Five Unforgivable Things. Vivien Brown
sure you all get something to eat at the reception that’s taking priority.’
‘Oh, so we are invited, then?’ Beth said, sounding very much like she was only half-joking.
‘Of course you’re invited! You’ve already had the ‘save the date’ card. In fact, I can see it from here, stuck on the fridge door. Oh, I get it. This is about the bridesmaid thing again, isn’t it? Look, I want you there as guests. Very important guests, but I’ve already told you I don’t want bridesmaids.’
‘And we don’t believe you. Everyone has bridesmaids! And if you leave it much longer to change your mind, we won’t have time to get our dresses sorted out.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! I haven’t even got a dress myself, and you’re already worrying about yours. Whose wedding is it anyway?’
‘Yours, Nat. And that is why, as your loving and loyal sisters, we don’t want to see you make a mistake you will come to regret, like not having a big white dress and us right there behind you. As your bridesmaids. In pink.’
‘Pink? You’ve already chosen the colour?’
‘Well, it’s up to you, obviously, but we’ve talked about it, just in a what-if kind of a way, and we do think pink would look best. The bright-fuchsia kind of pink, obviously, not the wishy-washy baby kind. Or maybe some kind of purple. Blue or green don’t really work for bridesmaids, do they? Too cold. Although Mum’s planning on wearing blue, so she says. And I know it’ll be nearly Christmas, but red would just be way too much like we were trying to look like robins, or Mrs Santa Claus! And, besides, I’ve seen the most gorgeous shocking- pink satin shoes. Not too high. I know you won’t want us to look too tall …’
‘Beth!’ Natalie had to raise her voice to be heard. ‘Beth!’
‘What?’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay what?’
‘Okay, I give in.’ Natalie couldn’t help but laugh. Beth was nothing if not persistent. ‘You can be my bridesmaids. Both of you. But we do it by my rules, okay? And no fuchsia pink. Absolutely, definitely no fuchsia pink.’
Kate, 1983
Four years had been a long time to wait. Mum had offered, had said that Dan could move into my room at home, that the two of us could treat her house as our own home for as long as we needed, but living with Mum would have meant living with Trevor and I felt I’d done that for more than long enough already. No, living at Dan’s place hadn’t been too terrible in the end, and Rich wasn’t too bad as flatmates go (he tidied up, cooked well and smelled okay), so things could have been a lot worse.
In fact, those first four years of married life were fantastic. Like they say about schooldays, they were probably the best days of our lives. And nights. Being one half of a couple was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Living together, taking the good with the bad, sharing the chores and the worries and the joys, and learning to become the invincible team we had always suspected we were meant to be. And being squashed into that small room wasn’t so bad either, or into that not-big-enough bed, as we curled up under the covers at night, moulded sweatily together like two smoothly curved spoons that fitted inside each other as if they had been made to do nothing else. Whispering so Rich couldn’t hear us, and giggling when he banged on the wall, making it clear that he had.
But it was good to finally have saved enough for the deposit to buy a place of our own, where we could spread out, make noise, run around naked if we felt like it, and start buying the furniture and curtains and sets of matching plates we needed to make a proper home together.
Working at the bank had turned out to be a godsend when it came to getting an affordable mortgage, and now we’d painted the small lounge and smartened up the kitchen, it was time to turn our attention to the bedrooms. There were three, although the smallest was little more than a box room, with just about enough space for a single bed and a wardrobe.
‘This will make a great nursery,’ Dan said, standing in the middle of the empty room with a paintbrush in his hand. ‘Are you sure you want it this neutral magnolia colour? Not covered in Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh or something? It would save having to change it again later.’
‘Nursery?’ It was the first time either of us had mentioned the possibility of another baby and just hearing the word stopped me in my tracks.
‘Well, not right away, obviously, but one day soon …’
‘Really? But, Dan, we haven’t even talked about it.’
‘Then maybe it’s time we did. I’ll be hitting thirty soon, and you’re …’
‘Yeah, I know. There already, and beyond. Don’t rub it in. But a baby? I didn’t think you were that keen. I mean, last time was an accident, so it’s not as if it was something you’d ever said you wanted. Or me, for that matter. Much as we’d got used to the idea …’
‘Baby Blob. Remember?’ He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘Of course I remember.’
‘I do wonder about her sometimes, you know. What she would have looked like. A little bit of me and a little bit of you. Can you imagine it, Kate? She’d be four now, wouldn’t she? Probably starting school.’
‘She!’ I smiled at him, my hand automatically moving to draw little circles over my tummy. ‘Why did we always think of it as a girl? It could have been a boy, you know.’
‘Maybe the next one will be.’
‘Oh, Dan, really? Are we ready to try again, do you think? What if something goes wrong again? I don’t think I could face it … And shouldn’t we get the house the way we want it first?’
‘How long can that take? We’re halfway there already. Another couple of months, maybe, to decorate up here and buy a few more bits and pieces? And babies do take nine months to cook, don’t they? Plenty of time, even if you fell straight away. And there’s no reason to fear the worst, is there? The doctor said there was no reason we couldn’t have more, didn’t she? When the time was right.’
I sat down on the bare floor and rested my back against the wall. ‘You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you? Where was I when you were plotting away with a calendar in your hand?’
‘Don’t be daft. But I do think it’s something we should be thinking about now, and talking about. Maybe even doing something about …’ He lay the paintbrush down on top of the tin and sat down next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and planting a kiss on my forehead before moving his lips down to cover mine.
‘What? Now?’ I laughed, pushing him away.
‘Why not? Don’t you think it’s time we added a little heir to the Campbell empire? What’s the point of having three bedrooms if we don’t fill them up? Come on, Kate, at least think about it. We’re not getting any younger, are we?’
‘But, what about my job?’
‘Women do it every day, and so can you. Work, bring up babies, find help …’
‘Women give up work too. Look after their own babies, and stay at home getting fat.’
‘Well, if that’s what you want, I’m sure it’s a possibility. We’ll manage somehow, money-wise. For a while, anyway. But don’t get fat. Please don’t get fat.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think I could cope with that!’
We sat for a few minutes, saying nothing, his fingers playing with my hair, a jumble of images suddenly flashing through my mind. The blood on my dress, the pain, the awful empty feeling when it was over. Did I really want to risk all that again? But there