Tough Love (8 page)

‘“You look nice, Karina.” Thanks, Mum,' Karina said sarcastically, bustling into a cubicle.

‘Glad all that bollocks is out of the way,' Tracy said, as she fixed her pearlised lipstick. ‘Now we can get wrecked.'

‘Yeah, well, try not to cause any trouble,' Karina shouted from inside the cubicle.

‘Me? Trouble?' Tracy sniffed with true indignation.

‘God, I know. What am I on about? Sorry. You wouldn't know trouble if it came up and sat on you, would you, Mum?'

Tracy looked at herself in the mirror and a scheming smile spread across her face. ‘That's right, darlin',' she said. ‘Course I wouldn't.'

She walked out of the ladies' and into the main hall, which had been transformed for the wedding dinner. The tables were bedecked with pink balloons and there was a pink chocolate fountain in the corner that was drawing quite a crowd, but nowhere near as much of one as the bar, and the
pink
pièce de résistance
: the fairytale-castle cake. On top of it Tracy noted that the two heads poking out of a turret that were meant to be Mandy and Markie looked more like characters from
Fraggle Rock
.

Kent was waiting for her, Tracy noticed. He was always waiting for her. When they'd first got together she'd loved how attentive he was. Compared to that idiot ex-husband of hers, Kent was a godsend. But after three years together the flowers he gave her and the songs he played for her on his graveyard-shift radio show had less and less impact, and the other things – like his insistence on wearing a thong with Homer Simpson's head on it and the way he called the Who and the Rolling Stones ‘the boys' like he knew them – were getting on her nerves. He was a nice bloke, Kent, but she ran rings round him and knew it. He was a good shag, though, and there was a lot to be said for that, Tracy thought.

‘Awright, darling?' He grabbed her round the waist.

‘Gerroff!' Tracy said. Then she saw Paul eyeballing her from the other side of the room, and took the opportunity to stick her tongue down Kent's throat. That'll show him, she thought.

‘Starting early, aren't we?' Mandy's mother said disdainfully as she swept past. Tracy pulled back and looked at her. There was no love lost between the two women.

‘Your price-tag's sticking out, Rita.' Mandy's mum felt the back of her mother-of-the-bride jacket. ‘Oh, sorry. You'll be leaving it in, won't you? Sending it back to the catalogue tomorrow?' Tracy asked.

Rita gave her an evil glare. ‘It's from bloody Next. Where'd you get your rig-out? Poundstretcher?'

Tracy had enjoyed the exchange. She liked winding Rita up. She waved the other woman away. ‘Now, now, mother-of-the-bride, no need to see your arse.'

Rita turned on her heel and walked off. Tracy smiled.

‘Bloody hell, love, can't you wind your neck in just for one day?' Kent asked nervously, patting down the back of his DA hairstyle.

‘You don't know how to enjoy yourself, you miserable sod, that's your problem.'

Paul was over by the bar with the lads. He'd been watching Rita and Tracy's little chat and was laughing as Rita stomped past him. He raised his pint to Tracy. She stared blankly at him, but a bit of her was quite pleased that someone had noticed and appreciated what she'd been up to.

Leanne and Kia were sitting at the top table with Karina and Jodie. Jodie looked great, Leanne thought. When she was little, Jodie had always been the chubby ugly duckling of the family but now she was blossoming. Most of the guests had taken their seats, and even Paul and Tracy had managed to sit down without one pouring a pint over the other's head. Mandy had decided that they would have the speeches before the meal. She said it was so that those speaking could enjoy their food afterwards and not have it spoilt with nerves, but Leanne knew the real reason was so they didn't get blind drunk and say something they shouldn't.

First up was Mandy's dad. Poor Keith, Leanne thought, he was absolutely terrified. He said all the usual stuff: how beautiful his daughter looked, how stunning the bridesmaids were, how much he was looking forward to welcoming Markie into the family. At this particular declaration Rita shifted
uneasily in her chair and repositioned her hat for the umpteenth time. When he sat down, everyone clapped and cheered – they'd known how nervous he'd be.

Then Markie stood up. Leanne gulped some wine. She really wanted her brother to say the nice things that a groom should say at his wedding.

‘Well, she finally got me up the aisle' was his opening gambit. Leanne slid down in her chair, but to her surprise this remark went down well, and everyone whooped. He continued, ‘Me and Mand have been together now, for, ooh, how long, Mand?'

‘Long enough,' Mandy replied, and everyone laughed.

‘And I thought it was about time I made an honest woman of her. Well, as honest as she's ever going to get.' The rest of Markie's speech was short and sweet, and exactly what Leanne had expected. Nothing mushy, just to the point and funny. Everyone clapped and he took his seat, glancing briefly at Mandy and smiling tightly. Leanne was beginning to feel uneasy about how he was behaving with his new wife. The wedding seemed too much for him. Maybe it was, she thought. He's only just come out of prison.

Swing got unsteadily to his feet and Jodie whispered in Leanne's ear, ‘He's pissed!'

Leanne cringed. Now that he was standing up, she could see he was on the ropes. He looked down
at the crib cards he had prepared for his speech. ‘Markie, mate, from one jail sentence to another, eh?' There was a ripple of polite laughter. ‘Fuck it!' he said, and tossed the cards to one side. ‘Right. I've known Markie since I was ten, and he's always been a cunt.'

There was a round of ‘Hear, hear,' from the men in the room, and quite a few shocked gasps from the women.

‘No, seriously, though,' Swing went on. ‘He is. And Mandy.' Swing turned his drunken gaze on her. ‘Mandy, Mandy, Mandy. What is there to say about Mandy that we don't know already?' There was an awkward pause as he lurched sideways. Mandy shuffled uneasily in her chair. ‘'Cept that I shagged her at a pool party in Ibiza last year.' The room fell silent. Before anyone had chance to react, Markie had grabbed his best man by the throat.

‘That's not true!' Mandy jumped to her feet. ‘It's not true!'

Everyone leapt up – they didn't want to miss whatever happened next. ‘It was only a fucking warm-up joke,' Swing said, staggering backwards.

‘Get 'im the fuck out of here,' Markie ordered.

Mandy collapsed in floods of tears and was comforted by her multitude of bridesmaids. Markie got back on the microphone.

‘Right, sorry, everyone. Swing's a dick, as we all know, and I should have had our Scotty as best man,
but I gave Swing the gig 'cause he's me oldest mate – won't make that mistake again.' The ‘again' made everyone laugh and broke the tension. ‘Scotty, can you come up here and say a few words?' Markie asked.

Scott stood up and Markie went to comfort Mandy. ‘It's all right, sweetheart,' he said, and kissed her forehead. ‘Come on, don't spoil your big day.'

As Scott cleared his throat Leanne finally relaxed. At last Markie had shown his bride some real emotion – even if he had had to knock the best man out cold first. And as Mandy smiled gratefully at her groom Leanne realised that, for all the pink and the wedding bluster, the only thing she had really wanted was that kiss.

*

It was eight o'clock in the evening, the DJ was playing ‘Come On Eileen' and everyone was happily drunk, as far as Tracy could tell. Swing had been put to bed and told not to reappear. He'd never been the brightest star in the sky, even as a kid, she remembered. The lads used to bet him that he wouldn't do something just to see if he would; he never disappointed them. He once ended up in hospital for a week after they'd got him to go down the metal twenty-foot ‘death-slide' in the park head first with a bin bag over his entire body. Unbeknown to Swing,
Markie had put two litres of cooking oil down the slide before he got to the top to attempt his daring feat. That was where he'd got his nickname. He'd come off the end at nearly a hundred miles an hour and broken both legs. If he hadn't, he'd probably have gone up again for another go.

A hush fell over the room and an usher announced that the bride and groom would have their first dance. Markie took Mandy in his arms as the opening chords to ‘All Day And All Of The Night' played. That had been Markie's choice. Tracy knew that he'd compromised with Mandy, saying, ‘You can have that Celine Dion shit as long as we have the Kinks for the first dance.'

Tracy knew that Paul would be looking at her. Markie liked the Kinks because Paul and Tracy used to listen to them when they were young. Kent was holding Tracy's hand and joggling it about in time to the song. Tracy caught Paul's eye and yanked it free. As Markie and Mandy danced and others began to join them on the floor, she saw Paul walking towards her.

He stopped in front of her. ‘I know I'm not meant to be within a hundred yards of you, but could I have the honour of this dance?' he asked. Tracy looked at Kent, who was about to defend her honour.

‘For our Markie, then. Go on.' Paul took Tracy's hand and led her on to the dance floor. She knew
she was getting funny looks from her kids and from the other guests, but she didn't care. She was drunk, she was as high as a kite and she loved this song. As Paul spun her round the floor he whispered, ‘I've come into some decent cash.'

Tracy's eyes widened and she pulled back. ‘You what?'

‘You heard. I've got moolah and lots of it.'

‘Where from?' Tracy asked disbelievingly.

‘Like I said, I came into it.'

‘You've never had a pot to piss in and neither's anyone else you know. How've you come into it?'

Paul tapped his nose and spun Tracy round. ‘Fifty grand,' he said, as the song ended.

Tracy was transfixed, gaping at him.

‘Now, off you go, back to lover-boy,' Paul said. He waved at Kent, then turned on his heel and headed over to his son and daughter-in-law to congratulate them on their choice of song.

Tracy walked back to Kent, who looked like a puppy that'd just been kicked. Suddenly she had the overwhelming feeling she'd backed the wrong horse.

‘Everything all right?' Kent asked nervously.

‘Yeah, why wouldn't it be?' Tracy snapped.

Kent wrapped his mouth around the straw in his drink and sucked hard.

Tracy rolled her eyes. Now what was she going to do?

*

Leanne had taken Kia to bed just before the first dance. The child had been complaining for an hour that she was tired. They were staying in one of the rooms at Hanley Farm and Leanne was happy to go up with her daughter. She didn't want the embarrassment of being partnerless for the evening and there was a good chance that she would be. She had tried to get Tony's attention a number of times but he was preoccupied with his female guest, so she decided to leave well alone.

‘When are we going back to London?' Kia asked, as Leanne tucked her into bed.

‘Darling,' Leanne said, stroking Kia's hair, ‘we're not going to be able to go back to London for a while. Things have changed and we've come up here because this is where our family is.'

Kia looked at her with big wide eyes. ‘But me and you are family, Mum. We don't need anyone else.'

It almost broke Leanne's heart to hear her daughter say that. ‘I know, but I need to be here because I can't work in London any more.'

‘Why not?' Kia asked.

‘There isn't work for me.'

‘Why don't you get a job in a shop?' Kia asked.

Leanne wasn't about to get into a discussion about the economic realities of living in London.
‘I've never worked in one before. Anyway, we're here now and you'll have new friends soon. And you can play out on the streets, not like in London.'

‘I don't like it here. It's scruffy,' Kia said, pulling the bedclothes over herself sulkily.

Leanne stood up. Kia was just going to have to get used to living in Bradington – they couldn't afford to go anywhere else.

She kissed the little girl good night and left the room, quietly closing the door.

‘Boo!' a male voice said.

Leanne nearly jumped out of her skin. Her hand flew to her heart, which was pounding, and she whirled round. Tony was standing behind her. ‘You scared me!'

‘Sorry.' Tony smiled at her with twinkly-eyed warmth. He put his arms round her and Leanne hugged him back. It was so good to see him. ‘How've you been?' he asked.

‘Better,' Leanne admitted.

‘Come on, tell Uncle Tony.'

Leanne didn't want to have to go over everything again, especially not with Tony. The girl who had gone off to the bright lights and big city comes crawling back. That was a story she'd leave the press to write. ‘Who's your girlfriend?' she asked, trying to sound casual. ‘She's very pretty.'

‘Yes, she is. But she's not my girlfriend.'

Leanne felt her heart skip. Tony was single?
That couldn't be possible. ‘She's my wife.' Her heart dropped into her stilettos.

‘Oh. Wow,' she faltered. ‘Congratulations.'

‘Thanks. But you don't have to congratulate me.' Leanne could feel Tony looking at her as he always had when they were younger. ‘We married for a visa. She's Russian. She's one of the dancers at the new club, Poles Apart.'

‘Good job she's not Polish, eh?' Leanne joked lamely. Tony laughed heartily. He'd always laughed at her jokes. One of the few people who had, she thought.

‘She's got to live with me. Have toothbrushes in the same pot, all the usual bollocks. But I don't mind. Not like I was seeing anyone.' He let the words hang in the air.