The Armchair Bride Read online

  ‘We’re going to skip all the way there,’ Amy says. ‘And Aunty Lisa is going to come along too.’

  She flashes me a look.

  ‘Yes won’t that be fun.’ I try to sound upbeat.

  When we finally drop an increasingly suspicious four-year-old off at nursery, Amy suggests coffee and I hate having to turn her down.

  ‘I’ve promised Helen I’d go and try on my dress.’

  She looks disappointed.

  ‘Any other time, you know I’d come, but if I don’t get my objection to puff sleeves on the record now, I’ll look like something out of a box of Quality Street.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she says. ‘To be honest, I ought to tackle the mountain of ironing or Glen will be going to work in creased shirts for the next ten days.’

  ‘Go you, domestic goddess,’ I say, impressed that anyone could iron so far ahead. She smiles and kisses me goodbye.

  I spend an hour being measured, prodded and poked by Helen’s mother before she sends me on my way.

  ‘I’ll see you in a week or so then,’ Helen says as we hug our farewells.

  ‘Don’t let Ginny take over,’ I warn.

  When I phone for a taxi to drop me to the station in Birmingham. Mam as good as has a fit about how much money I’m throwing away.

  ‘I can’t face another long bus journey,’ I say.

  ‘What use will the buses be to anyone if we all ride round in cabs like the Queen of Sheba?’

  ‘It’s just one taxi.’

  ‘Don’t come crying to me when there’s no trains or buses left and you have to pay through the nose to get anywhere. Because once they’ve got their own way, they’ll put the price of petrol up ten times over and then where will you be?’

  ‘Manchester,’ I say stubbornly.

  ‘And what about the ozone layer. All these taxis, they’re only making the hole bigger. If the North Pole melts, I stand to loose six foot off my garden. Then what’ll you have to say?’

  ‘Glug, glug, glug.’

  ‘You’re not too old for a smack, young lady and don’t you forget it.’

  I kiss her goodbye, happy to have everything back to normal with the world.

  ‘You’ll remember what we agreed?’ she says.

  ‘Stop caring what other people think.’

  ‘Not entirely. You still need to listen to me.’

  I kiss her again.

  ‘Bye Mam, see you soon.’

  ‘Call me when you get in, so I know you haven’t been murdered on the way.’

  I pay the taxi and wheel my bags across the swarming station hall to look for the board that tells me where to find the Manchester train.

  ‘Platform six,’ a familiar voice says and I turn to see Amy.

  ‘What are you doing here? You don’t need to see me off.’

  ‘See you off? I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Mam’s idea. She rang first thing. Reckons you’re on your own because your best mate’s making a film and you’d be better off with some company.’

  ‘What about Glen?’

  ‘What about him? He’s old enough and ugly enough to cope on his own for a few days. It’ll probably do us good too.’

  The smile she manages feels so forced, I have to ask what’s going on.

  ‘It’s nothing really,’ she says.

  ‘So why was Mam so vile to him?’

  ‘She doesn’t know the truth.’

  ‘Which is?’

  She looks around. ‘Fine, let’s go and get a coffee and I’ll fill you in.’

  Amy insists we sit right at the back of Starbucks, away from anyone.

  ‘Glen wears women’s clothes,’ she says before I can stir the sugar into my flat white.

  ‘He does what?’

  ‘It doesn’t make him gay. We still have a very active sex life. I’m totally fine with it.’

  ‘And Mam knows?’

  Amy looks at me like I’m mad. ‘Of course she doesn’t.’

  She tells me the whole story, about how she came home early from work with a headache and found him sitting in their living room drinking tea from a china cup wearing a red dress. He was with three other blokes in frocks.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told him the necklace he was wearing was tacky,’ Amy says and laughs. ‘Trust me, if you’d been having every kind of awful thought go through your head, finding out Glen liked to wear a dress now and then was no big thing. I thought he was having an affair or dying. Turns out he likes twin sets and ra-ra skirts.’

  Words seem hard to find.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

  ‘Oh don’t worry. I still love the gom, but I reckon a break will do us both the power of good.’

  ‘I still don’t get why Mam was in such a crappy mood with him?’

  Amy looks uncomfortable.

  ‘She saw him,’ she says. ‘Only she doesn’t know it was him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘One time she came round to post a copy of Good Housekeeping through my door and happened to loom through the window. Glen was having one of his freedom from uniform days and she saw him.’

  ‘So she does know?’

  ‘She thinks he had another woman round there.’

  ‘Didn’t you put her right?’ I say.

  ‘I wanted to, but Glen wouldn’t let me. So we decided to tell her he’d been having a bit of an affair. But that he was very sorry and I’ve forgiven him.’

  ‘Shit,’ I say. ‘I’m surprised she didn’t cut his winkie off.’

  ‘I think that was on the cards.’

  I glance at my watch.

  ‘We have to get going. Our train goes in ten minutes.’

  ‘You don’t mind me landing on you like this, do you?’ she says, but only after the train has pulled out of Birmingham.

  ‘Of course not.’

  I’m being completely honest. It will be nice to have someone around for a few days. Amy can help me plan the hen party. I still silently dread the arrival of Helen’s closest friends. Will an evening with Dick Rock fit the bill? I wonder if it’s too late to cancel and book tea, scones and a little light chamber music.

  After wading through crowds at Piccadilly, I wave down a cab and a few short minutes later, we’re home.

  ‘This looks posh,’ Amy says.

  ‘It really isn’t.’

  I’ve always been slightly uncomfortable living in the sort of place I used to call a yuppy box in my more politically-active days. It’s a converted cotton mill and we’ve a concierge called Trevor. I tried befriending him, but he made it very clear he felt it inappropriate to socialise with tenants. He managed to inject the words with the same sort of contempt usually reserved for suicide bombers or traffic wardens.

  Never one to give up, I tried to make amends with a box of mince pies at Christmas. They turned up unopened outside our front door. Since then, I’ve done everything to avoid eye contact.

  We sweep past his desk and Trevor briefly glances up from his newspaper as I call the lift.

  ‘How fancy is this?’ Amy whispers. ‘A doorman and everything.’

  ‘He’s just here to look after the place,’ I say. ‘We get a lot of crime round here. It’s really rough.’

  Outside, an elderly lady wheels past a shopping basket. Something falls from it and a guy in a hoodie bends down to help.

  ‘Yeah,’ Amy says. ‘It’s like the Bronx round here, innit?’

  She slips off her coat and drapes it over one arm. I can’t help but stare at her boobs. All the way up to Manchester, I thought they seemed larger. I put it down to the way she was sitting or her chunky sweater, but now I’m not
so sure. Even the best push-up bra on the market can’t take credit. I wonder if she’s had some work done. Six months ago, she went for two weeks with Glen to Switzerland, did she have a boob job?

  I don’t have chance to ask, her enthusiasm goes into overdrive when I open the front door. She skips from room to room, oohing and ahhing, goshing and gasping. I leave her to it and fill the kettle for a cup of tea.

  ‘You are so lucky,’ she says, her tour over. ‘This is the sort of thing I always wanted when I was single.’

  For some reason, the word hurts.

  ‘It isn’t a party being alone,’ I say, more as a reflex and Amy looks surprised, unsure how to reply. She quickly pulls it back by admiring the kitchen.

  ‘I love those mugs, are they from IKEA?’

  She goes through to the living room and I follow with two cups of tea.

  ‘Better be careful,’ she says. ‘All these cream rugs and white sofas.’

  ‘Everything’s machine washable.’

  ‘Really?’ Amy sounds fascinated. ‘Just a normal wash or do you have to put them on thirty degrees?’

  ‘Normal, I think.’

  I’m tired and still have a faint hangover. Amy is annoying me by telling me how perfect everything in my life appears.

  ‘Amy, what’s the real reason you’ve come up here?’ I say and my voice sounds tense. Snappy even.

  She sits down, looking hurt.

  ‘I thought it would be cool to hang out for a change.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to be a bitch, only I’m a bit cranky, that’s all. Last night wasn’t the highlight of my life.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she says and her smile makes me feel even more guilty. Amy looks around.

  ‘Is that Dad’s old chair?’

  ‘Mam was throwing it out and I got Uncle Brendan to drive it up.’

  ‘I bet he made you pay for petrol?’

  ‘Twenty quid and he made me buy a fish supper.’

  ‘You know he makes Auntie Rose buy economy packs of everything? She isn’t even allowed to buy real digestive biscuits. She has to buy the ones that taste like floor sweepings.’

  Amy sips her tea.

  ‘Can we forget about the other night?’ I say.

  ‘Already forgotten. After the last few weeks I was just happy to see someone else making a fuck up of their life.’

  I toss a cushion at her head.

  ‘Watch it,’ she cries. ‘I nearly spilled my tea.’

  Amy unpacks. I let her take my room and I set up camp in Andy’s. It feels sort of empty. Like someone moved on and I’m overjoyed to find he’s left a dressing gown in the cupboard. It smells of him.

  After taking a shower, I decide to call for pizza.

  ‘What toppings do you fancy,’ I say to my closed bedroom door, but here’s no answer. I tap gently and after a few seconds, she opens it a crack.

  ‘I was going to call for a pizza, are you hungry?’

  ‘Yeah, fine, give me a few minutes,’ she says and pushes the door shut. ‘

  Are you OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ a muffled voice says. ‘Just struggling with my contact lenses. I’ll be out in a minute.’

  I didn’t even know Amy wore contact lenses. She’s never even worn glasses. Have I totally lost touch with my family?

  ‘So shall I order for you?’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, go ahead.’

  I hunt for a take-away menu and order two New York Specials, a side order of garlic bread and a bottle of white wine. The doorbell rings while I’m checking email and I hear Amy in the hall.

  ‘Shall I get this?’ she says.

  ‘There’s some money on the side in the kitchen.’

  ‘I’ll pay, it’s the least I can do.’

  A few moments later, she appears with dinner, having changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt. My eyes are once more drawn to her chest. Again I say nothing.

  ‘I’m famished,’ she says and piles the boxes on our tiny dining table.

  After dinner, I feel squiffy from the wine. I seem to be hogging the bottle and each time I go to refill Amy’s half-full glass, she covers it with her hand.

  ‘This is delicious,’ she says. ‘It’s funny, I never really cared for pizza much before…’

  She stops speaking and a guilty look takes over.

  It’s so obvious now.

  ‘You’re pregnant!’ I say and her face lights up. ‘How long?’

  ‘Two months.’

  ‘Does Mam know?’

  ‘She knew before me.’

  ‘I thought you’d had a boob job or put on weight.’

  ‘Oh this isn’t the baby.’ She grabs a roll of skin above her thigh. ‘This is fat. I know I’m supposed to feel sick and be off my food and stuff, but I’m not. Quite the opposite in fact. I can’t get enough of it. Mam says she was the same when she was carrying me.’

  ‘She never said anything.’

  ‘I asked her not to. I’m a bit superstitious about saying anything until I pass the three-month bit. The biggest risk of anything going wrong is over then. Mam agreed to keep it quiet.’

  ‘How does Glen feel? Is he happy?’

  ‘Are you kidding? He’s over the bloody moon.’

  ‘Even with the ...’

  She cocks her head to one side.

  ‘We’re fine, Lisa. So what if my husband looks better in half my wardrobe than I do? I’m learning to deal with it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I’m just so happy for you.’

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you,’ Amy picks at my leftover crusts. ‘It hasn’t been easy. For the longest time I blamed myself, but I’ve met a few other wives and partners and it sort of makes more sense now. I know that he’s still Glen, the man I fell in love with. The only thing is ever since I found out I’m expecting, I’ve been getting these awful mood swings and I can eat for England. But don’t go worrying about us we’re finding our way through it all.’

  ‘God, but you’re brave. I don’t know if I’d be able to cope with everything that’s going on in your life and being pregnant.’

  ‘You just do.’ Amy sits back. ‘I’m absolutely stuffed.’

  ‘Me too. And I suppose the rest of this wine is mine.’

  ‘Afraid so. I allow myself a half glass now and then. Don’t tell my health visitor. She gets the vapours if she thinks I’m drinking anything other than decaf.’

  ‘Shall I put the leftover pizza in the fridge?’

  ‘Ooh yes. I’ll be hungry again in an hour.’

  I tidy away the boxes and wrap Amy’s midnight feast.

  We chat late into the night, listening to music and catching up on stories. I tell her about my New Year’s Resolution.

  ‘About bloody time,’ she says. ‘You’ve been on your own too long.’

  ‘Don’t you start.’

  ‘So was what you said at Mam’s not true then? Is there no bloke on the horizon.’

  ‘No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.’

  ‘So there is no Brian?’

  ‘There is, but he’s my boss.’

  ‘An office romance, that sounds like fun? Are you at it in the stationery cupboard?’

  ‘It’s not like that. We haven’t really done anything more than go to lunch together.’

  ‘This is the twenty-first century, Lisa, you are allowed to kiss out of wedlock.’

  ‘All we seem to do is talk about his loveless marriage.’

  Amy raises an eyebrow. ‘Fuck me, that’s the oldest trick in the book. Don’t tell me he’s talked you into being the other woman? What did he say? His wife doesn’t understand him? I’d given you more credit than that.’

 
‘No,’ I say. ‘Nina was the other woman. Only she wasn’t really, it was all a big misunderstanding.’

  Amy looks confused, so I find myself explaining the whole story.

  ‘And you think there might be something in all of this?’ she says when I’m done.

  ‘I’d not really given it any thought at all until Sharon and Andy pointed out how he is around me.’

  ‘And how is that?’

  ‘Well you know, flirty, shy, awkward.’ I hesitate. ‘Sexy.’

  It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to say out loud what’s been rattling around my head.

  ‘Lisa’s in love, Lisa’s in love,’ she sings and I blush.

  ‘It’s too complicated.’

  ‘So you’re going to sit back and let some other woman swoop in?’

  ‘There is no other woman.’

  ‘Not yet. But if he’s such a big dirty ride, it won’t take long. Single men give off a certain scent. Desperate, single women of a certain age can spot it a mile off.’

  ‘I’m not a desperate single woman of a certain age.’

  ‘Whatever. Now where is that leftover pizza?’

  Amy goes in search of food, leaving me deep in thought.

  Nineteen

  ‘Dick Rock?’ Amy looks at the picture. ‘Could he be any more obvious?’

  ‘I’m assured he’s gay,’ I say.

  ‘You know I don’t find that so hard to believe.’ Amy puts down the photograph. ‘So next Friday is the big night?’

  I shudder. We’ve spent the past few days being ladies who lunch, shopping away our days and scoffing huge meals that leave me barely able to move, but see Amy study the desert menu, pondering aloud if she can have whipped cream and custard with a double portion of treacle sponge cake. She’s become a human dustbin.

  ‘And that Ginny is definitely coming?’ she says.

  ‘I’ve double checked with the hotel and she’s reserved a suite.’