The Bridesmaid Pact

Caz stood looking awkward in the middle of the room.

‘I knew this was a bad idea,’ she said, barely looking at me. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, I’m going to ruin your weekend.’

‘You are going nowhere,’ said Doris firmly. ‘I invited you because I wanted you here. I know we’ve all had our differences’ – that’s putting it mildly, but Doris is the queen of positive spin – ‘a lot of water’s gone under the bridge. But this is my hen weekend and I want you here. Life’s too short to fall out with people. I think it’s time we all moved on. So there. Beth, you don’t mind do you?’

‘I—’ What could I say? Doris was right. She usually was. Perhaps it was time to forgive and forget. Caz had undoubtedly hurt me, what she’d done to me was inconsiderate and thoughtless, I’d been holding on to my anger about it for a long time. But like my secret, that anger was corrosive and doing me no good. Seeing Caz in the flesh made me realize how much I missed her.

‘Beth, I’m really sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I know it was a long time ago, but those things I said at your hen night…I’d had too much to drink and behaved really, really badly. I’m so ashamed of myself. I didn’t mean to cause you, of all people, so much grief. I’ve never had a chance to tell you before how sorry I was.’

Because I’d never let her, I realized with a jolt.

‘I can’t say I wasn’t upset,’ I said, slowly, ‘because I was. But I think Dorrie’s right. A lot of water has gone under the bridge. I can’t promise to forget, but I will try and forgive.’

‘I know I don’t deserve that,’ said Caz, and I could see tears sparkling in her eyes. With that I melted completely. I could barely remember seeing Caz cry. I realized what a big thing it was for her to have walked into the room in the first place, let alone apologize.

‘It’s history,’ I said, ‘forget about it.’

We hugged awkwardly and Doris poured her a glass of champagne. Caz sat down on the edge of the bed and we embarked on a serious catch-up.

‘How’s your family?’ Caz asked.

‘Oh fine,’ I said. ‘Parents are older, but still going strong. They moved, you know, out of London, to be by the sea. But then they decided it was too dull for them there and moved back. So now Mum organizes the new parish priest, Father Miserecordie, and Dad sends her mad by building things in the garage, and they’re happy as Larry.’ I stopped, wondering if I should ask about Caz’s mum who had never been happy in her life, but Caz did it for me.

‘Mum is sadly still with us,’ she said. ‘I barely see her. Thank goodness.’

‘You can’t mean that,’ I protested. ‘Surely she’s not that bad.’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Caz in a tone that brooked no further questions. She looked slightly hesitant and said to Doris, ‘I was really sorry to hear about your dad. What happened?’

‘You don’t know?’ Dorrie’s face creased in pain. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d been through. She always kept her cards closely to her chest, but from the little I’d gleaned it had been tough.

‘No,’ said Caz. ‘I mean, I heard he died and I was really sorry, but Mum didn’t know any of the details.’

‘He had MS,’ said Doris. ‘It was a progressive type and acted really fast. It was really terrible. He was in a wheelchair being fed by a tube at the end.’

Caz looked horrified. I think of all of us she’d loved Dorrie’s dad the most. Perhaps not having one of her own, she was more appreciative of him than Sarah and I were.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I should have been there for you.’

‘You were probably too busy on a drinking spree,’ said Doris in an uncharacteristically spiteful manner.

‘Ouch,’ said Caz, flinching. ‘I probably deserved that.’

There was an uncomfortable pause, then Doris said, ‘No, no you didn’t. I’m the one who should be sorry. That was uncalled for. What happened to Dad was so bloody rotten and unfair, it makes me angry is all.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Caz. ‘Your dad was wonderful. What a terrible thing to happen to him.’

Another pause, when we were uncomfortably aware that Doris, cheerful, happy-go-lucky Doris, was blinking away tears.

‘This will never bloody do,’ she said, pulling herself together. ‘This is a hen weekend, not a misery fest. We’re here to party. Time to go and do some screaming.’

In our teens, screaming as a result of Doris forcing us onto some god-awful fairground ride was a common occurrence. I’d hated it then and hated it now.

‘Do we have to?’ I groaned.

‘Yup,’ said Dorrie. ‘That’s the deal this weekend. You all have to come on at least one ride where you get to scream.’

‘What about Sarah?’ said Caz. ‘She clearly doesn’t want me here. I don’t want to ruin things.’

‘Leave Sarah to me,’ said Doris firmly. ‘No one, but no one, is going to spoil my weekend.’

‘OK, here’s the thing,’ said Dorrie as we queued up to go into Euro Disney. ‘This is my weekend and I want things my way. So Sarah, Caz, I know you have your differences, and I know this isn’t easy for you. But, it’s really important to me that you’re both here, particularly now,’ she paused, then added, ‘with the wedding and everything. So can we call a truce for the next forty-eight hours? You can go back to hating each other afterwards.’

Sarah looked mutinous but didn’t say anything. Like the rest of us, she found it impossible to resist Dorrie, but her resentment of Caz was so deep rooted, she was obviously prepared to make an exception.

‘Look, Dorrie,’ said Caz looking uncomfortable, ‘it clearly isn’t OK for Sarah for me to be here. I should go back to the hotel—’

‘When did you turn all mealy mouthed, Caz?’ snapped Sarah. ‘I think I preferred you bitchy.’

‘I can do bitchy if you want me to,’ Caz snapped right back. ‘I am trying, you know.’

Dorrie tried again. ‘Come on girls, we’re in Euro Disney. Play nice. For me?’

Sarah still looked sulky, but said, ‘Anything for you, Dorrie, you know that.’

‘Me too,’ said Caz, looking relieved.

‘Great,’ said Dorrie, brightening up. ‘Now let’s go party.’

As we came through the entrance, we were greeted by a band playing incessantly cheerful music, and the sight of Mickey and Goofy glad-handing people.

‘Perfect,’ said Dorrie, clapping her hands. ‘This is just perfect.’

It was impossible not to get swept up in her enthusiasm. Soon we found ourselves in Frontierland, trying to work out which was the least scary ride. Sarah and I hated rides, while Caz and Dorrie loved them.

‘Well that one doesn’t look too bad,’ Caz pointed at Big Thunder Mountain which seemed to consist of carriages whizzing in and out of tunnels and didn’t appear that dangerous.

Half an hour later we were all screaming. Big Thunder Mountain was apparently ‘fairly thrilling’ according to the scare guide on the map we’d been given as we entered the park. I must be getting old or something, but I started yelling for dear life, the minute the rollercoaster cranked us up to the top and we could see darkness beckoning us below. Within seconds we were plunging down and sideways through endless dark tunnels and Sarah and I were screeching our heads off. How could anyone think this was fun? Behind us I could hear Caz turning the air blue, but Doris was just laughing aloud. I don’t know how she does that. She never appears to be fazed by anything.

‘Don’t – make – me – go – on – anything – else,’ Sarah panted out between breaths as we got off. ‘That was truly horrible.’

‘What, not even the teacups?’ Doris was laughing at all of us. Even Caz looked white. But she took pity on us long enough to let us go and buy ourselves candyfloss, and permitted us to wander about weighing up the other rides before we went on them.

‘I think we should go on Space Mountain next,’ said Doris as we found our way into the space adventure area.

‘No, no and no,’ I said, staring up in horror as we watched a rocket being cranked up the side of a huge tower.

‘I think I might be sick if I went on that,’ said Sarah faintly.