Confessions of an Essex Girl

by Becci Fox

  ‘What was it before?’ she asked.

  ‘I know you’d all say men, but that’s not it. They’re just a by-product of having a laugh. But since Ben, I think I’m more aware of what people think of me now. I’m not being funny, but I genuinely feel a major part of me has been crushed, and it’s harder to get over. It’s like we were all in this playground together getting messed around and messing others around. But now I’m playing solo, it’s stopped being fun. And to see you with someone that once made me happy, that’s not easy, hun. It’s just a harsh reminder of what a tool I am. I mean, I’ve split up with a hundred per cent of the blokes I’ve ever gone out with. Those are just the worst stats ever. It’s about time I got serious with someone. I know I can do it so long as someone better doesn’t come along.’

  ‘But you don’t fancy Charlie, do you?’ she asked.

  ‘Nah, not at all. I suppose it’s like another dent to my ego, though. A lot of people don’t think I feel anything and I just roll with the punches. I totally don’t, I feel every single one of them. I just don’t voice it. Otherwise BHQ has won, right?’

  ‘Bloody BHQ, they’ll never beat us, hun. Can I just say something and tell you how it is from my perspective?’ she said. I was seriously dreading anything she had to say. ‘To be honest, I never saw you and Charlie together and proper loved-up. I only moved to the area in the last few months you were together and you didn’t bring him out with you that often. It’s like you were in denial. I get you’ve known each other since you were seventeen, but I’ve got no concept of that. Don’t get me wrong, hun, I know I owe you. When you saved me from a life in Billericay you were like that bloke in Pretty Woman.’

  ‘Hun, I’m no Edward Lewis and you’re no prossie.’

  ‘No, but you get what I’m saying? You just opened my world up and we totally went for it one hundred per cent. If you’d just get less touchy, we can carry on having a laugh like we always have.’

  ‘I want that more than anything, but if you could understand that I’m a bit more fragile than I used to be then I think we’d avoid a whole lot more grief. Honestly, babe, you cannot talk to me about shagging Charlie yet. I’m sorry, hun, but I can’t be that person for you if you’re in that relationship. Not yet anyway.’

  ‘Babe, I totally get you, and I know I don’t think before I speak and usually you find that hilarious, but I totally get things have changed. I think you need to give me a codeword if I’m saying or doing anything that offends you.’

  ‘Makes sense. How about Minge?’ I said, and we both cracked up.

  ‘So perfect, babe! How can I talk any more shite with that ringing in my ears. But can I just say this one thing before we start the Minge thing? You might be finding this whole thing weird, but I’m going through the motions too. If it’s any consolation, I’m completely para that he still fancies you and I say as much all the time. He’s totally getting sick of it. He denies it, but I never believe him.’

  Strangely enough, that was a major consolation. It’s funny – you see a couple and they seem all tight, but the only people who really know the truth are those two people in the relationship. The rest of us are just spectators. People can look all loved-up but they still got their hang-ups.

  Is it wrong to feel reassured by your best mate’s insecurities?

  When the taxi finally rocked up (the same taxi driver, I might add. Either he’s the only one in Marbs or we’re good tippers. Or maybe he gets off on hysterical girls), Brooke gave me a massive hug and went, ‘No more going in circles, yeah? This is it – honesty from now on or we might not make it through the next fallout. I’m serious.’

  ‘A hundred per cent, hun. I’ll be yelling Minge left, right and centre just to shut you up. I mean, it’s not like we’ve let a man get between us before.’

  ‘And we’re going to get your WEG crown back. No way am I letting some racing driver dicksplash get the better of you,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to put on such a proud face in front of us lot, you know.’

  ‘OK, I promise to wear my heart on my sleeve and break down at every given moment. Talking of dicksplashes, what did you make of that Brad?’

  ‘Didn’t like the bloke at all. I overheard him talking to one of his mates about Clio like she was a new car! Shit like, “yeah, I like a younger model. They’ve got more horsepower and a shiny chassis. Not many miles on the clock.” Can you believe that?’

  ‘Oh man, I feel bad because I pushed them together.’

  ‘Don’t feel bad. It’s good for her to get involved. We all know she sticks to the sidelines, but I’m totally with you. She needs to get out there and play around. It’s a numbers game at the end of the day, isn’t it? The more blokes you meet, the higher the odds of you meeting the right one. It’s just that he’s not the winning ticket. By the way, I’m sorry I dragged you from that silver fox.’

  ‘He wasn’t exactly a grey-headed grandpa, hun. Though he would have been good for one thing and I’m not talking Scrabble.’ It felt so good to be shooting the shit with Brooke again.

  When we opened the door to the apartment, we found Cleo had only just sneaked in herself.

  ‘I see, I see, the walk of shame, is it?’ I said, teasing her. She went bright red. I’m so cruel to Cleo sometimes, but she loves it really.

  ‘Maybe. A lady doesn’t tell,’ she replied.

  ‘No, but you can. So what happened?’ I demanded, but she just smirked and slipped off to bed. She is such a dark horse, that one. I think we can safely conclude she banged Brad. She seemed pretty happy about it so that’s all that matters.

  We got about three hours’ sleep before I started getting hot and antsy. Our flights were later that evening and there was no way I was wasting any more time in my bed when I could be sunbathing. If you’re properly hanging in PB, I highly recommend the roof terrace at Pangea. They play chillout tunes and it’s not too busy and they bring food to you as you go in and out of consciousness. To be honest, that gas and air had sorted me right out so me and Brooke were raring to go. But guess which dirty stop-outs got back to the apartment at noon? Only Linda, Karen and Paula. They looked and smelt as good as three sweaty doner kebabs. Turns out they’d met some ravers who took them to this underground club, and because it was so dark, it didn’t even occur to them it was late morning. But I had to give them respect because they were the last ones back. As predicted, Linda wanted to flip out when I told her about Gemma, but she was too weak so I just gave her the address of the hospital. I’ve never seen the woman look so broken. I said sleep it off for a couple of hours then go down the hospital. I gave her a Red Bull and told her to drink it when she woke up. Poor love, she probably hadn’t pulled an all-nighter since 1983.

  So it was just me, Cleo, Brooke, Emily and Ryan living the life on Pangea’s rooftop sipping cocktails. Best cure after a heavy night is to get back on it.

  I know a lot of people say they’re sun worshippers, but they know nothing. I’ve spent years developing techniques to achieve the optimum tan. Always three hours on my front, three hours on my back, and the sun has to be behind me so it catches my shoulders, boobs and feet. And if I’m sunbathing for several days, I’ll alternate the side I start on, reason being the first part of the day is the hottest, so that’s optimum tanning time. I don’t like to indulge one side more. And you’re not going to get a deep tan if you’re twisting and turning every few minutes. Imagine if you cooked a chicken like that? It’d take ages. You need to give one side a full-on three-hour blast.

  I understand a lot of people don’t have my kind of commitment when it comes to sunbathing, but more fool them. I won’t go over my suntan lotion issues again, but just so you know, I use factor 30 everywhere if I’m in Spain. You cannot be mucking around with the sun there, and honestly, my tan is always the deepest. Just saying. The trick is in the slow, steady bake. Back in Essex, I obviously take it down to factor 15 since the sun’s further away.

  So it was three hours later that I was ready to turn on to
my front. I always reapply my lotion during the turn, so I called Ryan over to do my back, but he was already on his way. He chucked this magazine down on the sunlounger and looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Hola! magazine, babe? I’m having enough trouble just speaking English today.’

  ‘Look at it, yeah? Does anyone look familiar in these party pictures?’ he asked.

  I gave it a quick scan and there was my Spanish actor buddying up to Javier Bardem.

  ‘Oh my days, I don’t believe it. I was one degree from Javier!’ I’ll confess, I’ve got quite an unhealthy obsession with him. To the point that I feel rage when I see Penélope Cruz. He’s a total beast of a man and there’s not many of them left.

  ‘You got his number though, yeah?’

  ‘I thought I did,’ I said and started scrolling down my contacts. I had no idea what I’d saved it under. Helpfully, I hadn’t put it under his name – that would have been too easy. As I was searching, I heard the word ‘bubbla’ float across the rooftop. My new best friend! And Brad was with her too. Interesting. I would be watching Cleo’s body language like a hawk.

  ‘Doll, pop yourself next to me. This is prime tanning time,’ I said excitedly.

  ‘I so don’t want to go home tomorrow. What fun’s Essex in August? It’s cold, miserable and grey,’ she lamented. ‘Why do we put up with it, bubs? Why can’t we just live out here?’

  ‘Well, we could if we wanted,’ I said. ‘Like, I could open an amazing swimwear store. What do you do anyway?’

  ‘Not much, just go around, go out, cause a stir,’ she said.

  ‘Ummm, I’m not being funny, but that’s more of a calling than a trade. Like, what could you sell?’

  ‘I am a trained beautician. It’s just that I haven’t worked for a year.’

  ‘You’re still a beautician, though. People are crying out for lash extensions and spray-tans out here. Have you seen the business Golden Tarts get? You could steal their clients easily, hun.’

  ‘That sounds a bit cut-throat, bubbla.’

  ‘No, it’s just healthy competition. I can mentor you if you want?’

  ‘Nah, it’s alright. Me dad sorts me out so I’m fine for now,’ she said.

  Gotta say, I felt a bit disappointed in my new best friend’s lack of sparkiness. Turned out her dad was a minted barrister’s clerk, which is exactly what my rich brother-in-law Tony does. This career path is a proper Essex-boy phenomenon. You’ll see them getting off at Liverpool Street station in droves, these wide boys, suited and booted and heading to their various chambers. Basically, they’re the wheeler-dealers of the legal world, getting in the cases, negotiating the fees, then taking their cut of it. And I’m talking serious money, like six-figure salaries, and most have worked their way up from the age of sixteen. You just need the gift of the gab and a steady nerve, but that’s your typical Essex man in a nutshell. I wasn’t surprised Lauren had no motivation to work because some minted girls are like that. But if I’m to be honest, I felt a bit sorry for her. I can’t judge, though, just because I like a faster pace of life. Perhaps I needed to make Lauren my new project when I got home?

  I looked over to see Cleo and Brad flirting, so clearly that had gone very well. You know what I say – one woman’s dicksplash is another woman’s soulmate. But you’ll never guess what I saw? Scratches all down Brad’s back. Obviously the only way is rough sex for Cleo. It’s always the quiet ones.

  After we’d milked the sun for every last drop of its harmful rays, we had to accept the holiday was over. We had left plenty of time to pack, and were expecting Linda to be back with an update on Gemma. Except when we got back to the apartment, she hadn’t even moved from her stinking bed since we’d left her. Unbelievable. This caused a massive row with a lot of finger pointing on all sides. Honestly, we’d never have gone sunbathing if we’d known she’d been abandoned by her own mother. Gemma hadn’t even tried calling any of us, probably because she was sobbing her little heart out in a Spanish ward.

  Just as our shouting subsided, all our phones went off at the same time. I thought, shit, Gem’s sent a group text disowning us, but it was from our good mates at easyJet telling us they’d cancelled our flight. Yeah, the one that was due to take off in three hours’ time. We had shunned the expensive return flights on Ryanair for the cheaper easyJet option. So when Ryanair mugged us off, we were all smug that they weren’t getting our custom on the way back. Not to be superstitious here, but you should never congratulate yourself until you’re home and dry. I am so sure Ryanair and easyJet are business partners with BHQ and whenever they sense smugness, they take you down. No one is untouchable, not even easyJet employees. So our options were, get your money back and book another flight, or wait three days for the next available flight out. Cleo was completely breaking down, saying she needed to get back for work, which wasn’t very helpful since we were all in the same boat. We called Gem (who was too sedated to even be mad at us) and found out they needed to put a metal plate in her wrist and they’d be operating on her the next day. That sealed the deal. Me and Brooke would selflessly wait it out in Puerto Banus by Gemma’s side for the next three days and the rest of them would get a flight out in the morning. That gave us enough time to visit Gemma that evening with a very guilty Linda in tow.

  I won’t lie to you, me and Brooke had a delightful time once we’d shifted all those hens. We’d pop to the hospital for a couple of hours, lie by a beach-club pool for a couple more, back to the hospital, then we’d finish the night with a lovely meal for two in the marina. Considering all the bad shit that had gone down, I’d say our friendship had become ten times stronger. I highly recommend taking a few days’ holiday after a hen do, though ideally not with the bride-to-be lying in a hospital bed.

  The wedding was in the first week of September, so by the time we got back to Essex it was only four weeks until the big day. Gem was on a lot of drugs, which seemed to send her a bit loopy-loo. One minute she’d be all dazed and the next she was all irate. Understandably, she was pretty upset that all her wedding pictures would now feature a white cast. At least it matched her dress, though, right?

  Normally, I love the fact that Gem’s a proud, strong, independent woman, but that was a major issue now she was coping with a new disability. She totally did my nut in. Just by chance, we dropped over one evening and she opened the door looking like old man Benjamin Button. Turned out Grant had gone straight to football after work while she’d been in the house starving the whole day. We got a takeaway in and had such a go at Grant the moment he got in, but he said Gem had told him to go to football. We had to explain to him that you can’t take what girls say at face value. He didn’t get it. I ask you, how long had he been with Gem and he still didn’t know the basics?

  We had to get tough with Gemma if she was going to get at all better. When she said she was fine, help was forced on her and protests ignored. Shopping, driving, beautifying, you name it, we did it. She couldn’t even open a champagne bottle. The sooner this hell was over, the better. The one thing we couldn’t help her with was her work. Obviously her hands are her tools so she had to cancel a load of jobs at first. But as she got more confident with the cast, she began to work the one-handed make-up artist thing. You cannot keep a WEG down for long. We’re too resourceful. And I won’t lie, there were perks for us too. People flocked to us when we were out because they’re nosy and had to know how she’d done it. We got served quickly at bars and jumped every taxi queue. The downside was a lot of people made the same jokes to her like, ‘Doesn’t look like you’ll be playing the piano again,’ or even worse, ‘At least you got one working hand,’ and then winked at her. Also, drunk people kept trying to sign her pristine white cast which would make her flip out. Who knew so many people carried Sharpies around?

  There was one epic night in late August which turned out to be our last big blow-out before the wedding. Jake was celebrating his twenty-fourth and had chosen Funky Mojoe as his venue. Now, this bit has already start
ed off bad because I’ve already expressed my hatred for this place and it’s also the location that Grant pulled his bunny-boiler (not that Gem knows that). So I wasn’t really looking forward to going out that evening, but in these situations, you’ve got to completely own the night yourself. And Brooke had already done that for us. Hilariously, she had gone for an audition for TOWIE earlier that day. It still cracks me up thinking about it. She’d been majorly gutted when she found out she’d missed the auditions down Nu Bar, but a few days later opportunity came knocking and someone on her late-night Friday flight said they were going to the TOWIE auditions at Faces the next day.

  Me and Brooke always find this happens to us. Like, we’ll want something so badly and it just seems to come to us without even trying. I suppose we’re abnormally lucky, so maybe BHQ works on two levels, the giving and the taking. So yeah, they might have shoved glass in Brooke’s foot and created our fallout, but hadn’t they now served up a second chance at the auditions? Although when shit like that happens, I think, what are BHQ up to? You can never get too comfortable, believe me.

  When you audition, they tell you you must either ‘live in, work in or come from Essex’. Brooke came into the shop that morning and ran through her audition speech with us. She wanted to storm in there going I’m born, bred, live and work in Essex just so they knew she was one hundred per cent WEG. But I pointed out that even though she flew to and from Stansted every day, technically she worked in the sky. Just saying. Brooke was having none of it and walked out, slamming the shop door behind her. Charming! I can’t help it if I’m the voice of truth.