The Bridesmaid Page 4

  I remembered those feelings, and they stayed with me because those were the longest days of my life. The days that Caitlin was there next to me, when we had endless hours to run wild and explore. Springs, summers and Christmases spent at Saxby. But when all that innocence was no more, when the days of hiding in the woods had gone, the things I knew became more apparent. Things changed for me in the summer of 1991. The Clemonte family no longer appeared as the same illumination I had become so obsessed with when I had first moved in.

  And to this day, I have held on to what I discovered. To protect my friend, I guess. It has always been about Caitlin. I could have blamed my cowardice on the heat of the day in Greece and the pina coladas before 10 a.m., but I knew deep down I finally needed to speak up. The spiral of lies that had been so tightly entwined like a brand-new ball of wool, had begun to loosen in my mind. Where they had once been stored away, they had now begun to wander freely. Their movement had jogged other memories and I would often wake to a collision of promises I’d made to others, and promises I’d made to myself.

  But I have always been there for Caitlin, despite how often she has and still makes me feel less than average. But since Caitlin had announced her engagement to Chuck and I had begun to organise the wedding, it was as though I had no control any more. I may have bottled out of telling her at the hen holiday, but I knew I would need to tell her before the wedding. A new chapter would be beginning for Caitlin, so why couldn’t it be a fresh start for me too?

  I sat down at my computer in the lounge with a sigh. My business, Space Consultancy, was doing okay. I was writing three or four blogs a week for businesses, reviewing products and running several Facebook and Twitter accounts. I did however receive about three calls or emails a week from people who thought I was giving advice on asteroids and dwarf planets. But aside from that, it was going from strength to strength, so much so that I had rented a few square feet in a ground-floor building alongside other small businesses. But I still needed somewhere to put mail and my laptop at home, so Oscar had utilised his carpentry skills and installed a small wall desk for me. It was minimalist, but I styled it up with a trendy turquoise lamp and some nice-looking stationery pots.

  I am receiving endless emails, messages and enquiries at the moment, so the work simply can’t stop once I leave the office. If I want this business to succeed, which I know it will by the way things are going, then I have to grab moments to work whenever I can. There is still a long way to go until I can begin feeling successful, which is something I deemed Caitlin to have been since she first went to university to study law and then went on to own and run her own solicitors with Mabel, her old friend from school. Miller and Anderton. As though using their surnames somehow entitled them to be taken more seriously. It doesn’t matter how hard I work, I never seem to have as much as Caitlin. As her business grew, she began to spend longer hours at the office, which in turn, exposed what little there was left of our friendship.

  At my desk, I begin to sift through any emails I have missed since I left the office and consider how I am going to send my thoughts about the party favours through to Caitlin. It is such a good idea. Dandelion seeds in tiny glass bottles with cork lids and little labels with the words: Caitlin and Chuck have made their dreams come true, now it’s your turn. Release the seeds and free your wish. Maybe this might spark some interest in Caitlin and bring her attention back to me and the grand job I am doing to organise her wedding.

  As the wedding is just three months away, I am sure Caitlin will sway towards this over the original candle favours, which at the time I thought were a great idea, but in hindsight was in fact a bit of a cliché.

  I decide to have a quick flick through the messages in my inbox first.

  Amongst all the enquiries, I notice a name that I recognise. A name that, alone, is enough to give me chills.

  I open the email and immediately I can hear the tone in her written words as if she was in the room with me.

  Dear Sasha,

  I trust you are well and business is thriving.

  I suppose you may be confused to hear from me after all this time. Caitlin’s short engagement to Chuck has come as a sudden but pleasant surprise to us, and we are looking forward to seeing our daughter wed an old family friend.

  I must admit, you cemented a friendship that far exceeded any of our expectations, given the circumstances and difference in background. But Caitlin was always very fond of you and I recognised her wishes to remain friends with you. You were both very loyal to one another in that respect, and I do hope that loyalty extends to our agreement and that our arrangement will remain just as it has been all these years.

  I would hate for it to spoil this next phase of Caitlin’s life with Chuck.

  Please do get in contact and maybe we can arrange lunch, to catch up.

  Good day to you, Sasha.

  Ava Anderton

  I sit back in my chair and let out an aggravated sigh. I let my hands find their way to my face and I begin gently rubbing my tired eyes with the soft part of my palms. I have lived with the ghosts of those Saxby days, but hearing from Caitlin’s mother, awful Ava, after all these years, makes me sick to my stomach. How can she possibly think that I would want to have lunch with her? I had watched from the sidelines as a young Caitlin was rejected over and over by her parents during the times she sought their affection and affirmation. Yet even though I know all of this about Caitlin, it still doesn’t make it any easier to be her friend. And so as always, I am torn between what I know, and what I should do.

  I hear the front door opening and I look up from my desk in the corner to see the man I have shared my life with for four years now. Oscar’s strong, toned arms are laden with bags, a stuffed bear, a decapitated Barbie doll and a scrunched-up McDonald’s paper bag. Oscar looks at me, his hair still damp from swimming, his cheeks red from a day’s work outside. He gives me his usual bright and cheeky smile. He knows already what I am thinking about: it’s a highly unhealthy dinner choice for his six-year-old daughter, Immy.

  I screw my face up in disgust, and Oscar just laughs silently and shakes his head.

  I morph the frown into a smile as Immy barges through the door after Oscar and straight over to where I am sitting in the office chair. I quickly turn and slam the laptop lid shut; my past is embroiled in the words of Ava’s email, and I am not ready to answer any questions about that. Then I turn back to welcome the little body crawling into my arms. Immy smells of chlorine and chips. She wriggles her way into my lap, even though she is far too big for it now. I use just my eyes to emphasise my point once again to Oscar as he shrugs his shoulders.

  ‘It’s just a treat, Sash.’ He drops Immy’s paraphernalia on the floor next to the sofa and I suppress a tut as I stroke Immy’s damp hair and she nuzzles into my chest. I snuffle her neck and then pull her to a sitting position on my lap. ‘How are you doing, little one? Ready for a cool sleepover weekend with Daddy and Sasha?’

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’ Immy jumps off my lap and dives onto the sofa and picks up the TV remote control. Since she turned six, she has developed extreme copycat syndrome as well as a heightened sense of sarcasm. She is basically a little adult. Completely learnt from her mother, Oscar tells me, and although I should dislike ‘the ex’ and rant about her questionable choices regarding raising her daughter, I have found that I cannot fault the woman. Kelly is always friendly towards me and clearly adores her daughter. If it weren’t for the small fact that I’ve been dating her ex-husband for the last four years, we would most likely be friends.

  Oscar sinks into the sofa next to Immy and pulls her legs onto his lap. She immediately sticks her thumb into her mouth – the one thing I would like to say something to Kelly about, but I choose to say nothing. I accept that this is a phase and she will eventually grow out of it. But right now, it’s a sure sign that she is tired and it’s already past her bedtime.

  ‘I’ll go and run the bath,’ I say as I stand up and head to our
one small bathroom. Oscar is desperate to extend and now Space is picking up, we could probably do so. But as a tidy person, the thought makes me feel that more space equates to more mess, or the tidying of. I have organised this house within an inch of its life. I know why Oscar wants to extend, but he rarely says it out loud. He merely hints at it. I can hear the tone in his voice when we’ve spent time with friends with young children and babies. ‘Freya’s a lovely little lass’ or ‘If I had a lad like Braden.’

  He knows that my maternal alarm isn’t exactly ringing wildly. I know by now that, at thirty-three, women’s reproductive bits start to slow down. Oscar is two years older and wants to be running around with a toddler again soon. But only once when he was very drunk did he murmur just before he fell asleep, ‘I want us to have a baby, Sash.’ I didn’t mention it the next day, and he certainly wouldn’t have remembered.

  I occasionally feel the pressure to start reproducing, but then I remind myself, I need everything to be perfect first. I need to be successful; I need to feel I have reached a point where I can be truly proud of myself and not look back with regrets. Without all these things in place, I can’t be a good enough mother to my own children. Caitlin didn’t so much achieve success as inherit it. The things I strive to do, to feel, to achieve, don’t come as easy.

  I have found myself drawn to Immy though, and it surprised me how naturally that came. It must be because she was just placed in my life and I didn’t have time to think about the prospect of ‘her’. When I met Oscar four years ago, he informed me bluntly that he had a two-year-old daughter and he was looking for someone who would welcome her as their own. A bold statement for a first date, but I only had to meet her once to know that she was a very special little girl, and I didn’t need to think about how I would learn to love her. I already did.

  I leave Oscar to bathe Immy, tuck her in, read Stick Man to her and then give her the final cuddle, which usually results in him staying in with her until they both fall asleep.

  But this evening he’s back by my side in the kitchen within ten minutes as I prepare a mozzarella salad and garlic bread for our supper. He would have scoffed a cheeseburger at teatime with Immy but I have found, living with Oscar, that no matter what he has eaten that day, you could put food in front of him at any time of the day or night and he will welcome it like it was his last meal on Earth.

  ‘I tried calling you today at your office.’ Oscar picks up a piece of tomato and pops it in his mouth. I glance sideways at him. He is wearing his best confused expression, the one he normally wears when he’s trying to do the cost calculation of a domestic renovation. He’s still in his army cadet trousers and scruffy white T-shirt. He hasn’t taken off his workman boots either.

  ‘Ha, it’s hardly an office, but thanks for making me feel like a proper grown-up.’ I point at his boots with my knife and he automatically bends down and takes them off.

  I think about the corner of the ground-floor building I rent that is merely a desk with a partition. But I do get the best view across the park though.

  ‘Why did you call me at my office?’ I stop slicing the tomatoes to look at him.

  ‘Because your phone was off. And your phone is never off.’

  I give my head a slight shake and return to my methodical slicing. ‘Phones do sometimes not work, run out of battery or just fail to connect.’

  ‘Oh, okay. I just thought it was weird.’

  I place my knife down on the counter. ‘Weird? How?’

  ‘Because I called you at exactly the same time last week and your phone was off then too. So I decided to call your extension at the office today and you didn’t answer. Same time. Last week.’

  I feel my insides drop, and I quickly compose myself.

  I turn to Oscar. I look at his scruffy brown mop of hair, his tanned biceps and face from being outdoors. He wears the earnest expression that he dons for much of the day until I can fold him into my arms and it melts away with all his problems.

  ‘I was working,’ I say. ‘With a client,’ I add quickly.

  ‘Which client?’ Oscar asks, picking up another piece of tomato, trying to sound unconcerned.

  I think quickly. ‘Bree.’

  ‘The Irish lady?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Still? I thought that was wrapped up.’

  I turn my mouth down and shake my head. ‘Nope. Still have another month to go with her. Then she might take me on full-time, once she’s looked at her figures.’ It was true, I was still wrapping that particular contract up.

  Oscar nods. I wait to see if we are done or if he will want more information.

  ‘I saw Ronnie today,’ he says as he slides onto the sofa and picks up the TV remote.

  I feel a brightening inside at the mere mention of Ronnie, one of Oscar’s friends who has since firmly become one of mine too. ‘Did you say hi from me?’

  ‘Always.’ Oscar’s eyes are on the snooker. I am saved from further interrogation. Except…

  ‘When Kelly cheated on me…’ Oscar’s voice floats back over to the kitchen. Yes, that was why I am supposed to hate Kelly, because of the cheating part. I know Oscar desperately wants me to despise his ex-wife, but I think he is also extremely grateful that I have not allowed my emotions to become entangled in his past. I think the reason I’m not too bothered is that I know Kelly never really loved Oscar, not the way I do. I have heard the story a million times, and I know Oscar had been hurt, but we have been together for four years. It’s a long time to date someone and to know them intimately. I have never given him any reason to doubt me. But obviously I slipped up.

  I just have to be careful, just for a little while longer.

  ‘Let me stop you there, Oscar. I know Kelly cheated on you, but that doesn’t mean to say that it will happen again. I turned my phone off because I was with a client and I like to give them my full attention. Even a vibration or light on my phone throws me. I thought you knew that about me and my work?’

  Oscar hangs his head and blows out a breath, and turns the TV off. ‘I do, Sasha. It’s just this stupid thing. After Kelly, I couldn’t stop looking for signs, for clues in everything. It was afterwards, when I found out about all the cheating, that I looked at the evidence and saw then what I should have seen, when she was not somewhere she said she was going to be, and it’s kind of stuck. Maybe I need some therapy cos I don’t want to dump all that shit onto you. Kelly was clever, and I was so busy with my job that I didn’t see any of it until it was too late.’

  I put down the knife and walk over to the sofa. I sink down next to Oscar and he lifts his arm over me to let me rest in the special place just above his chest I swear was made just for me. Oscar. I inhale him, his sun-kissed skin mingled with the smell of construction work; a vibrant mix of chemicals sealant, varnish and new wood.

  For a man who labours for a living, goes out for drinks with the lads at least once a week and loves his footy, he is incredibly in touch with his emotions and rarely holds back about what he feels about things. It is, although novel, increasingly exhausting. At times, it’s like dating one of my girlfriends.

  I lift my head and he reciprocates so our lips meet.

  ‘Oscar, everything is okay. I promise.’ I feel him sink into the sofa, and I look up and see he has closed his eyes.

  Ahead of me is the wall desk. I can see my phone flashing. I had flicked it to silent over an hour ago before I arrived home. But I can’t answer it now, here, with Oscar around. There will be a message, a voice tainted with urgency. But they will have to wait.

  I realise the power I have, the power that a lie can create. But not just one lie, a whole family’s lies that I have been entangled in for years. And they weren’t even my family. But most of all I think about the power I have over the people I love. I love Oscar with all my heart, and there are things I am keeping from him.

  Looking at my phone flashing and knowing who would be on the other end, I begin to think of the letter from Ava, and how it is
all so inextricably linked. What happened all those years ago at Saxby, is still here between us now, fighting for its place in my present like an unwanted guest.

  6

  Saxby House, Dorset, July 1988

  On my last day of school I found Caitlin in the courtyard and declared myself free for six whole weeks. Caitlin, who attended a private school, had been off for two weeks already, but now our summer could really begin. Each day from after breakfast until bath time was ours for the taking.

  On a hot morning, I skipped out of the front door of our cottage and through the wrought-iron gates which Saxby House stood proudly behind. I ran up towards the colossal house to the back porchway steps and to what Caitlin referred to as the ‘boot room’ a huge room filled with riding gear, wellies and coats situated to the right of the porch. It was also the door that Dad used when he would occasionally meet with Josephine in the kitchen or, from time to time, the drawing room, which was just along the hall. As I skipped up the steps and reached the final one, I could smell everything Judith the cook had been preparing today, and it smelt exotic and unfamiliar, sending my taste buds into overdrive. Judith was a round woman with a big, jolly, pink face and curly red hair. She always wore a blue-and-white stripy apron and there was usually a plate of biscuits or something on the kitchen counter. Today, I could smell gingerbread, and I felt my mouth fill with saliva as I got nearer. In my mind, I was already inside the kitchen, biscuit in hand, away in my own world, so I didn’t see the person who had just come through the open back door and was now at the top of the steps until my face was almost pressed against their stomach. I looked up and saw the face of Ava looming down at me.