Thirteen Weddings (18 page)

‘Don’t be silly. You’ll be having a brilliant time,’ I say.

‘Where are you going?’ Lachie asks her.

They chat about Key West while everyone settles themselves on log seats around the fire. I sit between Russ and Lisa, with Alex on the other side of Russ. Russ and I talk about work and he slags
off Nicky on my behalf, then we move on to trying to get information out of Alex about Simon’s plans for a redesign. After a while, Russ gets up to go and sit next to Maria and Lisa joins in
a conversation with Rachel beside her.

‘I didn’t know Nicky was still giving you a hard time,’ Alex says, shifting to close the gap between us.

‘Not always,’ I reply, holding out my hands to warm them on the fire. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘It doesn’t sound good,’ he says with concern.

I glance at him to see him staring at me, the orange glow from the fire lighting one side of his face and casting shadow across the other. His eyes are dark in the low light, his hair black and
pushed back from his face. My heart flips and lands with a dull thud. I can’t be feeling like this about him.

‘Who wants a song around the campfire?’ Lachie interrupts loudly.

‘Yeah!’ all the girls reply.

Alex drags his eyes away from mine and sighs quietly as Lachie starts to play an acoustic version of Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’.

I look over at the girls’ rapt expressions and then see Russ give Alex a resigned look.

‘You’ve got to admit, he’s a damn good singer,’ I comment.

‘Mmm,’ Alex grunts his reply. ‘I heard too much of this song last summer.’

‘What sort of music do you like, then?’ I ask with amusement at his jealousy.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says casually. ‘Kylie, Starship, T’Pau...’

I laugh and he grins. ‘As long as it’s from the Eighties, I love it,’ he jokes.

‘Now I
know
that is not true,’ I point out with a significant look.

‘I never said I didn’t like Eighties music.’

‘True,’ I admit. ‘Do you?’ I ask with surprise.

‘Not really,’ he replies with a chuckle. ‘Although I don’t mind UB40.’

We danced to ‘Red, Red Wine’. My head prickles at the memory.

Lachie sings about being up all night to get lucky, his eyes locking with mine. He grins at me and I smile a small smile back before looking at the fire.

‘I wouldn’t go there,’ Alex warns quietly.

‘What?’ I look at him to see the torn expression on his face. He shoots a quick glance at Lachie. ‘Nothing,’ he says under his breath. I jolt as he gets up abruptly and
walks away from us. ‘You alright, mate?’ Russ calls after him. ‘Just going for a leak,’ he replies flatly. I stare at the fire, confusion muddling my brain.

Later, when all of the alcohol has been drunk and all of the snacks devoured, I see Maria huddled over with Lisa. Rachel called it a night a while ago, Russ and Alex have gone
to gather some more wood, Lachie has picked up his guitar again, and Bridget is on the phone to the taxi company.

‘Oi!’ I hiss at Maria. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Just discussing sleeping arrangements,’ she replies with an embarrassed smile. She turns back to Lisa. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Hang on, who’s sleeping where?’ I whisper loudly.

‘Maria and Russ are in one,’ Lisa tells me while trying to keep a straight face. ‘And I’ll go in with you, if you’re still staying?’

‘Yep,’ I nod.

‘Bridget’s going back to the B&B,’ she adds.

‘No, I’m not,’ Bridget says loudly, ending her call. ‘I can’t get a cab.’

‘Oh,’ I say, finding it hard to take her disappointment seriously. ‘Bad luck.’

‘In that case, do you two want to go in together?’ Lisa asks us. ‘Lachie can go in with Alex and I’ll have the one-person tent,’ she decides with a smile.

‘Hang on, what’s going on?’ Alex reappears, overhearing the last part of our conversation. Lachie stops playing and listens.

‘Can Lachie go in your tent with you?’ I ask.

‘Why?’ His brow furrows.

‘Russ and Maria are going together...’ I say with meaning.

‘Oh!’ He cottons on, but doesn’t look too happy about his new tent partner.

‘I don’t mind sharing with Bronnie,’ Lachie says with a wink. He’s clearly in two minds about what my pet name should be. Bron or Bronnie?

‘You’re in a one-person tent. Bron
te
won’t fit,’ Alex points out firmly, emphasising the second syllable of my name.

‘She’s only little,’ Lachie says. ‘We can cuddle up,’ he adds cheekily.

‘You don’t give in, do you?’ Bridget laughs.

‘Just trying to be helpful, Bridgie,’ he says cheerfully.

‘No, you can come in with me,’ Alex tells him decisively. ‘Why doesn’t Bronte have the one-person tent, seeing as it’s her birthday,’ he suggests.

‘Good idea,’ Lisa agrees.

‘I don’t care where I sleep,’ I say to Alex. ‘But I really hope you have a spare sleeping bag.’

‘I could keep you warm,’ Lachie says.

‘Yes, I have a spare sleeping bag,’ Alex says loudly, ignoring him.

‘Just give me a shout if you get cold,’ Lachie chips in.

‘Would you leave her alone?’ Alex exclaims.

I
think
he’s joking.

Finally, after quite a lot of kerfuffle, I’m settled in a tent. Lachie and Alex are sniping at each other in the tent next door, and Bridget is complaining in the tent next to them. On my
other side, Russ and Maria are giggling quietly. After what seems like forever, everyone quietens down and I roll over on my side on the hard ground. A bird makes a racket in the trees.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Lachie’s voice pierces the silence.

‘A pheasant,’ Alex says wearily. ‘The forest never sleeps,’ he adds in a mock wildlife documentary-style voice, making me purse my lips.

Russ and Maria whisper to each other and try to stifle their giggles and then silence descends once more.

I’m just drifting off when I hear the sound of them kissing.

‘At least someone’s getting some,’ Lachie mutters.

‘Shut up!’ Alex snaps.

The rest of us laugh. I fall asleep to the sound of Maria and Russ ‘getting some’.

The next morning I wake up early with a sore head and a full bladder. I slept in my clothes so all I have to do is pull on my boots and unzip the tent. The air is damp and the
fire is long gone, a circle of ash set within a ring of logs. I straighten up and stretch my arms over my head, yawning, then I set off towards the toilet block.

After kicking myself for failing to bring so much as a toothbrush, I re-emerge and see Lachie and Bridget approaching. He has his arm draped around her neck and for a moment I think I’ve
missed something, but then I realise he’s only being his usual friendly self.

‘Bronnie!’ he says jubilantly, letting go of Bridget and ruffling her hair. She bats him away with annoyance, looking thoroughly fed up.

Her new blunt bob has not fared well overnight. She looks like she’s wearing a birds’ nest. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask her with a grin.

‘No, I’m flipping exhausted,’ she snaps, but her lips are pursed so I know she’s not completely serious. She walks past me into the toilet block and Lachie opens his arms
up to me. I smile and step into his embrace. His arms close around me and I rest my face against his warm chest.

‘How did you sleep?’ he asks, his voice muffled against my hair as he rocks me slightly.

‘Fine,’ I murmur, feeling stupidly content.

He really is so sweet and friendly and tactile, and yes, flirty too, not just with me, but with everyone. I like him, though. A lot. I’m glad we’re friends.

I pull away and look up at him. ‘You?’

‘Same. I can sleep anywhere.’ His light blue eyes are tired and his shaggy blond hair looks even more just-slept-in than usual. ‘I don’t think Maria and Russ got much
shut-eye,’ he adds with a raised eyebrow.

‘No? I fell asleep after the kissing started.’

‘They make a funny couple,’ he comments, mystified.

Physically, they’re opposites – Russ is tall with red hair, pale skin and freckles, and Maria is short and curvy with olive skin and dark glossy hair.

‘They seem to get on.’

He laughs. ‘They certainly do.’ He lets me go. ‘See ya in a bit.’

When I get back to the tents, Alex is awake and building another fire.

‘Morning,’ I say warmly.

‘Hey.’ He gives me a sleepy smile.

‘Would you mind running me over to the B&B so I can brush my teeth and change my clothes?’

‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘You want to go now?’

‘That would be great. When you’re ready.’

‘You are so going to have a shower, aren’t you?’ Bridget butts in, arriving back in time to hear the tail end of our conversation. ‘That’s cheating!’

‘You can come with me,’ I tell her.

‘Bloody brilliant idea,’ she says, scrambling back into her tent to grab what she needs.

Maria entrusts us with checking out and bringing her bags back. She has no desire to leave Russ – she’s got that flush of new love about her.

Back at the B&B I have a quick shower and get changed in the bathroom while Alex and Bridget lie propped up on the bed, watching TV. I emerge feeling a million times
better.

‘It’s all yours,’ I say to Bridget.

‘Cheers, big ears.’ We swap places, but as soon as Bridget locks the door to the bathroom, Alex passes me a large brown envelope.

‘What’s this?’ I ask, confused.

‘Open it,’ he urges, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I lift the flap and reach into the envelope, pulling out a mock-up cover of
Hebe.
I’m the cover star, winking cheekily at the camera and holding up a plastic glass.

I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand as I take it all in.

‘Bronte turns 30!’ yells the headline, and there are other, funny little in-jokes and coverlines about camera shake, Photoshop and Friday nights at the pub. I recognise the picture
as one of the shots Sarah, the editorial assistant, took when we were celebrating the Joseph Strike baby bump issue.

‘Did you do this?’ I ask, touched beyond belief as he nods, smiling at my reaction. People get mock-up covers like this if they resign, not for something like a birthday.

‘I wanted to give it to you last night, but...’ He shrugs.

There was too much else going on.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replies gently. ‘Now, is there anything you want to watch?’ he asks as I continue to stare at the cover.

‘No, I’m good,’ I say, carefully placing it between us on the bed. I lie down on my side, facing him. ‘I’m just going to rest my eyes.’

The morning’s mist has burnt off and now sunshine is coming through the window, spilling across the bed. I bask in the warmth and feel content. Out of the blue, a horrible dark feeling
washes over me and my eyes shoot open. Alex is still watching the telly, his arm draped across his tummy and his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. I look up at his face, but
he’s fixed on the television. Déjà vu hits me hard and I realise that we lay on a bed in this same position under the window on the morning after we’d slept together.

Perhaps sensing my gaze, he glances down at me, his blue eyes lighter under the sun’s rays. He gives me a curious look.

‘I’m tired,’ I say, trying to ignore the darkness I’m feeling. ‘Did you get much sleep last night?’

‘No,’ he replies. ‘Your friend kicks.’

‘Does he?’ I smirk. ‘Sorry about that.’ I know he’s not really cross, but I feel bad. ‘Do you wish you hadn’t come?’

His brow furrows as he looks down at me. ‘Of course not. Why would you say that?’

‘Just, I don’t know...’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s been fun.’

I roll over onto my back. ‘You wouldn’t have rather stayed at home in peace and quiet, being able to sprawl out in your lovely, big double bed?’

He gives me a pointed look. ‘No,’ he says resolutely.

I grin. ‘Good.’

He keeps eye contact for a long moment and the dark feeling inside me turns into jitters. He looks like he’s about to say something but the sound of a hairdryer starting up in the bathroom
seems to jolt him to his senses. He returns his gaze to the TV.

‘What?’ I ask, my curiosity too great to let it lie.

He glances down at me again, his expression grave. ‘I’m sorry about what I said in the car on the way up here.’

‘Oh. Don’t worry.’

‘I know you don’t go around...’ He lets his sentence trail off. I don’t go around having one-night stands with people.

‘No,’ I confirm.

‘And if you like him, well, that’s cool.’

His lips may be curved upwards, but his smile doesn’t feel sincere. Still, he’s trying to be nice.

‘Okay. Thanks,’ I say quietly.

He looks back at the TV and I close my eyes as the dark feeling returns.

‘Honestly, they were a frigging nightmare.’

I’m at work ranting to Alex about my latest wedding.

‘Rachel reckons it’s a phenomenon. The Rise of The Useless Bridesmaid, she calls it,’ I tell him. ‘They were
utterly
useless. All they cared about was getting
drunk and having a good time. They even changed out of their dresses for the evening do.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. They had on these beautiful, Fifties-style dresses, all in different shades of blue, and they took them off and put on some awful clubbing outfits that barely covered their arses.
If I was the bride, I would have gone spare. Not that I’d ever want to be a bride. But honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it. They were completely selfish. Didn’t care about
their friend at all. I was the one who had to carry her train and bouquet half the time. Rachel even helped her go to the loo.’

Alex laughs. ‘It sounds awful.’

‘Honestly, I hope Zara’s got some nice friends, because those girls were useless.’

After the tension in the Lake District a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been making a concerted effort to talk about Alex’s fiancée more. It seems to be working. We’re much
more relaxed around each other.

‘She’s not having bridesmaids,’ Alex reveals.

‘Isn’t she?’ Doesn’t she have any friends?

‘She’s having a couple of little flower girls instead.’