We were all stunned when Poppy followed us on Instagram a while back. First it had been me, obviously, but soon enough she had found the others’ accounts and liked our pictures and stories whenever we posted them. Even Esther’s, and Esther is hopeless at Instagram and only posts a photo about once every three months and has less than a thousand followers. Poppy’s account isn’t much better than hers in terms of followers, but she has plenty of posts. The first few were mainly of London nightlife, blurred images of cocktails and clubs, and then of course there were some of what must have been her artwork or ones she admired (Poppy is an art nut), but we all saw the one of her left hand with its sparkling diamond ring.
It was Annabel’s idea to follow her back, just for a laugh. I mean, I only follow celebrities but the other three all did and we were able to see what she was doing. I know I wasn’t the only one insanely jealous of that ring—how did Poppy Greer of all people bag herself a man with that kind of money?
After that it was a flurry of bridal pictures, from dresses she was trying on to her exploring various potential venues. Her shortlist for her wedding dress was fun. We all got drunk one night at mine and voted for which dress we liked best out of her posts. I went for a clingy silky Versace number personally, but everyone else preferred her more traditional options. It actually turned into a bit of a game for us—what has Poppy posted next, and would any of the photos show us what she looked like now? Because not one of these many wedding posts had her face in them.
A couple of months before we got our invites, Poppy had posted a story in front of some fancy-looking wedding invitations wondering about who to include in her wedding.
It’s been so many years since I’ve seen some people, she wrote. Wouldn’t it be fun to have some kind of school reunion?
“She’ll be calling you up, Tanya,” I joked at the time. “You’ll be her maid of honour.”
“As if she’d ever include us,” Tanya had replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m shocked she’s even thinking of inviting people from school.”
Imagine our surprise then when the invites for the hen party came through the door. Not just for Tanya, but for each and every one of us.
I grinned at them all as we discussed what to do. “Hey, if she’s willing to pay for holidays to the Bahamas, I think Poppy Greer can finally be one of us.”
Annabel smiled at that, but even she was still reluctant. “I’m not sure any of us would be quite as generous with each other if it were our own hen parties.”
“Mainly because she wouldn’t be invited to them!” I laughed.
Tanya, who up until this point had been lost in thought, frowned. “Maybe it’s not about that. Maybe we should think about going to . . . you know, see how she is. After everything.”
“Is someone missing their old friend?” I teased. “Trust you to be feeling bad for her.”
“I’m just saying.” Tanya pushed her half-eaten plate of food away from her. “We were pretty rough to her, especially at the end. This could be our chance to wipe that slate clean. Not carry anything around with us anymore.”
“Who’s carrying anything around?” Esther asked. “I’m not.”
“We should all go,” Tanya said. “I think it’s important.”
“And even if Poppy is still a weirdo, the four of us will be on a private island living the life of luxury for four days,” I added, ignoring Tanya’s irritated sigh.
Esther gave in, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll come. We’ll all go.”
Annabel nodded. “Yes, alright. But I’m going for the sandy beaches and cocktails, not the childhood therapy session.”
“Hoorah!” I lifted my glass of wine. “Let’s toast to that.”
“As long as I can get the time off,” Esther muttered, but she grinned and raised her glass too. “To the Bahamas!”
“To the Bahamas!” we chanted.
Now, conversation returns to Poppy. I’m sitting in the armchair, whilst Esther and Annabel sit on the bed and Tanya stands near the opening. A flight attendant comes over and offers us all coffees after the meal we’ve just finished, and we accept. After she leaves again, coffees delivered, we can talk properly.
“I wonder what she’s like now,” I say, remembering the Poppy from long ago. “Her Instagram never had any photographs of her.”
You know how there’s always that one child at school who never seems to fit in, despite by all appearances being quite an ordinary kid? Nothing majorly wrong with them, no laughable features. And yet they are always on the precipice, never quite able to join the group and get what the joke is about, because odds are the joke is on them.
That was Poppy Greer. Sure, she was a bit overweight, and we all never hesitated to call her on it (I remember one time back when we were about twelve or thirteen Poppy Greedy was her nickname for months and months), but there was just something about her that meant no one wanted to be her friend. She had this odd, obsessive personality, where she’d fixate on certain topics and never shut up about them, like Star Wars or even The Great British Bake Off. Most weird of all were her creepy paintings. She loved art and was constantly putting hers on display at school. She still wore braces even when she was sixteen. She actually got on with the teachers and consistently came top of the class. You know, one of those kids.
I never imagined she’d be successful, because as much as the world wants to pretend otherwise, it rewards confident, attractive people. I mean, look at me. I flunked out of sixth form with three Ds but it doesn’t matter because my double Ds make me thousands every month through bikini pictures. Look at Annabel too: beautiful, blonde, a better nose than me even though I’ve had mine done and she’s with the delicious Andrew and doesn’t need to earn anything. Meanwhile Esther’s much more average, though she dresses well and has a killer body, so she has to do her boring banker job. As for Tanya, the less said about her the better at the moment, but she’s not a dog. It’s why her job in high-end events worked. You can’t be the life and soul of a party and look like the back end of a bus.
“She was always brainy,” Esther says. “Maybe she’s in investment banking too.”
“Maybe she actually earned her way there without connections,” Annabel says with a grin.
Esther chooses to ignore the jibe, sipping her coffee. “I don’t even know what happened to her after sixth form. Didn’t she and her family move away?”
“I remember something like that,” I say. “Wasn’t her younger sister even smarter than she was? Maybe they moved so she could go to some swanky sixth form out in the country for geniuses.”
“It’s going to be so strange seeing her,” Annabel says. “My mum tried saying it would be a good opportunity to make amends, if you can believe it.”
“I didn’t know you still spoke to your mum,” Tanya says, and Annabel blushes.
“She managed to call me just as I was waiting for the taxi this morning,” she mumbles. “I didn’t realise it was her on the phone, I thought it was them getting lost finding the place.”
“Easy to do with all those magnificent houses,” Esther concedes. “What does she mean though—make amends? Amends for what?”
Annabel and Esther in particular have a tendency to pretend like nothing ever happened at school. I take a more honest approach. I mean, we’re all twenty-eight this year, and if we can’t acknowledge something as little as what happened with Poppy Greer, I think that’s a bit immature.
“I tried saying this at the lunch. We could say we’re sorry for how we acted,” Tanya proposes. “That we’re excited to be her bridesmaids.”
“Who apologises for something that happened ten years ago?” Annabel says. “No, I think we just don’t mention it. That’s always easier.”
“Agreed,” Esther says. “Don’t mention anything at all. Especially you, Chloe.”
I frown. She would be stunned if she knew some of the things I’m hiding from them.
“The real question is who she’s getting married to,” Annabel says.
“True,” I say with a giggle. “Who on earth would marry Poppy Greedy?”
We all laugh and the tension is broken.
Poppy is meeting us on the island itself, so I’m not sure if she’s been out there longer or taken a different flight. It feels like she’s deliberately adding an air of suspense to us seeing her after all these years, but I don’t blame her. It would have been a bit awkward if we’d all shared this nine-hour flight and the journey to where we’re staying.
I also think, not for the first time, that maybe we’re her bridesmaids because she doesn’t have any other friends. We might just be the closest she ever got to them.
And that’s quite sad really.
The others go back to their own suites, Tanya proclaiming she is going to sleep the rest of the way and not to disturb her, whilst Esther plans to catch up on some work emails and respond to her boyfriend, Brad, who has already texted her a dozen times. Only Annabel and I actually enjoy the flight the rest of the time; I can faintly hear her watching a film and ordering more food, and I plan to do the same after I’ve finished uploading another photograph of myself.