by Becci Fox
In the end, we got talking to a couple of semi-pros (one was a semi-pro actor, which was new to me. He’d even had his face put on his business cards).We all made our excuses, and ended up spending most of the night with a bunch of lads from Leytonstone. They weren’t flash or anything, just good fun boys and proper fit too. There’s a really good test to see how classy a bloke is. You just ask them for a mojito. If they ask what that is, then you’re going to go on some really shit dates. Needless to say, these boys were clueless so they wouldn’t be getting my real number, but I did end up snogging one of them. I just thought, what’s the harm? Hopefully it would get the message through to Ben too. We didn’t stick with them all night, though. You should always walk away from blokes, whether you’re interested or not. Like, I didn’t want these boys to get too attached, so you got to know when to do the cut-off. But if you do like the bloke, you still walk away because you got to leave them wanting more – but keep looking over. Anyways, these boys wanted us to go on to O’Neill’s in Leytonstone, so that was another strike against them. If you’ve ever been stuck to the floor there, you’ll know exactly why I wasn’t tempted. When we went back over to Jake’s table, I saw Jamie was chatting to some blonde dollybird. Clearly, I’d missed that boat. Bit of a shame as I thought there’d been a flicker between us earlier. But I suppose I’d done a bit of a Cleo and acted uninterested. See what happens if you don’t turn on the charm offensive?
Just as I was waving a fist at BHQ, the most amazing thing happened. I just wish I’d taken a picture but I was too stunned to think of it at the time. This girl comes out the toilets and I swear to you, she’s dripping in sick. Oh my days, it was horrific, and it was all over her hair. Then I saw Ben walk out straight behind her and he had a proper sick beard going on. I think we can all guess what happened here. The only thing that could have made this any better was if it had been Bucket.
We needed more details, so Brooke sidled up to the girl, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. She didn’t get too close in case she got puke on her leathers, but this poor, naïve girl had basically followed Ben into the toilets, given him a blowie and he’d hurled right on top of her. It gave a whole new meaning to blowing your load.
My gut reaction was, ‘Oh my God, that could have been me.’ Brooke advised her to go back into the toilets and sort herself. When she reemerged with slightly fewer chunks in her extensions, I shoved a glass of champagne into her hand. ‘I just wanted you to have this. I thought it might take the edge off things,’ I said, and she looked at me all confused. So I just smiled at her and walked back to the others. If it had been me, that’s what I’d want someone to do. I considered the gesture a bit of a karma thing. I thought, yeah, watch and weep, BHQ. Of course I’d got me and the girls a glass too and we toasted my lucky escape. The spell had well and truly been broken.
I didn’t want to be in the club when the lights went up. That’s my worst thing ever because you’re all in this amazing club bubble, but when the lights come on, reality seems a lot bleaker than usual. By this point Jake was doing some sort of Russian dancing, so I found Jamie to help me get him out and into a taxi. Except Jake wasn’t going easily and insisted on going to Kebabland first. He bloody loves that place. While I waited outside with Jamie, he goes to me, ‘I don’t know what you ever saw in that prick anyway. I thought the Essex elite had better taste than that.’
‘Yeah, yeah, all very well for people to tell me that now. Anyways, you saw how good it was in Monaco and it was like that all the time with Ben. One big Monaco.’
‘I didn’t think it was that great,’ he replied.
‘What do you mean? You were living the high life with Taio Cruz, sipping on gin and juice, partying till dawn. I bet you even got to see the bloody Grand Prix.’
‘What you talking about? I wasn’t partying with Taio Cruz.’
‘That’s what Jake said. Did he get confused with Tom Cruise or something? He’s a bit dyslexic like that.’
‘He said that? That’s weird. I mean, I work at a studio he’s been to before, but I don’t really know the fella. I was only at that flash party because I gatecrashed.’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Me and my mates were staying in Nice and we thought there’d be a bit of a buzz going on in Monaco, found the hotel, sneaked in and yeah, technically we did party with Taio Cruz if you mean we were in the same building.’
‘So you just blagged your way in . . . in those clothes?’
‘That’s about the long and short of it. Then after I left you, I followed signs to the beach and slept there.’
‘Oh my God, that’s proper impressive, hun,’ I said. Why hadn’t I thought of that instead of running away and catching the first plane out? You live and learn, right?
Jake finally emerged with his shish, but we had to make him act sober so a taxi would take us. After we’d shoved Jake in the back seat, I was just getting in myself when Jamie grabs my hand and goes, ‘You know, Becs, I got a lot of time for you.’
We stood there for a moment and I wanted to say something so genuine back to him, but as usual, I killed the moment and went, ‘Oh, great, another stalker. That’s all I need, hun.’
He smiled and I let go of his hand. Just then Jake stuck his head out the window and shouted, ‘Look, Ben’s still here!’ and I looked over and there he was slumped up against the old people’s home. I decided I had to seize the moment, so I grabbed Jamie’s face and kissed him right on the lips. He looked shocked, possibly a bit scared, so I quickly jumped in the taxi to make my getaway.
As we drew away, Jake stuck his head back out the window and shouted, ‘Stay lucky, son,’ as he aimed his kebab at Ben’s head. Obviously he missed, but it’s the thought that counts.
Four days before the wedding of the year, BHQ unleashed one of their cruellest jokes yet. I went to the hospital the afternoon after Gem had her second wrist operation. Holly House is a private hospital, so it was a step up from the Spanish one. She had a room all to herself and her arm was strapped up high in a foam support. When I went in, she had a face like thunder.
‘Hun, how you feeling?’
‘Shit. Just have a look for yourself,’ she said. I bent my head round to get a proper look and I could not believe it. They’d turned her into Edward Scissorhands. Where she’d had a neat white cast there was now a monstrosity of an arm with some sort of construction built on top.
‘What have they done to you?’ I said, horrified.
‘As agreed, they pinned my wrist. But nobody bloody mentioned the pins would be on the outside. It’s like they’ve built a load of scaffolding on my arm and wrapped it in loads of bandages. I look like a fucking freak.’
‘Has the surgeon been round yet?’
‘Nah, course not. He’ll be out playing golf, but I’m going to get so mad when he does show his face. I mean, how am I meant to do anything with this on, let alone get married. I can’t believe this is happening.’
I couldn’t deny it, she did look like a freak. What a thing to do to someone. I told her not to worry about a thing, me and Brooke would be her wedding coordinators. I also promised to put posh Emily up at mine when she came for the wedding. Problem was, we hadn’t exactly clicked at the hen do because I’d felt her eyes on me the whole time. I’m aware that makes me sound para, but that’s how it felt. I didn’t know if I’d be comfortable with her in my cottage in case she watched me in my sleep, but I had to do it for Gem.
The reception was at Gem’s mum and step-dad’s in Stapleford Abbotts. They’d hired this incredible marquee which came complete with chandeliers. Their place is in the middle of nowhere (or East Bumblefuck, as Brooke calls it), so it was a right pain to get to, but most of the jobs left to do were just follow-up calls, so we didn’t have to make too many trips. We had it so under control. I personally delivered Gem’s dress to her the day she got out of hospital as I thought it would cheer her up, but when she saw her bionic arm against the Vera Wang, she had a major hissy. Even when I tried
wrapping her arm in some silk fabric, it just looked like we’d hidden a massive lobster claw. She was not only finding the weight of the thing an issue, but she was in way more pain than before. I felt completely helpless. At the end of the day, her big day had been pissed on.
As much as I was trying to stay focused, I had also started texting Jamie. Nothing saucy, just meaningless banter. I really didn’t want to commit myself to anything as he wasn’t someone I could just muck around with for a couple of months if he was mates with Jake. Not to blow my own trumpet, he was also scarily into me and that’s not to be played with. I know I’ve said the same about Charlie already, but a girl just knows. When a bloke starts calling me ‘Miss Fox’ that’s a clear sign they want a piece. I can’t tell you the psychology behind it, it’s just a fact. And I found out what all that Taio Cruz business was about. Jake had basically fed me ‘white lies’ because he thought that would get me interested in Jamie. Does he honestly think I’m that shallow? I’ve fallen for lots of men who don’t mix with the rich and famous.
Marilyn and I reluctantly picked up posh Emily from Buckhurst Hill station on the Friday. She wanted to have a quick look around which was a bit annoying as I had stuff to do, but we took her up Queens Road for a caffeine hit at the Queen’s Tea Rooms. Her eyes were coming out her head as we walked up, and then she turns to me and goes, ‘I can’t believe this place.’ I suppose it must have been a bit of a culture shock.
We sat in the window of the café and Emily just wouldn’t stop with the questions. Like, every time a nice car went down the road she asked me what make it was because apparently I’m some sort of expert. Or if a woman walked past she asked me what work she’d had done. I thought it was a bit racist of her to assume that all WEGs have been worked on. And she couldn’t get her head round people going in and out of the shops on a Friday afternoon. Didn’t they have jobs? she asked. I dunno, do I, but I reckon the women work a lot harder than the blokes round here, so let them have Friday afternoon off. I decided Emily was one of those girls who can’t think outside the box. Then she goes to me, ‘I would love to be that glam-looking all the time. Must take so much time and effort, though.’
‘It’s not for part-timers, but you can’t put a price on confidence, hun. I mean, we could always get you a little something – you know, treat yourself before the wedding?’
‘Well, I did look a bit pale and sickly in all the pictures from the hen do,’ she replies. It was music to my ears.
‘Please, Em, let me do a good thing. Let me Essex you up,’ I said, all excited.
‘I don’t know. I was only thinking I could do with a bit of colour,’ she replied.
‘Promise we won’t go over the top, just let me show you what’s out there,’ I said. She was still looking unsure, so I carried on, ‘If you were a bridesmaid at an Asian wedding, you’d get all involved in the dress and rituals right? A bit of henna here, a bindi there? Same difference, babe. It’s important to respect our ways, and I promise you, you’ll feel one hundred per cent better as a result. We got a saying round here: You gotta fake it to make it. Do you or do you not want to make it in life?’
After that rousing little speech, how could she say no? I wasn’t being horrible, I just really wanted to help her out.
Considering I’d been dreading hanging out with Emily, it turned out to be the most exhilarating few hours I’ve had in a long time. Belles worked on her nails, but I drove her to Loughton for the rest because I had a surprise in store. First off, I took her to my special woman who does eyelash extensions for dirt cheap. Sorry, I can’t give away her identity because, as per usual, it’s all cash in hand, wink, wink, nudge, nudge. She did such a stunning job, and even though Emily was all scared I’d give her full-on Bambi lashes, she was jumping for joy when she saw the results. Got myself done while I was there too.
Then I took her to Fakin’ It for a spray. She only agreed to a Light FakeBake, but what you going to do? I’d shown her how my two-day-old dark tan was fading already, but she was having none of it. In retrospect it was for the best, because I forgot that not everyone exfoliates, so she would have had serious streaking. Though she did let them sort out her eyebrows while we were there, thank God.
Then the icing on the cake: I took her for a cut and blow-dry with David Beckham’s sister at HOB. She couldn’t believe it, but I told Emily to keep her cool and not ask Jo any questions about David. Like if Jake were famous, I wouldn’t want people banging on about him in my shop. I’m my own person, I’m there to find wedding dresses, end of. Jo’s a serious party girl and a Loughton local, so I always see her down Nu Bar and the likes. I honestly can’t imagine her and Victoria in the same room together, though. Like, Jo says it how she sees it, whereas old VB seems a bit uptight. Just saying. She says she’s definitely going to open up her own salon one day, but if you ask me, she’s too busy having fun.
Despite Emily’s claims she’d had her highlights done recently she still needed a Brazilian blow-dry to get rid of that frizzball in my opinion. Why wouldn’t you want three months of groomed perfection? No word of a lie, Emily’s hair was a shorter version of Lydia Bright’s mum’s hairdo, but she said she was drawing the line. Can’t win them all, I suppose. I saw her going through her receipts as I was getting my hair blow-dried, so I think the truth of it was I’d spent too much of her cash, even though I’d treated her to the eyelashes. I’d done what I could, and she was lucky she had nice teeth and a good rack already. She just needed the right bra is all, so I sorted her out at Pretty Things.
She’s got a stunning figure, so as soon as we got back to mine, I stuck her in a few of my outfits. When she came out for the big reveal, the fruit of our labours was evident. I felt like I’d just given birth to my own WEG baby, except she spoke proper. As soon as she popped those heels on, you could see her get some attitude. I should start some sort of charity for people like her – you know, people who need their sexy back.
We drove over to Gem’s mum’s for an evening of pampering and champers for her last night of freedom. All the girls were totally blown away by what I’d achieved, and in turn Emily was glowing with the compliments. Just so long as her frizz didn’t fight the blow-dry, we were golden.
*
I remember waking up the next day and lying there all woozy with sleep and just waiting for my brain to tell me why my body was surging with excitement. I love a wedding day morning! Although that woozy sleep thing can go the other way when you wake up with a sense of dread, thinking, Why do I feel so sad? Oh yeah, my boyfriend had a threesome without me. Not that I was dwelling on shit like that after seeing a text from Jamie wishing me good luck. It was pretty thoughtful, but you can’t get suckered in just because people are being nice to you, so I gave a warm but distant thanks back.
I then woke up Emily, who was still looking fabulous half asleep. Mum had cooked us the works for breakfast, but when we were tidying up after ourselves, Mum goes, ‘Aren’t you a nice, polite girl, Emily? Becci never loads the dishwasher normally,’ which just made her blush. Mum talks to all our friends like they’re still twelve. And Dad just went about the house singing, ‘I’m getting married in the morning, ding-dong the bells are going to chime.’ I shoved Emily out before she saw any more.
We got to Gem’s crazy early because five bridesmaids, one bride and one mother-of-the-bride is quite a lot of work for two hair-and-make-up girls. I went first and it was all going pretty well until we got to the hair. I hadn’t had a blow-dry just for this girl to stick my hair to my head. I had to be tactful, though, because they were mates of Gem’s. So I just went, ‘Does it look big enough to you?’ She got the message and brushed it out, backcombed, sprayed, put it back up, sprayed again. That’s what I’m talking about. Thank God I went first or we’d all have been flatheads.
It was a pretty lush morning drinking Buck’s Fizz and eating cake. And I had a little gift for Gem. I know she was hating all that material I’d wrapped around her arm before, but I’d thought long an
d hard about a solution and I’d come up with my own creation, the Bling Sling. What I’d done was get this seriously crystallized veil that had been hanging round the stockroom for months, if not years, and sewed a section of it onto Gem’s bionic arm so it was the perfect fit and superlight. Alright, so it wasn’t a sling, but you get what I’m saying, I vajazzled her bandage. I honestly think there’s a market for this, because how many other girls are wandering around out there feeling unglamorous just because they got broken bones? Having seen it for myself, it’s heartbreaking.
Gem hugged me so hard I thought I’d break a rib myself. She was chuffed and I got that warm, fuzzy feeling again. I mean, I was guilty of violently butt-buffing her so it was the least I could do really. And then Gem gave us a present each for being her girls. It was my second Tiffany box that year, but this one meant a hundred million per cent more to me. She got each of us a necklace with a silver disc engraved with our first initial. As me, Brooke and Gem huddled in a circle crying, the make-up girls ruined the moment moaning about our mascara. I’m not being funny, but if they hadn’t used waterproof they only had themselves to blame. It was going to get a whole lot more emotional.
Actually, it got more heated than emotional. You remember I told Gem she should just let us choose our own coral dresses? I’d assumed our interpretations couldn’t be that different considering the bridesmaid theme. Turned out I was so wrong. When Gem saw us all lined up together, she flipped. Obviously I had my Fifties-style taffeta coral dress on. Brooke had gone for a coral bodycon dress from CelebBoutique which stopped just short of her crotch. Emily had a long strapless dress with a black sash beneath the bust. Karen and Paula had clearly consulted each other and were wearing identical dresses which were one-shouldered and floaty, almost like baby dolls. We’d all gone for above the knee except for Emily, so that looked strange for a start. Though some of us really shouldn’t have gone above the ankle, if I’m to be honest. We looked like we’d escaped from rehab for people with an addiction to coral.