Page 89 of Bad Influence
Lucy took a deep breath. ‘We just feel it’s all got too big, too overwhelming, and too damn expensive. Plus, I don’t have a dress.’ This was like a stab in the heart for me. ‘Sis, I know you’re working really hard on the Pronovias option, but I just don’t know that it’s me,’ she continued. Her eyes lowered. ‘Plus, I don’t want to be a pregnant bride. There, I’ve said it. I feel like I’mmeantto want to be one, but the truth is, I want to enjoy the champagne which we’repractically having to remortgage our house to afford. I want to be back to my pre-baby body shape as I walk down the aisle. And I want to be the last woman standing on the dancefloor! Not the first one off to bed because my ankles have swollen so much, and my waters might break if I don’t.’ She sighed.
‘Oh sis, I hear you,’ I said. ‘I mean, who else will I perform “Single Ladies” with if you’re in bed early? No one knows the full routine like you do.’
This made her laugh.Making someone laugh after they’ve been close to crying is one of the greatest joys in the world.
‘Thank you for understanding. I was so worried about telling you both. Sometimes it feels as though you’re not allowed to admit these things. But it’s how I feel. It’s okay, isn’t it?’
I put a slippery arm around her shoulders. ‘Of course it is. I get it,’ I soothed. ‘What matters, more than anything, is that you and Rory are doing what feels right for you.’
Mum had remained silent until now. Being a lawyer, she regularly took a moment to process her opinion on something, whereas I couldn’t help but dive in.
‘How has Nora taken it?’ she asked.
‘We haven’t told her yet. I’m planning to wait until we have a new date confirmed,’ Lucy replied.
‘As long as you’re not splitting up. I love Rory, like a son,’ Mum said to Lucy. ‘And seeing as I still haven’t found the right outfit’ – she turned to me – ‘it gives us longer to have another shopping trip, doesn’t it?’ This was a statement rather than a question.
‘Unless Amber is first up the aisle,’ Lucy added, with a wink.
‘Unlikely,’ I stated. ‘I’ve barely seen Rob this year. I need to check if everything still works between us.’ Then I stopped myself.
‘She’s not against the idea then!’ Mum teased, straightening the strap on my swimming costume.
I diverted the attention from me by kicking off from the poolside. ‘Come on, let’s do a few lengths.’
‘I’m so grateful to you both for not making a huge deal out of this.’ Lucy smiled, looking relieved.
‘It’s not like our family to make a big deal out of a wedding, is it?’ I added, ironically. Thankfully they both laughed.
As I launched myself into a gentle breaststroke I thought about the photo and how I had accused Rob of flirting with Emily behind my back. I felt ashamed about how hasty I’d been to accuse him of being unfaithful. It was as though I had been intent on causing an issue between us. Yet I was the one flirting with someone else. I didn’t feel particularly good about this, but seeing as that particular episode was over, I decided not to bring it up for discussion.
‘Did you always imagine you’d get married, Mum?’ I asked.
‘Lord, no,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘I actually said no the first time your father asked me to marry him. I thought it was too soon.’
I had heard this story many times before, but always loved listening to it again because it ended so well – withthe fact that she was certain neither Lucy nor I would be here if she hadn’t said yes – and how we were the greatest gift. When she finished, I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Vicky about whether marriage gave you security.
‘When you said yes, were you certain it would last forever?’ I asked.
‘Till death do us part,’ Mum said. ‘In taking my vows, I committed to a lifelong marriage. However, the legal system recognises that marriages may not always last forever and divorce rates are increasing in the UK. So, I guess that means you can’t be certain, but I definitely wanted it to. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise, would I? Anyway, isn’t this a bit dreary for a hen do?’
‘Anon–hen do,’ Lucy corrected her.
‘Just don’t tell the maître d’, as they’ve thrown in a celebratory cake for you in honour of it being your hen,’ I added.
Mum flipped over onto her back and lifted her lithe arms into a graceful backstroke. I admired how enviably toned she looked. Then I noticed her eyes narrow and follow something at the far end of the pool. I turned around and saw she was squinting at an attendant who was heading towards us at speed.
He was waving his hands trying to get our attention.
Then he shouted, ‘Ladies, I’m so sorry, but we need to close the pool – could you make your way to the side please?’
We looked at each other confused.
‘This isn’t a drill!’ he called again. ‘Please vacate the pool as soon as possible.’
This couldn’t be a fire alarm, surely. And even if it was, presumably everyone should be jumping into the pool.
‘What’s going on?’ Mum muttered, as we began swimming towards the steps near the attendant.
