Brigid Coady - No One Wants to Be Miss Havisham

“Of course I have,” she spluttered.

“Yeah right! Well you’re supposed to inhale,” he said and proceeded to demonstrate.

Edie lifted the cigarette again. This time she inhaled.

The memory of the acrid smoke filling her mouth and then her lungs came burning back to her as she watched. Older Edie knew the moment when her teen body rebelled against all the abuse. Her older body tried to relive the memories as she watched herself experience them.

The terror from the lack of oxygen and her dizzy head added to the roiling stomach from tension and champagne. The eyes became wide with the dawning horror that the old saying ‘better out than in’ was about to play out. The sheer panic as her body convulsed, sides aching.

And then came the eruption.

All over Tom’s shoes.

Mortification flooded both of Edie’s bodies.

“Ahh man! That is gross!” cried Justin.

Bent over, all the young Edie could do was throw up again and again, tears dripping from her nose until they were the only liquid left for her to expel.

She had wanted the earth to swallow her up then and there. Even all these years later she would happily wish for it again. She watched as Justin backed away in disgust. Hadn’t Tom gone as well?

But he hadn’t. She didn’t remember him staying. She watched open mouthed as she saw Tom hesitantly raise his hand and slowly rub her young back in sympathy.

He’d rubbed her back?

Dumbfounded, the older Edie watched. How come she had never known that he’d stood there rubbing her back? She would’ve known surely.

“Go away!” rasped the teen.

And he went.

Edie looked at herself. The bedraggled vomit sprayed hair, the green white face with black streaks from too much mascara, which had now been cried off.

“Take me home,” she turned to the ghost. “I’ve learnt whatever you wanted me to. I’ll agree to anything just let me go home.”

The flower girl looked up at her pityingly.

Pity. Edie cringed. She wasn’t pitiful, goddammit.

“There are a few more things you have to see,” the Spirit said solemnly.

“No!”

“No?” the Spirit raised an eyebrow.

“No. N.O. I’ve had enough of this circus, I want to go home to my own bed.”

“Oh you’ll be lying in your own bed soon enough, wrapped in a chain,” the Spirit retorted.

A small sprinkle of pink glitter fell from its fingers.

Edie shuddered.

Not the pink glitter.

She caved.

“OK, your way then,” she sighed.

Another fade out. And then fade in.

Another wedding reception, she recognised the Little Hanningfield village hall again. Green and white bunting and streamers covered the walls and the ceilings. Lights flashed as the disco played on the small stage at one end, the stage that had held the annual nativity play but now played host to a middle aged man who was dad dancing behind the decks.

Tables at the other end were groaning with a buffet of pork pies, sausage rolls, cheese and pineapple hedgehogs and sandwiches, punctuated by bowls of crisps.

The hall was full of people either hanging round the food or in the middle of the floor, dancing. They were dressed in the style people had worn when she was at university.

The she caught sight of herself, happily dancing with Mel. Her hair was much longer, her face smiling. Glowing with hope and ideals.

“This was Justin Douglas’ wedding,” she said, remembering, “It was my final year at uni. Mel and I were invited for the evening do. She said it was the wake of our childhood dreams. She had still been hoping Justin would marry her."

She smiled as she watched herself twirling Mel around wildly by the hand, neither of them caring about the boys who were circling them on the dance floor.

“We were so happy that summer. We’d got jobs at the local pub.” Her foot tapped along to the beat of the song. “We thought we could rule the world.”

She missed the certainty that everything would somehow come out right. She didn't know why, she already knew by then that life wasn't fair.

And then she saw him. He was just coming through the door. Tom. He was taller than he'd been at his brother's wedding and his shoulders had filled out from the rowing she knew he’d taken up at Oxford. His hair was longer and not suppressed by hair gel. The curls and ringlets were spiralling onto his forehead.

The older Edie smiled. She looked at her younger self who was twirling, oblivious to the look of admiration that was written on his face as he watched her. She'd never known he'd looked at her like that. As if struck by a thunderbolt and as though he suddenly saw her for the first time.

"He looks smitten. A smitten kitten," the flower girl said smugly. Edie could feel herself blush like a teenager.

"Don't be silly." She wanted to nudge the little girl with her elbow and then tell her more about how this beautiful boy loved her. Or had loved her.

"He told me that this night was when he fell for me." She watched as her student self stopped twirling, looked up and saw Tom watching her. His face was neutral by then, he'd hidden the look that her older self had seen earlier behind a mask. Maybe if she'd seen his face that night things would've been different?

"You really think just seeing the smitten kitten look would've stopped everything that followed?" the ghost raised an eyebrow and looked at her dubiously.

"It might've done." Edie lied to herself.

The ghost tutted and shook her head as if Edie was a hopeless case.

Edie watched as Tom came walking towards her past self and Mel.

She hadn't thought about it in years. The way her heart had stuttered when she realised that Tom had finally noticed her. The way he’d brushed past Mel, just like he was doing now. The way Mel started to laugh, startled by his single mindedness. The way he'd grasped Edie’s hand. The way her entire world, at that moment, became focused on only him. She couldn't catch her breath. She thought she’d faint.

Older Edie felt a faint echo of that feeling rush over her.

"You really need to work on that sexy look," the little Ghost had her face scrunched up in disgust as she watched the scene.

Edie had to agree; love really must be blind because her student self resembled a goldfish. But she glowed. How she glowed.

And then the music slowed.

"This was our first dance," Edie felt dreamy, she watched as Tom grabbed her hand and drew him to her. "And this was our song."

She remembered her heart racing in double, even triple time to the music. She'd worried that her palms would be sweaty and he'd run away in disgust.

But the words of the song wound round her, heartbreak, regret and lost love. She shivered. Their story had been foretold in that song if only she'd listened to the words.

"Bit depressingly true to life don't you think?" the Ghost piped up.

Edie wondered if damnation was preferable to listening to snarky asides from a pint sized pot of ectoplasm.

"Don't even think it." The wise old eyes of the flower girl stared up at her fiercely. Edie quickly held her hand up and shook her head, backing down.

She looked back at the dance floor. Tom's hands were holding her younger self closely; she had her head tucked into his shoulder. She’d always fitted perfectly in that space, as if it had been specially made for her.

What if? She thought as she watched him bend his head.

If only, she sighed as she saw their first kiss.

Tears welled up, her heart felt as if it would break all over again. They'd lit up that dance floor with their love; it had been perfect.

She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers, burning away all the yearning she'd had for years into a perfect moment. The way her body had wanted to merge with his.