‘He’s too kind about her,’ said Juliet. ‘She was a self-obsessed bitch. I could have zapped her back to life and killed her all over again for what she put Guy through.
Did he tell you that she wrote
No one loves me
and
I hate you all
and other lovely things all over her walls? She wanted to hurt the bloke who dumped her far more than she wanted to
live. In her case it was a total waste because he didn’t give a toss. She ended up crucifying Guy instead, because he was the one who drove over to her house and found her.’
Floz’s hands shot up to her mouth. ‘No, he didn’t tell me that.’
‘I never really gave Steve credit for what he did for Guy during those years when my brother fell apart,’ said Juliet. ‘He was the only one big enough to drag him out of fights
and throw him into bed when he was off his head on booze. I was too busy seeing the Steve I wanted to see, not the lovely, kind man he is. I got too used to not liking him. Thank God I came to my
senses because I really am so lucky that he is my man.’
‘You are,’ said Floz with a wide smile.
‘I wish you could find your own Steve, Floz,’ said Juliet, her eyes looking glassier with every second.
‘Me too,’ said Floz.
‘Jesus, these bloody hormones!’ Juliet half-laughed, half-sobbed as she reached for the tissues.
That night Floz tossed and turned in bed, the whole Nick Vermeer story tumbling heavily around in her head. She knew she had to end this for herself – write to him and
tell him exactly what she thought.
I should have suspected as soon as you sent me the fictitious birth-date – because you once told me it was October, I remembered. What a very convincing liar you are. What an absolute
twisted sick bastard. I hate you
. . .
Her heart was pounding, expletives were pumping out of her brain, then a vision of Lacey’s Jamie crashed into her head. Like Lacey, she so wanted to hurt Chas Hanson back. But what
guarantee was there that would happen? What good would it do? He had to know he was a sick man without the need for her to spell it out to him. She thought of the violent way his son had killed
himself. How big must the wound be inside him to have raised a child and loved him and then have to bury him after he took his own life in such a terrible and violent and wasteful way?
Floz vented her spleen onto the page, cleansed herself of all she would have said to Chas Hanson, had he appeared before her. Then, after she had filled in the last full stop, she hit the delete
button. The charge of the words remained in the air somewhere but they would not be delivered to Chas to add to his pain.
‘ Well?’
Juliet emerged from the dressing room looking like an oversized toilet-roll cover. She made a gypsy bride look subtle. Floz tried not to laugh, but Coco had no such qualms and the pair of them
fell onto each other giggling.
‘I told you I’d look a twat!’ Juliet’s lip was pulled back over her teeth. ‘And I don’t want white. I want something a bit different, a bit
me
.’
‘This is the best fun I’ve had in years,’ said Coco, wiping the tears from his eyes. ‘It’s funnier than the Morecambe and Wise André Previn
sketch!’
‘If I might suggest something like this,’ said the lovely lady who ran the shop. Her name badge said
Freya
and she was tall and elegant, with a calming effect like Prozac upon
nervous brides.
Freya held out a long, plain, sleeveless dress which flowed outwards. It was the palest shade of gold, and Juliet’s party all gasped in unison.
‘Now that is gorgeous.’ Juliet took the hanger and sighed at the colour.
‘Very autumnal, don’t you think?’ Freya smiled. ‘And we can dye the shoes and veil to match.’
Juliet zipped the dressing-room curtain shut, after telling Freya that she didn’t need any help. Minutes later she emerged, the perfect vision of a bride in her own mould. The smile on her
face was bigger than a new moon.
‘How bloody gorgeous am I in this?’
Coco’s eyes filled up with tears and he started flapping his hands like a deranged seal.
‘Oh, that is the one! Ju, you look stunning.’
Juliet looked at herself in the mirror. Her stomach would have grown with the baby when she got married – in twenty-seven days’ time – but that didn’t matter because the
style of the gown would disguise her bump. She felt beautiful in that dress and she so wanted to look beautiful for Steve. Her husband and the father of her babies. She used the plural because she
knew she was carrying twins. Not officially – but she
knew
. In the same way she had secretly known she was pregnant before the test picked it up.
‘Right, we need to sort out my bridesmaids,’ said Juliet, as Freya unzipped her. ‘We’ll start with the female one.’
When Freya suggested a brown dress for Floz, Coco and Juliet wrinkled up their noses, but they should have trusted the lady. She brought out three gowns in deepest chocolate. The first was too
fussy and made Floz look rather dumpy, but the second, a shoulderless gown with a matching bolero jacket, totally complemented her lovely curvy shape.
‘Oh Floz, I just want to lick you,’ said Coco. ‘Not in a sexual way – I’m not on the turn, don’t worry – but you look as if you are made out of Dairy
Milk.’
Floz’s red hair looked on fire against the deep brown of the material. Freya visualized her with tiny leaves threaded into her hair rather than a headdress. Again, she was right. She
loosely caught up Floz’s hair with tiny leaf-decorated pins. She said she could replicate those leaves by stitching tiny ones onto Juliet’s veil, but then Juliet spotted a tall golden
tiara reflecting more light than a disco ball – and the deal was sealed.
Juliet was ecstatic because everything was coming together faster than she expected. Coco chose a huge dandy cravat in a matching shade of chocolate. He had a sudden vision of himself in that
and a green suit, so the next stop was the town-centre tailors where he was fortunate to find an off-the-peg number and a shirt that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Mr Darcy.
Juliet sighed, looking at the rack of men’s jackets and trousers. She thought of Steve in a suit, she thought of him taking that suit off on his wedding night and commanding that she strip
off immediately. He was so domineering in private. She held that image in her mind for a minute, then rang to tell him and Guy to get their arses down to the White Wedding shop in Maltstone to
check out the dark brown cravats. They were out getting measured for their suits today.
As they left the menswear shop, Juliet noticed how edgy Floz was in town, looking around her as if she expected someone to leap out at her. Floz, she had noticed, rarely came into the centre of
Barnsley. If she needed to shop, she always went to Meadowhall.
‘What’s up, Floz?’ Juliet laughed. ‘Are you trying to avoid someone?’
‘Yes,’ said Floz. She felt it was time to trust her friends. She took a deep breath. ‘My ex-husband. I don’t want to bump into him.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ said Juliet. ‘I’ve seen Roger a couple of times in town with Hattie and not enjoyed the experience. Isn’t it funny how people who were
once so close to you can become such strangers?’
Floz nodded, then she took a deep breath before diving into a big lake of trust. ‘Remember that drunk we saw once, singing, the one the police took away? That was my ex-husband.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Coco. ‘No wonder you ran off for chocolate.’
‘I bet you’re nearly as sick thinking that you once shagged him as I am about Roger.’ Juliet pulled a revolted face, making Floz chuckle.
There, that wasn’t so hard, was it – letting people in?
‘Let’s go to the Yorkshire Rose and have lunch,’ suggested Coco.
‘How about we go to that little bistro at the side of Hobbyworld instead,’ countered Floz.
‘But I’m starving now!’ Coco’s bottom lip protruded.
‘We’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and it’s lovely,’ pressed Floz.
‘I agree,’ said Juliet. ‘Let’s do that. Floz doesn’t want to bump into her ex so let’s not force her to stay in town.’
‘Sorry, Floz,’ said Coco. ‘You being comfortable is way more important than my stomach. Let’s drive to Sheffield.’
After lunch they poured into Hobbyworld to source table decorations. Floz found some darling little heart-shaped golden favour boxes and some tiny firework embellishments. They bought place-name
cards and table confetti and serviettes patterned with leaves because the manager of the Oak Leaf had said that if they wanted anything other than white serviettes, they would have to supply them.
It was by far one of the nicest shopping days that Juliet had ever spent.
And tonight they were all going out with Steve’s wrestling lot after the matches had finished. He was the good guy tonight – complete with big angel wings. Juliet quite fancied
making love to an angel. She made a mental note to remind him to bring that costume over to the flat afterwards.
The Centennial Rooms were half-empty that night. The
South Yorkshire Herald
had failed to put an advert in to drum up a crowd, Steve had texted her earlier. It
didn’t recognize wrestling as a true sport, apparently, and so wouldn’t support it. Juliet was furious when she walked in and saw so many vacant seats. ‘Snotty bastard incompetent
paper,’ she said to Floz. ‘They won’t cover an event like this, but if you grow the biggest tomato in Wombwell, you’ll be on the damned front page.’
Juliet watched Steve climb into the ring and she hurt for him. He loved wrestling so much. He would have been in his element, had he been born into its heyday in Britain. But he wasn’t and
could only perform in front of a few die-hard fans and some golden oldies.
‘Go, Steve!’ yelled Floz. Then clamped her hand over her mouth. She’d gotten quite carried away then. The old man next to her was looking at her and she felt as if she should
apologize.
‘Sorry about shouting. Hope I didn’t deafen you,’ she said.
‘Not at all,’ he said. She couldn’t work out if he was from Yorkshire or America – he had a very odd accent.
‘It’s just that I know him – the Angel,’ Floz went on. ‘He’s marrying my friend next month. He’s such a sweet man.’
‘He’s a very good wrestler,’ said the old man.
‘He lives and breathes it,’ said Floz, while Juliet stood and issued a few choice expletives as Jeff Leppard got her lover in a head-lock. Floz added with a whisper, ‘Mind you,
I think I’d rather face Steve in a ring than his missus.’
The old man laughed. ‘What’s his day job?’ he asked.
‘He’s a plasterer,’ said Floz. ‘And a very good one. He’s a damned hard worker.’
‘Bastard!’ yelled Juliet at Jeff.
‘They’re friends really,’ explained Floz. ‘Jeff Leppard is coming out for a drink afterwards with all the other lads, to celebrate Steve and Juliet’s engagement.
You’d be welcome to join us. It’s not a private party.’
‘Ah, that’s nice.’ The old man folded his arms. ‘Where are you all going?’
‘The pub just across the road. The Lamp,’ said Floz. ‘They’re putting on some sandwiches and nibbles, I heard.’
Floz was not to know what repercussions that conversation would cause.
There was no way the lads were going to let Steve have just a little wrestlers’ engagement party. Behind Steve and Juliet’s back they had clubbed together and
arranged a feast ‘for a Feast’. There was more food than at a Roman orgy, and a few bottles of fizz for the ladies, although the men stuck to their pints. And Guy, who was unfortunately
having to work in Burgerov that night, had made and sent over an enormous cake of a wrestling ring, complete with a fondant-Steve with his wings on and Juliet dressed as a sexy demon.
‘Wonder how odd Guy felt, modelling his sister’s tits out of icing,’ laughed Juliet. She was so touched by the warmth in the room. And during Steve’s speech, in which he
praised his good mates and praised the wrestling, Floz noticed that the old man who had been sitting next to her had come over to the pub and was watching the proceedings. He was almost squashed by
the door flying open when Chianti Parkin entered like a storm-cloud, her dad and uncle at her heels.
It was the first time Floz had seen the legend that was Chianti. She was tall with long swishy hair that she kept ruffling with her hand and tossing back over her shoulders. She had a fatless
body, nipped-in waist and thin legs which looked six foot long in the pin-heeled thigh-length boots she wore. But Floz was mostly fascinated by her face. It should have been pretty, since it had
all the elements beauty needed – almond-shaped eyes, tiny nose, cheekbones that could have sliced metal, but her mouth was thin and puckered up like a tightly closed drawstring bag. Instead
of pretty, she looked hard and characterless, and her true soul showed in that mouth. Her beauty, it was obvious to Floz, was a very thin veneer. Especially when she looked across at the lovely,
bouncy Juliet at the other side of the room, grinning with her plump full lips, light dancing in her grey eyes and pulsing out joy and happy vibes as she talked to Alberto Masserati and the Pogmoor
Brothers – Kerry and Hilary – who had learned to fight from an early age because they were called Kerry and Hilary, Juliet had told her.
Chianti swept up a glass of wine and sank it with such speed it was as if she were punishing her throat. Then she reached for another. Whilst her father and uncle were mingling, Chianti was
staring malignantly at Steve, and slightly tottering on her heels. Then, when Steve threw back his head and laughed, it seemed to trigger off something in her. She strode purposefully over to
Steve, and before he could register what was happening, she threw a full glass of the fizz in his face.
‘And you know what that’s for, don’t you?’ she smiled smugly. ‘If anyone does the dumping, it’s me.’
Steve didn’t react in any other way than to wipe the wine from his face with his large hand, which seemed to infuriate Chianti more. She wanted a fight, not some dignified show of
indifference from this stupid, thick idiot who had
dared
to end a date to go and meet with someone else.
And what a someone!