of us,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t get more loved up than Daz and Dorrie.’
‘I’m so glad,’ said Caz. ‘I can’t think why it’s taken them so long to get hitched. I’d have had Dorrie down for becoming Mrs Maitland years ago.’
‘She hasn’t said much about it, but I think it was because of her dad,’ I said. ‘She always wanted him to walk her down the aisle, and when he couldn’t, I don’t think she could bear it. Then when he died she went into a bit of a decline really. She seemed very low and her mum is worse. We were all really worried about her for a while. I think the only thing that pulled her out of it has been Woody.’
‘I feel so bad about Dorrie’s dad,’ said Caz. ‘I wish I’d known how bad it was. It’s not just my relationships with men that I’ve cocked up. I’ve made a mess of everything.’
She looked incredibly sad and I felt an unusual feeling of pity for her. I can’t remember ever feeling that about Caz before: frustration, fury, anger, yes. Pity? No. Caz wasn’t someone you pitied.
‘It’s never too late to make amends,’ I said, leaning over and touching her hand. ‘I mean, we’ve met up, and Dorrie did invite you to her hen weekend. You know what she’s like. I’m sure she doesn’t hold it against you.’
‘That’s another reason I called, actually,’ said Caz. ‘I had an ulterior motive. I felt terrible hearing Doris say she didn’t want any bridesmaids. Things didn’t work out the way we planned when we were kids, and I’m sure she’d still love them to.’
‘Knowing Doris, I’m sure you’re right,’ I agreed. I had felt Doris had been pretty sad about the bridesmaid thing from the minute she’d announced her engagement.
‘So, how do you fancy trying to sort it out?’ Caz leaned forward, eyes shining. ‘I mean, I know there’s the slight difficulty of Sarah to contend with – I mean she hates me, right?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘hate’s a pretty strong word, but yup, you could say you’re not her favourite person.’
‘But, how about we try to sort out our differences enough for us to give Doris the wedding she deserves?’
‘What do you mean?’ I said.
‘Eighteen years ago we made a vow. And we’ve failed dismally to keep it so far,’ said Caz. ‘So I think for Doris’s sake, it’s time we actually fulfilled the Bridesmaid Pact.’
Sarah
‘Good day at work?’ Steve wandered in to the kitchen where I was wrestling with the grill pan which had mysteriously got so filthy it had burst into flames when I’d grilled sausages for the boys’ tea. William had been so terrified it had taken me about half an hour to calm him down, while his older brother Sam had laughed him to scorn. Sam was a budding pyromaniac and I was slightly concerned he might have picked up a tip or two. William was watching TV in the den – it made me smile to think that as an adult I had managed to gain a den, when, thanks to Dorrie, I craved one so much as a child; ironic how little happiness it now gave me – and Sam was struggling with homework involving him writing sentences about going to the park.
‘So-so,’ said Steve. He gave me a perfunctory peck on the cheek. It was an action quite without affection, but he always kissed me when he came in the door. He smelt of booze. Great. He’d obviously been having another ‘business’ lunch. Lord knows what business they actually did at those lunches. It never ceased to amaze me how Steve kept down his job as a financial advisor. But he was a smooth operator, and even in these dicey financial times, he always seemed to come up smelling of roses.
‘What’s for tea?’ he asked, going to the fridge and opening a can of beer.
‘Sorry, I haven’t got there yet,’ I said. I’d barely sat down since picking the kids up from school. We’d rushed straight to the swimming pool after school, then I’d called in on Steve’s mum who’d been in her usual panic about unpaid bills. When Steve’s dad was alive he’d dealt with all the paperwork, and even though he’d been dead for five years now, Maggie still couldn’t get to grips with it. While I was there she’d let slip something that had un settled me rather.
‘Did you have a nice time when you were away, dear?’ she said, once I’d established that she didn’t need to write a cheque for her council tax as she paid it by direct debit, and her gas wasn’t going to get cut off because she was a week late paying her bill. I hadn’t seen Maggie since before going to Euro Disney three weeks earlier, as Steve and I had booked a week in Center Parcs with the kids over the Easter holidays. I wondered afterwards why we’d gone. The boys had had a great time, but Steve barely spoke to me for the whole time we were away.
‘Yes it was great, thanks,’ I said. ‘And Steve did a brilliant job with the kids. I couldn’t believe how tidy the house was when I got back.’
‘Well, they weren’t there that much of course,’ said Maggie. ‘They came to me for their tea on Saturday, and of course, they were out all day on Sunday.’
‘Oh?’ I said. Odd. The kids hadn’t said anything about going out for the day, nor about having tea at Maggie’s. ‘That’s nice, guys. Did Daddy take you on a treat?’
‘We went to the zoo and I had an ice cream and saw a gorilla,’ said William proudly.
‘Shhh!’ Sam furiously dug William in the ribs. ‘You know you weren’t supposed to say anything about that.’
‘Why not?’ My heart lurched suddenly. Why was Steve keeping secrets from me, and getting the kids to lie?
‘We met Daddy’s friend and he said you wouldn’t like it,’ said William.
‘I bet he did,’ I said grimly. This was it, the moment that I’d been dreading for months. I’d suspected Steve was cheating on me again, but he’d laughed at my suspicions. Now I knew he was definitely up to something fishy. But getting the kids to lie to me. That was below the belt, even for Steve.
‘Oh dear,’ Maggie flapped about looking uncomfortable. ‘Have I said something I shouldn’t?’
Maggie had many faults, not least her inability to manage her domestic affairs without our help, but she was pretty astute about her son. I’d never told her Steve had cheated on me, but from things she’d said over the years, I was pretty sure she knew.
‘No, of course not, Maggie,’ I smoothed things over, my speciality that. ‘Steve must have forgotten to mention it.’
And now, here I was, watching my errant husband fill himself up on beer, and wondering how on earth I was going to mention the elephant in the room. Because I was sick of his lies, and his promises to do better, and his insistence that if he strayed it was somehow my fault. I’d stuck with him for so long because of the kids, but now he was making them deceive me. I’d been a doormat long enough. Time to stand up for myself.
‘You didn’t mention you’d taken the kids to the zoo,’ I said casually, once the boys were in bed, and Steve was flopped out in front of the football.
‘So?’
