The Mantra
You can do this.
You can.
All you have to do is keep smiling and you’ll be fine.
So, there I was, lying in my king-size bed in the hotel room, the view of a cloudless sky from the window, the sound of waves drifting in and out on the white sandy beach below, and all I wanted to do was roll over and cry.
But it was Friday morning, the third day of a short stay on the glorious Caribbean island of Guadeloupe, and it was my parents’ wedding day – not the time to be a crumbling mess. I had to put on a brave face.
I’d spent months planning this wedding since my parents, five years divorced, had announced that they were getting back together. I practically forced the beach wedding on them, thinking that some sand and a platinum ring would keep them married this time (I wasn’t leaving anything to chance). They would have been happy just to live together but in the end I’d convinced everyone that this was going to be great. The wedding to end all weddings and a great excuse for a family getaway. We hadn’t been together for a celebration like that in absolute ages.
Yes, you can do this, Magenta.
Throw off the covers and just go for it!
The scent of bougainvillea was beckoning from the open window but the only thing more noticeable than the sound of the ocean waves was how lonely a king-size bed could be. I looked over at the vacant spot beside me and blinked rapidly to chase those prickly tears away. I made up my mind. I wasn’t going to cry. I had a wedding to organize for goodness’ sake.
At the foot of the bed little Tallulah lay fast asleep in her cot bed. Her black hair plastered to her head in the heat, cheeks warm and chubby. Anthony always said her eyes were just like mine and we shared a similar disposition. If you picked up a baby picture of me, you could easily mistake it for Tallulah. It was the sand-coloured skin and the black curls that did it.
She’d become very clingy since we’d arrived on the island but I didn’t mind one bit. I loved to cuddle Tallulah. And with my emotions flying here, there, and everywhere she was the constant that kept me sane.
To the rest of the family I’d made a billion and one excuses for Anthony not having made the flight out – none of them true. No one knew that it was all over between us, that I’d asked him to be out of the house on my return. I’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that I never wanted to see him again. And before you go assuming that this was just one in a list of Magenta Bright dramas (well okay the break-up was pretty dramatic) a break-up was inevitable and unavoidable.
The relationship I’d craved to have with the man I’d fallen in love with almost on sight was over. When Anthony and I first met, he was my boss and I was his PA but we couldn’t be together for a whole year because we’d each been involved with other people. We finally got together and the magic almost lasted. It hurt to admit that Anthony was not going to be at my parents’ wedding, by my side, holding my hand and … well, just being Anthony.
We’d moved in together almost immediately after our first date. Some might say that it was a bit too soon. Some being my best friend: Anya. She had secretly been rooting for me to choose Hugo over Anthony during that traumatic year. But the kiss Anthony and I shared after his first art exhibition in London had sealed it for me. I chose Anthony, the whimsical artist in geeky glasses, the reluctant CEO of a failing leather goods company with dark tousled hair and chocolate-brown eyes.
I sighed and rolled away from the still-plump pillow beside mine and turned back to look at the beautiful sky. I heard Tallulah stir and I knew I should get up and start getting on top of my parents’ big day. But there was a second silent heartache I had to endure. As if breaking up with Anthony wasn’t enough, I’d fallen out, big time, with Anya.
Unlike Anthony, Anya would be at the wedding. She was like a fifth daughter to Mother who had practically adopted her as one of her own several years ago. Anya, an international supermodel who had recently acted in her second film role, had her business manager clear her diary for the wedding: no photo shoots, fashion shows, television appearances or interviews.
She and I had been faking smiles at each other since she landed.
No one knew that I’d royally ruined our friendship and no one knew that the break-up with Anthony, the biggest tragedy of my life, had happened just before the wedding. And Anya, the one person I could have confided in, hated my guts.
I’d gone over and over the decline of my two most valued relationships and I’d decided that if anything was to blame it was the levels of stress I was under. Planning weddings, moving home, and falling pregnant are major mind blowers in themselves. So when I tell you that I’d bought and was running my own business, you’ll understand what kind of stress I was under.
Since buying the leather goods company from Anthony’s family and turning it into a successful manufacturer of leather man bags, my feet hadn’t touched the ground.
Don’t get me wrong, though. I thrived on the buzz and activity of running my own business, and the desire to make Shearman a company that succeeded had never been stronger. I’d dropped the mantel of hedonistic socialite who relied on her parents’ wealth to keep her in flashy clothes, London apartments, and expensive booze. I’d grown up and I was working hard. At the same time Anthony was fulfilling his dream of selling the family business and returning to his passion of making and selling art. He was doing well, too. He was as busy as I had been.
I finally got up out of bed and went to stand on the balcony. I took several deep breaths, blowing each one out slowly with a sigh. Any minute I’d get a call from Mother asking when I was going to come to her suite on the top floor.
You can do this, Magenta.
The staff had begun moving tables and chairs around on the patio garden, getting ready for the wedding. One last sigh and I headed for the bathroom before Tallulah woke up. I looked in the mirror. My skin had been kissed by the sun. Like Tallulah, I’d assumed a honey glow but my hair wasn’t behaving itself. The humidity had caused my already big curls to expand and it would probably take more time to control my hair than it would getting Mother ready for the ceremony.
I stood in the shower, underneath the stream of warm water, and thought about Anthony. Again I wondered what he was doing. Was he missing me?
I had to get out of the shower. Tallulah would wake up and start crying for her mummy.
You can do this, Magenta.
You can.