I’m starting to think I’m more likely to bump into the Yeti than Grace during this wedding.
I’ve spent the last half-hour searching for her, desperate to talk things through, and all without success. Then, just when I’m starting to think she might have left, I spot her across the other side of the room, talking to Bob. I immediately make a beeline for them but am stopped in my tracks by a familiar voice–a voice that is about as pleasing to the ear as the sound of chalk scraping across a blackboard.
‘Evie! Looking amazing, as ever.’
I turn around and see Gareth outside on the balcony, pulling on a Marlboro with the sort of suction you’d expect from a top-of-the-range vacuum cleaner.
‘I don’t want to talk to you, Gareth,’ I say.
This is the first time I’ve seen him since he decided he was going to tell Jack all about me, my past and those bloody earrings.
‘Oh, why not?’ he says. ‘Not over that business with the earrings? And your, well, your
commitment problem.
I hope I didn’t put my foot in it.’
‘You told Jack about that deliberately, didn’t you?’
Gareth shrugs, trying to look cool, but the vigour with which he’s scratching his face again suggests he’s feeling anything but.
‘I just didn’t think he was right for you, that’s all,’ he mumbles.
‘Oh, and why not? Because I liked him more than you?’
‘You don’t suit being angry, Evie,’ he says, wagging his finger at me.
‘Gareth,’ I begin, deciding maybe I do want to talk to him after all, ‘can I speak to you bluntly?’
‘Of course,’ he says.
‘I’ve tried to be nice to you,’ I tell him. ‘I tried to let you down gently. I tried not to have to tell you that if you were the last animal, mineral or vegetable left on the planet I’d still rather spend a night indoors watching
Countdown
by myself. I’ve said I’m sorry for dumping you countless times and, quite frankly, I’m not going to say it again. Because now I’m not sorry. Now I’m
glad
I dumped you. I just wish I’d realized earlier what a sneaky little toad you were.’
‘So, let me get this straight,’ he states, frowning. ‘You’re saying you really, really won’t agree to go out with me again? Like, really?’
I snatch the cigarette from his hand and slowly stub it out on his pink polyester tie. His eyes widen in disbelief.
‘Gareth,’ I tell him, ‘I think we’re finally starting to understand each other.’
As I approach Grace and Bob, she straightens her back and I realize my presence is about as welcome as an outbreak of avian flu at Flamingo World.
‘Evie!’ says Bob when he spots me. ‘Grace and I were just comparing honeymoons. Our three weeks in Colombia sounds rather different from the Maldives. We loved it, of course. But I have to say I’m secretly rather jealous of their flushing toilet.’
‘I bet,’ I nod.
‘By the way,’ he adds, ‘I saw you talking to Gareth there. I finally found out why he left work in such strange circumstances.’
‘Oh, why?’ I ask.
‘You know I told you there was something funny going on between him and Deirdre Bennett, my colleague? Well, it turned out they’d had a very brief fling.’
‘Wasn’t this the lady with the big bottom and terrible teeth?’ I ask.
‘That’s the one,’ says Bob. ‘Not that that put Gareth off! By the time he left, he was virtually stalking her. Even bought her some strange rubber underwear from one of those
funny shops–you know the ones I mean. That was when the Vice Chancellor stepped in to tell him to either put a stop to it or leave. Fortunately, he decided on the latter and Deirdre hasn’t heard anything from him since, ooh, about when you started dating him actually. I think you’d do well to steer clear of him, personally.’
‘I think you’re right, Bob. But listen,’ I continue, ‘is there any chance I could speak to Grace for a second? By ourselves, I mean.’
‘Of course,’ says Bob. ‘I was about to go and find your mother anyway. I’d left her telling one of Edmund’s aunts all about the wormery she’s installing. I’m not sure it was quite Lady Barnett’s thing.’
As soon as Bob is out of earshot, I get straight to the point.
‘I’m sorry for not telling you, Grace,’ I say. ‘I really am. But I only found out last night and, well, I just wanted to get the wedding over so that it didn’t ruin things.’
She sighs. ‘It’s a bit late for that now.’
‘I know,’ I say.
‘So you
were
going to tell me?’ she asks.
‘Well, yes, I think so,’ I say, realizing immediately that I could have made life easier by just saying yes.
‘What do you mean
you think so
?’ she says. ‘You’re supposed to be my best friend. Best friends can’t keep secrets like that from each other.’
‘I know, I know,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I would have told you. But it wasn’t as simple as that. I was worried about what it would do to you and Patrick. I mean, I knew things had been…tricky…recently and I was scared that just coming out and telling you might have–well, made things even trickier.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says, sniffing. ‘You’re not the only one who finds it difficult to tell me what’s going on.’
I hesitate. ‘You’re talking about Patrick losing his job, aren’t you?’
‘Oh,’ she says despondently. ‘You knew about that too.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, lowering my head. ‘That’s all I know though. I don’t know why or what it’s all about or anything.’
‘He confessed everything earlier,’ she says. ‘He lost his job months ago, just after our wedding. That’s what’s been wrong with him.’
‘But why?’ I ask.
‘They made him redundant,’ she sighs. ‘I know–unbelievable, isn’t it? I’d always thought of redundancy as something that happened to, I don’t know, miners and car workers and…well, not lawyers. Not Patrick. But he was just called in one day, told there had been a downturn in business and the firm needed to do some cost-cutting. Then he was out on his ear. Just like that.’
‘God,’ I say lamely. ‘No wonder he’s been in a bad mood.’
‘He’s been going out doing the odd bit of freelance stuff,’ continues Grace, ‘but nowhere near enough to pay the bills in the long term. What I can’t believe though, is that he couldn’t even bring himself to tell me. What sort of wife must I be?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say. ‘You’re a brilliant wife and Patrick loves you. You do know that, don’t you?’
She sniffs again and doesn’t answer.
‘You know exactly what happened between him and Charlotte, don’t you?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘Yes. She told me. She also told me it was over in seconds and he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.’
Grace’s lip starts trembling.
‘Still doesn’t change the fact that he had sex with one of my friends.’
I put my arm around her.
‘I know, sweetheart, I know,’ I say. ‘But don’t let this destroy your marriage, Grace. Please don’t. For your own sake and for the kids.’
As I say it I don’t completely know whether what I’m telling her is good advice or not. I mean, she’s right. Her husband had sex with her friend. How could anyone forgive that? And yet, something deep down tells me that, ultimately, that’s got to be the right thing to do.
‘I guess I’ve got a lot of thinking to do,’ she says. ‘It’s still so raw. I need to have a long think about what I’m going to do.’
‘Well, for God’s sake blow your nose first,’ I say, and lean over to hug her.
She wraps her arms so tightly around me, I’m struggling to breathe.
‘Thanks, Evie,’ she says. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too, Grace,’ I say.
Suddenly, Patrick is by our side. He looks terrified–of Grace and of me.
‘Do you mind if I borrow my wife, Evie?’ he says. ‘I’ve got some serious making up to do.’
Grace looks up at him.
‘I’m not taking anything for granted, Grace,’ he says, ‘but I will do anything–
anything
–for you to stay with me. For you to forgive me. I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m nothing without you, Grace. I mean that.’
‘Well, it’s a hell of a wedding, anyway,’ says Georgia, as we share her make-up bag in the ladies. Her cosmetic collection is a combination of £3.99 Rimmel lipsticks and face powders that probably cost more than gold dust.
‘Makes yours look distinctly tame, doesn’t it?’ I say, sweeping a blusher brush across my cheeks in an attempt to revive some colour in them. ‘No physical fights, no coffins, no marital bust-ups. It was all a bit boring, really.’
‘Thank God,’ she laughs. ‘Although, give Valentina some credit. She’s really taken it all on the chin. Speaking of which, how are you feeling these days, Evie?’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Well, I heard you were still a bit upset over Jack,’ she says. ‘And we’ve not really had a chance to talk about it, have we? I haven’t even seen you since your mum’s wedding.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Honestly, Georgia. These things happen.’
‘Well, if it means anything,’ she continues, ‘Beth said he’s been moping around work ever since it happened.’
I pause.
‘Beth?’ I repeat.
‘Yes, Beth. You know–my cousin,’ she says.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I know your Cousin Beth. I just thought you said “he’d been moping
around work
”.’
‘I did,’ says Georgia. ‘They work together.’
‘Really?’ I am slightly confused. ‘God, I had no idea. I mean, I’d worked out they were seeing each other, but—’
‘Seeing each other?’ echoes Georgia. ‘Evie, they’re not seeing each other.’
I frown.
‘They
work
together,’ she explains. ‘Only since very recently, mind you. Beth’s always wanted to work in the voluntary sector and she got chatting to Jack about the charity he works for at our wedding. He told her there was some administrative position coming up, so she phoned him on the Monday and started work there about a week later.’
‘So, she’s still working for them now?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ says Georgia, ‘but there’s nothing going on between the two of them, I promise you. I know that for certain because Beth has fancied him from day one but he’s refused to even acknowledge it. He clearly just isn’t interested in her. And she does nothing but complain about it.’
I shake my head.
‘But why wouldn’t he have told me she was working with him?’ I ask.
‘Probably because he’s a man,’ Georgia says dismissively. ‘Pete’s had deaths, pregnancies and a sex change among his colleagues without bothering to tell me about any of them.’
That might explain the phone number exchanges. And the missed calls on the mobile.
‘But that doesn’t explain something else,’ I tell Georgia, as she zips up her make-up bag. I tell her about the call from Beth that I picked up during my mum’s wedding. About how
she’d left her top at his flat that morning. How could she explain
that
?
‘I really don’t know,’ she says, looking puzzled. Then: ‘Hang on, this was the night of your mum’s wedding, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, she couldn’t have been with him the night before, because we were all at my Uncle Tom’s fiftieth birthday party. I was with her all night. In fact, we stayed at the hotel.’
My heart sinks. I don’t know what the explanation is for what she said on the phone. But I do now know that I publicly accused Jack of two-timing me when he was completely innocent; did so when he’d just discovered I’d lied to him about my past, and then failed to even pick up the phone afterwards to say sorry.
I have never had such an overwhelming urge to burst into tears.
‘Hey, love,’ says Georgia. ‘Don’t get upset.’
‘Sorry,’ I gulp. ‘But, oh God, Georgia. This is a disaster.’
Edmund has given Valentina the biggest and best wedding money can buy, but he’s saved the thing that will probably mean most to her for last. He’s been taking ballroom dancing lessons. It means that Valentina gets to perform possibly the most professional, the most impressive and certainly the most downright flashy first dance in history.
Naturally, she’s chosen the tango. And as the dance ends to rapturous applause, with her and Edmund nose to nose, she pulls a rose from between her teeth and kisses him like a comic-book heroine who has just been rescued from a gang of marauding ne’er-do-wells.
The guests now start to pour onto the dance floor, including Bob and my mother, whose particular brand of dancing immediately terrifies some of the elderly and infirm in the party.
I pick up my bag and decide to go outside for a walk in the grounds. The breeze is soft and warm and when I find a decent log, I plonk myself down on it and look into the sky, feeling utterly distraught. Tears prick into my eyes again as I think about what Georgia told me earlier.
‘You lot have got it easy,’ I say, between sniffs, to a couple
of sheep munching away at some grass in front of me. ‘You don’t have to deal with having your bum groped in front of other wedding guests and being stalked by psychotic ex-boyfriends. And certainly, you don’t have to deal with screwing things up with the one man who ever meant anything to you. At least, I don’t think you do.’
I really have lost it now. I’m sitting here, blubbing my eyes out and talking to a group of farm animals about my emotional difficulties. The fact that they appear to be pretty attentive listeners really isn’t the point.
I don’t know how long I sit here for. Certainly it’s a good while–it honestly could be hours–and somewhere along the way the two existing sheep are joined by another handful.
I am just starting to feel like Little Bo Peep when suddenly I hear voices behind me. When I turn around, Valentina, Grace and Georgia are marching towards me.
‘I hope there aren’t any cow pats around here,’ says Valentina, holding her hem up in disgust. ‘These shoes are Christian Louboutin.’
‘Valentina,’ I say, ‘aren’t you meant to be mingling or something?’
‘Yes, Evie,’ she says, ‘I am. But we’re here because we’re worried about you.’
‘Me?’ I repeat, waving them away. ‘Surely I’m the least of everyone’s worries today. Really, I’m fine.’
‘Well, we don’t think you are,’ says Georgia. ‘In fact, we think you’re less than fine.’
‘We think you’re pining,’ says Valentina. ‘For Jack.’
‘You make me sound like a Labrador,’ I say. ‘Anyway, whether I’m pining or not, there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve buggered it all up–big time.’
The three of them exchange glances and couldn’t look more conspiratorial if they were all called Guy Fawkes.
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ says Georgia.
I raise an eyebrow.
‘I’ve just been in touch with Beth,’ she tells me. ‘The top she was referring to when she spoke to you on the phone was actually a T-shirt. A charity T-shirt that she needed for a fun run she was taking part in the following day. That T-shirt
hadn’t
been left at Jack’s flat. It had been left in Jack’s office.’
I groan. ‘Do you have to even tell me this?’ I ask. ‘I mean, I feel like enough of an idiot anyway without having all the horrifying details rubbed in.’
‘I just thought you’d like to know,’ says Georgia. ‘That, and something else.’
‘Oh God,’ I say.
‘According to Beth,’ continues Georgia, ‘for two weeks after your row, Jack spent the whole time pacing up and down the office, agitated, and clearly torn up.’
‘So why didn’t he phone?’ I whine.
‘One might say that should have been up to you,’ points out Grace. ‘The misunderstanding was all yours–not his, Evie.’
‘Fair point.’ I slump back onto my log.
‘The thing is, he might have,’ Georgia persists, ‘but something put a stop to that once and for all.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘My little minx of a cousin told him about you and Seb. About her seeing you in that club.’
I cast my mind back to the club and Beth witnessing Seb’s big sloppy kiss. It sends a shiver down my spine just thinking she might have relayed that back to Jack.
‘Oh God,’ I say. ‘Do you really have to go on with this torture? Really, do you have to?’
‘Well, we have got something
good
to tell you too,’ Grace pipes up.
‘Please do,’ I say.
‘Jack loves you!’ she announces
‘Oh, I wanted to say that bit,’ whines Valentina.
I scrunch up my nose.
‘What?’ I say. ‘How can he love me? And how the hell could you know?’
They all look at each other again, each one grinning from ear to ear.
‘The thing is,’ says Georgia, ‘once I’d spoken to Beth, we weren’t going to leave it there, were we? I mean, what sort of friends would we be to just not do anything?’
My eyes widen. ‘So what did you do?’ I ask, slightly hysterically.
‘We phoned someone,’ says Valentina, clapping her hands like a three-year-old. ‘In fact, we phoned—’
‘You might want to come with us,’ interrupts Grace, grabbing me by the hand.