Jill Mansell - Mixed doubles

I’ve just married the kindest, sweetest man in the world, thought Pru. Blanche was right; I have done all right for myself.

Pru had bumped into her last week. She had been loading the wedding cake into the back of the Jag when Blanche had emerged from the Sue Ryder shop. She was wearing skin-tight jeans and yellow stilettos and her hair was even blonder than Pru remembered.

‘Oh ... hello.’ Blanche was only momentarily taken aback. For something to say, she had held up one of her carrier bags. ‘I’ve just bought a pair of leggings for fifty pee.’

Pru recognised the pretty gold chain around her neck as one that had gone missing a year ago.

When Phil had come home to find her sifting through the contents of the Hoover bag he had said,

‘You’re useless, Pru. What’s the point of buying you nice things if all you’re going to do is lose them?’

Blanche had taken her husband but she wouldn’t have taken the chain. Pru knew Phil must have given it to her. She made sure the box containing the wedding cake was wedged securely in the boot of the car and straightened up.

‘Blanche, how are you?’

Blanche half smiled. ‘Oh, we’re fine. Got your divorce, then. Just in time from the sound of things. Phil says you’re getting married on Saturday.’

The decree absolute had come through the week before. As she stared at the all-important piece of paper, Pru had marvelled at her own lack of emotion. It was the weirdest thing,but she could barely remember how it had felt, being married to Phil.

Now, gazing at the carrier bag Blanche was holding, she recognised the distinctive label of a can of Heinz tomato soup, just visible through the thin plastic. The memories came flooding back, accompanied by a blissful sensation of release, because it wasn’t her problem any more.

Blanche, meanwhile, was admiring Eddie’s gleaming topof-the range Jag.

‘Nice car. Got a bit of money, this fellow, has he?’ Pru shrugged. Then she nodded.

Blanche looked envious. ‘You’ve done all right for yourself, then.’

‘Yes, I have,’ said Pru, simply. Silently she added, but not in the way you mean.

‘What happened to the job?’ said Patrick. ‘I called into that café a couple of weeks ago and the waitress said you weren’t working there any more.’

Dulcie wondered if he had gone along to snigger, as Liam and Imelda had done.

‘Too much like hard work,’ she replied flippantly. ‘I broke a fingernail.’

As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Patrick was exchanging a ‘see-what-I-mean?’

look with Claire.

‘Actually,’ said Dulcie, ‘I left because the owner developed a crush on me. It got a bit embarrassing.’

She could tell he didn’t believe her.

‘I don’t blame you for giving it up.’ Claire’s tone was consoling. ‘I worked in a restaurant when I was at college. Jolly hard graft.’

‘Dulcie isn’t much of a fan of hard graft,’ Patrick remarked drily.

Dulcie was beginning to feel got at. She longed to yell, But it never bothered you before! You were the one who said I didn’t need to get a job ... you wanted me to stay at home!

Pride prevented her, too, from informing him that she was now working as a barmaid in one of Bath’s busiest city-centre pubs, crammed with horrible yuppie types who pinched her bottom and chatted her up and gabbled non-stop into their stupid mobile phones. Because how could she boast about holding down a job at last when everyone else had been doing it for years?

Anyway, if I did tell them how vile it all was, Dulcie thought wearily, Patrick would only say in that case why did I bother?

She was damned if she was going to tell him the truth, that she was so lonely and miserable that even slogging her guts out in a stinking pub was better than moping alone at home.

To change the subject Dulcie said, ‘How was Amsterdam?’ and instantly regretted that too.

‘Oh, we had the most fabulous time!’ exclaimed Claire, her face lighting up. She clutched Patrick’s arm. ‘Didn’t we, darling? I actually think I’ve managed to convert this one here to the idea of holidays,’ she confided merrily to Dulcie. ‘We’re looking at brochures for something over Christmas and the New Year now. A real get-away-from-it-all break.’ Her grey eyes shone.

‘I’ve always wanted to visit Barbados.’

‘You’ve got a face like a wet weekend in Weston,’ Marjorie announced, plonking herself down on a chair next to Dulcie and holding her glass out to be refilled by a passing waitress. ‘Friend of the bride or groom?’

‘Both.’ Dulcie glanced at the breast pocket of the old woman’s green ruffled blouse. It was bulging with mini seafood tartlets. ‘Bride mainly. Pru and I have been friends for years.’

‘So you’re not one of Eddie’s jealous exes. Thought you might be, from the look of you.’

Dulcie smiled. Did Eddie have any jealous exes? ‘No.’

‘So what’s the problem? Don’t you approve of him?’

‘Of course I do. Eddie’s lovely,’ exclaimed Dulcie. ‘And perfect for Pm.’

Marjorie gulped down her drink and nodded in agreement.

‘They look all right to me. Not that I know them well, but his mother-in-law’s very fond of him.’

She looked around hopefully for the waitress with the drinks tray. ‘Says he’s a poppet.’ She snorted with laughter. ‘Can’t argue with that, can you? Anyone adored by their mother-in-law must be okay.’

A vision of Bibi flitted into Dulcie’s mind. In the vision, Bibi was looking less than happy.

She said gloomily, ‘My mother-in-law hates me.’

‘Oh, so you’re married, are you?’ Marjorie’s thin grey eyebrows went up. ‘Where’s your husband then?’

Dulcie pointed.

‘Over there, with his girlfriend. He hates me too.’

Claire was admiring Pru’s dress, which was cream lace, knee length and beautifully cut to show off her slim figure.

‘You could always dye it,’ she said, ‘then you’d be able to wear it to other people’s weddings.’

‘I’ll wear it to Liza and Kit’s.’ Pru grinned at Eddie. Claire looked astonished.

‘They’re getting married? I haven’t heard about this!’

‘Not really. It’s kind of a joke. When we made our resolutions last New Year’s Eve, Liza’s was to get married,’ explained Pru.

Claire laughed. ‘Dad will be pleased.’

‘What was Dulcie’s resolution?’ Patrick’s dark eyes were expressionless.

Oo-er. Pru fiddled with her new, terrifically shiny wedding ring.

‘Um ... can’t remember.’

‘Well, who cares about Dad anyway? I love weddings.’

Spotting Kit not far away, Claire dragged him over. ‘Congratulations.’ She winked at Liza. ‘I hear I’m about to gain a sister-in-law.’

‘Is this some kind of conspiracy?’ murmured Kit. Liza cringed.

‘I didn’t—’

‘No, no excuses.’ Claire gave her brother a playful pinch on the arm. ‘Pru told me all about it.

You have until the end of the year and that’s an order. Otherwise,’ she added soothingly, ‘Liza will dump you and marry someone else and you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life.’

‘You’ll never find anyone else to marry you,’ Kit announced. ‘Not before the end of the year.’

It was still pouring down with rain. Pru and Eddie had just driven away. All the wedding guests, who had piled out on to the steps to wave them off, had promptly belted back inside again to avoid getting drenched.

Liza and Kit were the only ones still outside but Kit had his back to the door. He kept one arm firmly around Liza’s waist.

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I have the most embarrassing friends.’

‘So I suppose Id better do it.’