It Had to Be You (28 page)

Honestly, I thought friends were supposed to
be supportive.

‘
Let’s pay for this lot and get to the fitting, and you’d better pray that sodding dress still zips up. I don’t know how many fittings I can cope with.’

Don
’t you just hate weddings, and even more so, other people’s weddings? I wonder if William will invite us. Oh God, I hope not.

One week later and I’m dieting for England. The dress doesn’t fit. I’ve dipped into the chocolate teapot one too many times and even with a spanx it still won’t bloody zip up.

‘
Don’t worry,’ Andrea had said, the dress fitter Andrea that is, not the other one. I wouldn’t let her near my body with a bargepole.

‘
We’ll have you looking like Kate Moss when you walk down the aisle.’

Muffy had scoffed.

‘Huh, work wonders and shit miracles do you? Perhaps you can make me look like Angelina Jolie while you’re at it.’

To make matters
worse we are dining with Oliver’s parents this evening at a posh restaurant, and I just know I’ll be tempted by the menu.

‘
Is that what you’re wearing?’ Oliver asks as I walk out of the bathroom. I look down at my long black skirt and white cashmere cardigan.

‘
Yes why?’

‘
It’s just a bit …’

‘
A bit what?’ I say defensively.

‘
I don’t know, it’s okay, I just think that cardigan makes you look a bit dumpy.’

A bit dumpy, oh my God, I look dumpy. I rush into the bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. I suppose I do look a bit dumpy.

‘I’ll have to change.’

He sighs.

‘There isn’t time now. You’ll have to go like that.’

Like that
, meaning
dumpy
I suppose. I grab my coat and handbag and waddle my dumpy body out of the doorway. Honestly weddings, they are such a stress. There is such pressure to look perfect. The closer to the day we get the more nervous I am that the dress won’t fit, or if I do squeeze into it then it will burst open at the back as I am halfway down the bloody aisle. I keep wondering if William has his wedding date and find myself scrutinising the newspapers for an announcement, but there is nothing. Twice I’ve come close to phoning him on the pretext of thanking him for the reference but I always stop at the last digit. Then I type a text, thanking him and asking how things are, only to delete it after staring at it for about half an hour. Twice I’ve been tempted to drive past Driftwood but chickened out at the last minute. I did read in the FT that he had replaced his accountant. There was a short piece on Nathan, saying he had been offered a terrific opportunity in Dubai, which he could not turn down and as much as they hated to part company they both felt it was for the best.

Oliver rests his hand on my knee and I place my hand over his. Things have been a lot better between us since the new bed arrived. What a difference a bed makes. Tonight is a celebratory dinner to toast my new job and Oliver
’s job offer at Munroes, and that we have finally got our mortgage offer. Muffy had quipped y
ou’re very much becoming Mr and Mrs Average
.

Oliver
’s phone rings and he removes his hand from my knee to answer it.

‘
Hi, really, blimey that’s a bonus. I’ll just tell the driver. See you there in fifteen minutes.’

He hangs up and leans forward to the driver.

‘Could you take us to Marcells instead? Thanks mate.’

Oh no, why are going to Marcells?

‘I thought we were going to
The Manor
,’ I say, trying to stop the tremble in my voice.

‘
Apparently they’ve had a
fire. Luckily they managed to get their customers into other restaurants. Marcells is pretty upmarket. We were lucky to get rebooked there.’

Oh please don
’t let William be there. Why am I being so stupid? Why should he be there? There are a hundred places he could be. Anyway, he probably isn’t even eating out tonight. Most likely he is getting a Chinese, he likes that and we often did that on a Friday. My heart sinks at the memory. The taxi pulls up outside Marcells and Oliver’s parents, Sylvia and Robert, are waiting outside. Sylvia enfolds me in a crushing hug.

‘
How are you darling?’

‘
Fine, how are you?’ I say untangling myself.

‘
Have you gained weight?’ she says, holding me away from her and studying me intently. Of course she would have to do this in public wouldn’t she? Anyone else would have had a quiet word in the loo, but not my future mother-in-law.

‘
Yes she has,’ replies Oliver.

Why is it I feel not only fat but invisible all at one and the same time?

‘Oh dear, is the dress going …’

‘
It’s fine,’ I say hurriedly. ‘The dress fits perfectly.’

Well, it will eventually so I
’m not lying as such.

‘
Oh dear,’ she mumbles.

‘
Shall we go in?’ says Robert, my future father-in-law.

I
’d prefer not to but seeing as I have no choice. God, it would be tonight that I look dumpy wouldn’t it? Of all the nights that I could bump into William it is the night I look dumpy and overweight. I must be if Sylvia noticed. I’m beginning to think this Kate Moss thing is something of a dream on the part of Andrea. My phone rings and I pull it from my bag as we enter the
dining area.

‘
I’m at my beauty therapist having my nails done,’ says Muffy.

‘
I need to know this do I?’

‘
Okay, no need to be sarky. She’s got the answer to your bridal dress problem.’

I walk past the red velvet curtains that cover the windows and peep behind one to see the river and remember how William and I gazed out of the window when we were here. I follow Oliver and his parents to a table at the back of the room.

‘She knows how to perform miracles does she?’ I say, allowing the waiter to pull back a chair for me.

‘
Colonic irrigation.’

‘
What, I’m not having anything poked up my arse thank you very much,’ I say, totally forgetting I am with Oliver and his parents. There is a brief silence and I blush furiously.

‘
Erm, can I call you back later Muffy. I’m out for dinner with Oliver.’

‘
Yeah sure, I’ll book you in, you can always cancel. You should give it serious thought.’

I hang up and smile at Sylvia.

‘Muffy,’ I say, like that explains everything.

Robert nods and asks the waiter for champagne.

‘Well, what a night huh, not only do we have a double celebration but we get to do it here. Who gets this kind of luck?’

Oh I do, I really so do, I think
as I see William stroll into the restaurant with Andrea at his side. Another couple follow behind them and William turns to smile at his male companion as he passes our table. I try to duck under it but I’ve been pushed so far into the corner that it’s all I can do to get my legs under the table let alone my whole body. Bugger it. He turns back and our eyes meet. I shrug stupidly and give a little wave. He seems to freeze for a couple of seconds and Andrea nudges him while laughing with the other woman and flashing her diamond engagement ring for all she’s worth. William gives me a little nod, at least I think it is me he is nodding at, and then he is gone. I see Andrea’s chiffon dress disappear around the corner. My heart is thumping and my hands are trembling. God, what is wrong with me.

‘
Someone is looking down on us,’ laughs Robert.

And who would that be, because whoever it is they certainly have it in for me. The waiter pours the champagne and hands us menus.

‘Perhaps not too much for you dear,’ Sylvia says softly. ‘Alcohol is the worst thing when it comes to calories. I’m on the five-two diet aren’t I Robert? This is one of my five days when I can eat whatever I like. I’ve lost pounds, haven’t I Robert, it’s marvellous. I’ll send you all the details.’

God, three comments in the space of fifteen minutes regarding my bloody weight, surely this is a record. I don
’t mind Muffy going on, well I do really but it’s a bit much when you can’t come out for dinner without having it rubbed in. I find myself looking at the assortment of salads on the menu while trying to remember where the loos are, and if they are anywhere near where William is sitting.

‘
Here’s to Oliver and his fantastic new job, well done son, and to our lovely future daughter-in-law on landing her new job,’ says Robert, raising his glass and clinking against ours. I knock mine back in one go. God, I hope I don’t have to hold it in all night. I really couldn’t bear a weight comment from Andrea.

‘
Fabulous menu,’ murmurs Robert.

Sylvia looks up from hers and says,

‘Talking of menus dear, Oliver said you’re going for the salmon as the main course for the reception. I thought we all agreed duck, it’s much nicer, and salmon is so common. Everyone has salmon don’t they? I know your parents prefer it but …’

‘
Oh yes, I was going to tell you,’ adds Oliver, gesturing to the waiter. ‘Could we have a bottle of the house red?’

I remember William ordering our wine by name and in fluent French too. Oh I wish I could go and speak to him. If only he had come alone.

‘Binki.’

I look up to see Sylvia waving her hand in front of my face.

‘Are you with us dear?’

I wish I wasn
’t.

‘
I think Mum is right, duck would be far more original don’t you think?’

‘
But we’ve already chosen the menu,’ I say feebly. ‘And most people will eat salmon won’t they. The thing is …’

‘
Well, of course they’ll eat it darling, but do you really want to be like everyone else?’ says Sylvia firmly. ‘I’d like my son’s wedding to be a little bit original. I’ll phone your mother.’

Great. And why can
’t I have sodding salmon at my wedding? After all, it is my wedding isn’t it?

‘
Good, that’s that sorted, now what are you having Robert?’ she says dismissing me.

I fight back a sigh and
grab my wine glass. I order a hot chicken salad and feel decidedly more depressed than I did when Ben-wart-on-the-nose offered me his Christmas bonus. That feels so long ago now, and so much seems to have happened since then.

‘
The sea bass is supposed to be amazing here,’ says Oliver.

God, I
’m dying for a pee but I can’t possibly risk walking past stick-thin Andrea, or should I say waddling past her. Honestly, I feel that fat the way everyone keeps talking about my weight.

‘
Do you want a starter?’ Oliver asks.

I
’d love one.

‘
Oliver don’t tempt the poor girl. She’s got an important dress to get into, isn’t that right Sylv,’ laughs Robert loudly.

Are these people really going to be my in-laws?

‘I’ll just have some bread,’ I say.

‘
Oh, that’s the worst dear,’ says Sylvia with a tut-tut.

God, why don
’t they just throw celery sticks at me?

‘So,’ says Robert. ‘Munroes is a nice little number. Gets you away from …’ he stops embarrassed and glances at me.

‘
Well, we don’t want to dwell on little mistakes do we,’ says Sylvia, breaking open a roll.

There are a few seconds of silence. A little mistake, is that what she sodding calls it? Personally I call it a huge mistake. A bloody
how much bigger could it get
mistake.

‘
Excuse me, I need the ladies,’ I say, squeezing past Oliver.

‘
You okay?’ he whispers.

I straighten my clothes and attempt to walk with my head held high to the loo.
Keep looking ahead
I tell myself. I pass tables without looking to see who is sitting at them. I feel certain I hear Andrea’s laugh but it seems a little distance away. I dive into the ladies and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed from the champagne and my eyes are sparkling. I turn and twist my head to see just how big my backside is in the skirt. It doesn’t look
that
bad, or maybe I am just kidding myself and the cardigan looks okay in my opinion. Maybe a little tight around the bust but blimey it makes a change for me to look big breasted. I look like Nigella Lawson in one of her cashmere cardigans. I hear footsteps approaching and dive
into a cubicle and sit on the loo. I listen as two women chat about their fabulous evening at such a posh restaurant and look down at my shoes. I’m not that dumpy. Okay, I’m not a stick insect and never have been and don’t know if I even want to be. And if I want sodding salmon at my wedding surely I should have salmon shouldn’t I? It is my wedding after all and also a special day for my parents. Maybe I’ll have beetles for the starter. They’re a delicacy aren’t they?
Maybe not in this country but they are somewhere. That will be fun, watching Sylvia crunch her way through a plateful of beetles. But why should my parents eat duck? What’s happened to me anyway? I’ve become so insignificant, I’m amazed I haven’t disappeared into the wallpaper. Mind you, didn’t Muffy say I was bloody stupid when it came to men? I supposedly
loved too much
. God, that’s a joke. I’m now beginning to worry that I don’t love Oliver enough. How do you know if you love someone? I suppose it’s all subjective.
I would hate not having him in my life but I could cope with not living with him. Do all married couples feel this way? I’m sure this is all wedding nerves. I bet if you asked any woman how she felt six weeks before her wedding she would say exactly the same. I’m marrying a man that I love dearly but is that good enough? I’ve a good job. I could rent my own flat and buy an Amanda Rowland-free bed all for myself. I don’t have to be a desperate 30-year-old do I? Maybe the clock is ticking but it isn’t going to blow up if I don’t walk down the aisle by the time
the clock strikes thirty-one is it? Do I want to be married to a man who thinks I look dumpy? More importantly, is it normal to be giving oneself a pep talk while sitting in a posh restaurant’s loo? The door bangs as the women leave and I scroll through the contacts on my Blackberry and pick out three of my closest friends, apart from Muffy.