sat with them whilst my dad stared at the flower display – silently, likely imagining several different ways to kill Steven with a gerbera – and my mum repeatedly asked how Steven could do such a thing, intermittently dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered linen handkerchief. Of course, had Mags known I was about to deck the best man, she might have altered her strategy.
‘They’re ok. Devastated. Concerned. But ok,’ I took a swig of the crisp, cool wine, ‘I think so long as they know I’m all right, they’ll be fine.’
‘And are you?’ Mags asked, looking at me directly, knowing I could never give her anything but an honest answer.
I drained my glass and thought about it. Was I ok?
‘Yes. I think so. Now the shock’s worn off. I still have days when I don’t really want to get out of bed, but then my stubborn side kicks in and I think that I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing what a bloody mess he’s caused.’
Mags nodded. I knew there was another question coming.
‘Ok. But what about how you really are? That’s the “showing the world I’m ok” bit taken care of, but how are you inside. Really?’
I loved Mags to bits, but sometimes I wished she wasn’t quite so insightful. I fiddled with the wine bottle cork as I let out a sigh.
‘I’m not sure, to be honest. He hurt me. Totally humiliated me. But I am getting through it. And that sort of worries me in a way. I mean, shouldn’t I be sobbing and wailing and declaring that my broken heart will never mend? It’s made me question whether he was really The One after all. I mean, I thought he was, obviously. But now – I don’t know! As much as I hate to admit it, I’m secretly wondering if he actually did me a bit of a favour. Would the marriage even have lasted, seeing as I’m not pining away for him?’
I took another swig. ‘Of course, I’d rather he’d told me prior to the bloody wedding day!’ I said, my voice getting louder as I finished the sentence.
It was the truth though. I was seriously wondering if I had very nearly made a big mistake. But the anger at Steven for humiliating me, and my parents, as well as his own, still boiled away. I didn’t know how long that would take to go away. I hadn’t seen Rob since the wedding day either, so it was likely he wasn’t too sure about that aspect either, and, bearing in mind I’d punched him on the nose last time, he wasn’t taking any chances. I could hardly blame him.
As if reading my mind, Mags looked over from where she was studying the label on the wine bottle.
‘Have you seen Rob at all since then?’
I shook my head.
‘You do know you actually broke his nose, don’t you?
I whipped my head around to face her. Thanks to the copious amount of alcohol now thinning my blood, it took the world a moment or two to catch up. I blinked, and waited a few seconds for it all to settle down. Mags pushed her own cute little nose to the side, as if to illustrate the point.
‘I couldn’t have! He’s an ex-army, six-foot-three rugby player and I’m…’ I paused to look down at my own far less statuesque frame, ‘…not. I didn’t even hit him that hard!’
If I’m honest, I wasn’t entirely sure about the last bit. In the days following the incident, my hand, with its perfectly manicured nails, had turned a variety of shades, none of which were particularly attractive, as the whole thing became one massive bruise. And he had ended up on his bum.
‘Hard enough, it seems.’ Mags confirmed, a small smirk catching her lips.
I saw it.
‘Stop it! It’s not funny.’
Her smirk turned into a grin.
‘It’s not!’ I reiterated, ‘Anyway, how do you know?’
‘I saw him a few days ago. I was at Borough Market at lunchtime and he came into the pub with some colleagues.’
‘Oh.’
‘He was asking after you. He wanted to know if you were ok.’
‘Oh.’ I said again. ‘What did you tell him?’ I asked, after a couple more minutes.
‘I just said that you were doing ok, under the circumstances, and that you would be fine because you’re not about to let a lowlife piece of pond scum like Steven ruin your life.’
‘Right. Good. Ok. So long as you were subtle about it.’
‘Of course.’
And the funny thing was, that actually was subtle for Mags. It was lucky that it had been Rob and not Steven she’d run into. We’d been there for every good, and every awful, moment in each other’s lives and her fury at seeing her best friend hurt was probably more than my own could ever be. If Steven appeared in her line of vision any time within the next few months, there was every chance a trip to the casualty department would be in his very immediate future. I was just entertaining that idea in my head when Mags broke into my thoughts.
‘I think he’d like to see you.’
‘Who?’
‘Rob.’
‘Me? Why?’ My hand suddenly flew to my mouth, ‘Oh my God! He’s going to sue me for breaking his nose!’
Mags spurted out her wine over my kitchen table in laughter. ‘He does not want to sue you for breaking his nose!’
‘How do you know? Did he specifically say that? He is a lawyer! Why else would he want to see me?’
‘Izz, he specialises in company law, not ambulance chasing! Like I said, he’s just concerned as to how you are,’ she said, mopping up with a paper towel, ‘I think he feels some sort of odd sense of responsibility.’
‘Well, he shouldn’t.’
‘No, I told him that too.’
‘Good. Well, that’s that then.’
‘Excellent. Glad that’s settled. Is there any more wine?’
The screen on my phone lit up for the third time in an hour. I glanced over, read the name and pressed ‘Ignore’. Again. The bride-to-be whose dress I was working on noticed.
‘Do you want to get that? It’s ok. I have plenty of time.’ She almost bounced as she said it, her excitement palpable.
I loved this part of my job. I loved almost every bit of my job actually. It was one of the reasons I’d specialised in bridal wear after leaving Central St Martins, degree in hand. For the happiness, the joy and the excitement that came along with it all. Of course, there was the inevitable odd ‘Bridezilla’, but for the most part, the women that came in to my studio were wonderful and fun, and sometimes a little nervous, although the champagne I provided usually took care of that bit. I loved
