Bad Bridesmaid (9 page)

‘Just a second, Jay,’ the man says to his dog. ‘Well, maybe next time you have clothes on if you want to–’

Jay barks again impatiently, quashing any chance the lifeguard had of being smooth.

‘I work just down the beach, there’s a café there. I’ll buy you a–’

Jay barks again, only louder and more aggressively this time. I can’t believe I’m getting cockblocked by a dog.

‘I’ll leave you boys to play fetch,’ I tell him as I wander off.

‘Wait,’ the sexy lifeguard calls after me. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

I shrug my shoulders.

‘If you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine,’ he jokes, but he’s starting to sound the tiniest little bit desperate now.

‘You’ll figure it out,’ I call back.

As I stroll back to towards the house it seems like my luck might be changing. A sexy new friend will certainly make my stay here a lot more fun.

When I set out for my walk I didn’t think for a moment that a hot, Australian lifeguard was going to emerge from the sea. One thing is for sure though, I won’t be throwing this fish back just yet.

***

‘Hello,’ I say nervously as I walk into my bedroom, worried Bridezilla might be waiting for me so that she can bite my head off.

I spy Belle sitting on the floor. She seems a lot calmer now, and is unwrapping more clothes.

‘Belle, I’m really sorry about before,’ I tell her sincerely. ‘I didn’t know about that superstition, or I would have never done that. I thought I was helping.’

‘It’s OK,’ my sister says calmly. ‘You weren’t to know, you’re not wedding minded.’

I don’t know what “wedding minded” is but I imagine it’s something my mother told her I was not, so that she would forgive me for my faux pas.

‘Well, if you still want me to try my dress on, I may as well do it now before I get dressed.’

‘OK.’ My sister jumps to her feet excitedly and unzips one of the garment bags. ‘Ta-da,’ she sings as she holds my dress up in front of me.

Not unlike my sister’s dress, my bridesmaid dress is also a strapless tutu dress, only mine is in bright orange. Without saying a word I slip off my nightdress and step into the dress before my sister zips it up for me.

‘Do you love it?’ she asks as I step in front of the mirror. My God, it’s disgusting. I would never accuse my sister of intentionally making me look bad so that she looked better… but… no, on second thoughts, I would totally accuse he of that.

‘I look like something from Toddlers & Tiaras,’ I say blankly.

‘That reminds me,’ Belle chirps excitedly as she rummages around in a box before presenting me with a sparkly, gold tiara. ‘There you go.’

I obligingly pop the tiara on top of my head and it takes all my strength not to laugh or cry, because this is what I am going to have to wear on her wedding day – her wedding day where people will be taking photographs that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

‘How come the other dresses are coral and mine is bright orange?’ I ask my sister as I watch her take out the other bridesmaids’ dresses, which are equally as tacky but a much nicer shade.

‘Because you’re chief bridesmaid,’ she says brightly. ‘Yours is special, just for you.’

Bullshit. She’s made mine extra disgusting on purpose, just to piss me off. Why would she get me an orange dress? No one likes or suits orange. Even oranges don’t suit orange, it’s a horrible colour.

I am just about to say something I will regret when I notice my sister is on the verge of another meltdown.

‘Oh God, what now?’ I ask.

‘The men’s trousers, they’re not shortened,’ she explains. ‘They need to be shortened so they don’t get covered in sand.’

‘Well, can’t they just roll them up?’

‘Mia, don’t be stupid,’ my sister snaps. ‘They were supposed to be shortened. The theme is casual formal. Short trousers, untucked shirts and unfastened bowties, that’s what I wanted. This is your fault.’

‘Go on then, how is this my fault?’ I ask angrily, interested to know how I could have had anything to do with this problem.

‘When you put that veil on my head you sealed my fate. My wedding is ruined. The trousers are wrong, Dan is injured–’

I cut my sister’s sentence short by slapping her across the face. Not too hard, but hard enough to stop her hyperventilating and to get her attention.

‘And you slapped me across the face,’ she yells, adding yet another thing to the list.

‘Because you’re being hysterical,’ I explain. ‘Listen to me. Dan got hurt days ago, and the trousers were already wrong
before
I put the veil on your head. They were already in the room and they were already wrong. The karma fairy didn’t sneak in and lengthen the trousers just to ruin your wedding, I promise.’

Belle takes deep breaths, puffing her cheeks out as she exhales.

‘OK,’ she says calmly.

‘This is what we’ll do. You and I can pop into town and find a tailor, and they can make the changes to the length, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘And I’ll even buy you an ice cream or something,’ I tell her, because I’ve just heard about this café on the beach, not too far from where the hottest lifeguard works…

Chapter 12

Shell’s Café is the cutest little café I have ever seen, and Shell herself is a lovely lady. From the moment Belle and I arrived she has treated us like royalty – she even offered us cupcakes on the house, but as delicious as they looked with their piped-on pink buttercream, chocolate sprinkles and dash of glitter, I had to say no. Belle, who actually bakes cakes for a living, didn’t hesitate in saying yes to one of the delicious looking cakes.

‘This is lovely,’ Belle announces after she takes her first bite. When it comes to cakes Belle is somewhat of a snob, so it says a lot about Shell’s cakes that my sister is praising them.

Growing up it was a shared love of baking that brought my sister and me together on those rare occasions we could actually tolerate spending time together. Whenever it was a family member’s birthday we would team up and bake them a cake or some cupcakes, and we were actually quite good at it. Sure we’d argue the entire time but we actually made a pretty good team. As we got older we kept up the tradition but we would complain even louder each time about having to spend time together (although, if I’m being honest, it felt kind of nice to spend time together – well, maybe not nice, but it certainly felt more normal than hating each other) until one day we just decided to stop. As I grew older I started distancing myself from things like butter and sugar, but my sister went on to make a career out of it, working for a cupcake café back in Canterbury.

‘Well, I’m glad you like it,’ Shell says brightly before turning to me and opening her mouth, but my sister starts talking before Shell has a chance to say anything else.

‘Dan, my fiancé, said that there was no way he was going to let me make my own wedding cake, even though I offered, so he arranged a surprise cake for me. I told him I like the ones from Le Papillon bakery in Paris, you know the one from that TV show with the amazing cakes? So he’s ordered me one from there!’

‘That’s nice,’ Shell replies politely. ‘Mia, I want to hear more about your movies.’

‘What do you want to know?’ I ask, aware of the evil looks my sister is shooting me for hogging the attention. It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose, is it? After all, it was Belle who brought up working in a bakery that prompted Shell to ask me what I did for a living.

‘Do you have anything in the cinema at the moment?’ she asks excitedly. ‘I love to go to the cinema.’

‘I do, it’s a wedding film actually.’ One of my many wedding films, which is hilarious considering I hate weddings. ‘It’s called For Better, For Worse.’

Shell, who is probably in her forties but seems to love the colour pink almost as much as I do, squeaks like an excited teenage girl.

‘I saw the trailer for that, it looks so good. Are you working on anything at the moment, my love?’

‘I am, but we’re in the very early stages.’

‘You should set a scene here,’ Shell suggests. With the cream walls, pretty pink cushions and curtains and the doll house-esque furniture – not to mention the fact it is situated overlooking the sea – Shell’s Café would actually make a pretty good setting for a romcom… not that I’ll be setting any movies in Cornwall any time soon.

‘Definitely,’ I lie.

Whenever the door opens a little bell rings to alert Shell that customers have arrived, and as I hear the familiar tinkle again my eyes dart towards the door and then back to looking at my sister.

Shell excuses herself so that she can go and serve her customers.

‘Wow, it really is The Mia Show and we’re all just guest stars in it,’ Belle says, unimpressed.

‘I can’t help it if people want to know about my job.’

I hear the tinkle again and I feel my eyes pulled in the direction of the door – it’s an elderly couple.

‘Just like you can’t help looking at the door – don’t think I haven’t noticed. Who are you looking for?’ my sister asks.

Before I have a chance to make something up the door tinkles again. This time we both look, and this time it’s my fit lifeguard who walks inside.

As soon as he sees me he waves and heads towards us.

‘Suddenly it’s all so clear,’ my sister sighs.

As he approaches our table in nothing but a pair of red shorts I notice my sister look him up and down.

‘And now it’s clearer,’ she adds.

‘Hello girls,’ the fit lifeguard says in that gorgeous Australian accent of his.

‘Oh, and now it’s crystal clear,’ my sister says, much to his confusion.

My sister knows all about my love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude when it comes to men – and it’s much to her disgust. My sister is a proper romantic and she finds my approach to dating positively revolting. Belle just doesn’t understand that even though marriage and babies are what she wants from life, for me it’s all about having fun and never getting too serious with anyone. For Belle marriage is a commitment, for me it’s a death sentence – neither of us is wrong, it’s just that different people want different things from life. I’m not sure why I don’t subscribe to the usual path, because when I was younger I wasn’t against the idea. I suppose that’s what years of boys rejecting you for being fat does to you – each time it happens you lose a little faith. The tables have certainly turned now, and while I’m happy to interact with attractive members of the opposite sex, I don’t want much of a relationship with them – just like they didn’t with me. I’m sure a therapist could have a field day with that.

‘Hello again,’ I say.

‘Hi,’ the fittie replies coolly.

‘This is my sister, Belle. The one I was telling you about,’ I lie, to try and score myself some brownie points with my sis. ‘The one who is getting married.’

‘Congratulations,’ he says, rubbing my sister’s shoulder. Belle, who may not be into flings, is still temporarily disarmed by a little attention from this hot guy.

‘Usual is it, Chris?’ Shell calls over.

‘Please,’ he calls back.

‘So, Chris,’ I say, showing off the fact that I know his name now, ‘how is work?’

‘Work is slow,’ he replies, ‘but that’s a good thing in this game.’

I smile and nod as he waits expectantly for me to tell him my name but I’m not giving it up that easily.

‘What’s with the tennis ball?’ my sister asks, breaking the silence as she clocks the ball in Chris’s hand.

‘It’s my dog’s,’ Chris explains. ‘He loves balls.’

‘Your dog and I have that in common,’ I joke.

‘Oh my God.’ My sister looks mortified. ‘Mia, I’m going to wait outside.’

We wait in silence as Belle leaves the café. Once she’s outside, Chris sits down at the table opposite me.

‘So, it’s Mia, is it?’ he asks, and I nod my head. ‘Well, Mia, what are you doing tonight?’

‘I’m not sure what my sister has planned for me, why?’

‘We could meet up later tonight, play a little ball or whatever,’ Chris jokes.

‘That sounds like fun,’ I reply.

We make arrangements to meet later so I say goodbye to Shell before heading outside to find my sister.

I find Belle sitting on a bench, under the safety of the white, lacy parasol she insisted on bringing with us. She looks like she’s about to burst into ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ any second.

‘So what’s happening with you and Neil Buchanan?’ my sister asks as I approach her.

‘I don’t get it,’ I admit as I sit down on the bench.

‘The Baywatch guy,’ she explains before pushing her tongue behind her bottom lip.

‘You mean Mitch Buchannon, you daft bitch.’ I give my sister a playful nudge. ‘Neil Buchanan was the guy from Art Attack.’

‘He died, you know,’ she says solemnly.

‘I think that was a hoax,’ I explain. ‘He’s still alive.’

‘No, he had a heart attack,’ she insists.

‘Belle, that sounds like the punch line to a bad joke.’

My sister thinks about this for a moment.

‘Whatever. What’s happening with you and that guy?’ she asks.

‘We’re meeting up later tonight – don’t tell anyone,’ I warn her. I may be a grown woman but I don’t think the family will be too impressed by me going on a date with a guy I have just met, and the last thing they need is another reason to look down their noses at me.

‘Fine,’ my sister snaps. ‘Go out with this guy who could be a rapist or a murder. See if I care. Just make sure you let me know if you’re dead so I can change the seating plan for my wedding.’

‘Belle, we’re probably meeting up for sex. He’d have to be a really lazy rapist to operate that way. And I suppose saving lives by day would be a great way to hide the fact he kills women by night – that would make a great plot for a movie,’ I think out loud, not that it’s the kind of movie I’m ever going to get to make.

My sister shuffles angrily in her seat, accidently jabbing my head with her parasol.

‘I can’t believe you’re carrying that thing,’ I laugh.

‘So I can get sunburned and look awful in my wedding pictures?’ she snaps. ‘You’d love that wouldn’t you, me looking all red.’

‘Red is better than orange,’ I say, instantly wishing I hadn’t.