by Lucy Vine
Around about bottle three, Joely starts getting twitchy. It’s obvious she’s bored, flicking table crumbs at an oblivious Lauren, who is still chattering away. Joely’s even started vaguely making eyes at the Lidl suit guy, who’s still hovering nearby, looking wounded by the earlier dismissal, but rallying his ego to make another attempt. They always come back. Men rarely take no for an answer when it comes to Joely – and not because she’s so beautiful – but because she’s fat. I’ve seen it over and over. Guys think she should be grateful that they’re interested, and it won’t compute when she says she’s not. You’d be surprised how often a man approaches with a flirty smile, is rebutted and then gets nasty and angry. Which is when the horrible comments about her weight come out – those usually only found online where the literal wankers can hide behind their keyboards.
‘Do you think you and Will might get married?’ Joely says out of nowhere, turning her attention back towards us and interrupting a Lauren monologue about wedding make-up rehearsals. Lauren looks alarmed for a moment, and then rearranges her face into a neutral, polite smile. I feel the flush creeping up my neck and face, wondering for half a second whether Joely and Franny have been texting. They do that sometimes – they like to gossip about me.
I shrug. ‘Maybe one day. But I’m not that bothered either way,’ I say carefully.
Joely nods thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, well, I guess your parents killed off some of the romance of marriage for you.’
All four of the Bolts – both Joely and Lauren’s sets of parents – are happily married. To each other, I mean. Not in some interesting four-way group marriage set-up. Lauren’s mum and dad have been together thirty-two years, they told me recently, while Joely’s folks will soon be celebrating their fortieth anniversary. They’re having a big party. Franny’s coming as my date because she says she wants to have a look at these ‘freaks’ up close.
‘Hey, don’t make me out to be the odd one out here,’ I exclaim, laughing. ‘You two are the weird ones. I’m pretty sure nearly everyone’s parents hate each other these days. Yours are the weirdos for still being in love. And yes, I know my mum and dad are particularly dysfunctional, but I don’t think their unhappy relationship has got anything to do with how I feel about marriage. I’ve just never really thought much about it. I like the idea of a big party, but I’m not sure the rest of it – marriage – would make me particularly happy.’
Lauren snorts, ‘Married or not, I can’t imagine Alice and Harry ever actually being happy. They love the drama too much.’
Joely shifts her chair an inch closer to mine. ‘What’s the latest Jeremy Kyle shit going on with them? Please can you read us their most recent texts to you?’
I happily pick up my phone and scroll through, summarising for my friends as I go. Lauren looks a little impatient at the change in subject, but I ignore it.
‘Last week Dad claimed he’d left an old signed Tom Jones album in Mum’s attic that he urgently needed back. He said it has an enormous amount of sentimental and monetary value, so he wanted it immediately. Mum says he’s a liar – that he never would’ve left any of his Tom Jones memorabilia with her – and if he really has, then she’s going to eBay it. She says it’s just an excuse to come over and steal her stuff. Dad’s now saying he’ll break in and she’s threatening to call the police on him if he does. It’s pretty good stuff. Look –’ I hold up my phone to show my dad’s text to me from the night before – ‘he says Mum is a “garbage trash whore” in this one. I think he got that insult from The Hills.’
Joely shakes her head. ‘How do they still get so angry with each other? They’ve been broken up for years now. It takes so much energy to be that furious for this long.’
I throw my hands in the air, used to it and only caring a little. ‘Who knows?’ I shrug. ‘I still hold out a little hope that they might both meet someone else – someone nice – one day. I always thought they would move on at some point, but the one time Mum had a fling with Jack, that gardener – do you remember? – it made them both even worse. Dad kept calling her Lady Chatterley and Mum retaliated by sending him graphic descriptions of their sex life, just to infuriate him. Then Jack the gardener and Dad had a fight in a Homebase, throwing compost at each other and both got a lifetime ban—’
Joely interrupts me, crowing, ‘Yes, I remember! Jack dumped your mum after that because he said he really needed access to Homebase for work purposes.’
Lauren jumps in, laughing. ‘And then your mum keyed your dad’s car and he called the police, who told him they’d arrest him if he didn’t stop ringing them.’
We all giggle and I roll my eyes at my ludicrous parents. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me. Being around them is like being a featured extra in some low-budget soap opera. But still, I feel a little weird talking to Lauren and Joely about them. I know they mean well when they ask about the situation, but they also read too much into everything. They think I’m damaged by my ‘broken home’ because they have a whole one. They can’t see how it’s possible not to be disturbed by warring parents, because their own parents love each other so much. Sometimes it does upset me, and I wish my brother was more communicative so I could rant to him occasionally. Actually, I tried to text him after this latest round of texts, but he never replied. He loves me, I know he does, but he would always rather hide his head in the sand. I try really hard to believe in the idea that people are just people. They are, aren’t they? We can’t expect mums and dads, or even little brothers, to be any better or grown-up than the rest of us. Having issues because my parents split up is like having issues if two close friends split up. You can be sad for people without making it your problem.
I sway a little on my chair, realising I am fairly drunk, as Lauren slightly impatiently steers the topic back again to weddings. She’s talking about the ‘tacky’ big day our friend Catherine has planned for next month. Apparently Cath’s going for a ‘2005 Jordan and Peter Andre vibe’, and I shouldn’t be surprised if the wedding dress is hot pink. Lauren is appalled and Joely thinks it’s hilarious. I secretly think it’s quite cool. Jordan and Peter Andre were awesome in their day, and if hot pink dresses and white horses pulling a fairytale carriage is Catherine’s bag, then I think that’s brilliant. It’s brave. And at the very least, it should be more interesting than those ‘classy’, elegant weddings where you feel like you can’t even get drunk without someone pulling you to one side and hissing that you need to pull yourself together. It always feels like you’re not allowed to even speak to the bride at those weddings – like she’s the queen or an A-lister on a red carpet – and any speaking at all has to be in hushed, reverent tones. Actually, I think that’s the kind of wedding vibe Lauren’s hoping for. But, y’know, that’ll be lovely too.
Lauren is in the middle of a detailed explanation of the tradition behind veils, and Joely takes a long, bored swig from her glass. She is holding back, I can see she is, and I sincerely appreciate it. I need her here with me. Much as I am struggling with all this wedding stuff, I know it would be a lot tougher without her help. Especially with Simone gone timeshare AWOL.
As I’m watching Joely anxiously, Lauren pauses mid-sentence and looks at both of us in turn. She sighs and stops talking, looking down at her hands.
‘I’m sorry, guys,’ she says quietly, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-awareness. ‘I know I’m getting carried away. I know some brides get obsessed with their weddings and don’t talk about anything else. I don’t want to turn into one of those boring mad bridezillas!’
Joely mouthes ‘Turn into?’ at me and I carefully ignore her.
Lauren continues: ‘I know it’s a lot to help me with and listen to, but I really need you guys to be my sounding board. I told Charlie to leave it all to me but I didn’t realise how much it would involve. It’ll be worth it, though! It’s going to be the most amazing day of my life, and I want you two right there with me. And, of course, I’l
l do it for you when your turns come around!’
I smirk at this. So many of us do things for people because we want them to return the favour when the time comes. And I’ve never seen this more so than in the wedding universe. We go on expensive hen dos, we buy extravagant presents, all in the knowledge that they’ll have to pay out for yours one day. It’s classic friendship quid pro quo.
Lauren’s still talking. ‘. . . It has to be perfect, but I really do want you to enjoy this process just as much as I am! It’s cool, isn’t it? You don’t mind, you’re having fun with all this, right?’ She doesn’t wait for any confirmation from us before adding, ‘Now, Lilah, did you get those costings for hiring a Ferris wheel? We probably won’t do it, but you spoke to them, right? What’s their availability like for the December date?’
Wedding Number Five: Sophia and Khoi, Union Chapel, London
Theme: Unofficial but very real hats theme. Hats everywhere. Ratio of hat to mother-in-law would shame even Jamiroquai.
Menu: Smoked salmon starter, followed by chicken and a meringue dessert. Veggie option: stuffed red pepper with goat’s cheese.
Gift: Crystal vase @ £85.
Gossip: One of the groomsmen brought a Tinder date as his plus one, so she was in all the pictures. He spent the rest of the night hiding in the loo until she left.
My bank balance: -£189 (Turning off text alerts from Lloyds.)
8
Will is in the shower when I get home from work. I wait by the bathroom door, desperate for a wee and thinking melodramatically that I have forgotten what he looks like. We have been missing each other a bit these last few weeks and I feel like I’m only seeing his sleepy nighttime self at the moment. Admittedly, that is one of his more adorable selves, but I miss the other Wills too. I miss seeing him in the daytime, I miss talking to him all evening while he’s trying to watch telly. I miss him trying to eat with his mouth shut at mealtimes, while I loudly comment on his table manners. I miss laughing with him.
It’s been a busy few weeks.
‘Dude, I hate to rush you,’ I say, knocking urgently, ‘but I am going to leave a massive wet patch on this floor if you don’t get out here right now.’ I squat down on the floor to compress the wee and then immediately bounce back up because obviously that made the need worse.
The lock clicks and the door opens. Steam frames Will as he strolls naked out of the bathroom.
‘Too good for towels?’ I say, amused. He side-smiles and I suddenly forget my bladder as I look at him.
Oh no, there it is. I run, slamming the door behind me as I go.
When I come back out, my body singing with relief, he’s in the living room, folding washing. He’s put some pyjama bottoms on and his hair is combed through and slicked back. I sink into the sofa, my eyes closing, fully exhausted and thinking how that seems to be my constant state of being lately. I feel him pass close by me, leaning down to peck me on the head, and I murmur a quiet ‘hi’ at him.
‘Nice week?’ he says gruffly. The smell of aftershave reaches me where I sit. He smells good.
‘Hmm,’ I half answer as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
It’s Lauren, reminding me to get the hen emails sent out tonight. Oh man, I’m so tired. Does it have to be tonight? I’ve had such a long week at work. Rex told a contestant yesterday that she had nice tits and she – quite rightly – stormed off the set. We had to spend a frantic half day looking for someone else to replace her at the last minute. But even when we’d found someone, it still meant shooting ran late for the rest of the week. Oh, and I also got stuck with talking to the woman’s lawyer. Aslan was supposed to sort it, but he explained that I’m ‘just better at that stuff’. It’s convenient that I’m so much better at the things he doesn’t want to have to do.
It’s been a very long week and Will deserves some of my time too. Surely the hen emails aren’t all that urgent? I can totally just have an evening to myself with my boyfriend, can’t I?
I realise Will’s been talking while I think, and I open my eyes properly, trying to focus on what he’s saying through my haze of exhaustion.
‘. . . Do you fancy that? It could be really fun. And nice to spend some time together, don’t you think? We could race there and back since it’s not far.’
I have no idea what he’s talking about. I give him a thumbs up and hope that’s enough. ‘Yeah, um, send me an email with the details and I’ll put it in my diary,’ I say and he nods. I drift away again as Will keeps talking.
‘. . . And she’s acting like I don’t know what I’m doing – it’s very frustrating. We had a chat the other day and it was like she had no faith in me at all. I just don’t know how to handle it.’
Er, work problem? Must be a work problem.
‘That sounds so . . .’ I reach for the right adjective. ‘Frustrating?’ I try.
He looks at me oddly. ‘That’s what I said,’ he says, but he’s smiling. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter all that much. She’s only on secondment with us for another few months. I just need to get through this period and then she’ll be back in the US. It would be nice if I could prove myself to her in that time but it’s not the end of the world and then I can . . .’
He’s walked through to the kitchen to get a glass of water and I pounce on the chance to close my eyes again. The hen emails can definitely wait until morning.
I work my weekend out in my head. If I go to bed now, I can get up early to do them before I go out to meet Franny for breakfast. I have some work to do before Monday, but it can probably wait until Sunday. That’s it, then – decided. I’ll send them out in the morning. I’ve already looked through the Excel document Lauren gave me with everyone’s contact details. The idea is that I can keep track of everyone once they’ve confirmed attendance and made payments, but the reality is that I’m going to have to transfer it all into a Word document because I don’t have the first idea how to use Excel. I tried to copy and paste something earlier and it turned it into a mathematical formula. Fuck you, Excel. Oh – a thought occurs to me – but if I hold off sending them, there’s a chance Lauren might check up on me. She’s got such a tight, specific schedule and she’s being a bit funny about things not being done the very moment she’s asked.
I pause to consider how wrong it is that I’m scared of my best friend. But hey, who isn’t terrified of brides?
I start to count up how many hours of sleep I’ll get if I go to bed now. Really, I should stay up a bit longer and listen to Will’s story. Sympathise about this . . . work . . . person? Must be a human person he’s complaining about – he said she, didn’t he? We really need to get some quality time in together. Catch up. I really do miss him and he must be getting annoyed with me being so busy all the ti . . .
When I next open my eyes, Will is silently carrying me up to bed wrapped up in a blanket.
From: [email protected]
To: 30+ contacts in your address book
Date: 1 July
Hey lovely ladies,
Hope you’re having a great week and enjoying all this, er, rain.
Most of you probably don’t know me, so HELLO, I’m Lauren Bolt’s maid of honour, Lilah. Does this call for a yay? I think it might do: YAY.
Hopefully you already knew she was engaged and I’m not ruining the surprise for any of you!
So anyway, Lauren’s keen for me to get you guys all booked in for her hen do. I was supposed to send this email out yesterday, so please don’t tell on me. We’re only just at the beginning of making arrangements for it, and I will be coming back to you with a lot more details later in the year, but here’s what we know so far!
• It’ll be in Marbella.
• We’ll fly out Thursday or Friday 5/6 October and return on Sunday 8 October.
• We’re roughly estimating it’s going to cost around £400/£500 each.
So, what I need from you guys right now is a firm yes or no if you can make it. I know it’s a lot of money and only a few months away, so we (and Lauren) totally understand if you can’t make it. But we really do need a definite yes or no now so we can confirm numbers. We need to make inquiries and preliminary bookings and figure out exactly how it’s all going to work and exactly how much it’s going to cost as soon as possible.
Once I’ve got exact numbers from you all, I’ll be in touch later down the line about deposits and with more details on the various funzzz we’ll be having.
Oh, and can you also only reply to me, save everyone getting annoyed by an endless group email!
Thanks so much. Can’t wait to meet you all!
Lilah xx
From: [email protected]
To: You
Cc: 30+
Hi,
Where will the hen do be? Will it be abroad?
From: [email protected]
To: You
Cc: 30+
Hey Lilah
Katie Jacks here!!!! Nice to E-MEET YOU! Lol lol lol.
Thanks for the email, how exciting!!! I’d soooo love to come, just checking what dates you reckon the hen will be????
Thank you soooooooo much, can’t wait!!!!!
Katie xxxxxxxx
From: [email protected]
To: You
Cc: 30+