The Bridal Party, page 5
‘We think there’s going to be a few actors coming over later on, and we’re going to do a murder mystery.’ When it finally came, even Afreya seemed to stumble over her words. Normally able to talk twice as fast as anyone else, she was now speaking tentatively, as if wading out into cold water.
‘A murder mystery?’ repeated Clarisse. She seemed to be doing a good impression of someone who wasn’t completely baffled by what she was hearing. ‘We tried to do one of those once, didn’t we?’
She cast a glance across the table, and Nada nodded enthusiastically.
‘That could be fun,’ said Clarisse, her voice wavering a little.
There.
A feeling burst through Nada; one that was quite unexpected. She hadn’t realised it, but there had been a lot of resentment towards Tamsyn building up inside her. Perhaps she had not let herself admit it because Tamsyn was probably going through a difficult time, but, oddly, it felt good to get some sort of confirmation that the maid of honour hadn’t made the right call on this one, and was making the weekend weird for everyone. Even Tamsyn, the best friend, was capable of messing up, it seemed.
Nada always found it odd the way people talked possessively of their ‘best friend’, like it was an official position they’d bestowed on someone. As far as she was concerned, that term belonged in the mouths of toddlers, who didn’t yet know how fragile and fleeting relationships could be. Still, it had been apparent to her, when she’d taken that year off to look after her mum, that she was no one’s best friend. She was someone everyone liked, but no one loved; she had lived with the constant, unpleasant sense that she was in danger of being forgotten. Unlike the Tamsyns of this world, she had no relationship that couldn’t blow away, given a wayward wind.
She pushed her thoughts away. There was no pride in jealousy. No virtue in taking pleasure in someone else’s failures.
‘It’s going to be great,’ agreed Afreya. ‘It’s medieval-themed. We were given costumes at the airport.’
‘No!’ gasped Clarisse. ‘Behind my back!’ She grinned at everyone’s ingenuity. ‘You sneaky people, you …’
‘So we have one for you,’ continued Afreya, quick to gloss over the subject of how exactly that airport transaction had occurred.
‘And here it is …’ Elena, who had disappeared out of the room without anyone noticing, came in holding up the nun’s robes.
It had been difficult to decide what to do about Clarisse’s costume. Upstairs, they had gone around in circles, debating the best course of action. On the one hand, she was clearly meant to wear the nun’s habit, and it was possible that the murder mystery characters were all in some way tied to their real-life counterparts; after all, Elena did have the least well-paid job, and Afreya was a junior doctor. On the other hand, it seemed too much to spring the nun costume on her with those mysterious stains on it. Eventually they’d decided to go ahead as planned, and downplay the bloodstains as much as they could.
‘Oh my God!’ Clarisse gasped, jumping up and rushing to Elena. ‘This is going to look ridiculous!’ She held the costume up. ‘It’s so convincing. And this stain – what on earth is it?’
It wasn’t clear whether her reaction was positive or not. As some nostalgic R&B boomed on in the background, the girls looked at each other, hoping she would communicate some excitement. It would be awkward if she didn’t like the idea at all, but then at least they would be able to call the murder mystery off and send the actors packing when they arrived. No more violations of their privacy. No more surprises.
Nada’s stomach squirmed in discomfort as Clarisse studied the outfit. This situation was just so weird. She’d pictured the weekend as stress-free; yes, some awkward moments when she’d probably be pressured into drinking more than she wanted to, but that would be the worst of it. They all knew and liked each other; ever the event-planner, Clarisse had made all her close friends spend a lot of time together over the years. Nada had expected a fun, relaxed weekend in the country, with nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company. Not this fraught atmosphere; not this frantic cover-up of Tamsyn’s bad decisions.
‘It’s some sort of fake blood, we reckon,’ Afreya replied. ‘I guess it’ll become part of the mystery later.’
‘If I’m going to be wearing this,’ said Clarisse finally, ‘you’d all better look just as ridiculous.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ said Afreya, clearly picturing with disgust the robes and mask she had been given. ‘I am going to look messed up.’
And with that, the tension was released. Nada actually exhaled, not realising that she’d been holding her breath.
Everyone began chatting at once, telling Clarisse what they were going to be wearing. Amid howls of disbelief and laughter, things almost seemed normal.
This is why people like to dress up, thought Nada. Because of its inherent ridiculousness; the way it marks an occasion as something out of the ordinary. But, she wondered, did it have to be so absurd? So prone to embarrassment and discomfort?
‘Okay, so what the hell is going on?’ breathed Gaia, who had gone round to Nada’s chair to have a quiet conversation amid the din. ‘You were talking to the others for flipping ages.’
‘Neither of them did it,’ replied Nada. ‘Or at least they’re not admitting to it. We think it might be the murder mystery company who swapped the costumes. Part of some sort of surprise that Tamsyn signed us up for.’
‘Bullshit,’ Gaia whispered, and Nada shifted uneasily. The others were laughing and drinking, preoccupied with their conversation, and yet it seemed impossible to Nada that they weren’t being heard. ‘That’s insane. You can’t pay a company to go through people’s stuff and rob them! Someone here must be in on it. Someone must be lying.’
‘But who? I tell you, Gaia, they looked as surprised as we did when they went through their bags. They’d both had their costumes replaced, just like us.’
‘Fine. Then whoever is responsible is a good liar. That makes Elena suspect number one.’
Gaia started scanning the room. As if she could somehow balance out the other girl’s obvious suspicion, Nada looked around nonchalantly. Clarisse was holding the nun’s robes in front of her as if she was thinking of buying them in a shop. Afreya was giggling at her. Elena was taking photos.
‘Also, this person is doing what Tamsyn told them to do, right?’ asked Gaia. ‘So, who’s closest to Tamsyn here? Who would she trust?’
Nada studied the others. They were all close to Tamsyn: the four girls had spent their teenage years together after she’d joined the school in Luxembourg just a few years after Elena, Afreya and Clarisse. If Nada remembered correctly, they’d been friends for decades.
The fact was, if she’d been asked, Nada would have replied that she knew Clarisse’s friends well. If there was one attribute that she admitted to having, it was that of a keen observer; someone who figured out how people ticked. Now, however, with the suggestion that someone might be lying to them, she could feel her instincts leaving her.
Did she really know the school friends, deep down? They’d naturally split into their separate cars at the airport, after all. There was still some division between new friends and old. Could it be that Elena or Afreya were not who they appeared to be? Or even Tamsyn, for that matter – who after all had never played any sort of pranks on them before?
Nada considered for a moment.
On the one hand, it seemed clear that if one of them was lying, it was Elena. She was a bitter failing actress, and perhaps had the connections to make this sort of thing happen. She was the best liar among them, the one with the ability to tell tall tales and make everything more dramatic than it really was. Could it be that her perpetual dissatisfaction with her life was manifesting itself in this bizarre set of events? Could her jealousy of people who were so settled in their careers – like Afreya the doctor and Clarisse the head of department – have spilled over into something more extreme? Out of all of them, she was the most volatile, the most emotionally charged. If anyone were to take a strange pleasure out of watching them squirm like this, it would be Elena, who relied so much on them for attention and yet could be so distant and cool when she wanted.
Still, there was a fragility about her; that had been clear in the scene outside, when she had shown her fears. Plus, there was her pride: Nada had a hard time imagining her casting herself as a peasant. Sure, she played the victim on a personal level, but for something as elaborate as this, surely she’d pick a star role?
Which left Afreya. To imagine her as the architect of this situation at first struck Nada as wrong. Afreya was the one who brought people together, who always acted like everyone having a good time was her first priority. And yet she was also the most out-there, the loudest and most unpredictable. A day ago, if Nada had been forced to pick someone who might have planned something mad for a hen do, she would have chosen Afreya.
A thought occurred to her. If Tamsyn genuinely had cancelled at the last minute due to family illness, Afreya was the one it would have made sense for her to turn to. No one else could pull off the organisational feat of swapping the clothes without anyone noticing. Afreya could get anyone to do anything; she was the perfect candidate to manipulate the situation according to Tamsyn’s instructions.
Nada realised she was biting her thumb again, and saw that she’d made a harsh indent in her skin. Cross at herself, she tucked her hand under her thigh and tried to cast all her suspicions out of her mind. Paranoia was getting her nowhere. Gaia was just angry and looking for someone to blame, and it had rubbed off on Nada.
She reminded herself that when everyone had unpacked their clothes and found their costumes, they had all reacted the same. She held on to that memory, and tried to banish all her other thoughts. After all, the idea that they were going through this ordeal together was far preferable to thinking that she was being lied to.
‘Hang on a second!’ cried Clarisse, slapping her forehead theatrically. Everyone stopped their conversations and looked at her.
In the silence, the music became more apparent again; it was some whining boy band from everyone’s childhood apart from Nada’s. She tended to only get half the references that everyone else made to their teenage years; her mother had been strict, and had not allowed popular music and TV to be played in their household.
‘So this whole thing has a weird medieval vibe, right?’ Clarisse asked.
They nodded.
She looked at Gaia, and, to everyone’s surprise, announced: ‘So that’s why you left those creepy notes in my room.’
Ten
Gaia looked shocked. Everyone’s gaze was on her.
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked.
‘You know, the parchments,’ said Clarisse. ‘That was you, right? You put them in my room when we were exploring the house earlier, before you called me in.’
Gaia’s jaw clenched and her eyes darted round at everyone there.
What will she say? Nada wondered, her mind racing. Gaia must have sensed that everyone was smoothing over the details of the costumes for Clarisse’s benefit. She was being put in an impossible position. Should she admit to putting something in Clarisse’s room, as part of the group’s collective desire to downplay the weird events that had taken place? Or, considering how convinced she seemed to be that they were being pranked by someone in the group, would she feel that was playing into the hands of a liar?
She didn’t answer for a moment. Nada could almost see her brain churning, desperately trying to find the right words, or hoping that someone else would intervene. Nada could only look at her, helpless, unsure if there was anything she could do.
And then the thought, hideous and wicked, flittered through her consciousness.
What if Gaia had put something in Clarisse’s room?
Her stomach lurched. It was true that Gaia had discovered the bedroom first: she’d called them in, saying that she’d found where Clarisse should stay. Could it be possible that she had planted something then? Presumably that would mean she was responsible for everything else that had happened too, and all her bluster had just been an attempt to divert suspicion onto the others. Nada didn’t remember ever leaving Gaia alone with the bags, but in all the commotion that morning in the airport once Tamsyn’s text had come through, she supposed she couldn’t know for sure.
She shifted uneasily at the thought. If she knew anyone in the hen do well, it was Gaia. She was loyal, dedicated. She might not be the most reliable person in the world, but it was difficult to imagine her betraying any of their trust.
Gaia gritted her teeth and gave a pained smile. ‘Maybe I did put them there,’ she said eventually, barely opening her mouth. ‘And maybe I didn’t. Perhaps it’s part of the mystery.’
Nada frowned. Gaia was trying to hedge her bets, play both ways. An admirable idea: she wasn’t ruining anyone’s efforts to paper over how weird everything was, but neither was she admitting to doing anything herself. But would Clarisse accept it? It had hardly felt natural, coming from Gaia’s lips after that strange pause, and in such a strangled way.
‘Wow, okay. This is intense,’ Clarisse said uncertainly. ‘I guess you’re really getting into it, then, huh?’
‘Shall we take a look at these parchments together?’ Nada offered. More than anything, she wanted this situation to end.
‘Sure. So you guys don’t know what they are either?’
The girls glanced nervously at each other. What could they say – that they had no idea what she was talking about? That either Gaia had left them in the room, or that someone – possibly even the same person who had ensured that the phone and internet were down – had put them there for Clarisse’s benefit?
‘You guys are being super-mysterious,’ commented Clarisse. It was true: the silence seemed to weigh more than usual, the awkward pauses in the conversation underscored with the mismatched upbeat pop music in the background.
‘The thing is, Clarisse,’ interjected Afreya, ‘if we’re honest, there are some details we haven’t really figured out yet. Tamsyn didn’t tell us much, so we’re somewhat in the dark.’
‘Oh.’ Clarisse seemed a little deflated. That familiar refrain was there, going through her mind, Nada was sure of it.
If Tamsyn were here, everything would be better.
‘Well, if it’s related to the murder mystery later on, I guess the organisers could have put them there; something to get us in character, perhaps. In any case, I suppose it’s more fun if we just throw ourselves into it, right? I’ll go get them, and then you guys can see what to make of it all.’
She waited for a response. Disappointed that no one said anything, she pursed her lips and went out of the room.
‘Guys, which one of you is doing all this shit?’ seethed Gaia, the fury in her eyes unmistakable. ‘Tell me now, because I’m getting sick of it.’
‘I told you, no one here did it,’ Nada urged. They had just moments before Clarisse would reappear: the last thing they needed was to get into an argument.
‘Well if anyone’s responsible, it’s you or Nada.’ Elena glared at Gaia. ‘We could hardly have put a note in Clarisse’s room, could we? We hadn’t even arrived when she found them! So it has to be one of you.’
Gaia’s nostrils flared. ‘Fuck that.’
‘Listen,’ urged Afreya. ‘We don’t have time to talk about this now: Clarisse is going to be back any second. I don’t think any one of us is responsible. Tamsyn is from Jersey, right? Her parents live here, don’t they?’
The girls nodded. It was true; the reason why Tamsyn had organised the trip to Jersey in the first place was because she knew the island so well.
‘Well then,’ said Afreya. ‘She probably called in a few favours, asked for help from people she knew. She must have loads of connections here, right? Call me a city kid, but I’m guessing everyone knows each other. I bet she orchestrated all of this with help from the locals. She’s asked the owners of the house to take away the internet; asked the murder mystery guys to put notes in the house and go through our bags. And hey, who knows – she might even show up herself!’
Gaia crossed her arms. ‘I’m not convinced.’
‘Convinced or not, we’ve got to hold this shit together,’ Afreya retorted. ‘If Tamsyn went to all this trouble – no matter how misguided – and then we go and fuck it up by fighting, this weekend will be ruined for everyone. Now: we agreed to do our best to spare Clarisse the spooky stuff and go along with it as best we can. Can you do that, Gaia?’ She looked straight at the other girl.
Gaia was seething, returning her stare with a knitted brow and the full force of her dark brown eyes.
Afreya asked again. ‘Well?’
But Gaia’s response was cut short. Clarisse burst into the room, and everyone shifted imperceptibly, trying to adopt a more relaxed, insouciant pose. It was too little, too late, though: she slowed, gazing at them all suspiciously.
She seemed about to ask something, then thought better of it. Instead, she held up a few rolls of yellowing parchment. Flinging them on the table beside the pizzas, music chirruping in the background, she said:
‘Here they are.’
Before
It feels like the whole of London is out.
It’s one of the last Fridays before Christmas, and the bar is packed. Nada glances about, faintly disgusted at the throng of Christmas hats and clammy shirts.
The familiar tunes are blaring overhead, the same songs that get played year after year. Nada has never taken to them; Christmas was not celebrated in her household. It is nothing more than another cultural touchstone that, when referenced, she nods along to and waits until the conversation passes onto something else. As a result, December tends to feel lonelier than usual.
Clarisse has reunited her group of close friends, and they are all here, shifting absently with the music and shouting in each other’s ears. Nada sits at a table, sipping a lemonade; a pile of coats is her only companion. Gaia is supposed to come back to the seat beside her and carry on their conversation from before, but she has been sucked into a discussion with Afreya.
