‘It won’t be Seb I stop seeing,’ I hissed. ‘It’ll be you.’
Her hat fell onto the floor as she struggled to raise herself on the sunbed. ‘What?’
‘You heard. And if I refuse to see you, you know what that means?’
She looked at me, her face contorted with hatred.
‘It’ll make it so much harder for Adam to see you.’
‘Good luck with that,’ she said calmly, her voice masking any fear she may have felt. ‘Do you honestly think he’s going to choose you over me?’
‘Who does he live with? Who does he share his bed with? Who does he make love to? I’d say your chances are pretty slim.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ she’d said, before getting up and walking slowly towards the house, her paisley kaftan billowing in the breeze. ‘You kids having a good time?’ she asked Tess and Pippa as she passed the pool, seemingly without a care in the world. Psychopath.
Now she’s telling Adam that she had a great time and that I made her feel welcome? I immediately feel wrong-footed, as if she’s playing a cat-and-mouse game. No prizes for guessing who the mouse is.
Adam pulled the duvet over our heads and I could feel him hard again as he pulled me tighter towards him. ‘It’s been four days.’ He laughed, as I tutted. ‘I can’t help it.’
‘Go to sleep,’ I said wearily. ‘We’ve got to get up in a few hours.’
‘I will, I promise. I’ll bash myself with a hammer and won’t bother you again, but only if you do me a favour.’
‘For God’s sake, what?’ I laughed.
‘Mum’s asked if she can come with you to your final fitting.’
‘What?’ I gasped, sitting up abruptly and turning to face him. ‘Seriously?’
‘She said that you both got on so well while you were away that she wondered if it would be all right to come along to see your dress.’ He screwed his face up, as if expecting a retort.
My mouth dropped open.
‘Please, Em. It’d mean the world to her. As she said, she doesn’t have a daughter so will never be able to share that special time with her. You’re the closest she’s got. She’d be so chuffed.’
‘But . . .’ I started.
‘Your mum’s already seen it, so it’s not as if she’d be stepping on anybody else’s toes as such.’
‘But Pippa hasn’t seen it yet, nor has Seb. The four of us were going to make a day of it on Saturday, go for lunch and that.’
Adam propped himself up on an elbow. ‘Seb?’
I stopped breathing.
‘Seb’s going with you?’
I slid back under the duvet with my heart hammering through my chest. Had I imagined the change in the atmosphere? I must have, because Seb was a problem that Pammie had created in her head, not Adam’s. So why did it feel like I’d just stepped on a landmine and was waiting for a delayed explosion?
‘Of course,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Because it’s a girls’ thing,’ he said curtly.
I turned to face him and snuggled into his warm chest, sliding an arm around his back. ‘You’re being sexist,’ I said, laughing.
I felt him pull away, both literally and mentally. ‘So Seb’s going to sit in a bridal shop with a gaggle of women?’ he asked incredulously. ‘He’s going to see your dress before I do?’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ I remonstrated. ‘It’s Seb, for goodness’ sake.’ Had she got to him? Had she planted this absurd seed in his head?
‘It just seems a bit much, to be honest,’ he said sharply. ‘Still, if he’s going, I really can’t see a problem with my mum going, can you?’
There was no answer to that, and I felt myself sink into the mattress, beaten and dejected. What did I have to do to get this vile woman out of my life?
25
Even Mum had struggled to keep the surprised tone out of her voice when I told her that Pammie was accompanying us on our special day out. ‘Oh, okay then, dear, whatever you want to do. It’s your day,’ she’d said democratically.
‘You are fucking joking?’ screeched Pippa, who had no such trouble with her freedom of speech.
I’d ashamedly called Seb the day before to tell him that I’d had second thoughts about him seeing my dress.
‘But I want to see you before anybody else does,’ he’d said. I could tell he was disappointed.
‘You still will,’ I’d said. ‘When you do my hair on the day.’
‘Okay then,’ he’d said abruptly, before putting the phone down.
I don’t know why I kowtowed to pressure, but it just felt the easier thing to do. It took away another problem, which gave me one less to have to deal with or worry about. I had enough going on, and I just wanted a peaceful life.
We’d been waiting at Blackheath station for twenty-five minutes when Pammie decided to show up, making us late for our appointment at the bridal boutique. I hate being late, ask anyone I know what I’m least likely to do and they’ll say, ‘be late’. It’s a real bugbear of mine, how people have so little respect for your time that they can happily waste it. I don’t accept it at work and I don’t expect it in my private life, unless of course there’s a very valid reason. Fire, earthquake, and death are permissible, however Pammie could only offer, ‘Sorry, I missed my train, haven’t made us late, have I?’
I turned my head away from her insincere air kiss and strode on ahead, up the hill towards the heath, leaving both Mum and Pammie flailing behind, and Pippa puffing to keep up.
The door to the shop chimed as we walked in, and I was immediately hit by the heat from the sun blazing through the windows. An oversized arrangement of white lilies sat on a small round table in the middle of the boutique.
‘Good morning, Emily,’ cooed Francesca, my dress designer, as she sashayed towards us. ‘Only two weeks to go till your big day! Are you ready?’
My face was red and blotchy, and I could feel the sweat as it began to collect at the base of my spine. ‘Almost.’ I smiled.
‘I’m really sorry, but as you’re half an hour late, we’re under a slight time restraint as I have my next bride in thirty minutes.’
On what was supposed to be a special day, relaxed and easy, my chest was already tight, a coiled spring of anxiety.
‘But don’t worry,’ she went on, in an attempt to counteract her previous sentence. ‘I’m sure we’ll get everything done.’
I wanted to sit down, have a glass of water, and be calm, before going into the heat of the changing room, but it seemed that time didn’t allow. It hadn’t been a good idea to wear thick tights, as black woolly particles littered the plush cream carpet and stuck firmly between my sweaty toes. This was not going how I wanted it to go, and it took all my strength not to cry. I remonstrated with myself as to how that would make me look, like a pampered princess throwing a hissy fit over trivial details.
Francesca slowly pulled the dress down over my head, as I held my arms aloft, and then she shimmied it past my shoulders and onto my torso. ‘Now for the moment of truth,’ I said, holding my breath, as if that would make it fit better. ‘Let’s see if we need to let it out.’ I offered a half-smile, confident that I’d maintained my goal weight, but doubting my willpower at the same time.