Saturday 20th January

Today is Lydia’s wedding. I still have no idea how this day crept up on me so fast. Or how my baby sister is getting married before me. She didn’t want to get married at The Duck and Goose so is instead getting married at a local manor house.

As I look up at the columned building, the gravel crunching under my feet, I wonder again how our parents afforded this. My mum’s a dental nurse and my dad’s an accountant. Hardly millionaires. I dread to think if they’ve put this on a credit card. But nothing's too much for Princess Lydia.

I carry her dress bag into the reception, following Lydia up the sweeping staircase and into the enormous bridal suite. I place the dress hanger on the curtain rail, hoping it’s not creased. I brought my portable steamer just in case.

Lydia’s already getting set up, with her friend doing her make-up. Mum’s fussing around her, taking room service orders. I busy myself with steaming her dress (it needed it), topping up the glasses of Prosecco and placing the room service order.

We’ve just settled down with our food when Lydia bites into her flatbread, shrieks and covers her mouth.

‘My tooth!’ she shouts. ‘Ah, motherfucker!’

‘Language, Lydia!’ Mum shouts, like she’s still fifteen.

‘Jesus, Lyds. What’s happened?’ I shriek. I know the girl is dramatic, but this is ridiculous.

‘That bread is rock solid. Has it chipped my veneer?’ She opens her mouth to show me her front tooth, chipped just like the day she first got it from the piggy back I gave her on her twenty first birthday.

‘Fuck.’ She looks like a homeless person.

Her eyes widen. ‘What? What?’ She starts running around searching for a mirror.

Mum looks at me, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets. I know she wants to say, ‘What the hell are we going to do now?’, but she’s attempting to remain calm.

A piercing scream comes from the bathroom. I wince.

‘Well, she’s seen it,’ I say to mum, with raised eyebrows.

She comes running out. ‘I look like a fucking monster. What the hell are we going to do?’ She’s looking at me like I have all the answers.

I walk to her, attempting to play it calm. ‘It’s fine. I’m going to get you an emergency dentist and they’re going to fix it all.’

Her nostrils flare. ‘Nadine, I get married in three fucking hours! I’m never going to get this sorted by then!’

‘Not with that attitude,’ I snap, tempted to slap her in order to calm her down. ‘We literally don’t have time for your tantrum right now.’

I get my phone out and update my Facebook status.

Emergency dentist needed! If you know one, please let me know ASAP

I quickly Google emergency dentists nearby and start calling them. I’m getting nowhere. They keep saying they’re fully booked and referring me to each other.

I check back on Facebook and see that someone has recommended an uncle of theirs. I call the number, tapping my foot impatiently.

‘Hello, Paragon dental,’ a cheery lady answers.

‘Hi, I have an emergency. I'm a friend of Sarah Lomas. My sister is getting married in two-and-a-half hours and she’s just chipped her veneer. She needs a new one put on before the wedding. Sarah recommended you. Is there any chance you can fit her in?'

‘Oh dear,’ she says, tapping loudly on her computer. ‘Okay, if you bring her straight in we can move some things around and see her straightaway.’

‘Oh my God, I could kiss you! Thank you so much!’

I hang up and turn to a hopeful looking Lydia. ‘We’re going to the dentist now.’

She throws on some jogging bottoms and a jumper and grabs her bag. ‘Let’s go.’

We race towards the Harrow based dentist, parking hastily outside.

A man with hairy nostrils welcomes us and looks into her mouth. She’s squirming every time he touches her and a fine sheen of sweat sits on her forehead. I forgot she’s scared of the dentist. The baby.

‘Right, we’ll only be able to give you a temporary crown today. I’d suggest you contact your regular dentist after the wedding to get a cast made for your new permanent tooth.’

‘Yeah, whatever. I just want it done now.’ She says stroppily. ‘I can’t get married looking like a crack addict.’

‘Please,’ I add, with a sweet smile. It must help that my teeth are perfectly brushed and flossed.

‘Wait,’ Lydia says standing up. ‘I remember it last time. The filing down hurt. I need some gas and air.’

‘Okay,’ he nods. ‘If you feel it would relax you, I can give you some.’

‘Yes please,’ she says nodding frantically.

She gladly lies down now, taking the small nose mask and helping it be attached. She sniffs in slowly.

‘Agh, I’m already feeling calmer.’

‘Good.’

He starts trying to file the tooth, but she screams. ‘Wait, I need more!’ She inhales a few strong deep breaths.

The dentist turns to me. ‘Maybe it would be best if you waited outside.’

‘Sure.’ You didn’t have to tell me twice. I didn’t want to witness this shit show.

I go to the waiting room and take call after call from concerned family and friends asking if she’ll make it. I bloody hope so. We only have two hours left.

An hour later the dentist finally appears. About bloody time.

‘There’s been a bit of an unforeseen problem,’ he admits with a grimace, his eyes unable to meet mine.

‘Ri...ght?’

Oh Jesus, has she got no tooth at all now? The trauma from it damaged the nerve and now she’s toothless? We’d have to cancel the wedding.

‘I managed to fit the temporary crown.’

‘Oh, thank the Lord,’ I say sighing in relief. ‘So, what’s the problem? Do you not take credit cards?’ I dread to think how much it has cost.

‘No, we do.’ He wrings his hands together. ‘It’s your sister. She seems to have had... quite a reaction to the gas and air.’

I frown back at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ he grimaces rocking from foot to foot, ‘I can’t get her off the chair.’

I stare back at him, dumbfounded. I follow him back into the room. Lydia’s sprawled on the chair, smiling back at me, looking happy as Larry.

‘Nadwine,’ she slurs. ‘My twooth is all better.’

Oh Jesus. She’s bloody shit-faced on the stuff.

‘Yes, all better,’ I agree, speaking to her as I would a child. ‘Let me just pay the dentist and we’ll get you back to the manor house.’

‘You’re the bwest.’ She smiles, exposing her new perfect looking tooth. Well at least that’s something.

I drag the dentist out. ‘How much did you bloody give her?’

He puts his hands up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry, but people don’t normally react this strongly to it.’

‘The woman’s getting married in an hour,’ I hiss. ‘When will she go back to normal?’

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. ‘It’s impossible to tell. It differs from person to person.’

‘Jesus, what kind of back street dentist are you?’ I shriek in horror.

‘I’ll have you know that I’m fully qualified!’ he says, quickly, in a furious tone.

‘Well I’m not paying you until she’s been able to go through with her wedding. Let me assure you that it cost a hell of a lot more than this appointment and took my parents a year to save for.’

‘Fine,’ he says through gritted dentist perfect teeth.

He somehow manages to help get her up out of the chair and into my car, amused builders across the road laughing the whole time. Yeah, thanks for your help fellas. Who says chivalry’s dead, hey.

I drive back while she snoozes in the car occasionally shouting out random words like "condom" or "mango". I’m hoping the sleep will help it wear off quicker.

When we finally arrive at the manor house we’ve only got thirty minutes until the wedding ceremony starts. I have to call Carolyn, her bridesmaid, to help me get her out of the car as she’s not waking up. I’d be more worried she was unconscious if she wasn’t snoring so loudly.

We loop her arms around our shoulders and walk her into the grand lobby. Some guests are milling around.

‘Lydia. Congratulations.’ One lady shouts.

Jesus, can she not see that Lydia’s feet are being dragged along the floor?

‘Lydia’s a little unwell right now,’ I say with a tight smile. ‘Hurry along inside and she’ll be down soon.’

She gives me a strange look but disappears, thank goodness.

We drag her up the sweeping staircase, the whole time me swearing how ridiculous it is for a big venue like this not to have had a lift installed. Grade II listed buildings are impossible. Move with the times people!

Mum opens the suite door, her eyes bulging out of their sockets when she spots Lydia.

‘What the hell did you do to her?’ she accuses.

‘Nothing.’ I snap. Jesus, at least I’ve been trying to save the situation. ‘It’s gas and air from the dentist.’

‘Oh, for goodness' sake. She can’t handle gas and air. I remember she had it when she was twelve and she was giddy and talking rubbish for days.’

‘Days?’ I squeal. ‘He said it should start to wear off.’

‘Pineapples are strange,’ Lydia says with a giggle.

Mum rolls her eyes. ‘Well, she’s getting married in half an hour. I don’t expect for this to fix itself in that time. Honestly, Nadine. I would have thought you’d have remembered that.’

‘This isn’t my fault,’ I protest, my lip curling up in rage. ‘If you want to blame something then blame the flatbread.’

She sighs. ‘Well, us bickering isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get her a coffee and then into her wedding dress.’

‘Oh, is someone getting married?’ Lydia asks. ‘I’m getting married too!’

Jesus, fuck.

* * *

Forty minutes later and she’s somehow in her wedding dress, ready to walk down the aisle. She’s still high as a kite, but we have no other alternative. Dad’s been warned to help her stand up. It’s either this or cancel the wedding and that just isn’t an option.

I take a deep breath and walk down the aisle ahead of her in my sky-blue bridesmaid dress, smiling politely at all of the friends and family. I know what they’re thinking; I see the sympathy in their eyes. Poor Nadine. It must be hard for her to see her younger sister get married. And after everything she’s been through.

When I reach Jason, I pretend to kiss his cheek, but instead whisper in his ear ‘She’s fine, just go with it.’

He stares back at me with raised eyebrows. I don’t have a chance to say anything further, just stand to the side and watch Lydia and my dad walk down the aisle to the traditional wedding march.

She’s smiling, all dopey happy, stumbling every few steps. Luckily, dad has a firm grip of her, so she doesn’t go down. I wonder if she looks normal to everyone else that’s none the wiser. Or maybe just a bit pissed from champagne.

She finally stands in front of Jason, handed over by my dad.

She giggles. ‘Hey, sexy,’ she whispers to Jason. I take her bouquet from her, warning her with my eyes.

The registrar starts talking as Lydia sways on her feet. Jason is watching her in confusion. He leans in and whispers ‘Are you drunk?’

‘Of course not,’ she giggles. ‘Just been eating pineapples.’ She snorts. ‘Did you know when I was younger I thought pineapples were pine cones with apples? How dumb was I?’

‘Sssh.’ I hiss at her, looking round to see if anyone has noticed.

‘If anyone objects, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,’ the officiant declares with a confident smile.

Please, don’t let her say anything stupid.

I keep quiet, praying to God no one makes a sound. Always a tense time at a wedding.

‘I object!’ Lydia shouts with a giggle. ‘I’m too young and sexy to be getting married.’

Oh, dear Lord.

A few awkward laughs echo around the room.

‘Only joking,’ she says with a snort laugh. She sounds like bloody Peppa Pig.

‘Right,’ the officiant says, clearly at a loss. ‘I’ll continue then.’

Lydia gets through the wedding, and by the time the speeches happen she’s slowly getting back in touch with reality. Hopefully by the end she’ll be completely her normal self. I do my brief speech and raise my glass of champagne to toast the happy couple, glad we pulled it off.

‘Woo!’ Lydia says, with her glass in the air as everyone cheers. ‘And he’s hung like a fucking donkey.’

Dear Lord.

* * *

Sunday 21st January

Today I’ve decided to meet up with my friend Amy. I met her through SANDS, a charity to help women that have had stillborn babies. We’d both lost babies around the same time and we formed such a strong bond that it would be weird to ever lose touch.

Just knowing there’s someone that’s been through the same thing as me, is such a relief. Don’t get me wrong, Flo and the girls, were fantastic, but they don’t know the pain. Until you do it’s impossible to appreciate.

I knew in advance, with it being Lydia’s wedding yesterday, that I’d be feeling low. I was right. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy for her. But there is a part of me—deep, deep down—that is kind of giddy happy that she was high on gas and air and therefore didn’t get her perfect wedding. See, I’m a bitch. This is why bad stuff happens to me.

Amy chats to me, not just about depressing stuff, but about new things in our lives. She seems to have such a great support system from her husband, Gary. That’s something I’m severely lacking. In a strange way I actually feel more depressed now than I did at the beginning.

I hug her goodbye and leave the warm cafe to walk into the bitter-cold high street, wrapping my coat extra tight around my waist. Sometimes I really wish I had a man. Not to have them piss all over the toilet seat or pick up their smelly socks, but the rare moments where you can just lay together and be comforted by their mere presence.

‘Nadine?’

I look up to find Hartley walking towards me in a stunningly sophisticated dark grey wool coat.

‘I thought it was you,’ he says on a smile.

‘Oh, hey. You alright?’ I even sound sad, deflated. My bones suddenly ache from exhaustion, the thought of putting on a fake happy face too much for me right now.

‘Yeah, just getting a few groceries,’ he says cheerfully. ‘What about you?’

‘Just catching up with a friend.’

I’m ready to turn and leave, but it’s at that exact moment I see my ex, Joshua, over his shoulder walking towards us. Oh my God. This is a fucking disaster.

‘Quick! Hide me!’ I panic, looking from left to right. I could run back into the cafe, but that’s window fronted so there’s still the chance he’d notice me. I can’t walk into traffic. ‘Agh!’

‘Err...’

He must think I’m mental.

In a last-ditch attempt at hiding I grab the sides of his coat and try to hide underneath them, pushing my face against his chest.

Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

‘Nadine?’

Well fuck-a-doodle-doo. He’s seen me after all.

I wince my eyes shut, horrified that I’m going to have to face this humiliation head on. I pull my head back out of Hartley’s poor chest to see his bewildered face. He must think I’m unstable. Correction, madder than he originally thought I was.

I turn to where the voice came from. Joshua looks back at me, a friendly smile making his face look as beautiful as the day I first met him. How is that fair? Why couldn’t he have aged terribly? Instead his fair hair seems thicker, his eyes kinder.

‘Hi,’ I say, my voice barely audible.

‘Wow, it’s been what? Three years?’

‘Has it?’ I screech, my voice now so high I’m sure only dogs can hear it.

He nods. ‘Must have been. I heard you’re planning weddings now. That must be hard. You know, seeing all of those happy couples.’

Did he really just say that? Talk about adding salt to the wound, pouring in petrol and then setting it on fire. He dumped me. At the one time in my life when I needed him.

‘I enjoy it, actually.’ I wanted it to come out as strong, defiant, but instead I sound like a church mouse. Damn it.

‘Who’s your friend?’ he asks, nodding towards Hartley whose jacket I still have in my hands.

I look up at him, completely dumbfounded by the situation. I open my mouth to speak, but it’s like nothing will come out. Instead I just stare at him, eyes widened in panic.

Hartley leans forward and shakes Joshua’s hand confidently. ‘Hartley Valentine. Good to meet you.’

Joshua looks between us, obviously intrigued as to why I’m spending my time with such a gorgeous man. Don’t get me wrong, Joshua is gorgeous, but nothing compared to Hartley.

‘And...’ Joshua says, rocking on his heels. ‘Do you two know each other well?’

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

‘I should hope so,’ Hartley chuckles, wrapping his arm around my waist. What now? What is he doing? ‘She’s marrying me.’

My mouth drops open of its own accord. He must mean that I’m marrying him and Clara. But then why does he have his arm draped intimately around my waist? Could it be he’s pretending to save me from my obvious embarrassment?

‘Wow,’ Joshua says, completely taken aback.

Alright, there’s no need to be that shocked. He might be gorgeous, but I resent the fact that he thinks I couldn’t pull someone this fit if I wanted to. I’m not bloody ugly. I’m just not looking for someone. Anyone. Well, I wasn’t until the gorgeous Hartley came along and reminded me how to feel.

‘Wow,’ Joshua says again. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Thanks,’ Hartley gushes, pulling me closer. ‘We’re over the moon.’ He looks back down at me adoringly. I just about manage to stare back at him with my mouth shut.

Joshua looks behind us. ‘Ah, here comes my wife.’

It’s no surprise to me. I heard they got married within a year of him leaving me. Yes, it was devastating to hear about him moving on so easily, but I’ve gotten over it. He deserves to be happy too.

I turn my head to see a gorgeous brunette walking towards us. Well, waddling. She looks about eight months pregnant. Oh my God.

‘Ariana, this is Nadine,’ he says. ‘And her fiancé, Hartley.’

Ariana’s eyes widen. ‘Oh wow. That’s great news. And obviously you can see ours,’ she laughs, pointing to her bump.

He’s having another baby. I know it shouldn’t, but it hurts. It hurts like a bitch. If Belle hadn’t died would we still be together? Would we be married? Planning a second baby? Tears prick at my eyes, but I shake my head, praying to God my tear ducts will pull themselves together.

‘Anyway,’ Hartley says, ‘we must get going. Nice to see you.’

He takes my hand and drags me away. I move as if on autopilot, my legs moving but my mind elsewhere. We walk down the street in silence for a while until he pulls me into a small alleyway between shops.

He leans me against the wall and takes my face in his freezing cold hands. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me doing that.’

I shake my head, still unable to form words.

‘It’s just that I could tell he was your ex, and a total douche nugget.’

I laugh, despite my depression. ‘Douche nugget? I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve heard that.’

He grins. ‘Remember I’m around teenagers all day. You pick up the slang.’

I smile, glad he’s been able to pull me out of my funk through his choice of ridiculous insults.

‘Tell me, did Fetch ever happen?’ I ask, thinking about my favourite teenage movie, Mean Girls. I’m sure he won’t get the reference.

He frowns, suddenly serious. ‘No, Nadine. Fetch is never going to happen,’ he grins.

Wow, he gets my Mean Girls reference. He’s a keeper. For Clara, obviously. She’s like the Regina George of this story.

‘I saw you freak out when you saw her pregnant. I’m assuming that was a shock?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, I just… I hadn’t heard is all.’ I shake my head, needing to get out of here. I can’t have him interrogating me and finding out anything about my past. ‘Anyway, I really need to go.’

I turn to leave, but he pulls softly on my arm. I look back to him, his face solemn.

‘Nadine, I know we’re not even really friends, but I’m here, you know. If you ever want to talk.’

Great, the guy thinks I’m suicidal.

I nod, and then scurry off as quickly as I can.