Vivien Brown - Five Unforgivable Things

‘I’m not so sure about that. Not now you’ve nabbed the best bed. Just look at that view. And what have I got over on my side of the room? A kettle, a pile of tourist leaflets and three steps nearer to the toilet! Whatever happened to democracy?’ Jenny stood with her hands on her hips, trying to look stern, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that made it clear it didn’t really matter. ‘We could have tossed for it.’

‘Now who’s moaning?’ Beth laughed, burst into a rousing chorus of ‘Don’t Cry for me, Argentina’, and disappeared into the bathroom with a swimsuit in one hand and a bottle of screw-top wine she’d just grabbed from the mini-bar in the other.

***

‘We need to go into dinner early tonight.’ They’d spent most of Thursday, barring a break for lunch, having their backs pummelled by a rather over-zealous and over-talkative woman with green fingernails and a white coat, and then lazing about in the water to giggle about it and get over it. Now Jenny was drying her still-tangled hair under a particularly noisy dryer in the ladies’ changing room. It didn’t seem to occur to her just how loudly she was speaking.

‘Ssshh!’ Beth put her index finger up to her lips, noticed how horribly wrinkled it was from being too long under water, and put it down again. ‘We don’t want the whole hotel to know.’

‘Sorry!’ Jenny mouthed, now so quietly Beth could hardly hear her at all. She flicked the switch off to silence the dryer and put it back into its holder on the wall.

‘So, why do we have to eat early? I thought eight o’clock worked really well last night. Just right for a few drinks before and a bit of TV after. What’s your hurry? Or, more to the point, what’s your game? I know you’re up to something.’

Jenny didn’t answer straight away, choosing to fiddle a bit more with her hair before throwing her damp towel into the wicker laundry bin provided and turning back towards her. Beth was sure she was looking especially shifty, the way she used to when she’d broken a plate and didn’t want Mum to know, or when she’d sneakily borrowed a top from her or Nat and tried to put it back without owning up to the streaks of make-up down the front.

‘And, while we’re at it … You told Natalie this place was somewhere at the seaside, and it’s not, is it? We’re miles from the sea. Now, why would you do that? What if she expects a postcard or a stick of rock or something? We won’t even be going back with sand in our shoes!’

‘Oh, Beth, you are always so suspicious.’

‘With every reason, it seems to me. Now, come on, spill!’

‘Well …’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, there’s someone I’ve arranged for us to meet. This evening, at half-past seven.’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere. The truth at last. So, what sort of someone? And why’s it so secret that you couldn’t tell me before now? Or Nat? What are you up to, Jen? It’s not some internet date or something like that, is it? Someone you were too scared to meet in the flesh without a chaperone? Because I’m not playing along unless you tell me. And I don’t fancy playing gooseberry either. I’ll get a table for one at eight and then have an early night, and you can go and meet your mystery person by yourself!’

Jenny was squirming now. ‘Nat’s got enough on her plate, with the wedding to sort out. I didn’t want to add to that. And if I’d told you any sooner you might have blabbed. Or refused to come with me. And I needed you to come with me …’

‘So, one: this is going to worry Nat, and two: I can’t be trusted to keep my mouth shut. Charming, I’m sure! So, who the hell are we meeting, Jen?’

‘Well … look, it might all come to nothing. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, that’s all. It was hard enough to track her down at all, and even harder to talk her into meeting up.’

‘Her?’

‘Yes. It’s Laura.’

‘Ollie’s Laura?’ Beth’s eyes had widened almost as much as her mouth, which was now gaping open in shock.

‘Well, not Ollie’s any more, obviously, seeing as she left him months ago. But I kind of hoped that now the dust has settled, I might be able to talk her into coming back. Ollie misses her so much. I miss her. But there’s something you need to know, Beth. Because you’ll realise anyway, as soon as you see her.’

‘She’s not married someone else, has she? Or got engaged? Not so soon. Ollie will be heartbroken if she has. Not that he isn’t already, poor bugger.’

‘No. Not married.’ Jenny picked up her bag and started back towards their room. ‘But she is six months pregnant.’

We opted for a January wedding. It was long enough after Christmas for the shops to be open again and decoration-free, so we could at least hope that any presents would be wrapped in something other than silver foil with robins on it. And for the trains to be running at half empty again, with the fare prices back to normal. But soon enough to beat the bulge. The last thing I wanted was for my tummy to dominate not only the photos, but the gossip too, on what was supposed to be the most wonderful day of my life.

Mum had taken the news well. Naturally she would have preferred her only daughter to be a shining example of purity, gliding down the aisle in a dress like a meringue, but the thought of an imminent grandchild soon overrode all that. And she liked the fact that I’d told her first, before Dan’s mum, who she had still to meet.

‘You must let Trevor and me help pay for the wedding,’ she insisted. ‘I know you say it won’t be a grand affair, but maybe we could cover the cost of the car or your dress or something. And buy the pram. Grandmas always buy the pram, you know. It gives us the right to first push round the park!’

I liked seeing Mum so happy. I had wondered if the inevitable reminders of her own wedding day might have been a bit much for her, but she didn’t say anything. Only that Dad would have been so proud, and would have loved to be there, taking me down the aisle. And that being asked to do it in his place was absolutely the next best thing.

She drove down with Trevor. They offered us a lift too, but I knew I’d rather go on the train. That way, Dan and I, and my friend Linda from work, could all travel together. Linda had agreed to be my chief bridesmaid – my only bridesmaid – and the Campbells had offered us rooms at the farm the night before the ceremony, and for a few days afterwards too, if we wanted to stay on. We let Mum take all the bags in the car, though. My dress and Linda’s, our posh handbags and new satin shoes, Dan’s suit, and a big vanity case stuffed with toiletries and lipstick and lemon-scented shampoo. All we had to carry with us was a packed lunch that Linda and the other girls at work had insisted on putting together, made up of all the posh things we would never normally have eaten but that felt somehow appropriate for a bride and groom on their way to seal their fate. Smoked salmon sandwich triangles with the crusts cut off, strawberries (God knows where they got them from in January!), fancy chocolates in an even fancier box. There were a couple of quail’s eggs too, still in their shells, and wrapped up tightly in foil, although none of was quite sure what to do with them, or if we actually fancied trying them at all.

But it was the thought that counted and, by the time we arrived, a good hour ahead of Mum and Trevor, and with Dan and Linda already a bit tipsy on the wine I had righteously, as a woman in a certain condition, refused to drink, it dawned on me at last that we were really going to do this. In less than forty-eight hours I was going to be the new, and ever expanding, Mrs Dan Campbell.