by Lucy Vine
Elizabeth ignores him, shrieking in her most dramatic voice, ‘That’s right! I’ve been living as Elizabeth for the last few months but I’m really the evil Margo. And I’m going to murder the real Elizabeth because, basically, that uptight frigid bitch can suck it.’
Elizabeth/Evil Margo (or even her real name, Simone) has done very well with her big reveal. Although I’m not too sure about the ad libbing there at the end.
So basically, the theme for Lauren’s hen do is . . . wait for it . . . have you guessed? Maybe you worked it out the moment I mentioned Lila Fowler. Lauren’s hen do is all themed around the book and TV franchise, Sweet Valley. That means Sweet Valley Kids, Sweet Valley Twins, Sweet Valley High, Sweet Valley University – as well as all the hundreds of other Sweet Valley spin-offs/money-making enterprises.
It was Lauren’s favourite thing when we met at school and it’s continued to be an inside joke throughout our friendship. In fact, we’re basically friends because my name is Lilah and that’s her favourite character’s name.
It has turned out to be absolutely epic, even if I do say so myself. All the hens are dressed up as different characters from the books – I had a lot of fun assigning those roles. Elizabeth’s twin sister, Jessica Wakefield, is being played by Joely, who said it was bitchy typecasting but was clearly pleased with her starring role. A girl called Nicola is Elizabeth’s dowdy best friend, Enid Rollins, and later tonight, Nic is going to switch wigs and become Enid’s sexier university alter ego, Alexandra Rollins. She’s then going to get really into drugs and sleep with Elizabeth’s boyfriend, Todd Wilkins, just like in the books. Nicola said she’s planning to get as method as possible with her role, and since I’m here in drag playing Todd, I’m pretty intrigued to see where the night’s going to take us.
Oh, that girl Katie Jacks got stuck playing Elizabeth and Jessica’s ‘mom’, Alice Wakefield. The other girls insisted on that as a punishment for all those ‘fucking annoying’ emails she kept sending. Katie Jacks doesn’t seem to mind, though – she is the most enthusiastic person I ever met.
I’ve written a very loose, very short script for all the hens. The idea is that it’s not just a theme for the weekend, it’s a SHOW! Each hen gets one big dramatic reveal about her character during our three days here in Marbs. We all get a ‘scene’ – we all have our big moment in the spotlight. Tomorrow, Jessica/Joely is going to announce she’s joining a cult – she has been rehearsing her monologue for weeks. And earlier today Katie Jacks performed a totally believable – but if I’m honest very much over-acted – storyline where Alice Wakefield got kidnapped at a spa and an old college friend tried to steal her face. Which, come on, has happened to all of us at some point, hasn’t it?
They are all genuine storylines plucked from the books but, given there are hundreds of stories in the series, even diehard fan Lauren has no idea what to expect. She seems to be finding the whole thing hilarious and you should’ve seen her face when we presented her with her purple Unicorn Club outfit. She’s never been happier. I reckon she might wear it out again. Like, all the time.
I feel super proud now, surveying the scene. Everyone’s so into it and has really gone to town with their costumes. There are so many different wigs, girlish Alice bands, and an array of pale pink early nineties jumpers – as well as our sashes that declare us to be members of the Unicorn Club.
It’s a hen do, so obviously there are many arbitrary rules involved in our Sweet Valley game – like, we’re only allowed to refer to each other as our character names, or there are drink penalties and forfeits. If anyone breaks character, they have to take a shot from the ‘penalty liquid’. The penalty liquid is some awful high-alcohol-content liquid I’m carrying around in my bag, which is – as far as I can tell – essentially blue petrol. But it’s doing the trick, and it’s vital to ensure we cram in the maximum amount of drinking as we move from bar to bar. I’ve never been wholly sold on a lot of the hen do traditions, but the heavy drinking side of it is one I will always be more than on board with. It’s actually really lucky that so many of the characters in the books ended up being terrible drug addicts or alcoholics. It makes staying in character for the drinking games a lot easier.
Anyway, the whole thing has been very very fun and very very funny. But also, admittedly, incredibly confusing. Especially for me, whenever someone calls Lauren ‘Lila’. But there was no question that bride-to-be Lauren would be Jessica’s rich, snobby best friend. Lila is not only the best character in the books by far, but she’s also the leader of the Unicorn Club, so duh. But I keep having to drink whenever I accidentally respond to my own name.
Very drunk now.
Of course, the best part is that Lauren seems to be having the silliest, awesomest time ever.
She’s like a different person, like the old Lauren. It feels like she’s let go of all that fury and frustration that was building up in her. It’s like there was a big wedding-shaped knot in her stomach and talking to us has untied it. She’s laughing and enjoying things again. And – shock horror – talking about the rest of life going on around her. She’s even complaining about work again. Apparently she’s mostly doing tampons now, after they lost their sanitary towel client.
The wedding is just weeks away but she seems more relaxed than ever. I feel a bit bad, actually, because I really haven’t done anything to help in weeks. Every time I ask about it, she says it’s all sorted and not to worry. In fact, she’s barely spoken about the wedding at all. She’s more chilled out than I’ve ever seen her – even when Joely’s latest reality star boyfriend turned up here earlier today to surprise us. I thought she’d be livid about a boy on her hen do, but she was delighted. Turns out she was a fan of that series of Big Brother. His name is Brian and he loves telling people he was in Big Brother. He’s told us over and over. And over. He told everyone here, he told all the other guests in our self-catering apartments, he told everyone around the pool, he told all the staff, and he told some guys in the loos – and then he came out of the loos and told us he’d told them.
He came to Marbs to surprise Joely, which is super sweet and she looked genuinely excited to see him. He even got into the spirit of the theme by bravely taking on the role of class clown, super geek Winston Egbert. He looks adorable in glasses and his Unicorn Club sash. He’s said he’ll even do a scene for us! I jokily suggested he perform Winston’s dramatic death – where Winnie got drunk and fell from a balcony. Brian said yes way too enthusiastically and now I’m worried he is going to jump from a balcony for real. I picture him sailing through the air, screaming, ‘I WAS IN BIG BROOOOOOOOOOOOTHEEEEEEER . . .’ Splat.
Anyway, he’s really fun, and I don’t want to speak for Joely, but I have a sneaky suspicion she actually genuinely really likes him. And I don’t think it’s just for publicity stunt purposes. They’re not officially together or anything, but since things slowed down on the wedding planning front, Joely’s had so much more time to spend with Brian. They’ve been doing everything together and I see them on the MailOnline homepage constantly. They seem happy.
He’s gone off to do a personal appearance and a DJing gig now, but he’ll be back in the wee hours for his death scene (hopefully not for real?) and then he’s flying home with us tomorrow night.
Joely is making the most of him being gone, and is heroically flirting with every group of stags we come across. Which is a lot. This road – this area – is officially hen and stag do central. She says she’s just being in character and it’s what Jessica Wakefield would’ve wanted from her – which is no doubt true. She’s on the other side of the street now, making her way around a pack of about seventeen men dressed like babies. They’re in actual nappies and are each carrying a giant milk bottle, presumably filled with something like our blue lighter fuel. It’s possibly the least sexy thing I’ve ever seen in my life, but I don’t suppose they were aiming for sexy. Stag dos are about humiliating each other, right? Makin
g sure the groom is properly and thoroughly brutalised, so he comes back traumatised and feral.
Oh, and if there’s a fatality, that’s a bonus, apparently.
Either way, the nappy-fashion is not stopping Joely. I can hear her signature flirty giggle tinkling across the road now, as the guys all fall over themselves to get her attention. Have you ever seen a groom in a giant baby bonnet trying to do a handstand? Because it’s not a pretty sight. The whole street smells like hormones.
As Joely/Jessica says goodbye to the stag-baby group with a cutesy wave, I vaguely try to herd everyone towards the next bar, where we have a sizeable array of cocktails waiting for us. Oh, except we seem to have lost the bride again. Lauren is very drunk and keeps wandering off. I’ve twice now found her having wees behind bins. Even though, both times, we only left the last bar seconds before.
‘Lauuuuuurrrrrren?’ I call ineffectively. She’s nowhere to be seen, but to be honest, everything more than three feet away is pretty hazy. I am very drunk. Bloody blue penalty liquid. Bloody drinking games. Why did I do this to myself?
That’s right – because it’s awesome.
Joely joins me on the pavement and I note vaguely that her make-up is everywhere. There’s actually lipstick on her eyelids and in her hair. I briefly wonder if she did that deliberately. Her whole job on the internet is to spark new trends and lead the pack. Maybe hair and eyelid lipstick is now a thing?
‘Lauren’s gone again,’ I say conversationally. For once, I’m not worried. I feel quite peaceful, actually. We’re all adults and I refuse to get anxious this weekend.
‘Didn’t you microchip her?’ Joely giggles, rubbing her cheeks absentmindedly.
Oh, there you go! Her hands are covered in lipstick – that’s how it’s spreading so fast.
Wait, is hand lipstick a thing?
Joely continues, oblivious: ‘Oh, and you didn’t call her Lila, so you have to take a shot. Come on, Todd.’ She takes the penalty liquid from me and pushes it into my face. I happily take a swig of the thick blue liquid inside. Bleugh.
Joely laughs at my pain and links her arm with mine. ‘I’m sure I saw her wandering off that way,’ she says, pointing up the street. ‘She’s probably having another piss behind a bin.’
We find Lauren ten minutes later, a little way up the road, in a tattoo parlour. It turns out she’d accidentally started following a totally different hen party, thinking they were us. It’s an easy mistake to make, except that this hen party are all quite clearly Japanese and all wearing very obvious sailor hats. Lauren didn’t notice they weren’t her hens until someone started tattooing an anchor on her wrist. She realised at that point but still got the tattoo anyway. And then a bunch of us decided we should get them too! Because why not! It hurt a lot, but I think it probably looks super cool. I can’t decide. I’ll decide when I sober up. I hope I like it! I hope so, because I think tattoos are forever, aren’t they? But that’s OK, forever’s not that long. And my friend Jamie had her tattoo lasered off last year and it wasn’t that bad. It only cost her thousands of pounds and took months to do. They sort of boiled it off her skin across a series of sessions, but that probably won’t hurt that much . . . Oh God, what have I done?
It’ll be fine.
Don’t think about it.
Either way, we’re all back together again now and hanging out with the Japanese sailor hens – they are brilliant girls! Even though they don’t actually speak English. But we’re getting on really well! I think we’ll stay in touch! Maybe we can all be pen pals?
When I was eight I had a pen pal I found on Ceefax.
Hey, remember Ceefax? My loyalties were usually with Teletext but BunnyLover456 said in her letters that she preferred Ceefax.
Am I rambling? What was I saying?
I’m really happy.
Lauren’s absolutely buzzing – I think she’s even happier than me. She’s dancing on the pavement near me now, sweating a lot. She keeps telling us how much she loves us and talking about how much she fancies Jeremy Vine. She’s never mentioned it before, but apparently she really, really fancies him. She’s crying about it a bit, actually.
She’s also chewing her cheeks a lot and her pupils are all black.
Hold on, who gave the bride drugs?
And where can I get some?
23
I feel lightheaded as we float through the arrivals lounge of the airport. We are one huge, singular mass of exhausted hen party. Half of us are still drunk and the other half is dangerously hungover. I’m somewhere in the middle, thanks to one final sickly sweet wine on the flight back. It was definitely a mistake, but it’s staving off the worst of it for a few more minutes. I catch sight of myself as I shuffle past a reflective surface and look away quickly. My hair is sticking out in all directions and I am basically yellow from all the drinking. Why are airports full of mirrors? Oh, I feel rank.
But it was worth it.
We had such a good last day. Such a good weekend generally. After our amazing Sweet Valley Saturday, we stayed up all night dancing in the street outside a bar, while the stag party in nappies gave us shots from their baby bottles. And then that segued seamlessly into an all-day pool party today at the apartment. The baby lads joined us, and so did the lovely Japanese hens.
And guess who I got to come along for our last few hours? Shiny Naked Man!
Shiny Naked Man, it turns out, is called Stanley. And he’s not training to be a world famous doctor or anything, he just likes taking his clothes off around Spain and partying with drunk women. Also, he’s not twenty, he’s thirty-one, but he uses a lot of Botox. So that makes me feel better. And maybe a little sad.
Stanley was a last-minute addition to the festivities. I had planned to avoid the more intense hen do rituals – I swore I would – but then I thought . . . fuck it. Strippers and willy straws are a tradition for a reason – because they’re funny! I don’t have to take it all so seriously. It was only ever my own stupid awkwardness stopping me having a good time at those other hen dos. So I decided for our last day, we would embrace some of those classic hen tropes. Shiny Naked Stanley was in the area and said he’d updated his insurance so he could actually serve us drinks, so everyone wore willy headbands and spent the day brandishing rude inflatables with a shiny, naked butler. And it was really great.
I feel like we ticked all the hen boxes in the end. Every single one of us was sick at various points, we all have bloodied feet and knees from falling over and walking around the streets barefoot. There was snogging and arguments and passing out. Simone sold a bunch of timeshares to the baby stags. Katie Jacks announced she wanted to try MDMA for the first time but we didn’t think she should be allowed to get any more hyper, so we gave her a Nurofen. She still went mad, though, and ended up kissing everyone in the apartment complex – even a guy with a cold sore, so she definitely has herpes now. And then she accidentally killed the apartment concierge’s pet fish – it’s a really long story – so we had a fish funeral and I made a speech. It was everything a bride-to-be – and her weary maid of honour – could ask for.
By the time we had to leave for the airport late this afternoon (we were asked to leave by apartment security and a very cross concierge), we were all totally spent. And Lauren was floating unconscious in the pool, on top of a giant inflatable willy.
We waved goodbye to the baby men and the Japanese sailors, while Shiny Naked Stanley performed the last of his butlering duties by bundling us all into our cabs, promising to stay in touch.
It was the perfect end to a brilliant hen do, and I’m so relieved and happy that it all worked out. It was worth all that effort and time and fear.
But ugh, here comes real life, and a very real hangover, which I can already feel will last all week.
‘Lilah?’ a voice interrupts my haze as we pass through customs and out into arrivals.
‘YES?’ L
auren jumps automatically a few feet ahead of me, only just conscious but still trying to be in Sweet Valley character. She is grey and drawn. She looks worse than me, I note, with satisfaction. I have performed my maid of honour duty fully and Lauren is definitely broken.
‘Er, Lilah?’ the voice says again, and this time I register the familiar note.
Jesus Christ, it’s Will. Will’s standing awkwardly behind the arrivals barrier, staring at me.
Will’s here. Why is Will here? My breath starts coming out in ragged gasps.
I haven’t seen him in ages. Not even once since he moved out, not a glimpse.
He’s been coming to get his stuff bit by bit from the house when I’m not there. It’s been like being slowly robbed in the saddest way possible. Everything that made the house ‘ours’ gradually disappearing on a drip feed. It’s made me cry every time I’ve noticed yet another stupid Marvel comic souveniry thing I never liked anyway was gone.
We’ve not spoken on text much either. I ran out of excuses to message him, and the replies were not enthusiastic.
I realise now that I’d given up hope of him coming back. I hadn’t processed the split yet – too busy and distracted – but deep down I’d given up on him.
And now he’s here. In the airport, of all places.
Why is he here? He’s just standing there, like this is normal. He looks smart and nervous. He’s wearing that nice blue shirt he wears for job interviews.
Shit. Is he here meeting a girl? He must be picking up a new girlfriend or something. The idea of that hits me squarely in the chest, the picture of him moving on without me. An image flashes across my brain of him kissing someone else and I catch a sob before it can get out. I couldn’t handle it if he were here for a girlfriend. I’m not ready.
Before I can react or say anything, a commotion breaks out a few feet further along the crowd. Cameras are flashing and a group of men are shouting for Joely and Brian. Oh my God, it’s photographers – paps!