‘I kept telling myself that there wasn’t going to be a wedding and yet I found myself arguing for one that would be possible, feasible.’ I told him my preference was for an intimate gathering. I told him my mother was too sick to attend, I’d already said my father was dead. I said that I was an only child, never once mentioning my three half-brothers.
I remember him asking, ‘Are there any aunts or uncles? Cousins?’
‘No, none. Both my parents were only children too.’
‘God, that’s awful, Kai.’
He wrapped his arms around me, his sense of protectiveness heightened because he thought I was all alone in the world. I pushed on. ‘Besides, it’s not about the big day, is it? It’s about us.’
Daan agreed to a small wedding in the end. He loved me, was wild about me back then, which is sometimes bigger than love and he softened. I loved him deeply too. Love him.
I love them both. There’s another inconvenient truth.
Yes, even now. I don’t know which I should hate for locking me up, so I continue to love them both.
I have sometimes wondered, perhaps I should have insisted on a massive do, one that necessitated a two-year engagement to secure the perfect venue, to have a dress handmade in France and shipped to me. If I had done that there would have been an opportunity to walk away. Wouldn’t there? But I didn’t do that. I booked a private room for twenty at The Ivy, I bought a dress from Harvey Nics, sent out invitations. I made it happen.
I wanted to be his wife.
‘I hired a bridesmaid. Who knew that such a service even exists? But it does. I found a discreet advert nestled in the back of a glossy wedding magazine,’ I confess.
I called the mobile number. A polite young woman named Jess answered. ‘Who needs to hire bridesmaids?’ I asked her. I had carefully worked out what I planned to say my reasons for calling were; I wanted to check that my lie was within the realms of possibility. Besides, I wondered what other shadowy reasons people had to justify hiring a woman to do the most intimate job a girlfriend could do. I couldn’t believe there were many women committing bigamy who needed to keep their wedding on the downlow.
‘Women who want their actual friends to enjoy the wedding and not be burdened down with too many tasks,’ Jess replied lightly and brightly. ‘Or maybe to even up the numbers, if you have, say, three close friends but want four bridesmaids to make the photos symmetrical. It is a flourishing business.’ She had a sweet, sing-song voice. I guessed she was probably born and bred somewhere like Surrey, she was most likely gifted a pony when she was five, her father loved her and her mother. Her reality was light years away from mine. Even the sanitised reasons for wanting to hire a bridesmaid seemed peculiar to me, but she appeared to accept them. Her trustfulness made it easier for me.
‘My family don’t approve of my husband,’ I told her, ‘so they are boycotting the wedding. My sister should have been bridesmaid. I can’t bear the idea of anyone else doing her job.’ It was a complicated lie because I had no sister and if she said anything to Daan, my cover would be blown. ‘I’d need you to be one hundred per cent discreet. I don’t even want my husband to know they are not a real friend.’
‘OK.’
She didn’t ask but I felt compelled to plod on. ‘Because I don’t want him to feel any more awful about coming between me and my loved ones. He knows my family have boycotted the wedding, but not my friends.’
‘Wow, your friends too.’ It was clear she was now wondering what my fiancé had done to upset everyone so thoroughly.
‘My friends are mostly from my childhood, my family are making them choose sides.’ I knew I should stop talking. The more I said, the less convincing the story was. I’ve since learnt that the best lies are brief and rooted in truth. I’ve got better at being bad.
‘My family have very niche issues,’ I commented.
‘Takes all sorts. I’m not here to judge. So, let’s get some details about this wedding, shall we?’
Once I revealed the budget, Jess gently suggested that she could put me in touch with a couple of actors who ‘regularly play the role of wedding guests’. I realised her sing-song voice was deceptive. Maybe her father hadn’t loved her mother. Maybe she knew more about the dark side of the world than I initially assumed.
‘How does that work?’
‘Well, they are given roles and characters before the wedding, much like you do at a murder mystery evening.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s no biggie. It’s just a way of evening up the seating.’ When I hesitated, she added, ‘It helps avoid any awkward or potentially embarrassing questions. They can be such a downer at a wedding.’
‘What might it cost?’
‘Well, for my services, the bridesmaid and say five guests were looking at—’ She named a sum that made me inwardly gasp. ‘Good value for money when you consider what’s at stake,’ she added, leaving me in no doubt that she understood that I was far from a normal bride, concerned with something borrowed, something blue; I was submerged in a world of subterfuge and dishonesty.
And after the wedding, there was the honeymoon. I told Mark I was away with work. My previously demanding role afforded me a cover. Daan wanted to spend two weeks on a remote island somewhere, drinking cocktails, rolling around on white sand. I agreed to five days in
