The Single Girl's To-Do List (26 page)

‘It’s just so pretty,’ she breathed after a moment.

‘I know,’ I replied in exactly the same voice.

That just settled it. Jenny hadn’t been real after all; she was my fairy godmother. I held the dress out in front of me and stared into the mirrored wall of the hotel lobby. Yes Cinders, I watched as the colour of the fabric lit up my skin and made my bright new hair shine, you shall go to the ball.

‘I’m coming!’ I yelled, dashing up the hallway in my beautiful gold dress and delicate borrowed Jimmy Choos, clutch bag wedged into my armpit, one diamond stud in my ear and one in the palm of my hand. But the knocking at the door didn’t stop.

‘But Miss Summers, you look beautiful.’ Matthew stood at the front door, resplendent in a new grey suit and pale gold tie, purchased especially to complement my dress. ‘Really, you look amazing.’ He leaned in to give me a delicate air kiss on the cheek that wouldn’t smudge my make-up.

‘You scrub up all right yourself,’ I commented, while he did a twirl. ‘I’m almost ready. Why didn’t you let yourself in?’

‘Just wanted to make a grand entrance,’ he called from the hallway. ‘You put the pictures up all by yourself? They look great.’

‘I am capable of hammering a nail into a wall as it happens,’ I replied, applying one last coat of mascara in the living-room mirror. ‘I put them up yesterday.’

After arriving back in London, I’d made a last-ditch dash over to Dan’s place, calling en route and hoping I’d make it before he left for LA. But he wasn’t home. And, according to the neighbour who’d come out to see what exactly all the racket was about, he hadn’t been home in a day or so. I was too late, he’d gone. Instead of throwing myself off Waterloo Bridge, I got back in the taxi and let him drive me back home. There was nothing I could do until he decided to talk to me, whenever that might be. Until then, I’d decided to keep myself busy.

Once I’d prised myself out of bed sometime on Thursday afternoon, I went for a run, then came home and gave the hallway a fresh coat of paint to cover up the sad shadows where mine and Simon’s photos had once hung. And, on Friday, after another mid-morning run, I took myself to Ikea and came back with a cartload of new picture frames to fill. There was the photo I’d taken on my phone of my new do, a ticket from the charity do at The Savoy and even the scrap of paper bearing Asher’s number. I’d framed my Agent Provocateur receipt. I’d taken a photo of my, Emelie’s and Matthew’s tattoos and framed them as well. I put up what felt like several thousand photos of me in the slingshot bungee ball and several thousand more of me and my two best friends at Niagara Falls. In two short weeks, I’d been able to rewrite my entire hallway. And, in the living room, in prime position over the sofa, was a worse-for-wear-looking napkin, covered in scribble, mounted in a huge black wooden frame.

‘Emelie’s already gone?’ Matthew wandered into the living room and picked my new
Mad Men
DVD up off the top of the TV. ‘She’s not coming with us?’

‘She went home last night.’ I gave myself one last look in the mirror. Hair was shiny, dress was spotless, make-up pretty, fresh and – as experience had taught me was essential – waterproof. ‘I don’t think she wanted Paul to pick her up from here.’

‘Fair enough,’ he smiled at my artistic masterpiece. ‘I suppose she has to go home anyway, with you abandoning us so callously.’

‘Well yeah,’ I agreed. ‘If she’s going to be alone in anyone’s house, it might as well be hers. Besides, there’s no way she’s getting it on with my brother here. I’m not that OK with it.’

‘When do you leave again?’ he asked.

About ten minutes after I’d given up banging Dan’s door down, Veronica had called to tell me I’d got the Sydney job. The make-up artist the magazine had originally booked had quit when she’d heard Dan had pulled out, and Dan had only pulled out because he thought I was going. There wasn’t a single verse in Alanis Morissette’s entire songbook to deal with the irony of the situation. Because Dan had let them down, I was getting to go to Australia. Because I had let him down, I got the opportunity of a lifetime. Or had he let me down? Either way, neither of us had seemed very happy the last time we’d spoken and now we were both going to be on opposite sides of the planet because he wouldn’t listen. I was prepared to accept some responsibility but, quite frankly, not a lot.

‘I’m going tomorrow night.’ I picked up the wedding invite from the arm of the sofa and held out my arms to indicate I was all done. ‘Flight’s at ten.’

‘I’ll drive you.’ Matthew held out his arm. ‘You have to bring me back some Vegemite.’

‘All right you two, ready?’ Stephen poked his head around the living-room door and Matthew lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘The car’s double parked. Rachel, you look amazing.’

Lucky lady that I was, I had two escorts to the wedding. And, given the way they were smiling at each other, there would be another wedding to go to soon enough. God knows Stephen had spent every waking moment working me and Emelie over for approval since we got back from Toronto. And rightly so. Matthew might be ready to give him a second chance, but Emelie and I had agreed he was on a six-month probation period as far as we were concerned. One wrong look and we took his balls.

‘Shall we go?’ Matthew asked, holding out his arm.

I checked the list in my little pink notebook – invite, directions, card, present – yep, I had everything.

‘We shall,’ I gave him a tiny curtsey and took the offered appendage. Since I was sworn off men for the time being, it was likely to be the only appendage I’d be manhandling for a while.

Emelie and Paul were waiting for us outside the church and, as much as it pained me to admit it, they both looked incredibly happy to be together. Paul had clearly washed his Ewok hair and Em, wearing my pale blue silk number and cute little white lace gloves, was glowing. It was just unfortunate that they weren’t the only people waiting for me outside the church.

I spotted Simon before anyone else. I put it down to the fact that spending five years of being with someone gave you something of a Spidey sense as to when they were present. His car, our car, was parked a little way down the lane from the church and he was leaning against a gravestone a few feet away, decked out in his best suit, his slightly-too-long dark blond hair combed down flat. He’d clearly missed his monthly haircut appointment.

‘Don’t worry,’ Matthew said as Paul pushed up his suit sleeves. ‘We’ll get rid of him.’

‘No.’ I held my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. I could tell he wasn’t there to start trouble. He looked so sad. ‘I’ll talk to him. Wait for me inside.’

Seeing I was serious, the four of them set off up the path to the church while I turned in the opposite direction. This wouldn’t take long.

‘Simon?’

‘Rachel?’ He squinted at me and then did a double take. ‘Is that you?’

‘I realize it’s been a while but I wouldn’t have thought you’d have forgotten what I look like.’ I crossed my arms in front of me. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your hair.’ He continued to look me up and down until we passed right through ignorant and onto completely obnoxious. ‘You look great.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied. At least I actually did, which was a weight off my mind. We were a long way from baggy boxers and his dirty old T-shirt in the hallway. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t talk to me on the phone,’ he said. His tie flapped awkwardly in the breeze. He never could tie them properly and the skinny end was far too long. ‘And I know you hate coming to family things on your own. I wanted to come with you.’

‘I’m not on my own, though.’ I pointed out Matthew and Paul, who – against my instructions – were attempting to look menacing on the steps of the church. They weren’t quite pulling off the Mitchell brothers. Chuckle Brothers maybe, but that probably wasn’t quite the effect they were going for. ‘And if I wanted to talk to you, I’d have called you.’

‘I didn’t recognize you,’ he said. ‘From over there, I didn’t realize it was you. Your hair?’

The hair. Always the hair.

‘Simon, we’re at my dad’s wedding, don’t you think today’s going to be enough of a pain in the arse for me without you pulling this shit?’ I shook my head. ‘Just go home.’

‘Rachel, listen.’ He shuffled a little bit closer. I didn’t move an inch. ‘I know you’re pissed off, you’re right to be pissed off, but I really am sorry. Can’t you give me a second chance? Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.’

Wow. Whatever it takes. I wondered if he’d get in a barrel and let me throw him over Niagara Falls? I sighed and looked at the sorry state of my ex-boyfriend. The former love of my life. The man I’d accepted would be the father of my children. Before I knew better than to settle. I had no doubt he meant what he was saying: he was a complete mess. If I took him back, I was certain he’d spend a good six months at least on his best behaviour; maybe he would even propose. And it would be wonderful to have someone back in my bed at night, someone to be there when I got home at night, someone to take care of me.

But it wasn’t going to be him. And until I’d worked out who it was, I was more than capable of taking care of myself.

‘I’m sorry, Simon.’ I stepped in closer, gave him a hug and sorted out his tie. ‘It’s not going to work out. Go home.’

‘But the flat? The car? Croatia?’ he said with desperation.

Hmm. Weren’t they my arguments once upon a time?

‘My mum says she’ll buy you out of the flat,’ I replied, thankful that my mum was a lot better with money than I ever would be. ‘The car is yours; I never drive it anyway. We’ll take whatever it works out to off the cost of the flat. And you’ll have to go to Croatia without me. I’ll be in Sydney.’

‘Sydney, Australia?’ Desperation petered out into defeat and Simon shrank back into himself. I felt myself grow taller in my heels.

‘I have a job there,’ I nodded. ‘I’ll call you when I get back. We can sort out the house stuff then.’

And, with one final kiss on the cheek, I turned and walked back up the path to the church, took Matthew’s hands and closed the door on Simon. Which would have been an incredibly dignified and elegant end to our relationship if Paul hadn’t gone back outside and chased him all the way to his car and screamed obscenities down the lane, in front of the vicar, until Simon drove away in tears.

My brother, my protector.

My dad’s wedding, just like the previous two I’d attended in non-foetus form, was beautiful. But you’d think, by the time you’d made it to your fourth, you’d have it down to a fine art. I had to give the man his due: he really did seem to look as though he meant what he was saying, while he was saying it. And he couldn’t be completely evil, I reasoned, otherwise my mum and Theresa, his second wife, wouldn’t be sitting in the back of the church nattering away after the ceremony. Maybe his last wife would make it to the next wedding. Give her a bumper marriage in the middle to get over the disappointment.

‘Rachel Summers,’ a familiar voice crowed over my shoulder outside the church. ‘Don’t you look a vision?’

‘Aunt Beverley,’ I acknowledged, wondering what the wedding etiquette was on pushing an elderly relative over and then hiding behind the headstones. Probably not OK at aged 28. Maybe I could pay one of the younger cousins to do it. Or just ask Matthew. He’d totally do it.

‘That dress really is splendid,’ she said, holding my hands out to my sides so she could get a proper look. A proper look as to where to stick the knife. ‘Almost a wedding dress, isn’t it? And yet I still don’t see a ring on that finger. Such a shame. You’re what? Thirty now? Thirty-one?’

Ahh, she’d gone straight in with a direct blow. Only one way to fight back really, and Redhead Rachel wasn’t afraid to fight passive-aggressive bitchiness with passive-aggressive bitchiness.

‘Oh shit, has it fallen off?’ I snatched my hand away and theatrically inspected my left hand. ‘Matthew’ll be ever so mad.’

‘You’re engaged?’ She looked a little bit confused. But then she was old; she always looked a little bit confused. ‘To that young man?’

We both looked over to where that young man was pawing Stephen and completely blowing my cover. The one condition of him bringing his boyfriend to the wedding was that he acted as my Aunt Beverley cover and he’d failed. Oh, young love.

‘No, I’m only joking.’ I turned back to my aunt and gave her my biggest, brightest smile. ‘We’re just fuck buddies, you know?’

‘Oh,’ she let go of my other hand. ‘Rachel.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s a massive poof really, but you know what men are like, never satisfied. He’d probably put it in a goat if it let him.’ I leaned over to give her a far-too-tight hug for far too long. ‘Bye, Bev. Love to Uncle Alan.’

I strolled off across the lawn with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Turned out I didn’t need a date to make this wedding tolerable. Veronica had been right, as long as I had my own balls, who needed a man?

By nightfall, the wedding had been declared a huge success and, more importantly, everyone loved my dress. I’d have felt guilty for stealing the bride’s thunder but, given that most of the people in attendance, including Paul, couldn’t even remember her name, I chose not to. And besides, she seemed more pissed off at the presence of my mother and Theresa to notice what her eldest stepchild was wearing. Not that I was sure she knew who I was: my dad had so many kids now we were practically the Von Trapp family, except without musical talent and considerably better dressed.

‘How long do you give this one?’ my mum asked, taking the empty seat next to me at a table right by the dance floor. ‘I like her, she’s got a good energy.’

‘A year? Two?’ I suggested.

‘Generous,’ she said. ‘First anniversary max.’

‘I thought you liked her?’

‘That’s why I’m only giving them a year,’ she smiled. ‘Far too good for your father.’

‘And the two of you claim to be friends.’ I sipped my billionth glass of champagne and smiled at Em as she and Paul joined my dad and his newest wife for their first dance. They’d been inseparable and quite frankly, insufferable all day long, but even I had to admit they looked great together. I’d never seen Em so smitten with a boy and I’d never seen Paul so attentive. Maybe they were meant to be. But still. Ew. ‘I can’t believe she’s here with Paul.’

‘He’s been taken with her for some time, you know.’ Mum accepted a top-up on her champagne and clinked my glass. ‘You might have to get used to this. I know I’d be much happier with Emelie for a daughter-in-law than some of the young ladies I’ve heard about in the past.’