Stockings and Cellulite (37 page)

‘Stand back,’ he murmured, ‘Morag’s pants are possibly about to detonate. Cheers Matt,’ Jamie turned and took his glass of wine. ‘Here’s to our future bride and groom!’

We all then knuckled down to the serious task of working our way through Matt’s scrumptious Spaghetti Bolognese. Eventually the topic turned to the forthcoming nuptials. Morag was absolutely determined everything was to be different this time around, not just for her but Matt too.

‘This marriage is for keeps. Forever and ever. A marriage made in heaven and betrothed in paradise.’ She dropped a brochure of the Bahamas on the table. ‘This is a complete wedding package and everything is so easy. All we need to do is agree a mutually convenient date. How about we fly out on the twenty-ninth of December with the marriage taking place on the thirty-first?’

‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, ‘that’s my fortieth birthday.’

‘Perfect. So we can also celebrate the Big Four Oh and New Year’s Eve at the same time,’ Morag clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Now then Cass, I would like you to look bridal rather than bridesmaid.’

‘Isn’t that inappropriate?’ I protested. ‘Two of us dressed in white?’

‘I thought cream with gold overtones actually, what with us both being blonde. I’ve told you before, this wedding is going to be different. No peach chiffon. No flower girls. What do you think of this?’ Morag shoved a thick magazine under my nose.

Haughty looking models posed in everything from tight corsets to floaty meringues, feathers and even rags. Very expensive rags needless to say as my eye caught upon the Designer’s astronomical price tag. Ah, I see, there was a real diamond stitched onto each artfully frayed piece of fabric. Morag thumbed through the pages and stopped at a simple column dress, piped in gold. It was very Grecian and extremely elegant.

‘That,’ I salivated, ‘is without a doubt the most fantastic, totally incredible-’

‘Mm,’ agreed Morag, ‘and absolutely
you
. I thought this one here for me.’ She pointed to another column dress with a variation to the neckline, the main body spattered with a clutch of gold sequin. It complimented my coveted dress perfectly.

‘I’ll set up a fitting date. Next Saturday okay? Boys, you’re coming too – might as well get us all sorted out in one go.’

‘Aye aye Sir,’ Matt touched an imaginary forelock.

Jamie smiled. ‘So that’s that. I had no idea it was so easy to organise a wedding.’

‘Surely you’ve missed something out!’ I spluttered. Where was all the hype? The fuss? Arguments over a photographer? A chap with a video camera on his shoulder promising to get under everybody’s feet? And could one even get a bouquet of roses in the Bahamas?

Morag waved the brochure at me. ‘This is a complete package – everything is organised for you. All we have to do is fly there. Now then, who would like a deliciously gooey cream cake for dessert?’

‘Not for me sweetheart,’ Matt declined. ‘In fact, if you don’t mind girls, I’d like to take Mac down the yard. I’ve got a new horse I want to show off.’

‘Fine by me,’ Morag said as the men stood up to go. She went to the fridge and pulled out a laden plate.

‘Ooh yummy,’ my eyes travelled greedily over the high calorie goodies.

‘Shall we have one, two or three?’

‘Definitely three,’ I giggled. ‘Might as well totally pig out on the cream and risk cardiac arrest or Alzheimers.’

‘Do you know,’ said Morag taking a bite and looking thoughtful, ‘there’s more money spent today on silicon implants and Viagra than on Alzheimer’s research.’

‘That’s disgraceful,’ I crammed half a chocolate éclair in my mouth.

‘Mm,’ Morag agreed, hoovering up cream with her tongue. ‘In twenty years time there’ll probably be a geriatric population with large breasts and humungous erections but absolutely no recollection of what to do with either.’

The following morning, feeling terribly bloated, I stood on the bathroom scales and felt shockwaves course through my system. Half a stone heavier? Surely yesterday’s cream cake binge could not have wrought such swift damage? Irritably I stepped off the scales. I’d have to go on a diet now. How tedious.

But despite existing on nothing but tinned salmon and mixed salad over the next few days, by the following weekend I’d only lost one pound in weight. And whilst this was a very encouraging start, the weight loss was not enough to alter my body shape as I stood in the wedding shop’s dressing room stripped down to my pop socks.

‘That looks fabulous,’ Morag assured as the assistant shoe-horned me into the Grecian column dress.

‘My tummy’s sticking out.’

‘You have plenty of time to lose a couple of pounds between now and New Year’s Eve. Are you constipated?’ she asked bossily.

‘Morag!’

‘I knew it. Here.’ She rummaged through her jumbo handbag. ‘Take this.’

‘I’m
not
constipated,’ I hissed waving away the proffered chocolate medicine.

‘Marvellous stuff if you need to shift weight quickly.’

‘Really?’ I was suddenly interested. ‘You’ve talked me into it.’

I snatched the chocolate bar and shoved it in my mouth.

‘Cass, you’re not meant-’

‘Mm. Mm. Not bad. Not as good as Cadbury’s of course.’ I nonetheless smacked my lips appreciatively. ‘What else are you hiding in that portable suitcase of yours? Got any high fibre bran? I need to shift six pounds for a party tonight. I want to be draped on Jamie’s arm looking thin and full of fragile beauty.’

‘Er, I think what you’ve taken will do everything required.’

She wasn’t joking.

By nine o’clock we were ready to go.

‘Wow – love those jeans on you,’ Jamie nodded approvingly.

‘Do you think?’ I tugged at the denim. ‘They’re a bit tight.’

‘Well in that case they’re hugging all the right places.’

Hugging
was an understatement. I’d only managed to get into them by lying absolutely flat on the floor. I sighed. Only a very small sigh however – I didn’t want the zip suddenly unravelling.

The party was in full throb when we arrived. The hosts, Hugo and Ginnie Maxted, were friendly and charming. Ginnie pressed an enormous glass of punch into my hand. One could
smell
the kick on it at ten paces. I sipped cautiously, anxious not to upset my battered entrails. Suddenly I caught sight of Selina on the other side of the room. Exactly on cue, her eyes swivelled and met my gaze.

She glared, open hostility marring her beautiful face. Unnerved I swigged the punch. To hell with it, there was no way I could get through tonight without a drop of Dutch Courage. The alcohol descended noisily through my guts, like washing-up water whooshing down the plughole. Somebody refilled my glass and I switched to autopilot, smiling and shaking hands as Jamie introduced me to colleagues and friends, moving around the room, another introduction, another drink, until the music’s volume went up a notch and suddenly I was
getting on down
. The punch must have been excellent stuff because my innards went numb. Along with my lips, nose and tongue.

Much later I excused myself from conversation with Jamie and some florid faced colleagues and made my way unsteadily to the bathroom.

Zipping my jeans back up was a challenge. I hopped around the bathroom struggling valiantly until the wretched zipper finally knitted together. Turning to the washbasin, I pumped soap into my hands. All four of them. Peering fuzzily at my reflection in the mirror, I realised a touch of lipstick was required. Extracting the tube, I applied colour to my shifting lips. I snapped the lid back on the tube, squashing the lipstick in the process. Lurching out of the bathroom I nearly tripped over Selina.

‘Cassandra isn’t it?’

The chilly smile failed to reach her eyes. There was a short pause while my lips and tongue struggled to articulate a response.

‘Yeth,’ I stared at her defiantly.

‘I hear you’re engaged. To Jamie.’

‘Yeth.’

‘I hope he doesn’t do to you the same thing that he did to me.’

I arched an eyebrow enquiringly. Any further attempt at speech was out of the question.

‘So he’s told you that you’re the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, hm?’ She smiled maliciously. ‘That’s exactly what he did with me. Told me he loved me, couldn’t live without me, wanted to marry me – oh yes he did,’ she assured as I shook my head disbelievingly. ‘You’re in for a nasty surprise, you mark my words,’ she gave a tinkle of derisive laughter. ‘I actually feel quite sorry for you Cassandra. I could say more, but this isn’t the right place.’

I stared at her, horrified. As if on cue my zipper chose that precise moment to give out. It slithered down its metal track, exhausted from containing so much spare flesh for the last few hours. I stared at it sorrowfully. By the time I looked back up, Selina had turned on her heel and was heading back to the party.

‘Are you okay darling?’ asked Jamie over breakfast the following morning. ‘You seem terribly subdued.’

‘Oh, you know,’ I shrugged listlessly, ‘the morning after the night before.’

‘But you did enjoy yourself didn’t you? Ginnie thought you were terrific. She thought how very well suited we were.’

‘Really? That was generous of her.’

‘That’s because it’s true.’

‘Is it?’

‘Of course! Cassie, what’s the matter?’

I licked my lips. ‘When I came out of Ginnie’s bathroom last night, Selina was waiting for me.’

‘And?’

‘She told me that you once proposed to her and then unceremoniously dumped her,’ My lip wobbled dangerously, ‘and that one day you’d do the same to me.’

‘You don’t honestly believe that load of poppycock do you?’

I hung my head as hot tears welled up. Jamie leant across the Cornflakes and grabbed my hand.

‘Cassie, listen to me. After I lost Philly I never thought I’d fall in love again. Sure, I went out with a few women here and there. Selina was one of them. But they were no more than female company. Some were better company than others, but none of them made me feel–’ Jamie paused struggling to find the right word, ‘
alive
. I thought I was some sort of emotional cripple with a heart of stone. And just when I least expected it, I
did
fall in love. Deeply. With you. Only ever you.’

I looked up at Jamie, my tears spilling over now and running in hot rivulets down my cheeks.

‘I couldn’t bear to lose you,’ I wept wiping the backs of my hands across my face.

‘And you’re not going to. Whatever Selina said, it’s simply sour grapes.’

I sniffed and stretched a damp hand down to stroke Wallace and Gromit, our recently acquired cats from a local Animal Shelter. They weaved around my crossed ankles under the breakfast table, looking hopeful that a saucer of milk might be in the offing.

‘Tell you what,’ Jamie winked, ‘as all the kids are at the stables, why don’t I whisk you back upstairs and show you exactly how much I love you.’

Oh Lord. I hastily stood up and started clearing the breakfast bowls. Now why did the thought of rumpy-pumpy suddenly leave me feeling totally exhausted? This wasn’t good. Not good at all. There was a time – and not that long ago either – when I’d fizzed and sputtered all over the place. Jamie had only whispered my name and
– bam –
down I’d gone, legless with lust. Where had my libido gone? I gave a little yelp of worry.

Just at that moment there was the sound of a key turning in the front door.

‘Damn,’ muttered Jamie. ‘Looks like Mum’s back already.’ He got up and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and whispering in my ear. ‘You’ll have to stay on ice until tonight my darling.’

Hell. Perhaps I could pop a couple of sleeping pills in his cocoa? Oh my God! What was I thinking of? Drugging my fiancé? What sort of woman was I to even consider such a thing?

I yelped again, this time in terror.

‘Steady darling. Don’t you worry – I won’t let you down. You’ll be begging me to stop.’

Yes, definitely sleeping pills. If not for him, then for me. Good idea. And if I made sure the light was out he might possibly mistake my inertia for languid compliance. Brilliant Cass. Just make sure you don’t snore.

As luck would have it, our romantic evening tryst was scuppered when Petra let out a shriek of horror just before bedtime and confessed that she’d forgotten to do her weekend homework.

‘Well it’s too late to do it now,’ said Jamie. ‘In future young lady can you please get homework done on the Friday evening?’

‘But what am I going to do?’ wailed Petra. ‘I’ll get double detention. Please Dad, let me do it before I go to bed.’

‘It will take too long.’

‘Not if you help me,’ Petra wheedled.

‘Oh for goodness sake,’ blustered Jamie. But I could see he was fighting a losing battle.

‘Darling,’ I caught his arm as he went off to Petra’s bedroom, ‘I’m feeling absolutely whacked. Do you mind if I have an early night?’

‘Of course not,’ Jamie dropped a kiss on my nose. ‘You do look a bit peaky actually. I’ll be up later.’

Sighing with relief, I kissed all the children goodnight before shutting myself in our bedroom.

But the following morning, far from feeling refreshed, I felt totally depleted of energy. Arriving at Hempel Braithwaite early, I decided to seek Morag out.

Shouldering her office door open, I instantly launched into a diatribe about my libido anxieties.

‘Am I glad to see you,’ I declared rolling my eyes dramatically. ‘I’ve completely lost my sex drive – haven’t had a bonk all weekend. What’s wrong with me? And what am I going to do? Jamie likes to roger me senseless. You have no idea what he’s like sometimes. It’s as if he’s one big sex-mad hormone, a permanently switched on pneumatic drill –
bbrrrrrrrrrrr
,’ I made my body go rigid and juddered up and down on the spot by way of demonstration
.

Suddenly I registered Morag’s frozen expression.

‘What’s the matter?’

Morag had opened her eyes very wide and was clearly trying to convey a silent message. She gave an almost imperceptible nod in the direction behind me. My eyes widened back at her. She gave a tiny nod of confirmation at my silent query. I closed my eyes and swallowed.