One Day in December(68)

She’s being cruel because she’s hurt, but I can’t help it, I bite back. ‘Of course I wasn’t,’ I say, louder, clearer, harsher. ‘You know me better than that. I tried my best every damn day not to feel anything at all for him.’

‘Am I supposed to say thank you?’ She slow claps me. ‘Well done, Laurie! You’re a pal.’

‘You could at least try to understand. I was horrified when you introduced us.’

‘I very much doubt that,’ she spits. ‘At least you’d found him.’

‘No. You’d found him. I wish I’d never laid eyes on him.’

We fall into silence, and then she makes a sound that’s horribly like a hiss.

‘Did he know too? Were you both laughing about it behind my back?’

I’m mortified that she could imagine either Jack or I could do that. ‘God, Sarah, no!’

‘Were you snogging in doorways, shagging in our flat when my back was turned?’

I get to my feet. ‘That isn’t fair. You know full well I’d never do that.’

She stands too, facing me down across the coffee table. ‘You swear on my life you never so much as kissed him?’

It’s in that moment I realize I’m about to lose my best friend for ever.

I can’t lie. ‘Once. I kissed him once. It was –’ I break off because she holds her hands up in front of her, as if my words are bullets.

‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare make excuses for yourself, I don’t want to hear them.’ Her face crumples. ‘It hurts right here,’ she says, banging her fingers against her chest, vicious. She bends and grabs her discarded shoes and her suitcase, then makes a dash for the hall. I follow her, begging her to stay, and when she spins round by the door her face is a study of disgust.

‘Good luck for Saturday, because I won’t be there. You know who I feel sorry for? Oscar. Poor fuck doesn’t even know he’s second best.’ She’s saying things I know we’ll never come back from. ‘Keep your precious bracelet. I don’t want it. Keep your bracelet and your secrets and your fake friendship. I’m done here.’

I stand and stare at the door after she’s slammed it, rooted to the spot. I’m paralysed; I don’t know what to do. She obviously can’t stand the sight of me. But how will I do this without her? My family are arriving tomorrow. Our guests are coming. Even bloody Jack is coming, probably with his new girlfriend in tow.

I stuff everything – the cards, her dress, the box of surprises, into the cupboard – then go to bed and curl into a ball with my arms round my head. I’ve never felt so alone in the world as I do right now.





14 December


Jack


I know already what she’s going to look like. I’ve seen her dress, I’ve felt the sucker punch. So I should feel prepared for today. But as I sit here in the packed-out church with Verity beside me, I realize I am anything but. I shiver. You’d think they’d put heating in these places; maybe they feel that a bit of discomfort is part of the experience, a way of showing commitment to your faith. I’m just itching to get the whole thing over with, to get out of this suit, to get a beer inside me, and then get back to Edinburgh as soon as I can without looking rude. My life there is fast and full-on; the show is gaining a bit of a cult rep and I’m working hard to build good relationships with everyone at the station. It’s still early days, but I think this might be my place. I’ve made some friends, I can even afford to rent a flat on my own there. Brick by brick, I’m building myself a new life, and it feels good.

I still don’t know if bringing Verity was the best idea. She was keen to come and meet my old friends, and in truth I imagined that having her here would put on a bit of a ‘look how well I’m doing’ show, because she’s an eye-catcher. To be honest, she fits this crowd better than I do; she’s even double-barrelled. We met at a charity social thing. She presented a colleague with an award in her capacity as local gentry and took me home as her own reward at the end of the night. The girl owns a horse. Do I need to say more?

I haven’t seen Sarah yet. I’m hoping we can all be polite and grown-up about things. She texted me for the first time since our break-up to say she was looking forward to catching up, and casually mentioned that she’s bringing Luke. I got the feeling she was telling me in advance so I didn’t land one on him in church, not that I ever would. I told her it was cool and that I was bringing Verity down to meet everyone, and after that she didn’t text back. It’s bloody awkward all round. God, suddenly I’m really hot. This damned shirt is sticking to my back. I wonder if it’s grossly inappropriate to take my jacket off? Oh, hang on, here we go. The organist has started up, way too loud, and everyone’s roused out of their botoxed skin and is craning their necks towards the door.

Verity is on the end of the pew nearest the aisle, and it’s only when she leans back in for a second that I get to glimpse Laurie. I was definitely wrong about being prepared. I feel that sucker punch again in my solar plexus as I look at her, serenely beautiful, white flowers and jewels threaded into her curls and yet more flowers in her hands. She isn’t one of those perfectly coiffed and primped brides. She looks bohemian, beautifully undone, herself on her best day; she shines. As she draws level with me, her summer hedgerow eyes find mine and settle. She’s walking slowly beside her dad, and for a second I feel as if she’s the only other person in the church. If I were on the end of the pew, I think I’d reach out and squeeze her hand and tell her that she looks like a goddess, but as it is, she shoots me this tiny, barely there trace of a smile and I nod, fierce in my wish to convey my feelings. I try to say all the things I want to say with my eyes. Go and marry the man waiting at the altar for you, Laurie, and then live the glorious life that’s waiting for you. Be happy. You deserve it.