Brigid Coady - No One Wants to Be Miss Havisham

Edie’s face burned for her younger self. She wriggled in embarrassment for what was to come.

“I think we need to get just a little closer,” the Spirit said and for a six-year-old she had a freakishly strong grip and pull.

Edie got closer to the writhing flushed figure in peach silk. Oh God, had she really thought that she was dancing in a sexy way? Her puppy fat was spilling over the top of the dress and she was squinting up under her eyelashes. And to think she had spent hours perfecting her sexy gaze in the mirror thinking it would have a devastating effect on men. I suppose it did, she thought, devastating in a ‘run screaming from this girl’ sort of way.

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.