘We went to the zoo and I had an ice cream and saw a gorilla,’ said William proudly.

‘Shhh!’ Sam furiously dug William in the ribs. ‘You know you weren’t supposed to say anything about that.’

‘Why not?’ My heart lurched suddenly. Why was Steve keeping secrets from me, and getting the kids to lie?

‘We met Daddy’s friend and he said you wouldn’t like it,’ said William.

‘I bet he did,’ I said grimly. This was it, the moment that I’d been dreading for months. I’d suspected Steve was cheating on me again, but he’d laughed at my suspicions. Now I knew he was definitely up to something fishy. But getting the kids to lie to me. That was below the belt, even for Steve.

‘Oh dear,’ Maggie flapped about looking uncomfortable. ‘Have I said something I shouldn’t?’

Maggie had many faults, not least her inability to manage her domestic affairs without our help, but she was pretty astute about her son. I’d never told her Steve had cheated on me, but from things she’d said over the years, I was pretty sure she knew.

‘No, of course not, Maggie,’ I smoothed things over, my speciality that. ‘Steve must have forgotten to mention it.’

And now, here I was, watching my errant husband fill himself up on beer, and wondering how on earth I was going to mention the elephant in the room. Because I was sick of his lies, and his promises to do better, and his insistence that if he strayed it was somehow my fault. I’d stuck with him for so long because of the kids, but now he was making them deceive me. I’d been a doormat long enough. Time to stand up for myself.

‘You didn’t mention you’d taken the kids to the zoo,’ I said casually, once the boys were in bed, and Steve was flopped out in front of the football.

‘So?’ Steve lied so flippantly and easily. ‘I forgot. It’s not a crime.’

‘No-o,’ I said, ‘I just thought you might have mentioned it.’

‘Well, I didn’t,’ Steve sounded bored. God, had he always been so bored of me?

‘Who was your friend?’ I knew my voice had come out reedy and tinny, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated the way Steve made me sound like a nagging wife. It was so bloody demeaning.

‘I knew you’d be like this,’ said Steve, turning on the offensive. A typical tactic to try and make me appear in the wrong. I wasn’t standing for it this time. I was going to have it out with him, whatever the consequences.

‘Like what?’ Trying to keep my voice calm and level. Trying not to rise to his bait.

‘Accusatory. Jealous. Idiotically accusing me of stuff.’

‘I haven’t actually accused you of anything,’ I said, in what I felt to be a perfectly reasonable manner. ‘Should I have?’

‘How could you say that?’ He had the cheek to sound hurt. As if he’d done nothing wrong.

‘Well, let me see. There was Stacey in accounts, and Dannii from sales, and Petra from export. Not to mention what did or didn’t go on with my best friend. Why on earth should I imagine in any shape or form you are at all trustworthy?’

‘Why rake up old stuff?’ said Steve. ‘You know I love you, babe.’

‘Do I? Do I really?’ I said. This is the way it always went, but I was tired, tired of always being second best, and tired of his lies.

‘I know I don’t show it enough,’ Steve said, taking my hand, ‘but seriously you’re the only one that matters to me.’

‘So who did you go to the zoo with?’ I said. I didn’t want to look in his eyes. I didn’t want him to seduce me with his weasel words. ‘Come on, I want to know.’

‘It was Kirsty,’ he muttered.

‘Kirsty, as in your secretary Kirsty?’ That figured. She was a buxom blonde, Steve’s normal type (Caz was clearly some kind of wild aberration). I’d had her taped as a potential rival when I met her at the Christmas party.

‘When she heard you were away, she offered to help,’ said Steve. ‘You should be grateful. She was great with the kids.’

‘I bet,’ I said dryly. ‘So why the big secret?’

‘Because I knew you’d react like this,’ said Steve. He snuggled up to me and I felt my body weakly respond. ‘I know I’ve been a bad boy in the past, but that really is behind me. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize us. I don’t want to hurt you.’

He looked at me with those big, puppy pleading eyes. He was so damned plausible. So difficult to resist. I almost believed him. Almost. I just couldn’t rid myself of the lingering doubt that he was lying to me, again. I just couldn’t trust him.

‘If you say so,’ I said, and responded stiffly to his embrace. I had no proof that he was cheating. Just a gut feeling. And it didn’t feel good.

‘So you let him get away with it again?’ I was round at Dorrie’s, having our weekly coffee together. It was a habit I’d got into since Dorrie had stopped work. She’d gone back to her job doing something fantastically clever in biochemistry for her obligatory three months but then decided to stay at home with Woody. Of course, Dorrie being very sociable, she found being at home incredibly isolating, and for a while had seemed quite low, so Beth and I had made it our mission to try and keep her cheerful. Somehow the world didn’t seem right when Doris was down in the dumps.

‘I suppose so,’ I said. ‘I wanted to really have it out with him, but I can’t prove anything. Besides, there’s a bit of me that just doesn’t want to know.’

‘Coward,’ said Dorrie. ‘You know you’re too good for him.’

‘That’s what Joe always says,’ I said. Steve’s younger brother, Joe, was a frequent visitor to our house, often stepping in to help out with the boys, when Steve was on one of his many business trips away. Of late he’d even been taking them to football for me on a Saturday. I didn’t know what I’d do without his steady, unwavering support.

Dorrie looked at me slightly askance, eyes narrowed.

‘Do you ever wonder if you married the wrong brother?’

‘No! No! That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I mean, I like Joe. He’s always been really good to me. But he’s Steve’s brother. I couldn’t even begin to think about it. It wouldn’t be right.’

‘Hmm,’ said Dorrie, clearly not believing me, and of course, being right not to. I’d always been fond of Joe, and he was a great help, the kids absolutely loved him. There were times, it’s true, when I’d idly wondered how it would have been if I’d married Joe and not Steve. I was pretty sure Joe wouldn’t have cheated on me. I shook my head. This was ridiculous. Joe was my brother-in-law. And I was in love with Steve.

‘Right, what do you want me to help you with today?’ I changed the subject. Another reason for our weekly meets was to help Doris plan the wedding. Her mum was away with the fairies more often than not these days, and not much help. I rather suspected her of being depressed, but Dorrie had never talked about it, and it wasn’t my business. For some reason, though she was open about everything else, Dorrie kept a tight lid on what was happening in her family. When her dad was still alive she barely mentioned the problems he was having, and yet it must have been incredibly tough.

‘I’ve just found these great little bags for party favours on Freecycle,’ said Doris. She and Darren could probably have afforded to make a big splash, but Dorrie reckoned they needed the money for more important things, namely Woody and any siblings he might have. So she’d set her heart on having a stylish wedding at as little cost as possible. Well, if you can call a Disney theme stylish, I suppose. The way she was going, she was making Posh and Becks’ wedding look positively restrained.

‘Do you mean these?’ I fell about laughing as I picked up a box full of little net pink and blue bags with a drawstring on them. They had stars and the letter D embroidered on them.

‘What’s wrong with them?’ said Doris. ‘I think they’re cute.’

‘Nothing,’ I said. She really meant it, bless her. ‘Did you decide on the shoes in the end?’

Last week Doris had put in two bids on eBay for satin court shoes. One pair was in baby blue, which would match the Cinderella-style blue wedding dress which she’d got second hand from a fancy-dress shop, the other was a more traditional cream to match the other Cinderella dress which she’d got on eBay. She hadn’t decided yet which colour to go for on the day. I preferred the cream, but I knew Doris was determined to get the blue.

‘Come upstairs and I’ll show you,’ Doris said, ‘but we’ll have to be quiet as Woody’s still having his nap.’

She led me into her spare room, which had a big notice on saying: DAZ KEEP OUT! Important wedding stuff not to be seen before the big day. The room was jammed from floor to ceiling with wedding paraphernalia.

‘My god, how much stuff have you got?’ I gasped.

‘Ever since I put that ad on Freecycle, people keep sending me things,’ said Dorrie. ‘Now where did I put them?’ She rooted around in a corner of the room. There was so much junk in there, I couldn’t believe she could ever find anything.

‘Ah, here they are!’ She waved a pair of shoes triumphantly under my nose.

‘So you went with the blue ones, then?’ I said. ‘I knew you would.’

‘Sorry, I know you liked the cream,’ Dorrie said, ‘but I just couldn’t resist them. Just look at these fabulous bows. Aren’t they pretty?’

‘They’re very you,’ I said diplomatically. If anyone could carry those shoes off, it would be Doris.

‘I might still get the cream anyway,’ said Doris. ‘I’m torn between that lovely white dress with the pink roses, and the blue dress.’

‘White would be more traditional,’ I said.

‘I know,’ said Dorrie. ‘I’m greedy, I guess. I love them both.’ She looked round the room. ‘I really must sort some of this stuff out, it’s getting a bit bonkers in here. I just don’t have the energy.’

‘Well you do have a very young baby,’ I pointed out.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Dorrie, rubbing her eyes. ‘Woody’s molars kept me up most of the night. I just feel so tired all the time though. Is that normal?’

‘With a small person in your life?’ I laughed. ‘Absolutely. Is there anything you want me to do?’ I peered at her closely. Dorrie did look tired, as if she’d lost her sparkle somehow. The combination of motherhood and wedding stress must be getting to her.

Doris looked at the room again, and then said, ‘Naah. I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s go and have a cup of tea instead. I’ve made muffins.’

Amazingly, despite her ability to always produce cake at the drop of a hat, Doris never seems to put on any weight. I envied her that.

‘You still off the sugar?’ Dorrie asked as she poured the water out of the kettle.

‘As part of my calorie-controlled diet,’ I said solemnly. ‘Of course muffins don’t count—’

Doris gave a sudden scream as she dropped the kettle. ‘Oh my god, I am such a damned klutz sometimes,’ she said, rushing to the cold tap and shoving her hand underneath it.

‘Is it a bad burn?’ I rushed over to have a look at it. Once a nurse, always a nurse, even if I haven’t been near a patient since Sam was born.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Doris showed me a slight pinkish tinge on her arm. ‘Luckily most of it went on the floor.’

‘Well, no harm done,’ I said. ‘It’s usually Beth who’s the clumsy one.’

‘I must be catching it off her,’ said Doris. ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs today.’

As she said this I noticed her hand was shaking, and she looked a little tearful.

‘Dorrie, are you OK?’ I said.

‘Yes, fine,’ said Dorrie. ‘I’m just overtired is all. Now come on, let’s tuck into those muffins and then you can help me decide about place settings.’

‘So long as you don’t give us all paper plates with Cinderella on them,’ I said. Doris looked a little shamefaced. ‘You haven’t?’

‘Well, they were half price in Wilkinson’s,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t resist. But that’s not the only option, we could have Beauty and the Beast ones instead.’

‘You are totally off your trolley,’ I said laughing, looking at my friend with affection. But I couldn’t help wondering if underneath her laughter, she was hiding something from me.

Chapter Seven

Doris

I heard Darren’s key in the door with relief. It was the Friday after I’d seen Sarah, and I’d had a really hard day with Woody, who’d started throwing up in the night and pretty much carried on the whole day. In between clearing up vomit, I’d spent most of the day with him clinging to my shoulder like a limpet. Woody wasn’t normally clingy and it was horrible seeing his smiley face so miserable and wan. It was the first time since he’d been born that he’d been ill, and I didn’t know what to do. If Mum were only a bit more with it, I could have got her advice, but when I expressed concern that Woody wasn’t getting enough fluids, she just said vaguely, ‘Oh, all babies get sick. But they bounce back. He’ll be better tomorrow, you’ll see.’

By mid-afternoon when it was apparent that Woody wasn’t able to tolerate any food or drink at all, I rang Sarah, who calmly prescribed small sips of water, and Dioralyte, but suggested taking him to the doctor if it got any worse. I knew she was right, but ever since Dad got ill I’d had a pathological hatred of the medical profession. I wouldn’t take him unless I absolutely had to. Luckily, Woody, clearly exhausted by his day’s activities, took that moment to decide to crash out. At least if he was sleeping he wasn’t being sick, so we cuddled up on the sofa together and I watched crap TV and waited for Darren to get in. I was shattered. I couldn’t believe that one little person could create so much work and worry. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything hurting him, and I hated seeing him so ill.

‘Hi,’ said Darren as he came through the door, as ever having performed his daily ritual of hand washing (to get rid of all those nasty germs from travelling by tube, you understand). ‘How is he?’ I’d been keeping Darren posted as to Woody’s condition, and he’d managed to sneak away from work early. Like me, Darren had melted the minute that Woody had come into his life, and we were both like a pair of pathetically anxious clucking hens around him.

‘He seems OK at the moment,’ I said. ‘He’s been asleep for ages though and he feels a bit hot.’

‘When did you last give him Calpol?’ said Darren.

‘Just before he went to sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure how effective it’s been, he’s thrown up nearly every dose I’ve given him today.’

Woody stirred in my arms, and gave a slight moan, before wriggling awake. He looked blearily up at his dad.

‘Here, let me take him,’ said Darren, picking up our son and holding him close.

‘I think you’ll want this,’ I said, proffering a muslin.

Too late, Woody had chucked up all over Darren’s back.

‘Oh shit, shit,’ said Darren. ‘He’s contaminated me.’

‘Darren, he’s probably contaminated me,’ I said laughing. ‘I’ve been clearing this up most of the day. Just wait there and I’ll sort you both out.’

Five minutes later, having persuaded Darren that it really wasn’t going to be necessary to burn his jacket, and cleaned both of them up, I took a decision. Woody was no better. Much as I hated it, I was going to have to take him to see the doctor.

The waiting room was crowded. It was nearly the end of surgery hours and there were still plenty of people to see. The doctor’s receptionist had squeezed us in as a favour and I felt slightly stupid that I hadn’t taken Woody before. He lay pale and listless in my arms. He clearly wasn’t well. I should have done something sooner.

When Woody’s name was finally called, I felt a mixture of anxiety and relief. Maybe the doctor would take one look at him and say there was nothing to worry about. Darren squeezed my hand as we went in.

‘He’ll be OK,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ said Dr Linley, as we sat down. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

‘Woody keeps being sick,’ I explained, ‘he can’t keep anything down, and now he’s gone all listless and floppy.’

‘Right, and this has been going on how long?’ she said, as she proceeded to examine him.

‘Since last night,’ I said. ‘I just thought it was a bug and he’d get over it. But it seems to be getting worse.’

Right on cue, Woody threw up again. Poor little mite, it wasn’t even as if he had much to throw up.

Darren was, as usual, prepared with antibacterial spray, wipes and plastic gloves and went into clean-up mode, while the doctor was explaining that Woody might need to go into hospital to have some fluids.

Hospital? My baby in hospital? That had simply never occurred to me. The last time I’d been in our local hospital had been to see Dad all connected up to drips and wires. I’d vowed I never wanted to set foot in there again, which is why I had elected to have Woody at home.

‘Oh,’ was all I could manage to say, feeling helpless, while Darren took charge and asked all the right questions, like how serious was it, and how long did she think he’d stay there. It was as if I was cocooned in a great bubble of silence, I could barely register what the doctor was saying, while Darren picked Woody out of my arms, and motioned me to get up.

‘I’ll ring ahead for you,’ I heard, as if in a dream, and she pressed an envelope into my hand, and said, ‘Take this with you.’

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