Dorrie’s dad, who’d been so kind to me growing up. I tried to make amends, but Dorrie never returned my calls. I’ve felt guilty ever since. But now it seemed like Dorrie had forgiven me.
But what of the others? Could Beth and Sarah ever forgive me for what I’d done to them? We grew up in a culture that taught us that redemption is always possible. But I liked to think I lived in the real world and was realistic enough to know that it didn’t happen as often as our teachers told us. Besides. You need to earn redemption. To gain forgiveness, you need to be truly, truly sorry. And even now there’s a self-destructive bit of me which isn’t sure that I am…
The plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle airport and I took a deep breath. Well, here I was. Finally. It had taken all my courage to come – I’d been tempted by a job in Greece where a famous model was attempting a comeback shoot for M&S. It would have been a great job. Glamorous. In the sun all day, and time in the evenings for some unwinding and Greek dancing in the local tavernas. But Charlie persuaded me to go to France. Charlie was my favourite photographer on the circuit. Down-to-earth and easy-going, he had the most amazing ability to tease the best out of the subjects he shot. Working with Charlie was always a breeze. And he was fun to socialize with too. Not since that mad moment in Las Vegas that we’d ever been anything other than friends, mind. He was firmly hitched to his live-in girlfriend and, attractive as I found him, I wasn’t about to go upsetting any apple carts. I’d learnt my lesson too well last time.
I emerged blinking from the airport into the pale March Paris sunshine. I always loved coming to Paris, but it was the café culture, museums and walks along the Seine which were the usual attraction for me. Without Dorrie’s invite, I doubt I’d ever have visited Disneyland Paris, but here I was on a train out of Gare du Nord, bound for Mickey Mouseville. Doris was the only person who could have ever persuaded me to come. And I still wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.
The shuttle service to Marne la Vallée proved surprisingly quick, and I had barely time to get my head together and think what on earth I was going to say to everyone when suddenly there I was being deposited in front of Woody’s Cowboy Ranch. Toy Story being Dorrie’s favourite Disney film, she’d insisted we stay here. Despite my nerves I couldn’t help but smile as Woody greeted me at the door. I could just imagine how delighted Dorrie must have been when she arrived.
My smile was only temporary though. My heart plunged to my boots as I made my way to the reception desk. Suddenly I was eight years old again, being invited for the first time to Dorrie’s mansion. It had felt like such a privilege, and yet in the self-destructive way I have, I’d pretty much blown the chance of making the most of the opportunities being friends with Dorrie and the others had afforded me. I didn’t even know if they’d want to see me again, let alone forgive me. Knowing Dorrie, I bet she hadn’t told them I was coming.
I checked in at the desk, my nerves making a mash of my schoolgirl French. The unsmiling receptionist responded in perfect English with a look of such sneery disdain and I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole. Giving up on any attempt to speak her language, I said, ‘I’m meeting friends; a Doris Bradley?’
‘Ah oui, Mademoiselle Bradley is next door to you. I will let her know you have arrived.’
I took my bags and made my way to the third floor, shaking like a leaf. Suppose I ended up ruining Dorrie’s big weekend? This had been a dreadful mistake. I was wrong to come.
I found my room, next to Dorrie’s. I swallowed hard. Should I dump my bags, freshen up and then go and say hi? Or should I bite the bullet and go straight for it?
The door to room 327 flung wide open, and there in the flesh for the first time in five years stood Dorrie. Larger than life, as ever. Welcoming me in a massive hug. I felt my worries disappear instantly. Dorrie had a way of doing that. It was her special talent.
‘Caz! You came! I’m so pleased. Come right in.’ I’d forgotten how overpowering she could be. She propelled me into the middle of a massive room. I had a moment to take in the double bed, the cowboy-hat-shaped lampshades, the bridles and saddles decorating the walls, and the huge horseshoe over the bed, before I realized she wasn’t alone. Lounging on the bed, sipping champagne, were two faces I hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. They both looked up at me and registered their shock.
‘You never said she was coming.’ Sarah shot me a look of such venom, I was quite taken aback. God, did she really hate me that much still?
‘It wouldn’t have been the same without her,’ said Dorrie firmly.
‘Lock up your husbands,’ said Sarah. ‘Sorry Doz, I know you mean well, but I’m not spending any more time with her than I have to.’ She got up and stormed out of the room, pushing past me with evident hatred.
I knew I shouldn’t have come.
Beth
I was so shocked when Caz walked through the door. Doris had been yacking on all morning about having a wonderful surprise for Sarah and me, but neither of us had imagined it would be Caz. I suppose we should have known. It was Dorrie who’d instigated the Bridesmaid Pact way back when, so I suppose it would be just like her to assume we’d all come together for her wedding, even though none of us had managed to do it for each other’s. Of course, Caz had made a monumental cock-up with her wedding. By her own admission, copious amounts of vodka, and the sheer dizzying excitement of being in Vegas had led her to get carried away. By the time we found out she was married, it was already over, so there was no chance we could get to be bridesmaids for her. Dorrie was the closest I’ve seen to furious when she found out.
‘But what about the Bridesmaid Pact?’ she’d wailed.
‘What about it?’ Caz had laughed. ‘C’me on, you didn’t seriously expect us to fulfil that daft promise did you?’
But, of course, Dorrie did. When it was Sarah’s turn, she talked about nothing else. We were all lined up to be bridesmaids. It had all been sorted for months. But then, Caz did whatever she did – to this day Sarah’s none too sure, but Steve swore whatever happened had been at Caz’s instigation. And that was that. Caz dropped out of being a bridesmaid but then turned up in the evening anyway, nearly ruining Sarah’s day, and Sarah’s never, ever forgiven her.
My wedding was next, and I was all for having the Fab Four together on my special day. I didn’t need Dorrie to persuade me, and I’d hoped that Sarah and Caz could make up enough for that to happen. Sarah was prepared to put aside their differences for my sake, but then Caz had to go and open her big mouth at my hen night, we argued and I said I didn’t want her to be my bridesmaid any more. She didn’t even come to the wedding, and thanks to Sarah suffering from terrible morning sickness, half the time it felt as though Dorrie was my only bridesmaid. It wasn’t what either of us had planned. Thanks to Caz’s erratic behaviour at my hen night, I was terrified about my secret coming out on my wedding day. I couldn’t bear it if Matthew had found out. Now I wonder if I was right. I wish sometimes I had told him. Particularly now. Secrets are corrosive, they never do you any good.
I’d had enough of Caz by then. So selfish. So poisonous. So untrustworthy. Wherever she goes she leaves a trail of carnage behind her. One day it will come and bite her on the bum and she’ll be sorry.
I thought after that we’d never see her again. The Fab Four shrank down to the Terrific
