Page 10 of The Notecard
‘Oh, you know, like instead of caster sugar I used packets of brown sugar, and it said to use cider vinegar and I used regular vinegar. The recipe said I should use vanilla extract, and I didn’t have that, so I popped in a vanilla yoghurt from the fridge. It will probably be fine.’
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ says Laura emphasising the word ‘fine’ with that dry bitchiness she’s spent years perfecting. Replace ‘fine’ with ‘a total fucking disaster’ and that’s what she really meant.
‘What about this one?’ says Mum.
Laura shuffles across to where Mum is and looks at her magazine. Laura makes a disgusted face and then grunts a sort of ‘definitely not’ and gets back to her own magazine. We sit in silence for a moment, and I’m looking but not really looking at my magazine. Sorry, Zoe and Henry. I’ve lost all willpower to find Laura the perfect wedding dress. Weddings are a bit like holidays in the sense that I don’t have any interest in looking at wedding magazines because I’m not getting married. I wouldn’t have any interest in thumbing through holidays brochures either, knowing I wasn’t going on holiday. I also think that no matter what dress I pick, Laura isn’t going to like it. I might be wrong, but I get the impression this is a ruse so we can spend an evening talking about her wedding. I bet she already knows the dress she wants. This would be typical Laura behaviour. Keri grabs a wedding magazine from the pile and starts idling flicking through the pages. Laura rolls her eyes dramatically. After a minute, Keri gets up in a panic.
‘I totally forgot to start the timer,’ says Keri. ‘I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. That’s what my mum used to say. I’m not very good at remembering stuff.’
Keri dashes back into the kitchen to start the timer for the non-vegan vegan chocolate cake.
‘What about this one?’ says Mum.
Laura shuffles across again, and Mum shows her the wedding dress from her magazine. Laura looks disgusted and makes a face like she’s been forced to down a shot of cheap tequila. My phone beeps with a notification. I have a quick look and it’s Beth. I have to admit something. I have a bit of a girl crush on an instagrammer called Beth. She’s a travel and lifestyle blogger. She’s in the middle of a six-month round-the-world trip and I’m so jealous. Beth is two years younger than me, is beautiful, and has the most amazing life. I’m in love with her. I wish I was her. She has the most incredible flat in Shoreditch. I use the same products as her, dress in the same clothes, and go to the same places in the hope that some of her will rub off on me. I literally want everything in her life. The biggest thing though is that I want to travel. Since James and I broke up, it’s something I’ve been thinking more and more about. That’s when I was browsing Instagram and I saw Beth for the first time. She’s always travelling, and I want to do the same. I work in digital media, so I know all about social media. I want to travel this year and who knows, maybe I can start blogging like Beth. She’s currently in Vietnam, and then she’s heading to Bali and then Australia. I look down at my phone and Beth has added a new photo. She’s at a market in Vietnam eating a delicious looking sandwich. It’s a banh mi with some sort of meat and lots of finely sliced vegetables. No make-up, hair loosely tied back in a ponytail, and I want to be there instead of in my flat picking out a wedding dress for my sister.
‘I still don’t know how you forgot the wine,’ says Mum. ‘Where did you go?’
‘The shop on the corner,’ I say, looking up from Beth in Vietnam #BethInVietnam
‘You stink of cigarettes,’ says Laura. ‘I can smell you from here.’
‘I thought you’d quit?’ says Mum.
‘Tough week at work.’
Mum looks at me and she’s trying to judge my expression. I have never been a good liar. Laura is a brilliant liar. When we were kids, she could lie about something without missing a beat. ‘Laura, have you seen the money I left on the side?’ Mum would say, and without even looking up from the television, Laura would reply. ‘No, Mum, are you sure that’s where you left it?’ Mum would second guess where she left the money, and Laura would be five pounds richer. I wouldn’t grass on her because she’d usually give me a couple of quid for sweets or a magazine. I sometimes wonder if she’s a bit of a sociopath.
‘Tell me the truth, Meg?’ says Mum.
I really don’t want to tell her about Dad, but like I said, I’m an awful liar.
‘I saw Dad. He was outside and wanted a quick chat, that’s all.’
The air in the room instantly changes at the mention of Dad.
‘Typical Tony, forcing you to lie to me,’ says Mum.
‘Mum, he didn’t force me to do anything.’
‘Then why are you lying about it?’ says Mum. ‘Having your secret little meetings in his cab, smoking your horrible little cigarettes together. I can’t believe this.’
Mum is emotional. Bereft. You’d think Dad was the one who left her. Munch.
‘Thanks, Meg, for making tonight all about you. As usual,’ says Laura.
‘He only wanted a quick chat, and what’s that supposed to mean, as usual?’ I say.
‘I think you know,’ says Laura sharply.
‘I’m so annoyed with Tony. What did he want to talk about anyway?’ says Mum.
‘Nothing important,’ I say quickly.
‘Tonight was supposed to be about me finding a wedding dress, but you couldn’t let me have it,’ says Laura. ‘Tonight couldn’t just be about me, could it?’
‘All I did was meet Dad outside for a quick chat.’
They’re blowing this all out of proportion. There’s a moment of tense silence.
