I reply. ‘How are you?’
‘Yeah, sound,’ he says.
For someone who has supposedly broken up with his girlfriend recently, he seems in pretty good spirits.
As I turn to face forwards, I notice Matt coming down the aisle towards us.
‘Can I borrow you?’ he says. Surely now isn’t the time to be telling Clarky off? It’s not like this is especially out of character for him anyway. But then I realise he’s talking to me.
‘Me?’ I squeak. ‘Why?’
‘Just quick,’ he insists, holding out a hand to pull me from my seat, before walking me to a door at the side of the room.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him once we’re still. ‘You’re not having a second thoughts, are you?’
‘What? No, of course not,’ he replies. ‘One of Kat’s bridesmaids has gone into labour.’
‘Oh my God,’ I reply.
‘Thing is, apparently Kat is upset, she says it’s going to ruin the day. That it’s going to throw off the whole aesthetic, and that there’s no one to do the bridesmaid’s duties.’
‘Doesn’t she have other bridesmaids?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, but they’re all pregnant. I’m scared to ask what happened on the hen party …’
I laugh. It’s so like Matt to make a joke, even in times of crisis.
‘Wow, what a weird coincidence – is it to make sure she looks super thin in the pictures?’
An obvious joke, because Kat has a very athletic figure. I wouldn’t put such a manoeuvre past some more controlling brides though.
‘Please can you step in?’ he begs.
‘Me?’ I reply in disbelief.
‘Don’t worry, being pregnant isn’t a requirement.’
‘Kat wants me?’
I think Kat and I have been in the same room on maybe two occasions, and I spent the first time accidentally calling her Kate the whole day. She was too polite to point it out, but not polite enough to let it stop her shooting me dirty looks all day.
‘Well, sort of,’ he says. He pulls out a pair of gloves from his pocket. ‘These are the gloves the bridesmaids are wearing – same colour as the dresses. And your dress matches.’
‘Oh, God, do I have to do this?’ I say nervously.
‘Please, please, please,’ he begs. ‘Apparently Kat’s really upset, and this is important. It’s nothing, really. You’re just a placeholder.’
‘Charming,’ I laugh. ‘OK, fine, if it’s that important to you, I’ll do it.’
I adjust my dress self-consciously. I’ve never been a bridesmaid before, and I’ve never been all that upset about it. I hate having everyone’s eyes on me, which makes me wonder how I’d ever get married – should anyone ever ask.
Matt grabs me and squeezes me tightly.
‘You’re amazing,’ he says. ‘Just go with Auntie May, she’ll tell you what to do.’
Matt knocks on the door before dashing off again.
Auntie May peeps through, looks me up and down, and grabs me by the forearm, pulling me through the door before quickly closing it behind her.
‘Thank you for doing this,’ she says as she ushers me along the corridor.
Once we’re at the entrance to the reception room, she lightly pushes me to the edge of the doorway.
‘It’s so simple,’ she says. ‘The music will start, just make your way slowly down the aisle, take nice slow steps, until you get to the end. Just mirror the groomsmen, all the bridesmaids will be standing in line. There are three of you, three groomsmen, you’ll be in neat little lines, sound good?’
Ergh, I have to walk down the aisle? How slow is slow? Do you put one foot forward before bringing the other in line with it, or do you just walk normally, but slowed down?
The music starts.
‘The others will be here any second,’ she says, thrusting flowers into my hand. ‘We’re already running late, go, go.’
I am out of both my depth and my comfort zone, but I do as Auntie May asks, slowly making my way down the aisle, doing some kind of inconsistent combination of the steps I mentioned before.
I glance at my friends as I pass their seats and they look genuinely baffled to see me walking down the aisle.
‘What the …’ I hear Clarky quietly start as I pass him.
After what feels like an hour, I finally find myself passing the front row, but that’s when I notice him, standing there at the end of the aisle. Not Matt, next to him. Standing dutifully by his friend’s side, in a matching black suit, is Tom Hoult, the man who broke my heart.
My jaw drops as he silently mouths a hello in my direction. I take my position, fixing my eyes on the aisle instead of on him. It’s almost too painful to look at him.
A pregnant bridesmaid with a dress amazingly similar to mine makes her way down the aisle before taking her spot next to me. I don’t allow myself to think about Tom being here, I just focus on the task at hand, but as I watch the third and final bridesmaid approach – another girl in a rose gold dress with a cute little baby bump – I realise that I recognise her too. It’s Cleo. What could be worse than the man who broke my heart being here? The woman who helped him do it being here with him.
Today is not the day I thought it was going to be – not at all. I had no idea Tom was going to be here. I had no idea Cleo would be with him – with him and pregnant, no less. I haven’t really thought about Tom in a long time. Well, I haven’t seen him in ten years, and he isn’t on Facebook, so it’s not like I see his face everyday, not like I do with the others. When things went bad between us, sure, I moped for a while, but then I picked myself up and I moved on. What else could I have done? Of course, I didn’t think I’d ever have to see him again, and yet here he is. Here and looking gorgeous as ever, and Cleo still looks perfect too. She’s pregnant and somehow still petite. Her impossibly shiny brown hair is pulled into a ballerina bun on the top of her head, with the exception of a few, small, perfectly formed curls that hang down, framing her cute little face.
I try to push it out of my head, because another thing I didn’t anticipate today was that I would have to take over for one of the bridesmaids – and I’m not only having to take her place walking down the aisle, but it turns out I’m taking over her duties too. While the marquee is being prepared for the wedding breakfast, everyone is gathered in the hotel gardens, enjoying drinks
