Sometimes I look at the others and I want to scream in their faces. Do they even care what we did in the past? Do they ever still think about it? Because there are days, especially since receiving the invitation, when I find that’s all I can do.
There’s no one else out on the water as we power towards the island, just the big empty expanse of ocean to surround us. I think of my tiny flat, the mould in the bathroom because there’s no window and an extractor fan will never do a good enough job no matter what the landlord says.
I’m starting to wonder if Robin wouldn’t mind a job share.
“How are you feeling, Annabel?” she shouts, the only one of us to remember that Annabel is supposedly seasick.
She does look a little pale, but there’s no obvious signs of anything. She gives a weak thumbs-up. “Fine. It was worse just before we set off and it was still all wobbly.”
“I knew you’d be alright,” Robin says. “You’re going to have a wonderful hen party. When’s the wedding?”
This comment throws us.
“The wedding?” Annabel asks. “My wedding?”
“You’re the bride, are you not?” Robin says, keeping her gaze straight ahead. The dark shape of the island is becoming more visible, a larger mark on the horizon now. “One of your bridesmaids came earlier to set up for your arrival.”
How has she got this wrong?
Despite what I said to the others, I too had my reservations about this trip right from the start. The moment the invitation arrived, actually, three months ago. That I even got something through the post was the first warning sign. No one sends me letters or cards, not anymore. So when I saw something on the floor by the door that wasn’t a bill the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a primal sense of danger: something is wrong here.
And then for it to be an invitation to this island in the Bahamas. To be Poppy Greer’s bridesmaid. I had no idea then the others were invited. I thought it was some kind of sick joke, and I very nearly tore up the invitation, brochure, and plane tickets there and then.
But I didn’t tear them up. I sat with them on my lap for a while, and then I thought about those first-class tickets. What they might mean. A few hours later, Annabel had called us all asking if any of us had received an invitation too. This wasn’t just about me.
It’s still hard to think about the past. Part of me wonders if everything that’s happening to me now is some kind of punishment for it. The universe telling me that I deserve what I’ve got. I’m a terrible human being. Perhaps it’s still selfish of me, in a way, to see this as a chance to seek forgiveness.
The others are so excited to see what Poppy will be like now.
I’m more concerned with what she’ll think of us.
“I think you’ve got this wrong,” Esther says to Robin.
But Annabel finds the mistake hilarious. She throws back her head and laughs. “Right. I’m the bride. Aren’t I, guys?”
“Right.” Chloe grins, but something about it still makes me uncertain. Why would Robin think that?
Robin nods. “Just the five of you. A small hen party but perhaps just right.”
“Are you feeling better, Tanya?” Chloe whispers to me, that gleam in her eye again. “Poppy’s not got herself a new friend.”
The three of them have never let me forget that Poppy and I used to be good friends. Best friends, I guess. We went to the same primary school together and spent every day in one or the other’s house, content with talking and making up imaginary stories to pass the time. But once we got to secondary school and I made friends with the other three, Poppy and I drifted apart. It was just one of those things. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
Occasionally, they all like to remind me that I was very nearly like Poppy. Left out of everything, always on the sidelines.
“Shut up, Chloe,” I say sharply, but she smiles at me.
Robin continues, ignoring our bickering. “We’ll be there before you know it.”
The rest of the journey passes without further conversation. A peacefulness has taken over the boat, the four of us settled into the hard white seats but off in our own worlds. Just like Annabel said at the airport, it really has been a long time since the four of us did something together like this. There’s been the occasional lunch over the past few months, though never all together, but they’re quick and easy—in, order food and drinks, short catch-ups from everyone’s lives, snippets of what we’ve all been doing, and then split the bill and be on our way.
So it’s awkward right now, a bit fresh, the four of us spending more time together than we have in years. It’s been easier to hang out one on one, with Annabel in particular, as much as I feel guilty about it. Esther always seems reluctant lately. As for Chloe, I try and avoid her as much as I can so she can’t keep staring at me with such horror all the time. She was even doing it at the airport, those judging eyes that seemed to scream to the world that something was wrong with me. I’m sure the other three must meet up without me. I can be somewhat prickly at times, I know that. I’m not blind to my faults. And I’ve certainly been more difficult lately.
But I’m not entirely to blame.
We’re nearing the island now, and even though we’re much closer up, I can appreciate just how small it is. I say so out loud and Robin nods, cutting the engine as we approach the pier, a matching twin to the one on the mainland.
“About twenty acres all round,” she says. “But it packs a lot in.”
Unlike the mainland, there isn’t a white beach connecting the pier; instead, it backs straight onto the earth, surrounded by trees and bushes but a dusty path in between. Behind this, further back on the island, there’s a small mountain, visible cliffside paths snaking their way up to the summit.
After Robin secures the boat with a rope against a post, she helps us all out again and notices my gaze. “I call that Deadman’s Peak, but it doesn’t have an official name. It looks much more intimidating down here than it actually is. Children can walk up those paths quite easily, you just have to be mindful once you’re up there that you don’t fall.” She allows herself a grin, nodding at our footwear. “I hope you’ve packed more than just high heels if you are planning to go up.”
“No fear, I’ll be staying on the beach,” Chloe says, though she looks unimpressed. “There is a beach, right? It’s not just this muddy patch?”
“Not to worry, we’ll head through that path now and you’ll see,” Robin says. She heaves our suitcases out onto the pier and makes sure we’re holding them. “Don’t want them to roll off into the sea! Although at least we’d be able to see where they fell.”
It’s true; the water is even clearer over here, and not that deep. The sand is only about a metre down.
“Oh!”
Chloe’s little exclamation makes us all turn to look at her. She’s pointing ahead, towards the path that leads through to the main part of the island. “Is that Poppy?”
A woman is heading towards us.
“Here we are,” Robin says. “She must have heard the boat. Your bridal party is now complete.”
Four
Esther
May 18, 2023
It’s alright for the others. When this trip came up it wasn’t a question of the impact of taking four days off, it was whether they had enough bikinis.
For me, it involved a lengthy conversation with my boss, a man who still treats professional women my age like we’re about to pop out children at any second and hunts for a reason to get rid of them before they confirm a dreaded pregnancy. He wasn’t happy, but he’s friends with my parents and I haven’t taken a day off in over a year, so there wasn’t much he could do other than voice how disappointed he was that it was at such short notice (three months in advance) and at a critical time (when is it ever not?).
There are so many unread emails I’d planned to get through on my phone during this trip. I hold on to my favourite necklace as a stress release, a gold chain with “Esther” in cursive writing, grabbing my name against my neck.
Annabel’s comment about connections on the plane is still bothering me. She’s always liked to imagine she’s better than us, more intelligent, more capable—and it takes everything in me not to point out how shallow her life has become. At least I’m doing something with mine.