‘I’m not really much a fan of crimson,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ Both Liza and Charlene stared at her as if she’d just mentioned clubbing baby seals.
‘It doesn’t suit my hair colouring,’ said Ginger.
‘I love the idea of crimson,’ said Liza mournfully.
The Ginger who had let Liza Hannon walk all over her for twenty-six years resurfaced.
‘But, of course, if that’s what you want,’ said Ginger, abandoning all hope of looking beautiful in an elegant bridesmaid’s gown. She was going to look like a giant cherry. Red all over and round.
‘Well, we’ll see,’ said Liza, ‘let’s pick a date to go shopping.’
In order to keep her cheerful, us-fat-girls-LOVE-chocolate thing going, Ginger had to eat half the box, even though it made her feel ashamed. Comfort eating always did. That was why she could never lose weight: when her heart was heavy, she numbed it with chocolate or biscuits or ice cream. Hating herself for being fat meant she could keep all other feelings at bay.
And for a while, food filled all the dark, sad holes inside her.
Liza and Charlene were still talking about swans, butterflies and how crimson bridesmaids’ dresses could suit redheads if they made the effort.
Liza’s mother had always been on a diet. Maybe Charlene’s had too. Was that the trick, Ginger wondered: to have a mother who showed you how to do dieting and things like make-up or clothes?
Dad was brilliant, but he didn’t know any of that stuff.
‘I’m sorry your Ma isn’t here to help you with this,’ he’d say mournfully, and Ginger would change the subject at speed. Under no circumstances did she want to talk about her mother. The lack of her hurt too much. Some pain needed to be buried deep. The deeper the better.
When she was growing up, he dressed her in the same sort of stuff as her brothers. For years, the three siblings all had the same short haircuts until Ginger was about six and Liza, who’d been her bestest friend for two years, said, ‘Why do you have boys’ hair?’
Ginger had gone home crying to her dad. He’d felt so bad, he always said when he remembered the story now.
‘I said, “Right, long girly, hair, let’s do that. Grace has been nagging me about it, but I said kids get nits in school. Still, we can’t have my girl looking like a boy.” And oh, Ginger my love, when it grew, it was stunning, but the tangles! I wasn’t used to combing out tangles, but we did it. And now look at you,’he liked to say, pride in every word. ‘Your hair is your crowning glory.’
In misery, Ginger ate another chocolate, swallowing it down like sawdust. Her crowning glory would look horrendous on top of a crimson gown.
She’d had such plans for this wedding: she’d be part of Liza’s life in a way that she wasn’t anymore, not really. Liza hung out with people from work and Ginger was always so busy. This wedding and her being chief bridesmaid would bring the closeness back.
But it wasn’t looking that way at all.
Callie
Callie sat in the back of the limo with Jason on the way home and felt herself relax into the buttery soft leather seat. It had been a wonderful dinner after all. A Saturday night, an elegant restaurant with soft lighting, a jazz pianist in the corner and a busy, happy crowd of diners, enjoying fine dining.
Rob was on form, telling stories, being charming and funny, and Jason – Jason had been his charismatic self.
Everyone, from the sommelier to the waiters, loved him. Her husband treated everyone well – he was not one of those people who talked down to waiters and looked over people’s shoulders to see if another more important personage was in his eyeline.
They’d been celebrating some tricky business deal in Bulgaria and both men were on a high. Vintage champagne had been ordered and as she’d watched Rob dickering over the wine list, laughing that they needed the most expensive vintage, Callie had felt a blast of anger that he’d tried to hide money from her dear friend in the divorce.
It was a sliver of gritty harshness piercing this lovely atmosphere. Did you ever truly know anyone else? Rob always appeared so honest: it was part of his charm, part of why so many people wanted to invest with the business.
Jason noticed the look on her face.
Leaning so that he was close to her neck, he had put one arm round her waist and with the other, he adjusted the platinum and sapphire necklace he’d bought her several years ago, and which worked so wonderfully with the silver lace dress she wore. His large fingers caressed her collarbone delicately.
‘OK, honey? You looked like you might reach over the flowers to stab Rob there for a moment.’
She hauled her anger back in. ‘It’s nothing,’ she lied. ‘Tell you later?’
He nodded.
