All She Ever Wished For. Claudia Carroll

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СКАЧАТЬ So is it too much to ask that you could be a little bit more enthusiastic about my wedding? God knows, I’m not asking you to be best friends with Bernard, you’ve made your misgivings about him clear enough—’

      ‘And I’m sorry, I really am,’ says Gracie, stepping down off the dais, where she’d been posing in her dress, and kicking off the high heels she’d been wobbling uncomfortably in. ‘But I still stand by what I said.’

      ‘I know you don’t like him, but what I don’t get is why you can’t accept that I love him and I’m marrying him no matter what you might think!’

      I’m red in the face and properly angry now. Hot tears are starting to sting at the corners of my eyes now that the gloves are well and truly off. The dull pain from the horrible comments and the thousand searing humiliations Bernard and I have had to put up with ever since we got engaged is suddenly fresh in my mind now, almost making me shake with white-hot anger. But then this particular row has been brewing between Gracie and me for a very long while, and no time like the present, etc.

      ‘Yeah but you’re marrying him for all the wrong reasons,’ is Gracie’s quick as gunfire reply. ‘You know as well as I do that you’re just getting married on the rebound from Paul. In fact this is such a textbook rebound case, it’s almost a cliché.’

      ‘That’s not true and you know it isn’t—’

      But she just cuts across me.

      ‘Well, I’m here aren’t I, babes?’ she says, stepping closer to me now, arms folded aggressively. ‘I’m practically beaten into a dress that frankly makes me look anaemic with my pasty white skin – and all for you. Because you’re my one and only sister and, believe it or not, I love you and I want to be there for you. Just don’t expect me to dance cartwheels when you exchange your vows, because to be perfectly honest with you, I think in two years’ time you’ll be singing a very different tune. So there. Now I’ve said it. To your face.’

      Silence in the room. Cold, stony silence. It’s only now I notice that Cindi has already come bustling back in with a mouthful of pins, most likely having overheard the gist of our row. I’m actually shaking and even Mum is at a loss for words, which is not like her at all.

      Thank God for Cindi though, who instantly clicks back into mindless-saleslady-patter mode, effortlessly gliding over the surface tension that’s just beneath.

      ‘I really am so happy you went with this style, Tess,’ she says brightly, getting back to re-pinning the hem of my dress. ‘You’ve certainly got the figure for it, and not many would have, you know. I don’t think in all my years working here I’ve ever seen a dress suit a bride so well.’

      I’ll take a large bet that she says that to just about every bride who passes through these doors, but right now I’m just so grateful to her for changing the subject, that it doesn’t bother me.

      Still more silence.

      ‘So have you been checking out the long-range forecast?’ asks Cindi, aware of the dark undercurrent and seemingly determined to jolly us all out of it, bless her. ‘Because you know there’s a weather app that a lot of my brides find very accurate!’

      ‘Erm, no,’ I say in an unsteady voice. ‘I haven’t just yet, but I certainly will when it gets closer to the time.’

      Another excruciating pause while Gracie stares furiously off into space and Cindi keeps steadfastly pinning the hem of my dress. Then Mum, bless her, comes to my rescue. She’s drifted over towards a coffee table now so she can top up her glass of Prosecco and her eye falls on a newspaper that’s lying there.

      ‘Oh, now isn’t that very interesting, girls,’ she says, picking up the paper as something catches her attention.

      ‘What’s that?’ says Cindi brightly.

      ‘Kate King is in the papers again,’ says Mum, sitting down on a sofa and leafing through the pages. ‘On the front page and everything.’

      ‘Really?’ says Gracie, suddenly back to herself now that we’re talking about something other than Bernard. ‘But then, Kate King is never out of the papers, is she? Particularly these days with all this talk about court action and charges being pressed and some painting she and the ex are bickering over.’

      ‘Oh yes, I heard about this!’ says Cindi. ‘My pal is a hairdresser who does a friend of Kate’s hair and I heard it all from her first hand. Well, almost first hand.’

      ‘Are they divorced yet?’ asks Gracie.

      ‘Legally separated and just biding their time apart till they can finalise it,’ Cindi says knowledgeably, looking like she’s delighted with the change of subject. ‘And that’s where all the trouble started, apparently. The Kings went for mediation ages ago and that broke down because Kate wants more money out of him, before she’ll agree to a divorce. And even though Kate’s been charged by the courts and everything, she’s still sticking to her guns and is refusing to give back this particular painting that Damien says she’s no right to. Insists it’s her big insurance pay-out.’

      ‘I love the way Kate does her hair,’ says Mum, gazing dreamily at her photo in the paper. ‘She always looks so fabulous, doesn’t she? In spite of what she’s going through.’

      ‘She’s had work done for definite.’

      ‘Sure we’d all look fabulous if we’d had the amount of Botox and fillers that she’s had.’

      ‘And of course everyone knows Damien King wouldn’t exactly be the world’s most faithful husband, at least that’s what I heard.’

      ‘Well, maybe that’s it then. Maybe that’s why he wants rid of Kate?’

      ‘Sure they were fifteen years married and they still didn’t even have kids! Something seriously wrong there, mark my words—’

      ‘Apparently he was desperate for a family and she’d been going for all these really expensive fertility treatments but none of them worked—’

      ‘Oh, I read that too on Your Daily Dish—’

      ‘And I’d say Kate was dying to get her hands on as many valuables as she could from that stately pile of theirs, before she got turfed out on her ear—’

      ‘I’d love to know what went wrong there,’ Cindi muses thoughtfully. ‘When they first got together, they just seemed so … happy. So devoted to each other. I really thought they were a genuine love match.’

      ‘And look at the two of them now, at each other’s throats—’

      I’m only half-listening to them all though. Instead, I slip out of the fitting room on the pretext of going to the ladies, to have a little lip-wobbling moment in private, where no one can see.

      Feck Gracie anyway, I think, looking at my reflection in the mirror. To hell with what she said. I’m most definitely not getting married on the rebound and that’s all there is to it.

      In four weeks’ time, I’ll be Mrs Tess Pritchard. And Gracie and the whole lot of them can learn how to deal with it.

      Just like I have.

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