“No wonder you don’t want her at the wedding. Now I want to throw a drink in her face.”
Cordelia laughs. “I’m going to be in so much trouble. I’m sorry for bringing the tone down with that sad story. Not really hen-do material.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“I know I don’t need to say this, but you won’t tell anyone, will you? Not even Jonathan knows about that episode. I need to tell him, but I haven’t found the right time. I’m so embarrassed about it.”
“You don’t need to say it. Mainly because I signed an NDA.” I grin. “And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m just glad you’re OK now. You should be proud that you got through it all. But your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t say a word.”
She holds up her little finger and I laugh, linking it with mine.
“Pinky promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I get it now. I get why Cordelia is so difficult, why she never wanted me to be close to her. I can see the full picture of her and Annabel’s twisted, messed-up relationship.
After Cordelia told me her story, we talked for a bit longer and then it was time to go home and face the music. She thanked me for a fun night and then, when Joe arrived to pick her up, she gave me a hug.
Ahug.
It was admittedly very awkward. She’s obviously not a very huggy person and I didn’t want to overstep the mark and embrace her, like an old friend, so we sort of laughed nervously at first, then did a quick pat on the back before springing apart.
I went home overwhelmed with emotion, thanks to the cheap red wine. Cordelia had confided an extremely painful part of her life that she hadn’t even shared with her fiancé. I felt a huge sense of duty toward her now, on top of what I’d already felt as her hired bridesmaid. She finally trusted me.
I thought about it as I got ready for bed, putting the kettle on for some peppermint tea. I hoped she hadn’t felt as though she’dhadto tell me, simply because I’d overheard Annabel’s comment on the stairs and witnessed the drama. But Cordelia didn’t seem the type of person who would feel she had to do anything for anyone.
I considered that maybe it had been a relief for her to tellsomeone who hadn’t known her for very long. She’d been carrying this sad secret around with her for all those years, having lost all her friends, and unable to make new ones because she was too worried about what they’d think if they knew—or, worse, that they might leak it to the press. She must have assumed everyone would react like Annabel had, repulsed by her actions.
I now hate Annabel as much as I hate Graham Slater.
I climbed into bed with my peppermint tea, wondering what Cordelia was like before the incident. I created a picture of her in my head—fun, carefree, spoiled, headstrong. That was how Beth had known her, enthusing about her love for colorful wildflowers one minute and her penchant for throwing buckets at people who dissed her friends the next. But everything had changed because of a stupid mistake—and instead of the same friends she’d once defended showing up for her, they dropped her the minute she went out of fashion.
By the time I turned off my bedroom light and snuggled down into my duvet, I decided to forgive Lady Cordelia Swann for what she’d put me through and vowed to be the friend she’d been missing. Even if the friendship had a deadline.
Hello, hope you got home all right.
Thanks for this evening, it was a great
spontaneous hen. And thanks for
listening. Means a lot.
“Oh, my God, look at you,” Cara says the next day, when I give her an edited version of what happened. “You’re so pleased with yourself. It’s like you’ve been on an amazing first-friendship date.”
“Is that a thing?” I ask, tying my hair into a messy bun on top of my head.
“Maybe it should be when you get to our age.” Cara shrugs. “You could see if you click and whether the friendship is worth pursuing. We don’t have time for new friends, what with all the weddings and baby showers crowding our weekends, so people need to be worth it.”
“Either way, I think things will be a lot smoother moving forward.” I finish sorting my hair, then put my hands on my hips, glancing round at the other women in the room laying out their yoga mats. “Tell me about this class you signed us up to, then. Everyone else in here looks very sporty and like they know what they’re doing.”
“This is a beginners’ yoga and meditation class. You said you wanted to try new things, so I thought this might be fun. Two hours of peace and calm, focusing on you.”
“Two hours. Isn’t that a bit long for a beginners’ class?”
“Not when meditation’s involved.” Cara breathes in and exhales loudly. “I’m so ready to feel calm on the inside. I’ve always wanted to get into yoga. You know, be one of those people.”
“Are you sure this is a beginners’ class?” I ask, watching the woman in front of me stretch up and bend down to touch her toes with ease. “We’re the only ones in T-shirts and leggings. Everyone else is in a fancy sports bra.”
