short story: benita cruickshank
The Day Before the Wedding
Elizabeth zoomed up the steep drive to the big house at the top of Cockshot Hill. There was only one other car parked in the driveway. Good, she would have Jane to herself for a change. She rang the doorbell but she knew that the door would be unlocked.
‘Hi,’ she called over the clamour of three Yorkshire terriers. Treading round them she approached the kitchen ahead of her.
The ironing board was out and Jane was standing behind it looking up at her and tucking a wisp of hair away behind her ear as she smiled and opened her arms. She came round to give Elizabeth a massive hug. ‘Do you realise we have known each other for twenty-five years? How are you?’ she went back behind the ironing board and seized the iron. ‘Do make us a cup of tea. I must get this done.’
Elizabeth moved over to the kettle and took it to the sink. As she held it under the tap she looked through the window down the garden which was huge, full of bordering trees with a sloping lawn smooth as moss. Perfect for a summer celebration. She turned and looked at the white wedding dress in its cleaner’s wrapping hanging on the door and the pile of shirts waiting to be ironed.
‘That wedding dress was yours, wasn’t it? I remember it.’
Jane swished the iron rapidly round a collar and nodded.
Elizabeth said, ‘It’s so exciting. The first wedding.’
‘Yes, the first of five. I am already hoping the others don’t bother!’
‘You don’t mean that. You’ve got such a lovely family. Five daughters. I haven’t got even one,’ Elizabeth protested. She finished filling the kettle and returned it to its stand over under the cupboards where she knew she would find the mugs.
Jane said, ‘How’s the new job?’
‘Fine. My immediate boss is a bit of a prick. I’ll probably end up sleeping with the managing director but that’s OK. If my boss and I don’t get along I can always say something to him.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ Half smiling, Jane glanced up at her and her eye caught on the wedding dress. ‘After Ruth I didn’t want any more pregnancies…’
‘But it’s so lovely to have five little girls like that.’
‘Everyone says that. We were trying for a boy. Jon’s family are a bit old-fashioned. They wanted a continuation of the line.’ Jane thumped down the iron and Elizabeth came forward to fold the dress shirt and place it on the pile of white linen on the kitchen table.
‘Jon loves the girls…’
‘Yes, he does. And they love him but…’
‘Oh, Jane, you are so lucky.’ Elizabeth looked up at the white wedding dress to be worn so soon by the fourth daughter of her friend. History in the making.
‘Luck is a funny thing.’ Jane came round to the table and pulled out a dining chair, making its wooden feet scream on the tiles. She sat down heavily and stared at steam iron upright on the ironing board. It hissed like the breath of Darth Vader.
‘Do you remember that boy in school? The one with blond hair who used to meet us on his bike when we were going home?’
Elizabeth fished teabags out of their ceramic container and poured boiling water over them.
‘Helston? Yes!’ Elizabeth brought the cups over and put one down in front of Jane and took hers round to the other side of the kitchen table. Jane’s eyes went back to the dress.
Elizabeth leaned her elbows on the table and eyed her intently. ‘You’ve met him again, haven’t you?’
Jane stared down at the rings on her fingers. ‘He wants to come to the wedding.’
‘That’s …nice,’ Elizabeth said.
Words burst out of Jane, ‘He’s Ruth’s father.’
Elizabeth’s shriek rattled the glasses in the cupboard above their heads. She squeezed her fingers over her mouth, teeth grating her cheeks under the pressure. ‘You never stopped seeing him.’
‘I know you will think this is really stupid of me but I thought he might father a boy and then I wouldn’t have to have any more babies.’ Jane was sobbing now.
‘Jane,’ Elizabeth opened her arms to her friend and the two women rose and hugged each other. ‘I would so love to have been Ruth’s mother.’
They drew slowly apart. They stood looking at each other.
‘The thing is I have to tell her.’
‘Now? Jane! How do you know how she would react?’
‘Helston’s afraid she shouldn’t have children. He wants me to tell her. There’s some sort of hereditary disease passed down through the mother to the sons…’
‘What!’
‘He told me when she was older. He came to see me sometimes, as Mummy‘s friend. You know.’
‘Why didn’t he tell you before?’
‘I didn’t tell him Ruth was his.’
‘God. What a mess! How did he find out?’
‘Something to do with her eyes. They’re like his mother’s. Green with hazel speckles. He asked me. I couldn’t deny it. He wants to give Ruth away at the wedding. If she still wants to get married.’
Elizabeth stared at her friend, dumbfounded. ‘What … are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. Ruth has rights. Jon would want a divorce. Get a newer younger model,’ Jane made a vague gesture at her own now dumpy figure.
Elizabeth’s eyes darted up to the youthful wedding photo of Jon and Jane on the wall with the other photos of the growing family on birthdays and holidays. Her jaw clenched.
‘Would Helston…?’
‘I don’t know. He’s become more and more angry with me because I haven’t told Ruth. He says it’s irresponsible.’
‘He has nothing to lose,’ Elizabeth said. ‘You have everything to lose. Your daughters. Your home. Your husband. Your whole way of life…’
Jane’s tear-stained eyes looked into hers. ‘I have to tell Ruth, don’t I?’
‘Tell Ruth what?’ Ruth bounced through the kitchen door, bringing fresh air from outside with her, dogs barking at her feet. She grinned up at her wedding dress. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m so happy.’
The question was still hanging in the air. ‘Tell Ruth what?’
about the author: benita cruickshank
After five years in marketing, a couple more as a restaurant owner, I started travelling. This turned into thirty years as an international teacher trainer, discovering such wonders as Easter Island, Xi’an, Komodo dragons and Galapagos marine life. A published non-fiction co-author, I am now London-based, writing satisfying crime about a lady sleuth. You can read more here: https://www.benitacruickshank.com/
[Also she is one of my personal heroes. sv]
