The Bridesmaid Pact. Julia Williams

       Chapter Two

       Beth

      I was so shocked when Caz walked through the door. Doris had been yacking on all morning about having a wonderful surprise for Sarah and me, but neither of us had imagined it would be Caz. I suppose we should have known. It was Dorrie who’d instigated the Bridesmaid Pact way back when, so I suppose it would be just like her to assume we’d all come together for her wedding, even though none of us had managed to do it for each other’s. Of course, Caz had made a monumental cock-up with her wedding. By her own admission, copious amounts of vodka, and the sheer dizzying excitement of being in Vegas had led her to get carried away. By the time we found out she was married, it was already over, so there was no chance we could get to be bridesmaids for her. Dorrie was the closest I’ve seen to furious when she found out.

      ‘But what about the Bridesmaid Pact?’ she’d wailed.

      ‘What about it?’ Caz had laughed. ‘C’me on, you didn’t seriously expect us to fulfil that daft promise did you?’

      But, of course, Dorrie did. When it was Sarah’s turn, she talked about nothing else. We were all lined up to be bridesmaids. It had all been sorted for months. But then, Caz did whatever she did – to this day Sarah’s none too sure, but Steve swore whatever happened had been at Caz’s instigation. And that was that. Caz dropped out of being a bridesmaid but then turned up in the evening anyway, nearly ruining Sarah’s day, and Sarah’s never, ever forgiven her.

      My wedding was next, and I was all for having the Fab Four together on my special day. I didn’t need Dorrie to persuade me, and I’d hoped that Sarah and Caz could make up enough for that to happen. Sarah was prepared to put aside their differences for my sake, but then Caz had to go and open her big mouth at my hen night, we argued and I said I didn’t want her to be my bridesmaid any more. She didn’t even come to the wedding, and thanks to Sarah suffering from terrible morning sickness, half the time it felt as though Dorrie was my only bridesmaid. It wasn’t what either of us had planned. Thanks to Caz’s erratic behaviour at my hen night, I was terrified about my secret coming out on my wedding day. I couldn’t bear it if Matthew had found out. Now I wonder if I was right. I wish sometimes I had told him. Particularly now. Secrets are corrosive, they never do you any good.

      I’d had enough of Caz by then. So selfish. So poisonous. So untrustworthy. Wherever she goes she leaves a trail of carnage behind her. One day it will come and bite her on the bum and she’ll be sorry.

      I thought after that we’d never see her again. The Fab Four shrank down to the Terrific Trio. It was good, but not the way things had been. And though I’d never admit it to the others, there were times when I missed Caz. She was so wild and daring and different – all the things I’d longed to be. And despite her later betrayal, she had been there for me when I needed her. Besides Caz added sparkle to my life, a sparkle I thought had gone forever. Until now. Typical that Dorrie would insist on her coming. There was a time when Dorrie hadn’t been able to forgive Caz, but it simply wasn’t in her nature to bear grudges.

      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