Zara Stoneley - Bridesmaids

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2019

Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2019

Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Zara Stoneley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008320652

Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008320645

Version: 2019-07-25

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Bridesmaids ZARA STONELEY A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2019 Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2019 Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Zara Stoneley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008320652 Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008320645 Version: 2019-07-25

Dedication In memory of my Dad. The best friend a girl could have had.

Act One – With Friends Like These ACT ONE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Act Two – The Hen Party

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Act Three – The Big Day

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Also by Zara Stoneley

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About Harper Impulse

About the Publisher

In memory of my Dad. The best friend a girl could have had.

‘Oh my God! You’re kidding? Wow, that’s fantastic!!’ And just like that I’ve looked my best friend in the eye and told a whopper. I pause for breath and lean forward to hug Rachel. ‘That is absolutely amazing. I am so pleased for you!’ My words are muffled by her shoulder.

I’m not in the habit of telling lies. I have been known to exaggerate slightly (and maybe tell the occasional little white lie), mainly to make myself feel better about my (currently) shitty life, or to make somebody else feel better about theirs.

I mean, when cuddly Liz who runs the ‘Olde Fashioned Sweet Shoppe’ in town told me she’d lost weight, I felt duty bound to tell her she was looking amazing, even if the missing poundage was probably down to her severe haircut (think scalped-elf) or the fact she’d gone for leggings rather than jeans (think scalped skinny elf).

Eating less and exercising more is torture, isn’t it? Specially when you spend your days staring at chocolate and boiled sugar. So, when I saw her a week later and she said she’d won the slimmer of the week award, the last thing she needed was me asking, ‘Are you sure the scales were working?’ or ‘Are you the only slimmer there, ha-ha-ha?’, wasn’t it?

Whereas, hearing my little white lie, ‘Wow! You look fab!’ followed by, ‘I read somewhere that liquorice can really help’ was just the right incentive.

Us girls need to stick together, don’t we? We need to present a united front and kick ass. So, if that involves smudging the truth at the edges now and then, that’s fine.

I smudge rather a lot. But I don’t lie. Especially not to my best friend.

Until now.

This isn’t a smudge, this is total truth wipe out.

I should be ashamed of myself. I am.

I also feel slightly queasy, and I’m not sure if it’s because the whole idea of this is bringing me out in a cold sweat because of what happened to me, or because of what might happen to her. My bestie.

If I hadn’t lied maybe things would have turned out differently.

Maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.

It started with the phone call.

Well, let’s be honest, it started a long, long time ago. When we were teenagers with fragile hearts, dodgy self-confidence and far too many hormones. When we were sure that the first guy who tried to get into our knickers could be ‘The One’. When love and lust were the same thing.

But anyhow, the lie and the big stuff started when she called me. All breathless and excited.

I was distracted with work, knee deep in fluffy kittens, or I might have been concentrating harder, and might have had some inkling of what was to come and where it might lead us.

‘Thank God I caught you before you jetted off! Is it okay that I rang you at work? You are at work, aren’t you?’

‘I am, well, I’m not actually at work, but I am working. Will you stop that?’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, not you, Rach. I’m at home, but I’m trying to … sit still, please, pretty please? Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ I growl, and Rachel giggles. ‘I am working, well, trying to. Shit, why are kittens so bloody bouncy?’

‘Kittens? You’ve got kittens?’

‘Three. I think. They keep moving, it’s hard to keep track, but they’re colour coded. If they’d all been black I’d be totally up shit creek without a paddle. Stop it!’

‘Kittens! Like, real ones?’

‘Definitely real.’ I untangle one from my hair. ‘Would Sellotaping a paw to the table be considered cruelty? I mean, it’s not like I’m using glue, is it?’