Would Like to Meet

by Rachel Winters

  “Sarah, it’s not like that at all,” Maria said, horrified.

  “It was all my fault,” I insisted. “Maria and Jeremy did everything you asked for. I lost the booking, and I booked a cottage here because it looked like the one in The Holiday. I’m so unbelievably sorry.”

  Sarah placed her drink down.

  “It’s unbelievable, all right.”

  My friends and I exchanged looks over her head. There was a tremor in the air, like the calm before a storm. Mathers Meltdown™ imminent.

  “I didn’t mean it to turn out like this,” I said desperately. “It’s because NOB—”

  “Evie,” she said, with the force of a slap. Here it comes. Sarah took a huge breath and . . . released it slowly. “Don’t you dare pin this on that man. This is all you. You could have done this any other weekend—why did you have to use my hen do?”

  Maria reached over and took her hand. “Well done,” she said softly.

  “It’s the therapy,” Sarah said.

  I think I would have preferred a tantrum. “I couldn’t have afforded it otherwise!” My friends all jumped, and I lowered my voice, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I really wanted you to have your perfect hen, but you asked for such a lot, Sarah. I couldn’t do both.”

  “Maria and David are still managing to go away in May. Jeremy is in New York over the summer. I can’t have made all of you destitute.”

  Jeremy gave me a “You’re on your own” look.

  I folded my arms. It had taken me months to save for Sarah’s weekend. My wage wasn’t terrible at the agency, but it hadn’t improved much over the years either. “You guys don’t always understand what it’s like to have to be careful with money,” I said tightly. “You all have everything so together. Whenever I look at your lives, they make me feel like I’m several steps behind.”

  “Our lives?” Sarah said. Maria and Jeremy turned their astonished gazes on me too. “Have you even considered that I might have wanted a decent hen do for a reason? I knew what I was getting when I agreed to marry Jim. I love him, but he comes as a package deal. He has two dogs, a mortgage with his ex-wife, terrible taste in clothes, and two children. So forgive me,” said Sarah, “if, before I became a stepmum—and I will be all in for those boys, our honeymoon is at Center Parcs—I wanted a luxurious weekend and for everything to be all about me one last time. Was that too much to ask?”

  I was lost for words. I’d assumed Sarah was just being her usual demanding self about the hen do. I knew that when she chose to be with Jim her life wouldn’t exactly be straightforward, but I’d always thought she could cope with anything. I hadn’t once asked her how she was doing with all the wedding preparations.

  “Sarah’s not the only one,” Maria said tightly, and it was her turn to have our attention. “It might look like David and I have it together from the outside, but when I see your life, Evie, I really envy your freedom. When David talks about marriage and babies, it’s like our entire life is laid out before us and it’s on one track. You seem to have so many options in front of you.”

  “But you’re always telling me I need to change things.”

  “Because you can,” Maria said simply.

  “I thought you and David were happy,” I said softly. I’d never thought, not once, that my friend might be anything less than content in her relationship.

  Maria smiled. “We are, as much as anyone is. And some of it’s because we have each other, but mostly it takes a lot of work for it to look like we have everything together.”

  Jeremy nodded into his glass.

  “No offense, Evie, but if I’m going to be jealous of anyone, it’s Jeremy,” Sarah said.

  He spluttered. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Sarah waved her hand. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one of us who’s got it right. Amazing job, that apartment, no urge to settle down.”

  “No urge to settle down? Try meeting someone when you spend every Saturday night in the office.” Now Jeremy had our attention. “Evie, when you complain that your life is all work and Netflix, I sometimes look at you and think, You have time for Netflix?”

  I was stricken. But Jeremy didn’t want to find a partner, did he? Or, at least, he hadn’t when we were younger. “I should have asked you how you were doing.”

  “We all should,” Maria said.

  “Oh.” Jeremy shrugged. “Who am I to moan? At least my huge apartment keeps me warm at night. Evie only has her den of iniquity.”

  My friends and I looked at one another, and it occurred to me that while I’d been away in London, they’d been busy growing up.

  “Evie,” Sarah said at last. “Please don’t take this as you being off the hook, but I am willing to accept that sometimes I might be a tiny little bit high-maintenance.” None of us reacted. “About the wedding.”

  We immediately jumped in. “That’s completely understandable,” Maria soothed.

  “There’s so much pressure,” I said.

  We waited for Jeremy to take his turn. He poured himself some more tequila.

  “What?” he asked. He sighed. “Fine. Sarah, you know we love you.”

  Sarah beamed, eyes a little watery. “Come on, then, hug me. I’m the one with my hen do ruined.” Maria and I grabbed ahold of her, pulling Jeremy in too.

  “Maria, you know you can come and stay with me whenever you like,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “Jeremy, now I know you’ve been trying to meet someone, I’ll set you up with absolutely the perfect man,” Sarah promised.

  “Let’s just focus on Evie. You know, the friend responsible for this disaster?”

  “It really is awful, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Completely,” Maria replied.

  Sarah leaned back. “So what are you going to do about this, Evie?”

  “Stop making everything about me?” I tried.

  “That’s a start, but I mean for the meet-cute,” Sarah said. We all stared at her. “How are you planning to meet someone?”

  “Sarah, I promise, I’m not anymore. This is your weekend.”

  “You’re right. And you aren’t allowed to have ruined it for nothing. Someone in this damned village has to be single.” She stood, straightening her top. “I’m going to find him.”

  That’s when we noticed that the bar had fallen completely silent. At first I thought it might be because we’d been too loud, but it wasn’t us the locals were staring at.

  “Oh, good, you’re done. Let’s have some fun!” Beth shouted. The HR manager was in the middle of the room, a gin in one hand and a giant inflatable penis in the other.

  Chapter 23

  Girl Alone

  INT: THE FOX’S DEN—SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 7:23 P.M.

  The pub is a squat, windowless one-story building. The room is square, with a pool table at one end and a small bar at the other. It’s busier than the Hangman’s Daughter, but still half-empty. A bulldog lies in the middle of the room, chewing a pig’s ear. As if in a halfhearted nod to the name of the pub, a badly stuffed fox’s head snarls on the wall above a line of mostly empty tables. Other than this, the disco ball hanging from the center of the ceiling is the only decoration.

  “Do you know where Lawrence is?” Sarah asked the barman, zeroing in on him the moment we’d entered the pub. I found myself admiring his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

  Sarah had promised the Hangman’s Daughter bartender we’d take Beth and go if she could point us in the direction of any single men in the village. The woman had told us we could find “that traitor” in the Fox’s Den—apparently the more disreputable of the village’s two pubs—and then she’d spat. I hadn’t taken this as a good sign, but nothing could deter Sarah.

  The barman eyed us, taking in Sarah’s bridal sash and Beth’s inflatable penis. “Lawrence won’t be here until after nine.” His tone di
dn’t invite more questions.

  Nevertheless, Sarah persisted. “And how old is Lawrence?”

  This caused a perfectly arched brow to rise. “Old enough,” the bartender replied.

  “What gins do you have?” asked Beth, pushing forward. “I only drink Bombay Sapphire.”

  “We’ll take doubles of whatever you’ve got,” Jeremy told him, much to Beth’s disgust. Sarah looked pointedly at the penis and her work colleague became suitably subdued.

  “We have a No Hen Do policy,” the barman warned us, eyes on the slowly deflating member of our group.

  Sarah whipped off her sash and squeezed the inflatable in Beth’s hands. “What hen do?” A sad whistle eased out of its tip as it sagged. The bartender sighed and went to get the glasses.

  “Okay, here’s the plan.” We huddled around Sarah. “We’re going to split up and ask around about Lawrence. Let’s find out what we can before he gets here. Any questions?”

  I raised my hand. “Do I have any choice in this?”

  “Nope.”

  “I have a question,” said Beth. “What’s in it for me? I don’t know her. I thought I’d paid for a luxurious spa weekend, not hunting down a cast member of Last of the Summer Wine. What?”

  Sarah’s nostrils flared. “We’re finding Evie a date to my wedding,” she said, in lieu of the much longer, and more questionable, explanation.

  “Why should I care?”

  “Because”—Sarah’s eyes narrowed and she smiled sweetly—“if you help us, I’ll make you a bridesmaid.”

  “Hold this.” Beth handed Jeremy the inflatable, picked up her drink from the bar, and strode off into the pub.

  “You aren’t being serious about the bridesmaid thing, are you?” Maria said quietly.

  “I told her, no penises,” replied Sarah, sipping at her gin.

  * * *

  “I’ll take my dress in a ten,” Beth announced, throwing herself onto a chair. Jeremy was the only one of us who hadn’t returned.

  “What have you found out?” Sarah asked suspiciously. Everyone we’d asked had been evasive. They didn’t seem to like outsiders, especially ones who asked questions.

  Beth, apparently, had been more successful. She started ticking points off on her fingers. “He’s from France, he’s short, and he once worked at London Zoo as a penguin picker-upper.” We all looked at her. “You know, when penguins try to watch planes and they overbalance?”

  “Just how much gin have you had, Beth?” Sarah said.

  “You mean it’s not true?”

  Maria hid her smile as I turned my laugh into a cough.

  Sarah sighed. “At least he’ll be here soon.”

  “Perhaps she shouldn’t meet him at all then,” Beth muttered. “Who’d want to start a relationship based on lies?”

  “Does it seem busier?” said Maria. She was right; it was getting to be standing room only.

  “Move over, move over!” Jeremy clambered back onto his chair, his coat bulging. “Here.” He unzipped to reveal a bulky paper bag transparent with grease stains. “Courtesy of the Hangman’s Daughter.”

  “What on earth . . . ?” Maria said.

  “Pies!” Jeremy grinned.

  We looked to Sarah for her reaction. After the minutest of pauses, she was the first one into the bag. We all followed suit. Beth wrinkled her nose until Jeremy handed her an individually wrapped cheese pie. She took it, slightly mollified.

  * * *

  “Evie, have you seen this?” Maria had her phone out. She wiped her screen clear of pastry flakes and showed me. It was the Bitch About It website.

  MONICA REED TOSSES BOY TOY

  “It’s everywhere,” she said. “They had a huge public row.” Maria paused for dramatic effect. “He said he wasn’t looking for a second mother, and she told him she didn’t need a third child. She needed a partner who wasn’t intimidated by a woman’s success.” I nodded, smiling for her, but I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for NOB. He was an arse, but a breakup was bad enough without the national media getting involved. Maria gave me a thoughtful look as she took her phone back.

  There was a commotion on the other side of the room. As my friends all craned their necks to see, I got out my phone. There was another message from Ben, but I opened the chat thread with NOB first.

  RED: are you OK? I saw the news

  NOB: Why wouldn’t I be?

  RED: are you sure? Because I have a tried and tested Broken Heart Film Marathon I can recommend to you. Guaranteed to make you feel better

  NOB: Thanks, Red. But it isn’t broken. Tell me about the meet-cute

  Fine. If he didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t going to push. Besides, I could cheer him up simply by telling him about my most recent attempt to meet someone.

  RED: first of all, the cottage contained a giant rat

  “What are these people doing now?” Jeremy asked, licking pastry from his thumb. I followed his gaze. A heavyset bald man had pushed two pool tables together and covered them with boards. People were starting to clear a space as if this was a normal occurrence. As he wheeled over some steps that had been against the back wall covered in a black cloth, Beth suddenly stood. “Just making a call!” she said, struggling past my chair. “I’m going to be the best bridesmaid.”

  NOB: What cottage?

  I scrolled up so I could highlight the picture I’d sent him.

  It wasn’t there.

  A sensation like ice water spread down my neck. I checked my sent items.

  Ben. I’d sent Ben a message saying the ruined hen do was all his fault, and he’d replied.

  BEN: right.

  Oh, no. Time for some damage control. I’d just explain to him it was a simple mistake.

  “Uh-oh,” Jeremy said, making me look up. He shoved the remains of his pie into his mouth. I followed his gaze to see the heavyset man making his way over toward us.

  Maria hastily tried to gather all our crumbs with the edge of her palm.

  “Which one of you is looking for Lawrence?” the man grunted.

  “That would be Evie here,” said Sarah quickly.

  The man’s unimpressed eyes met mine.

  “Come on, then.”

  I looked to my friends for help.

  “No taking a backseat,” said Jeremy.

  “You’ll be okay,” Maria told me. She plucked my phone from my grasping fingers and gave me a little nudge. “We’re right here.”

  Sarah raised her own phone. “Making sure there’s a record of whatever happens.”

  Maybe they hadn’t quite forgiven me.

  Somewhat reluctantly, I followed the path the man cut across the bar—was he Lawrence? His arms dangled at his sides, propped up by vast muscles like swimming armbands. He wasn’t my usual type, but, to keep Sarah happy, I should really be positive. Plus, I’d had a lot of gin.

  The man led me to the covered pool tables. There was now a table and chair balanced on top of them. He held out his hand and I automatically took it. He shook me off, irritably. Apparently he’d just been gesturing for me to climb up the stairs. As I did, I saw that someone had placed a lit candle and a single red rose on the table. Was this about to be a very public first date? I glanced back at my traitorous friends, who waved me on.

  When I was seated, a spotlight came on directly overhead. Everyone’s eyes turned to me as music pounded out across the pub. The disco ball on the ceiling started to spin, and the black cloth was yanked from the stairs to reveal that they were glittering pink.

  I was on a stage.

  The bald man was now holding a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Fox’s Den is proud to present, back for good this time, our resident drag act and absolute queen, Lawrence of a Labia’s famous Karaoke Singalong.”

  What?

  A hush fell over the room
and the crowd parted.

  A stunning woman in a glittering black leotard, fishnets, huge blond hair and towering platforms strode toward the stage singing Shirley Bassey’s “Big Spender.” She glanced over at me, thick eyelashes closing in a wink.

  It was the male bartender with the beautiful brows, dressed up to the nines.

  The music dipped and she announced, “First, a confession.” Her head bowed over the mic, nails glittering. “It’s true. I was briefly seduced by the Hangman’s Daughter.” She deepened her voice. “I couldn’t resist her pies.” More laughter. “Now, I heard a rumor this redheaded minx has been asking after me all night. So, my dear.” Lawrence placed one of her long, slender legs on the tabletop in a half-split. “Whatever would you like to do with me?”

  I’m fairly sure I squeaked.

  “How about you just tell me what song you’d like to sing?”

  I stared beseechingly at my friends, but they were much too busy enjoying the show.

  “Well?” Lawrence leaned the glittering microphone toward my mouth.

  I said the first song that came to mind. “‘Love Machine’ by Girls Aloud.”

  She looked me up and down, lifting a tasseled shoulder. “All right.” The music switched tracks. “Can everyone give a big hand for ‘Love Machine’ . . . by Girl Alone.” Laughter rippled throughout the pub and my cheeks burned.

  There was a rush of movement, and before I knew it, my friends were hurrying up the steps to join me.

  “She’s not alone!” shouted Maria, breathlessly. Sarah took the mic from the amused Lawrence and Jeremy pulled me to my feet.

  “Come on, Nicola, let’s show them how it’s done.”

  But before we could follow through with that threat, a shout rang out across the room.