avoiding Serena, dodging her phone calls and making excuses as to why I can’t see her. I don’t think she has any idea whatsoever as to why I’ve been acting as I have, but from the amount of abusive voice and text messages she is sending me, she is clearly not happy.
Today is Friday and the wedding is tomorrow. Today we are going to the venue to do a final walkthrough and check that Serena is happy with the layout of the rooms. I have tried everything I can think of to get out of this, but according to Sebastian, she has made it clear that she will be seeing me this afternoon and will not be attending without me. I can see why I’m expected to be there, but I’m just so tired of all the facade that nothing is wrong.
I’ve gone from shock, to being upset about her betrayal, but now I’m just plain furious. How dare she? The rest of them didn’t know me, they were just acting to further their best interests, be it professional or personal. This is much, much worse. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at her without spilling what I know she’s done.
I finish my workout and head to the changing rooms. I’m not going to have time to get ready at home, so I’ve bought my outfit here. My hard work and discipline regarding my diet has paid off and I think I’m probably just back to my pre-disaster size. Whilst I have woken up many times and thought that the best way forwards would have been something fat and calorie laden, I know that it only makes me more unhappy. I slip into a pair of beige wide-legged trousers and a floaty blue and green top and risk a smile at my reflection in the large mirror.
A woman wearing what would normally be sold as a flannel saunters past, seemingly oblivious that she is baring her nether regions to the occupants of the changing room. As I do a double take at her confidence, I realise that this is someone I know. Someone I could really do with speaking to. Someone I’d much rather speak to when they were dressed, but needs must.
“Lucinda!” I exclaim, trying to sound upbeat and perky.
She stops, and turns to face me. I try to keep my gaze focused firmly on her face. “Oh, hi Lauren. I heard that you were practically a recluse now,” she says, her voice thick with fake concern.
I force myself to laugh. “Oh, you know how it is! Anyway, enough about me, how are you?” I learned a long time ago that the quickest way to distract Lucinda is to get her onto her favourite subject, herself.
“Oh, fabulous as always,” she pouts, entirely focused on her reflection. “Just getting in a few pre-wedding workouts. Not that I need them, but they can’t hurt.” She flexes her arm experimentally and the small scrap of cloth standing between her and complete nudity slips slightly. I take a step backwards.
“Wedding?” I venture. She looks at me as if I have just grown a second head. “God Lauren, I heard you’d lost the plot, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad. My. Wedding. To. Andrew. I know I haven’t invited you, but we thought, in the circumstances, that you would totally ruin things.”
I decide to ignore this.
“So you are still getting married then?” I blurt out, before I can help it. With some considerable effort she pulls her gaze from the mirror and looks at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. She is looking at me with a guarded expression and I sense that she thinks I know something I’m not supposed to. I decide to gamble and go for broke. I place a hand on her bare shoulder and try to look sympathetic.
“Well, you know, after what happened with Andrew and Serena I did wonder...” I venture. For a terrible moment, she looks like she is going to cry. God, I hope she knows. I wait for her to speak.
“That whore,” she finally spits. “Andrew told me how she came on to him when he was drunk. He felt sorry for her, so kissed her. Then, she had the gall to practically stalk him! I saw the vile messages she sent him!”
I exhale. “So that’s how you found out then? The texts?”