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“The apartment will be epic by all accounts, so let me just dangle that carrot.”
I grin at Nate, so pleased for him and Tilly and the exciting life they’ll get to lead. I just have to hope that mine will unfold similarly.
Josie,my best friend since we started high school, is rummaging through my clothes. Before I’m permitted to pack them, she’s ensuring they’re suitably fun and sexy.
“I don’t want to steam-roller you here, but I did finally win you over to my point of view, and I’m therefore ensuring you live up to your end of the bargain,” Josie points out.
I try not to get upset at her words. Firstly, because I know she’s stressed about the wedding (and to an as yet unspoken thought that she might not wish to proceed), and secondly she’s not wrong; I did agree to dress up exactly as I did the night I was abducted. I had flat-out refused the suggestion for a long time, refuting Josie’s claims that I was giving my choice of clothes and make-up too much power.It was just shitty luck, she’d said.The wrong place at the wrong time. Looking hot is not a bad thing. Bad people did a bad thing, and it’s got nothing to do with how you did your make-up or the hot pants you wore.
“Ooh, I like this,” Josie says, holding up a recently purchased silver blouse. “This will look amazing against your eyes.”
I snatch it out of her hands and shove it back in my weekend bag, creases be damned. And because I promised, I shove the glitter hot pants in too, even though they’re not the ones I was wearing that night—just very similar.
“I’m sorry,” Josie soothes, hugging me. “I’m being awfully unsympathetic.”
“It’s alright. I need to confront this, and I agreed—stupidly—to your encouragements.”
She releases me from her perfumed hold, her auburn hair getting stuck to my blossom-flavoured lip balm. “Still, you can change your mind. You know what’s manageable. I only suggested it because you like experiments, and you said you were done being a victim.”
As a back-up, I have other things to go clubbing in, but perhaps I’ll be able to psych myself up by the time Saturday night arrives. “Yeah,” I agree. I’m giving my past too much power. Plus, when I said that to Josie, my mother had just left after a fleeting visit and she always manages to fire my blood.
We load bags and boots and coats into Josie’s VW Polo, the boot bursting with groceries. I return to collect the make-up toolbox and the huge pot of chilli-con-carne I made this morning.
“Christ,” Josie objects, lifting the lid and peering in. “There’s only four of us. You’ve got enough in here to feed a small army!”
Tilly waits on the front step, Isla propped on her hip. “Drive carefully. Text me when you get there.”
“Will do.” I nuzzle Isla’s cheek before hugging Tilly. “Sorry you’ve got the early feed.”
“Isla and I have come to an agreement.” She turns to her daughter and says in a saccharine voice, "If she sleeps through, I’ll let her have an extra rusk at snack time, won’t I, beautiful?”
Isla babbles, arms and legs kicking at her suspended position.
“I’ll miss you. See you soon,” I call, sending lots of air kisses their way as I get into the car.
Tilly waves us off as Josie directs the car towards the A14.
“Excited?” I ask.
A big grin appears. “Very. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. It’s been ages since all four of us have managed to get together.” She stops talking, looking mortified. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound like it’s your fault or anything.”
“Well, it kind of is,” I point out.
Every year, Jen, Josie, Tabi and I head away for a girlie weekend—often to Europe. This time, in our bid to reduce our carbon footprint, we decided on something closer to home. We’ve been best buddies since school, going through the pain and trauma of adolescence and coming out the other side. There’s very little they don’t know about me, or vice versa. Our weekends together have become part confession and part counselling session but without the guilt or Hail Mary’s.
“Well, whatever it is, it worked out well. I for one, am looking forward to some hill walking, some wild swimming, and a good old natter over too much food and booze.” She checks her mirrors and sighs. “I need you girls this weekend. I’m . . . I just need to talk.”
“Start now,” I instruct, opening a can of Diet Coke, “unless you want to wait until we’re with the others?”
Tabitha and Jenny are catching a train to the nearest station and then jumping in a taxi together. We won’t see them until around five, which is several hours away.
“No. I want to speak to you first. Alone.”
“Okay,” I say waiting for the latest instalment of her relationship.
I’ve known Kyle for a couple of years now, but I’ve always wondered if he was the right person for Josie. Their relationship is the classic rebound, which Kyle is. After being left heartbroken by the charming but morally repugnant Henry Foster, it’s possible Josie put far more effort into this relationship than it warranted. And agreeing to marry Kyle after only six months might have been premature. There’s nothing objectionable about Kyle apart from his lack of drive, and that elusive thing I like about a love interest—thatje ne sais quoi.Some element of mystery about them. I couldn’t tell you what interests or motivates Kyle. Life just seems hard for him, and his obvious pessimism seems to drag Josie down with him.
Josie knows this, but when you love someone you find ways to deal with their small character flaws. But with the wedding in six weeks, I think those flaws are beginning to look unconquerable.
