The Other Woman(58)

27

Five days before the wedding, Pammie called to ask if six more guests could be invited to the service. Four days before the wedding, she asked if she could stay at the hotel with me the night before. Three days before the wedding, she wanted the seating plan emailed over to her.

I said a resounding ‘no’ to everything.

‘She’s only trying to help,’ commented Adam, when I complained about her interference. ‘The poor woman can’t win.’

I looked witheringly at him, disappointed yet not remotely surprised. He’d made his position very clear. If I was honest with myself, I don’t think I expected any different.

True to form, Pammie had turned on the waterworks and played the innocent, when Adam had, apparently, taken her to task over lunch a couple of days ago. She claimed to have no idea why Charlotte and I fell out, and swore blind that any misgivings I had about her and her motives were widely misplaced. ‘All she wants, more than anything in the world, is to be your friend,’ Adam had said when he got home.

‘So, that’s it?’ I’d asked incredulously. ‘She says that, and you believe her? End of story?’

He’d shrugged. ‘What else am I supposed to do?’

‘Believe me,’ I’d said, before walking out.

The ‘family dinner’ was the start of our celebrations, a small, intimate affair, a time to be with our nearest and dearest before the craziness of the big day descended on us. If I had my way, it would just be my family, but I’m not selfish enough to deem my wishes any more important than Adam’s.

‘Do I look okay?’ I asked him, smoothing down the crêpe of my black dress, and then picking up a silk scarf.

‘Gorgeous,’ he said, before planting a kiss on my cheek.

‘You didn’t even look,’ I teased.

‘I don’t need to,’ he replied.

‘That was corny, even for you.’

I put two lipsticks in my clutch bag, one pillar-box red, reserved for nights I was going ‘out, out’, the other a nude, for when the evening was winding down. Still, I figured, tonight might end with me in red. It was, after all, the penultimate night before our wedding, and I wasn’t ever intending to do this again.

Mum, Dad, Stuart and Laura were already in the bar of The Ivy when we arrived. Mum, cheeks flushed, happily raised a champagne saucer to us as our coats were taken.

‘Eh up, your mum’s on the sauce already.’ Adam laughed.

‘It’ll likely be prosecco, rather than the real stuff,’ I said. ‘At least until she knows we’re paying.’

The evening would have been perfect, had it just been the six of us, but the dark cloud of Pammie’s impending arrival hung low over me. I could feel my body stooping as each minute passed, the weight on my shoulders bearing down heavily.

Half an hour after our agreed meeting time, Pammie made her entrance, with James at her side.

Seeing him ravaged my brain with confusion, but I refused to give in to it. Tonight, I was going to be the epitome of self-control.

‘Good to see you,’ I said to James. His lips seemed to settle on my cheek for just a second too long.

‘Good to see you, too,’ he said quietly. ‘How are you?’

‘Everything’s just great,’ I said, conscious of relaying the same sentiment with my eyes. ‘Chloe not joining us?’ I asked, looking around him.

‘No, afraid not. Thought Mum had let you know?’

I shook my head and raised my eyebrows.

‘We’ve gone our separate ways,’ he said.

‘Oh, sorry to hear that,’ I mustered.

‘It’s for the best,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t right, she wasn’t the one.’

‘You never know,’ I said, almost cheerily. ‘She might have been.’

‘Don’t think so. You know when it’s right, don’t you?’ His eyes bored into mine.

I ignored him and turned to greet Pammie. Her mouth was held firm in a thin, tight line.

‘Pamela, how lovely,’ I enthused. ‘Isn’t this exciting?’

We both knew my words were dripping with sarcasm, but nobody else would have noticed.

‘Emily.’ She scowled. I waited for the comment I was sure would follow: about how much weight I’d put on, or lost, depending on her mood; about the colour of my hair, which was a little lighter than normal; or about the dress I was wearing. For the first time I actually felt ready for it, but nothing came.

‘Darling,’ she said, turning to Adam and hugging him, but her mouth remained pinched, as if she was keeping it clamped shut for fear of what might come out of it if she didn’t.

‘Mum, how are you?’ he said, embracing her warmly.

Her eyes shot down to the floor. ‘Could be better,’ she said glumly. I silently pleaded with Adam not to ask, not to give her the satisfaction. Mum spilling the contents of her glass as she lifted herself off her bar stool seemed to be the answer to my prayers.

‘Oops, sorry,’ she said, regaining her balance. ‘I hadn’t realized I was so high up.’

Adam laughed as he took the glass from her and guided her by the elbow to our table. Pammie’s joyless face could only follow. You had to hand it to her. She’d already created an atmosphere without barely saying a word.