I didn’t know what to share. We’d snogged like teenagers, and as soon as we were through the door my knickers were round my ankles. It was such a long time since I’d felt anything for anyone, to feel so wanted and to want someone else so much was totally overwhelming.
‘Honestly?’ I asked. ‘You want the details?’
‘I do!’ Lauren squealed.
‘I mean, did you talk about seeing each other again?’ Sarah overruled. ‘Are you properly going out?’
‘Well it’s only been one night so far. Also, I don’t think people actually have the “are we going out together?” conversation in their thirties, Sarah,’ I said. As if I’ve got any idea what I’m talking about. ‘But yes, we did make plans. He said maybe Wednesday.’
‘Which one of these is the usher that fancies you?’ Lauren interrupted, waving a group shot from the wedding in my face.
‘This one.’ I took the phone and enlarged it to show Tom the Usher. ‘But he doesn’t fancy me, honestly − he was just awkward. It was a painful exchange.’
‘He totally fancies her,’ Sarah whispered to Lauren. ‘Let me see him.’
‘He’s kind of nice too,’ Lauren said, passing the phone around the table. ‘Is he a giant or something?’
‘He is ridiculously tall,’ I confirmed. ‘I think this one is his fiancée.’
I swiped through to the next page to show the bridesmaids, zooming in on the obscenely attractive blonde girl who I was fairly certain was called Vanessa.
‘Shit.’ Sarah leaned across the table along with Lauren to get a better look. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to look better than the bride on her wedding day.’
‘I’m putting the two of you in trash bags,’ Lauren muttered, tapping on the screen. ‘Tom Wheeler. Maddie Wheeler. I kind of like it.’
‘I wouldn’t change my name anyway,’ I said, going back to the picture of the groomsmen and staring at the screen. Gawky Tom on one end of the photo, laughing Will at the other.
‘What happened to Maddie Jennings?’ Sarah asked.
‘She went to prison for killing her best friend,’ I said, looking up for signs of more canapés and handing the phone back to Lauren. ‘Now, tell me more about these trash bags. I need to get them ordered.’
Being a bridesmaid can be hard work! But your bride chose you because she knows you’re the woman for the job. Use this space to remind yourself of your own unique qualities and why your bride can rely on you during this special time.
If you could be anyone, who would you be?
It’s taken me 31 years to find a pair of jeans that fit properly − I’m not starting that all over again. I’ll stick with myself.
If you had to choose between world domination or world peace, which one would you pick?
Would I still be in charge if I chose world peace?
Who or what inspires you?
Lorraine Kelly. Imagine getting up that early for that many years and still having a smile on your face.
What is the one thing you wish you could do if given the chance?
Not end up alone.
Where do you see yourself five years from now?
Still trying to answer this question.
Monday May 18th
Today I feel: Conflicted.
Today I am thankful for: Nurofen and Dolly Parton.
‘Maddie, can I talk to you for a minute?’
It’s not every Monday morning I’m yanked into the gents’ toilets by the head of HR, but I’m a curious soul so I went along with it.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked while Matilda Jacobs checked to make sure all the stalls were empty. I wasn’t sure what would happen if they weren’t; what was the poor sod supposed to do, go to HR?
‘No,’ she replied, washing her hands. ‘It’s just that this is the only place we can talk without Shona listening.’
‘How have I never thought of this before?’ I wondered out loud. That was why they paid her the big bucks. ‘She’s not in today, though, it’s fine. What’s wrong? Why do we need to be Shona-proofed?’
Matilda was a decent woman. She’d been at the company almost as long as I had, only she’d started as the HR assistant and now she was head of the department. I’d started as Shona’s events assistant and I was now Shona’s events assistant. You can see how our career paths have not enjoyed the same trajectory.
‘You know we’re advertising Victoria’s job?’ she asked, folding her arms over her enormous bosoms. It was the only word for them. They were bosoms.
‘I do,’ I replied. ‘Actually, I’ve got a CV for you.’
‘So you are going to apply for it?’ Matilda’s eyes were as big as saucers. ‘That’s fantastic.’
‘Oh, no,’ I said, cutting off her enthusiasm. I had Sarah’s CV. As much as the idea of working with my best friend made me want to do a little sick, I could hardly refuse to help her out right now. ‘Wait, what? Why?’
‘Because Shona emailed me this morning and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to accept an application from you for the position,’ she said.
Shona. What a massive bastard.
‘Of course, I told her if you wanted to apply, we were legally obliged to put you through the process, the same as any other applicant.’
‘But I haven’t applied,’ I said, panic starting to rise. ‘I have a friend who wants to apply for the job. I’m not going to apply for it.’
‘Yes you are,’ Matilda replied. ‘I want a CV on my desk by the end of the day.’
‘No, really, it’s fine,’ I insisted. ‘I’m very happy doing what I’m doing now. The management side of things doesn’t interest me that much.’
Matilda stood very still, looked me square in the eye, and smiled.
‘Maddie,’ she said. ‘You’re being an idiot.’
I wasn’t sure that line came out of the HR best practice handbook. ‘I am?’
‘You are,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m not asking you to apply to be CEO. I’m asking you to apply for a job you have, to all intents and purposes, been doing for the last nine years. Only I’m asking you to do it for more money, better benefits and without reporting in to a woman who told the MD he couldn’t promote you because she was worried you were taking crystal meth. You didn’t hear that from me.’
‘I wondered who was leaving those rehab brochures in my pigeon hole,’ I breathed. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’
Matilda looked up at the polystyrene panels in the ceiling. ‘Victoria was a very good friend of mine and Shona is not my favourite person in the world.’
‘So it’s not because I’m really, really good at my job then?’ I asked, slightly deflated. Matilda replied with an expression I hadn’t seen since year ten maths class.
‘I’m not here to blow smoke up your arse, Maddie,’ she replied. ‘I’m