The Bridesmaid Pact (3 page)

Beth

I was so shocked when Caz walked through the door. Doris had been yacking on all morning about having a wonderful surprise for Sarah and me, but neither of us had imagined it would be Caz. I suppose we should have known. It was Dorrie who’d instigated the Bridesmaid Pact way back when, so I suppose it would be just like her to assume we’d all come together for her wedding, even though none of us had managed to do it for each other’s. Of course, Caz had made a monumental cock-up with her wedding. By her own admission, copious amounts of vodka, and the sheer dizzying excitement of being in Vegas had led her to get carried away. By the time we found out she was married, it was already over, so there was no chance we could get to be bridesmaids for her. Dorrie was the closest I’ve seen to furious when she found out.

‘But what about the Bridesmaid Pact?’ she’d wailed.

‘What about it?’ Caz had laughed. ‘C’me on, you didn’t seriously expect us to fulfil that daft promise did you?’

But, of course, Dorrie did. When it was Sarah’s turn, she talked about nothing else. We were all lined up to be bridesmaids. It had all been sorted for months. But then, Caz did whatever she did – to this day Sarah’s none too sure, but Steve
swore whatever happened had been at Caz’s instigation. And that was that. Caz dropped out of being a bridesmaid but then turned up in the evening anyway, nearly ruining Sarah’s day, and Sarah’s never, ever forgiven her.

My wedding was next, and I was all for having the Fab Four together on my special day. I didn’t need Dorrie to persuade me, and I’d hoped that Sarah and Caz could make up enough for that to happen. Sarah was prepared to put aside their differences for my sake, but then Caz had to go and open her big mouth at my hen night, we argued and I said I didn’t want her to be my bridesmaid any more. She didn’t even come to the wedding, and thanks to Sarah suffering from terrible morning sickness, half the time it felt as though Dorrie was my only bridesmaid. It wasn’t what either of us had planned. Thanks to Caz’s erratic behaviour at my hen night, I was terrified about my secret coming out on my wedding day. I couldn’t bear it if Matthew had found out. Now I wonder if I was right. I wish sometimes I had told him. Particularly now. Secrets are corrosive, they never do you any good.

I’d had enough of Caz by then. So selfish. So poisonous. So untrustworthy. Wherever she goes she leaves a trail of carnage behind her. One day it will come and bite her on the bum and she’ll be sorry.

I thought after that we’d never see her again. The Fab Four shrank down to the Terrific Trio. It was good, but not the way things had been. And though I’d never admit it to the others, there were times when I missed Caz. She was so wild and daring and different – all the things I’d longed to be. And despite her later betrayal, she had been there for me when I needed her. Besides Caz added sparkle to my life, a sparkle I thought had gone forever. Until now. Typical that Dorrie would insist on her coming. There was a time
when Dorrie hadn’t been able to forgive Caz, but it simply wasn’t in her nature to bear grudges.

Caz stood looking awkward in the middle of the room.

‘I knew this was a bad idea,’ she said, barely looking at me. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, I’m going to ruin your weekend.’

‘
You
are going nowhere,’ said Doris firmly. ‘I invited you because I wanted you here. I know we’ve all had our differences’ – that’s putting it mildly, but Doris is the queen of positive spin – ‘a lot of water’s gone under the bridge. But this is
my
hen weekend and I want you here. Life’s too short to fall out with people. I think it’s time we all moved on. So there. Beth, you don’t mind do you?’

‘I—’ What could I say? Doris was right. She usually was. Perhaps it was time to forgive and forget. Caz had undoubtedly hurt me, what she’d done to me was inconsiderate and thoughtless, I’d been holding on to my anger about it for a long time. But like my secret, that anger was corrosive and doing me no good. Seeing Caz in the flesh made me realize how much I missed her.

‘Beth, I’m really sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I know it was a long time ago, but those things I said at your hen night…I’d had too much to drink and behaved really, really badly. I’m so ashamed of myself. I didn’t mean to cause you, of all people, so much grief. I’ve never had a chance to tell you before how sorry I was.’

Because I’d never let her, I realized with a jolt.

‘I can’t say I wasn’t upset,’ I said, slowly, ‘because I was. But I think Dorrie’s right. A lot of water has gone under the bridge. I can’t promise to forget, but I will try and forgive.’

‘I know I don’t deserve that,’ said Caz, and I could see tears sparkling in her eyes. With that I melted completely.
I could barely remember seeing Caz cry. I realized what a big thing it was for her to have walked into the room in the first place, let alone apologize.

‘It’s history,’ I said, ‘forget about it.’

We hugged awkwardly and Doris poured her a glass of champagne. Caz sat down on the edge of the bed and we embarked on a serious catch-up.

‘How’s your family?’ Caz asked.

‘Oh fine,’ I said. ‘Parents are older, but still going strong. They moved, you know, out of London, to be by the sea. But then they decided it was too dull for them there and moved back. So now Mum organizes the new parish priest, Father Miserecordie, and Dad sends her mad by building things in the garage, and they’re happy as Larry.’ I stopped, wondering if I should ask about Caz’s mum who had never been happy in her life, but Caz did it for me.

‘Mum is sadly still with us,’ she said. ‘I barely see her. Thank goodness.’

‘You can’t mean that,’ I protested. ‘Surely she’s not that bad.’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Caz in a tone that brooked no further questions. She looked slightly hesitant and said to Doris, ‘I was really sorry to hear about your dad. What happened?’

‘You don’t know?’ Dorrie’s face creased in pain. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d been through. She always kept her cards closely to her chest, but from the little I’d gleaned it had been tough.

‘No,’ said Caz. ‘I mean, I heard he died and I was really sorry, but Mum didn’t know any of the details.’

‘He had MS,’ said Doris. ‘It was a progressive type and acted really fast. It was really terrible. He was in a wheelchair being fed by a tube at the end.’

Caz looked horrified. I think of all of us she’d loved Dorrie’s dad the most. Perhaps not having one of her own, she was more appreciative of him than Sarah and I were.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I should have been there for you.’

‘You were probably too busy on a drinking spree,’ said Doris in an uncharacteristically spiteful manner.

‘Ouch,’ said Caz, flinching. ‘I probably deserved that.’

There was an uncomfortable pause, then Doris said, ‘No, no you didn’t. I’m the one who should be sorry. That was uncalled for. What happened to Dad was so bloody rotten and unfair, it makes me angry is all.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Caz. ‘Your dad was wonderful. What a terrible thing to happen to him.’

Another pause, when we were uncomfortably aware that Doris, cheerful, happy-go-lucky Doris, was blinking away tears.

‘This will never bloody do,’ she said, pulling herself together. ‘This is a hen weekend, not a misery fest. We’re here to party. Time to go and do some screaming.’

In our teens, screaming as a result of Doris forcing us onto some god-awful fairground ride was a common occurrence. I’d hated it then and hated it now.

‘Do we have to?’ I groaned.

‘Yup,’ said Dorrie. ‘That’s the deal this weekend. You all have to come on at least one ride where you get to scream.’

‘What about Sarah?’ said Caz. ‘She clearly doesn’t want me here. I don’t want to ruin things.’

‘Leave Sarah to me,’ said Doris firmly. ‘No one, but no one, is going to spoil my weekend.’

‘OK, here’s the thing,’ said Dorrie as we queued up to go into Euro Disney. ‘This is
my
weekend and I want things my way. So Sarah, Caz, I know you have your differences,
and I know this isn’t easy for you. But, it’s really important to me that you’re both here, particularly now,’ she paused, then added, ‘with the wedding and everything. So can we call a truce for the next forty-eight hours? You can go back to hating each other afterwards.’

Sarah looked mutinous but didn’t say anything. Like the rest of us, she found it impossible to resist Dorrie, but her resentment of Caz was so deep rooted, she was obviously prepared to make an exception.

‘Look, Dorrie,’ said Caz looking uncomfortable, ‘it clearly isn’t OK for Sarah for me to be here. I should go back to the hotel—’

‘When did you turn all mealy mouthed, Caz?’ snapped Sarah. ‘I think I preferred you bitchy.’

‘I can do bitchy if you want me to,’ Caz snapped right back. ‘I am trying, you know.’

Dorrie tried again. ‘Come on girls, we’re in Euro Disney. Play nice. For me?’

Sarah still looked sulky, but said, ‘Anything for you, Dorrie, you know that.’

‘Me too,’ said Caz, looking relieved.

‘Great,’ said Dorrie, brightening up. ‘Now let’s go party.’

As we came through the entrance, we were greeted by a band playing incessantly cheerful music, and the sight of Mickey and Goofy glad-handing people.

‘Perfect,’ said Dorrie, clapping her hands. ‘This is just perfect.’

It was impossible not to get swept up in her enthusiasm. Soon we found ourselves in Frontierland, trying to work out which was the least scary ride. Sarah and I hated rides, while Caz and Dorrie loved them.

‘Well that one doesn’t look too bad,’ Caz pointed at Big Thunder Mountain which seemed to consist of carriages
whizzing in and out of tunnels and didn’t appear that dangerous.

Half an hour later we were all screaming. Big Thunder Mountain was apparently ‘fairly thrilling’ according to the scare guide on the map we’d been given as we entered the park. I must be getting old or something, but I started yelling for dear life, the minute the rollercoaster cranked us up to the top and we could see darkness beckoning us below. Within seconds we were plunging down and sideways through endless dark tunnels and Sarah and I were screeching our heads off. How could anyone think this was fun? Behind us I could hear Caz turning the air blue, but Doris was just laughing aloud. I don’t know how she does that. She never appears to be fazed by anything.

‘Don’t – make – me – go – on – anything – else,’ Sarah panted out between breaths as we got off. ‘That was truly horrible.’

‘What, not even the teacups?’ Doris was laughing at all of us. Even Caz looked white. But she took pity on us long enough to let us go and buy ourselves candyfloss, and permitted us to wander about weighing up the other rides before we went on them.

‘I think we should go on Space Mountain next,’ said Doris as we found our way into the space adventure area.

‘No, no and no,’ I said, staring up in horror as we watched a rocket being cranked up the side of a huge tower.

‘I think I might be sick if I went on that,’ said Sarah faintly.

‘I’m game if you are,’ Caz said, grinning at Dorrie, never one to miss out on a dare. She and Sarah had barely spoken to each other all afternoon, leaving Dorrie and me to gamely plug in the gaps, but at least they weren’t out and out fighting.

‘Oh, I’m game,’ said Dorrie. ‘You know me. Are you sure you two don’t want to go?’

‘Absolutely,’ we said in unison.

We waved them off to the massive queue and took ourselves off to a Buzz Lightyear ride which consisted of zapping lots of aliens, at which I was rubbish but Sarah proved rather good.

‘How come you got so many?’ I said in surprise. ‘I didn’t have you taped as a computer games nerd.’

‘It’s amazing what you pick up from five-year-olds,’ said Sarah. She has two boys the oldest of whom is obsessed with PlayStation. ‘It also helps that I was imagining all the aliens with Caz’s face on them.’

‘Sarah,’ I protested weakly. ‘Is that fair?’

‘The nerve of her!’ Sarah suddenly said. ‘I can understand why Dorrie asked her. We all know how kind and – well, some might say stupidly forgiving – she is, but Caz didn’t have to say yes did she? She must have known it would be awkward.’

‘More for her than us, maybe,’ I said.

‘Oh come on, Beth, you know what she did to me,’ said Sarah. ‘You might be prepared to forgive and forget, but I don’t find it that easy.’

‘I know, I know,’ I said. ‘And I can’t say I was all that keen to see her. But can’t you make an effort? At least for Doris’s sake. It obviously means a lot to her. Can’t you at least try?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Sarah, in a noncommittal manner, but I noticed when Doris and Caz came back, both looking slightly pale it has to be said, that she made an effort to at least speak to Caz and even shared one or two jokes with her. I grinned encouragingly at Dorrie. Who knows, maybe her madcap reunion scheme might actually work. Stranger things have been known to happen.

Sarah

Had I known what Doris’s ‘treat’ for us was going to be, I’m not sure I’d have gone on her hen weekend. Bless Doris, with her understanding boyfriend who’d do anything for her and dippy but wonderful mum who babysits at the drop of a hat, she can never quite get that life for other people is slightly more complicated. All she has to do is flutter her eyelashes at Daz and he’s putty in her hands, so arranging a weekend away without the baby isn’t the major undertaking it is for me. Besides, she doesn’t have school runs to factor in. Having persuaded Steve that he owed me big time was an undertaking in itself. I didn’t directly want to broach the subject of why he owes me, because I couldn’t face the lies and self-justifications. Better let him fret a bit about what I knew or didn’t know rather than having a full-blown and ultimately meaningless confrontation about it. We’d been there too many times and I just didn’t have the energy to do it again.

So Steve agreed to ‘babysit’ his own children for the weekend. For all his other faults, Stephen is a good dad, when he can be persuaded to take time away from his precious office and pay any attention to the kids. I can’t
take that away from him, and he hadn’t griped as much as I thought he would about me having a girlie weekend with my best friends. Or rather, my best friends barring one.

I knew I hadn’t behaved well when Dorrie opened the door and produced Caz. Beth was right. What happened was a long time ago, and maybe I should forgive and forget. But just seeing her again had churned up all my jealous hateful feelings and the white-hot anger that I had carried with me for years. Caz was supposed to be my best friend and she had betrayed me in the worst way imaginable. And although with hindsight and a much better knowledge of my husband’s behaviour, I could see her side of the story, it still didn’t take anything away from what she’d done. Whatever way you cut it, Caz had broken my trust and I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive her for that. Just seeing her again had been like reopening an old wound. A knife twisted in my stomach as I wondered, yet again, whether Steve had found her more sexy than me, whether he’d ever thought about whether he made the right choice. I know I did.

But this wasn’t my weekend to spoil, and I love Dorrie too much to want to ruin things for her. So when Beth and I met them, fresh from their trip up Space Mountain, I took a deep breath and said as casually as I could, ‘So, how’s it going then?’

Caz looked at me a little cautiously. I couldn’t blame her, seeing as I had snapped her head off earlier.

‘Er, OK,’ she said. ‘Still travelling the world, tarting up ungrateful models.’

‘Sounds a lot more fun than the school run and the washing,’ I said. Honestly, trying to make out her life was somehow dull and mundane, she had no idea how the real
world operated. There were days when I’d give anything to be young, free and single again.

‘Well it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Caz said. ‘There are times when I live out of a suitcase, and generally speaking I see nothing of the country but a series of nameless hotels. It’s not that exciting.’

‘More exciting than my life,’ I said.

‘But you’ve got the kids, and Steve—’ she said, then wavered a little.

‘Oh yes, Steve,’ I said sweetly. ‘Yes, I
have
got him, haven’t I?’

An awkwardness hung between us, and Dorrie and Beth who’d been looking on nervously from the sidelines, both jumped in with ‘Let’s get some candyfloss’ (Beth) and, ‘I don’t care how old you are, we are all going to go and have our photo taken with Goofy,
right now
’ (Dorrie).

Dorrie grabbed my arm and Beth grabbed Caz’s and they manhandled us over to where a queue of children was patiently waiting to have their picture taken with Goofy. We were the only adults in the queue.

‘Dorrie, do we have to do this?’ Caz groaned. ‘I feel like such a dork.’

‘Me too,’ I said, and momentarily forgetting my animosity to Caz in the face of such mortification, I grinned at her. I’d forgotten this, how Caz and I always used to stand together against Dorrie’s battier ideas.

‘Yes, we absolutely do,’ said Dorrie in mock serious tones. ‘This is
my
weekend and you will do things
my
way. That is all.’

Beth giggled, ‘Dorrie, everyone else having their photo taken is about two foot tall. We’ll look ridiculous.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Dorrie. ‘We are having a picture with Goofy and that is that.’

So ten minutes later, we all stood posing like idiots next to Goofy. Dorrie of course had thrust her arm through his, but I refused point blank to let him put his arm round me. It was bad enough to be standing next to an adult dressed up as a cartoon character without having to be hugged by him. To make matters worse, Dorrie wanted thousands of pictures with him, ‘For posterity,’ she said. ‘I may never do this again.’

‘We certainly won’t,’ Caz muttered, and I couldn’t help grinning.

‘Isn’t this fun?’ Dorrie beamed as she got us to all link arms and stand in front of Goofy for a final photo. Caz and I studiously stood on either end as far apart as we could get.

‘Good, can we go now?’ I said as we broke up after the last shot. A huge crowd of toddlers was building up, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute.

‘Oh look, look,’ Dorrie waved madly, ‘it’s Mickey! Cooee, come and have your photo with us, Mickey.’

So we all stood in line again, this time having no choice but to link arms with Mickey and Goofy. I produced a series of contorted smiles as the endless torture went on.

‘Honestly, Dorrie, I’m going to kill you for this,’ I said.

‘But just think of the great photos we’re going to have,’ said Dorrie, beaming brightly. I have never known anyone be so positive as Dorrie – no wonder she loved all things Disney.

Finally the marathon photo session came to an end, and the poor beleaguered minder was able to hand back Dorrie’s camera.

‘Right, can we go now?’ hissed Caz. ‘I’ve had as much of this as I can take.’

Unfortunately, Goofy didn’t seem to think so and insisted that not only was hugging required, but kissing too.

‘Dear god,’ I said laughing hysterically as we finally made our way to the candyfloss stall. ‘I can’t believe I have just been snogged by a cartoon character.’

‘I told you it would be fun,’ said Dorrie, with self-satisfaction. ‘I so love it when I’m right.’

‘Oh, do shut up,’ we said. Suddenly it felt like old times. I glanced at Caz, wondering if she felt the same. Could we possibly reclaim our past after all?

‘So, are we still having fun?’ Dorrie had gathered us all, like the mother hen she was, and insisted we wait out a spring shower in a café crowded with families: small children darted here and there, toddlers screamed and were pacified with soothers and bottles. I had a pang of longing for my own family, at home without me. I knew the boys would love Euro Disney. I had a sudden fantasy of Steve and me finally sorting out our problems and coming here for a family celebration. Then dismissed it. That was never going to happen.

The café staff were evidently overrun, as the place was overflowing with plastic cups and plates which hadn’t been cleared away. I was beginning to get a headache, not helped by the endlessly cheery music. I’d only been here a day and already I was fed up with the place, longing to have a hot drink out of a proper mug, rather than a Styrofoam cup. And really, if I were being honest, I wanted to be at home with the children.

‘Yes, Auntie Dorrie,’ grinned Caz. ‘Honestly, we’re not
your children, and we’re not Darren. You can talk to us like normal human beings, you know.’

‘Sorry,’ Dorrie looked shamefaced. ‘I don’t mean to go on, but you know how much I love everything Disney and I just want everyone to have a good time.’

‘It’s great,’ I assured her, lying through my teeth. The only other people apart from Dorrie who could have dragged me here were the children – I felt the familiar tug of my heart, the boys would have had a blast here. I’d have to promise them I’d take them to make up for leaving them behind for the weekend.

‘Good,’ beamed Doris. She was always happier when other people were happy. ‘So what do you all want to do tonight?’

‘Any chance we can escape into Paris?’ Caz said hopefully. ‘I know some great cafés in Montmartre.’

‘Caz, even you must know that’s not an option,’ laughed Beth. ‘I’m sure Dorrie is just being polite. What do
you
want to do tonight, Dorrie? After all, this is your weekend.’

‘Well, there’s a Wild West show in Disney Village,’ said Dorrie.

Caz groaned. ‘You are so not going to make us go to that, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s bound to be full of screaming five-year-olds.’

‘And what’s wrong with five-year-olds?’ I snapped, my longing to see the children leaving me slightly oversensitive. Beth shushed me, clearly not wanting to get in a row, but Caz just rolled her eyes.

‘We’ll go to the later version,’ said Dorrie, ‘and I promise there’ll be drink. And Sarah, no more texting.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. I’d been surreptitiously texting Steve on and off all day to see how he was getting on. This was the
first time I’d ever been away from the kids for any length of time and I was missing them badly. I wasn’t, oddly enough, missing Steve. It was peculiarly restful not having to think about Steve, or us, or what I was going to do about the monumental mess my life was in.

‘So it’s agreed, then?’ said Doris. ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and then we can probably still have time to see the fireworks before the evening ends.’

A couple of hours later we were all sitting in hysterics around a barbecue as we watched a spectacular show. It started with two cowboys in a mock brawl, which was so convincing we nearly moved tables as they came crashing towards us. They moved on then to have fun with a bucking bronco, and on discovering it was Dorrie’s hen weekend, they insisted she had a go, much to her delight. The show wrapped up with songs from
Annie Get Your Gun
and
Oklahoma!
. It wasn’t what I’d have chosen to see, and despite my slight thawing earlier on, I’d still have preferred to have spent the evening without Caz, but I had had enough beer to begin to relax and enjoy myself.

At least Doris had let us give up our Minnie Mouse ears in favour of cowgirl hats. Caz had flirted with the bar staff enough to blag some extra drinks and the mood was mellow. The main thing was that Doris was having a great time. She had been uncharacteristically tense of late, and Beth and I had been worrying that she’d been holding out on us over something, but listening to her launch into some outrageous tale involving Darren, a condom and an embarrassing encounter with Darren’s mum, I felt she was relaxing into her old self once more.

‘So how are things?’ Caz had sidled round to my side of
the table, while Doris and Beth were indulging in a giggling conversation with a French actor who called himself Rodeo Bill.

‘Fine,’ I said, thinking,
If only you knew
. There was a time when Caz knew everything that was going on in my head. Despite what she’d done to me, part of me still missed her friendship terribly.

‘Is that fine, as in “Everything’s great” fine, or fine as in “Shut up and leave me alone” fine?’

Damn Caz. She always could see right through me.

I picked away at a beer mat, unwanted tears suddenly springing to my eyes.

‘Everything’s fine, honestly,’ I said. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘No, no of course not.’ Caz looked sad when she said this. ‘You know, Sarah, if I could turn the clock back—’

‘Well you can’t,’ I said. ‘What’s done is done.’

‘And will I ever be forgiven?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘I don’t know, Caz,’ I said. ‘How would you feel if you were in my shoes?’

‘Point taken,’ Caz said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

She looked so forlorn I nearly took pity on her and told her the true state of my marriage, but somehow I couldn’t. That would mean acknowledging how wrong I’d been to trust him and not her.

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I said harshly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Caz said again. ‘Truly I am.’

‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’ I said. ‘Come on, this is Dorrie’s night. We shouldn’t spoil it for her.’

‘Fine by me,’ said Caz. She turned to Doris and Beth. ‘Is it time for fireworks yet?’

‘Lordy, is that the time?’ Dorrie said, giggling. Dorrie didn’t tend to do really drunk, but I was glad she was having a good time. She got up slightly giddily, and stumbled against the chair. She must have tripped over her feet because suddenly she was lying on her back on the floor looking up at us.

‘I didn’t realize you’d had that much to drink,’ I said laughing. ‘Honestly, Dorrie, what are you like?’

Dorrie didn’t say anything for a minute, then laughed and said, ‘I must have had more than I realized. Come on, pull me up.’

I leant over and helped her to her feet. There was a fleeting moment when I had the slightest of feelings that she wasn’t happy about something. But it was gone in an instant. Dorrie was on her feet and demanding to be taken to fireworks.

‘Then it’s back to my room to polish off the vodka I bought on the way,’ she said.

‘Fireworks then vodka, it is,’ I said, linking arms with her. Beth joined her on the other side, and then I was aware that Caz was hovering next to me. I still hadn’t forgiven her, but not to grab her arm seemed really churlish.

The four of us walked arm in arm back towards the park. Well we would have walked, but of course Dorrie insisted we dance and sing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’. I wondered if she really believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Knowing Dorrie, she probably did.

‘Isn’t this great?’ Dorrie smiled at us and squeezed my arm. ‘The Fab Four finally back together. This has been the perfect hen weekend.’

The Fab Four might have been together temporarily, but
I couldn’t see it lasting. I had no plans to see Caz again, whatever Dorrie might have thought. Too much water had gone under the bridge. Caz might be sorry, but for me, it was too late.