Copyright Oggbashan July 2020
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
My girlfriend Anna was sitting next to me at the wedding reception after our friend Janet had married Brian. It was the mid-1960s and Janet was wearing a full skirted wedding gown. Anna had been my girlfriend for less than a year but she was not new as a friend. She, Janet and I had been friends and neighbours since we were toddlers. Both Janet and Anna had been the girls next door, either side of my parents' house. We had only drifted apart when we all went away to different universities but whenever we came home, we resumed being friends. But most of the time that had been all we had been - friends. We would help each other, support each other, and commiserate with each other when relationships went wrong whether other best friends at school suddenly became enemies or later, when adults, for girlfriend/boyfriend trouble.
At the wedding, Anna had been a bridesmaid, the first and most obvious one for Janet to choose. I had been an Usher, not at Brian's request, but Janet's. Brian made it very clear that he was happy that Janet wanted me there, even though I was one of Janet's ex-boyfriends and the last one before him.
The bride's father was part way through the traditional speech. I wasn't really paying attention as he said all the conventional things about his daughter and his new son-in-law. Suddenly I was surprised. He mentioned me by my name, Martin. Anna squeezed my hand under the table as Janet's father said that the wedding had only been possible because of me. I had come, as a friend, when Janet was at her lowest ebb. I had supported her, encouraged her, loved her, shown her that someone wanted her and that she as seen as valuable, all that when Janet had lost all faith in herself. I had picked her up, stood her on her own two feet while remaining close if she needed me. Best of all, when I had restored Janet to being a person in her own right and willing to face the world again I had let her make her own choices. When I had seen that the restored Janet loved Brian I had walked away to resume being the nice boy next door who had been Janet's friend all her life. Now her father and her new husband were grateful to Martin and proud to have him as their friend, not just Janet's.
He proposed a toast: "To Martin."
After that, when he resumed his speech, Anna leant over and kissed my blushing cheek.
"Thank you, Martin, for Janet," Anna said.
"I couldn't have done it without you and her father," I retorted.
"Perhaps, but we had been trying and failing for months before you came back, Martin. You changed everything."
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Three years ago I had come back home from working in Amsterdam for a week before to going to university in Leyden in The Netherlands, on an MBA course sponsored by my employer. I had been shocked to be told by my parents that Janet's mother had been killed in a head on collision with a drunk driver.
My parents asked whether I wanted to join them at the funeral.
"Of course," I said. "She wasn't just an adopted aunt, she was one of my mothers."
Janet, Anna and I had been born within a week of each other and we were the only children of our parents. But we hadn't felt as if we were only children. We felt more like non-identical triplets. All three of us would be together, whether at home or at school. Our mothers shared the school runs, one collecting all three. We had joint birthday parties with food provided by three mothers. When young at primary school, Janet had been the tallest girl, and the tallest of either sex in our year. I thought of her as my big sister and Anna as my little sister.
If I had been bullied, which I wasn't because I was one of the largest and heaviest boys, Janet would have defended me. Both of us protected Anna from any bullying. We were known as the Three Musketeers because anyone being unpleasant to any of us would have to face all three. In our teens I grew taller and heavier than Janet but she was still a tall and heavily built girl. Anna was slightly shorter than Janet but both of them developed large breasts which they found an irritation for sports.
But Janet's mother's death affected me and Anna almost as much as Janet. All three mothers had behaved as if all three children were theirs, shared with two other mothers. To lose one mother was a disaster for all three of us.
After the funeral Janet has accepted a hug from me, her head pressed against my cheek and her tears rolling down my face. Anna was hugging the other side as all three of us cried. Janet's then boyfriend, Darren, was standing behind her, frowning as if he disapproved of Janet being in another man's arms.
I didn't know much about Darren. He had become Janet's boyfriend when I was in Amsterdam. I used to write to Janet and Anna about once a month. Janet only mentioned Darren in passing. Anna's letters referred to him infrequently but it was clear she disapproved of Darren. Why? Neither of them had given me a clue.
At the end of the week I had left to go to Leyden. Our correspondence continued but Janet's letters became shorter and very infrequent until they stopped completely. Anna was obviously worried about Janet but didn't say why. In Leyden I couldn't do anything to find out.
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A year later I had successfully completed my MBA and my employers had promoted me and transferred me to their London office. I could commute from home, and even better, I had enough for a deposit on a small house and access to a subsidised mortgage. I was staying with my parents for a few weeks while I house-hunted.
I had been at home for a couple of days before I saw Janet on a Friday morning. She walked into the house through the back door, as she had done for decades. I was drinking coffee sitting at the kitchen table. Although I was shocked by the change in Janet's appearance, my response to her was as it had always been when we were adult. I stood up, opened my arms and gave her a hug. She burst into tears. I was aware that this Janet was massively overweight, perhaps four or five stones larger than when I had last seen her at the funeral. But whatever she looked like, she was my friend Janet. As she cried against my cheek I stroked her back, feeling the foundation garment that was attempting and failing to hold her fat in place.
I moved to sit back on the kitchen chair with a very heavy Janet squashing my legs. She sobbed loudly against me for about a quarter of an hour before the sobs changed to gentle whimpers.
"Would you like a tea or coffee, Janet?" I asked.
Her response was to start sobbing again. I had to repeat the question about ten minutes later before she agreed to have a cup of tea. Making it was difficult. Janet was clinging to me as if I was all that was keeping her afloat in a rough sea.