The Bridesmaid's Reward

‘I can’t tell you the exact date. It’s a state secret, apparently, but early May seems to be favourite.’ She groaned again. ‘I’ve got six weeks, Gina. I need to jog. I need weights. I need aerobics,’ she said, spluttering toast crumbs everywhere as she wondered what had happened to all those resolutions she’d made on New Year’s Day. ‘I’ve got to do all those things I’ve been putting off for ever and—’

‘What you’ve got to do is stop talking with your mouth full and get a grip.’

‘Right,’ she said. She wasn’t about to disagree with the only person in the world who could get her into shape in time. She swallowed the toast. ‘I can do this,’ she said firmly. ‘In fact my heart’s beating so fast with the excitement that I’m losing calories just talking to you.’

‘I’m sorry to disillusion you, but for any loss of weight the raised heartbeat needs to be the result of exercise.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Oh, well, you know more about this than I do. Which is where you come in.’

‘Oh, right. All becomes clear.’

‘Look, do you want to come to this wedding or not?’ Dodie demanded, stooping to outright bribery. ‘The guest list is going to be a Who’s Who of the film and theatre world. Actor knights. Pop stars. Starlets in wildly unsuitable dresses hoping to make the front page—’

‘Why would your sister ask me to her wedding?’

‘I get to ask someone. As in “and partner”.’

‘Er, isn’t that supposed to be a bloke?’

‘That’s a very un-PC comment, Gina,’ she said primly. ‘This is a showbiz wedding. And anyway, I haven’t got a bloke.’ She was planning to keep it that way. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t want a man along cramping my style. I mean, isn’t the chief bridesmaid supposed to arouse feelings of unrestrained lust in the best man? Traditionally?’

‘I’d heard that rumour, although personally I’ve never seen one worth getting excited about.’ Dodie didn’t say anything. ‘Oh, right. I think I’m beginning to understand the unlikely attraction of wearing some hideous satin, frill-covered concoction. And why you’re even considering getting toned up for the occasion. Come on, give. Who is it?’

‘The best man, do you mean?’ she asked casually, as if this wasn’t the reason her heart was quivering like a greyhound in the slips, throbbing like a Ferrari in pole position at Monaco, pounding like…like the entire drum section of the Royal Marine band at the Edinburgh Tattoo. And for a moment she had to grip the back of a handy chair—this kind of excitement was really too much to deal with over breakfast. ‘The best man is going to be Charles Gray.’

Being human, she took a certain amount of pleasure in the resulting stunned silence that positively vibrated down the telephone line.

‘Charles Gray?’ Gina responded finally, with gratifying awe. ‘Heartthrob and sex god? The man every right-thinking woman wants to find under her tree on Christmas morning wearing nothing but a smile and a condom? That Charles Gray?’

‘Yes. Total fantasy.’ And she sighed. ‘Absolutely perfect, in fact. One day of enchantment without any messy long-term reality to ruin the effect.’

‘You plan on turning back into a pumpkin at twelve o’clock?’

‘On the dot. And I’ll be a lot more careful with my shoes than Cinderella. I mean, let’s be honest, what are the chances that she lived happily ever after with a man fixated on her feet?’

‘I’d never given it any thought,’ Gina admitted. ‘And of course your eagerness for me to wave my magic wand and turn you into a princess for the day has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Martin will see the pictures in Celebrity magazine and realise that he could have been there, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous? Imagine the caption… Mr Martin Jackson, partner of the bride’s lovely sister, Miss Dodie Layton, chatting to composer and well-known art collector, Sir Thingummy Whatsit…’

Reminding her about Martin didn’t have quite the effect Gina would have wished. Far from being amused, Dodie was only reminded just how undesirable she was. Casting a hopeless look down at herself in her working clothes—barrage balloon jogging pants that had never been jogged and a T-shirt that appeared to have shrunk in the wash—she groaned.

‘I’m just fooling myself, aren’t I? It’ll never happen. I’m going to look like a lumpen fool amongst all those toned, tanned and skinny celebs. As out of place as a lily on dung heap, in fact.’ As the reality of the situation sank in she broke off and grabbed another slice of toast. ‘Charles Gray being the lily.’

‘Nonsense,’ Gina said, with gym mistress briskness. ‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Okay, so she wasn’t a gym mistress, she was the manager of a seriously upmarket health club at the newly opened Lake Spa complex, but she could give a good impression of one when she was feeling bossy. ‘He couldn’t have a more charming companion at a wedding. You’re every bit as pretty as your sister. This may be considered heresy in some circles, but I think her cheekbones are a bit, well, bony. Contrary to popular myth, it is possible to be too thin.’

‘The camera loves bone.’

‘Maybe, but you’re not an actress, and, with or without bone, your smile would light up any occasion.’

Gina meant to be kind, she knew, but that was exactly the reaction Dodie most dreaded. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t constantly have to stand comparison with her incredibly beautiful, incredibly talented, incredibly thin sister. But, having cast about for something complimentary to say, desperate relatives who hadn’t seen her for a while always plumped for the safety of her “lovely smile”.

Well, this time it wouldn’t be enough.

‘Since my “lovely smile” will have to compete with that of the terminally sexy Mr Gray’s, I doubt it will make much impression. I’ll just be that girl wearing a frilly tent and grinning inanely in all the photographs.’ And, groaning again, she abandoned the astringency of the marmalade and opened the fridge door. There was a jar of chocolate spread tucked away at the back that she kept for emergencies such as this.

‘I didn’t mean it about the frills, Dodie. Your sister has far too much good taste to put adult bridesmaids in frills.’

‘Maybe the frills are metaphorical, Gina, but the sniggers will not be—unless you, my dearest, oldest friend, save me from myself. I need the kind of one-on-one help that only someone who’s shared your most intimate secrets since nursery school, who knows your every weakness, can give. Who else would know where I hide the secret supplies of chocolate? Those biscuits I keep for the really bad moments? My addiction to soft, melting Camembert piled onto a Bath Oliver—?’

‘Stop it right now!’

‘I’m a hopeless case,’ she said. ‘In moments of stress you go for a run. I just reach for food. My mother only had to mention the words “instant miracle diet” for me to break out in a sweat. I’m on my knees here, begging you to move in with me for the duration, keep me on the straight and narrow—’

‘I’d do anything for you, Dodie, you know I would, but—’

‘But? Don’t tell me “but”, Gina. I can’t handle “but”…’

‘But,’ she said, ignoring the rising panic in Dodie’s voice, ‘our friendship has always been on a live-and-let-live basis. I’ve tolerated your love affair with the diet from hell. You’ve tolerated my need for the endorphin high of exercise. Ours is a relationship based on mutual respect for our individual no-go areas and I think we should leave it that way. And,’ she went on before Dodie could interrupt, ‘even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I was just about to call you and ask if there was anything in Los Angeles that would make your life truly wonderful.’

‘Los Angeles?’

‘My company is sending me to the US to check out the latest trends in the health and leisure club scene over there. I leave today.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Dodie forgot her own problems for a moment, excited for her friend. ‘That’s fantastic.’

‘I do feel a bit as if I’ve stepped into a fairytale myself,’ Gina agreed. ‘I was given carte blanche to choose my own team at the health club. And now this. My degree in business management has finally connected with my real life and I’m going places.’

‘Los Angeles, apparently. That’s such good news, Gina. I’m so pleased for you.’ Then, ‘I just wish you were going places some other time. Couldn’t you put it off for a couple of months?’

‘Not even for you, sweetheart. But I’ll offer some sound advice. Ignore your mother’s “instant” diet. There is no such thing.’

‘But—’

‘I mean it. The answer is to cut out the bad stuff—and you know what that is without me telling you—and get some exercise. What I can do,’ she said, cutting off Dodie’s wail of anguish, ‘is sort you out a personal trainer. Someone to put together a programme for you and keep you at it.’

Some stranger who wouldn’t know all her little foibles?

‘I’ll backslide without constant help,’ Dodie said. ‘Right now, for instance, I’m taking a pot of chocolate spread out of the fridge.’ She’d finally found it lurking in the depths of the salad bin, where she’d tucked it away out of temptation. Sadly, all that remained was a slick of chocolate clinging to the sides of the jar. But Gina didn’t know that. ‘I’m going to spread it half an inch deep on this really thick slice of toast,’ she said, fingers crossed as she stretched the truth until it twanged. She did have the toast, however, and, holding it close to the phone, she took a crunchy bite. ‘It’s white bread,’ she warned, mumbling through a mouthful of crumbs.

Gina just laughed. ‘Nice try, Dodie, but it’ll take more than that to stop me from catching my flight. Look, why don’t you forget the diet, relax and just enjoy yourself at the wedding? Wear something low-cut and the starlets won’t get a look in with the photographers, believe me. Besides, Charles Gray is probably bored to death with girls who are little more than skin and bone.’

‘Are you supposed to say things like that? It’s your business to get women down to skin and bone.’

‘It’s my business to get them fit. There’s a big difference. Besides, it’ll probably be a whole new experience for him to dance with a woman-sized woman. An armful of cuddle. A bit of a treat, in fact.’

‘Get real.’