‘I’ve blamed him in my head for everything that’s gone wrong, Lu. For the fact that we saw less and less of each other, for how much we’d grown apart or been pushed apart by our different lives, perhaps. The accident should have been a wake-up call, but it just made everything worse. And then I blamed him for that too – for wallowing, for not bouncing back.’ She looks so downcast. ‘Easier than blaming myself, I guess. But I’ve hardly been around much either. I wish I’d tried harder to get through to him.’
I realize I’ve lumped the blame squarely on Jack’s shoulders myself since he called; he said nothing to suggest the break-up was in any way Sarah’s choice. I mean, I know these things are never black and white, but he left me with the impression that he’d called time because she didn’t quite measure up to his mythical one hundred per cent. I’m both relieved and disquieted to know it wasn’t exactly like that.
‘I don’t suppose blame is really what’s needed right now,’ I say. ‘You just need to look after yourself, make sure you’re okay.’
‘I miss him already.’
I nod and swallow, because I miss him too. It’s odd because I don’t see him all that much these days, but he’s always been there in the background. Sarah and Jack. Jack and Sarah. It’s become part of my vocabulary, forced at first, inevitable in the end. And now it’s just Sarah or Jack. The idea of him drifting away now they are no longer together makes me sadder than I know how to articulate.
‘Maybe after a while you’ll both feel differently? Maybe you just need a bit of a break?’ I say, feeling like a kid whose parents are divorcing.
She half smiles, far away, as if she knows it’s fanciful. ‘We won’t. Or I won’t, anyway.’ She swirls her wine before drinking some. ‘Do you know how I know?’
I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘Because there’s a part of me that’s relieved.’ She doesn’t look relieved. She looks more bereft than I’ve ever seen her. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I feel as if someone literally cut my heart out of my body. I don’t even know how life works without Jack in it, but there’s this bit of me –’ she breaks off and looks at her hands – ‘this bit of me that feels relieved. Relieved, because being in love with Jack has always been, to one degree or another, bloody hard work.’
I don’t know what to say, so I just let her talk.
‘Oh, he’s so lovely and, God, he’s good-looking, but when I think back our entire relationship has been a million tiny compromises, his or mine, so our differences weren’t big enough to pull us apart. It’s been a constant effort, and I don’t know if love should feel like that, you know? I don’t mean making an effort for each other … I mean making an effort to be someone ever so slightly different to who we really are. I watch you and Oscar together, and it seems to come so naturally to you both, as if you don’t have to try because you just fit.’
It’s in that moment I know there’s no going back for Jack and Sarah. I never realized – they made their love look so easy. And I’m quietly devastated; for them, mostly, but for me too. It feels as if part of my life is splintering away, floating off into space.
‘What can I do?’ I ask her.
Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I don’t know.’
I wait and let her cry it out on my shoulder, stroking her hair.
‘You c-could d-do one thing.’
‘Yes, anything.’ I’m desperate to do anything I can; I hate this feeling of powerlessness.
‘Will you still be his friend, Lu? Please? I’m scared he’s going to shut everyone out again.’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘You’re my best friend, but I care for him too. I’ll keep an eye on him. If that’s what you want.’
I put my arms round her and she rests her head on my shoulder. I hear her breathing slow as she falls asleep. As I close my eyes too, I remember the first day I met Sarah, and the first time I saw Jack, and how very tangled and complicated our lives have become over the years. We are a triangle, but our sides have kept changing length. Nothing has ever quite been equal. Perhaps it’s time to learn how to stand on our own, rather than lean on each other.
20 April
Laurie
‘You have to be on my side in here,’ I say, clutching Sarah’s arm before we push the door open at the bridal boutique in Pimlico. ‘My mum is all over the meringue dresses and I just want something simple. It’s a small church. Don’t let her bully me into something that won’t fit down the aisle.’
Sarah grins. ‘I’m quite partial to those big sparkly numbers. I think you could pull it off.’
‘I mean it, Sar. She’s one step away from ringing up that woman off Gypsy Weddings to see if she can fit me in at short notice. Don’t encourage her, for God’s sake.’
We step inside the boutique, still laughing, and I spy my mum already deep in conversation with the sales assistant, a glamorous fifty-something with a tape measure slung round her tanned neck.
‘Here she is now.’ Mum beams at me as we approach and I see the assistant’s eyes light up at the sight of Sarah, and then dim a little when she realizes that I’m the bride. I’m sure she has a million dresses in here that would suit someone tall and curvy like Sarah, whereas my shorter, more regular-girl body needs more skilful dressing to make the best of it. The assistant’s glasses are balanced on top of her auburn up-do, and she reaches for them and slides them on to study me as I hang my coat on the hanger she’s holding out.
‘So, you’re my bride!’ She says it as if she’s the one I’m getting hitched to, all panto over-emphasis. ‘I’m Gwenda, otherwise known around here as the fairy godmother!’
My smile is thin; if there’s one thing I’ve come to realize about weddings, it’s that pretty much everyone who works in the industry has perfected a false air of perpetual excitement, like nothing delights them more than making your every wedding wish come true. I get it. More gushing equals more money spent. The mere fact that something is wedding related seems to make it instantly three times more expensive than it might otherwise be. You want a couple of bay trees to put either side of your front door? Sure. These beauties are fifty pound a pair. Wait, you want them for your wedding reception? Ah, well, in that case let me tie ribbons round the pots and charge you double! But I’ve got their number now. I try not to throw the bridal bomb in until the very last minute, if at all. Not that Oscar is interested in cutting corners; he and his mother have gone into a full-scale wedding mania. I’m having a hard time reining them in. What I’d really love, if they cared to listen to me, is a small wedding – and unlike most people who say that, I really mean it; something intimate and special, just for us and our very dearest. The only people I really want there from my side are my immediate family, Jack and Sarah, and the couple of old school friends I’ve stayed in touch with. As for my colleagues, I like them well enough, but not well enough to want them at my nuptials. Not that it matters a great deal what I think. It seems I’m going to end up with something lavish and public. I mean, I don’t have a religious bone in my body, but apparently a church wedding is non-negotiable, preferably the same church Oscar’s parents married in. A family tradition to uphold, even though Lucille’s own marriage was hardly one to aspire to.