Amanda's Wedding (29 page)

‘I know. I've no idea what was the matter with me.'

‘You LIKE him.'

‘I do not. He's a loud-mouth piss bism.'

‘You like that kind of thing. Oh my God, Fran's in love, Fran's in love!'

‘Can you hand me that chopping knife, please?'

I'd passed it over without thinking before I realized my fatal mistake.

‘OK, OK, I'll stop!'

‘Sure?'

‘Yes!'

Fran slowly lowered the knife to the table and I risked taking it back to chop up the rest of the kiwi fruit in silence.

Alex wandered into the kitchen in search of the expensive nuts.

‘It's suspiciously quiet in here … who have you two just been massacring – I mean, talking about?'

‘No one,' I said stoutly.

‘Ah. So, it was either me or –' he shot a look at Fran, so he must have known – ‘Charlie.'

‘It was Charlie,' I said, desperate for him not to think that I was discussing him with my friends all day long.

‘Oh. Shame,' he said. He tried to pick up the nuts in passing. Fran, without thinking about it, slapped him on the back of the hand, which he ignored, retreating, with nuts, to the TV, which had reached
Blind Date
stage.

‘How's Alex?' asked Fran ruefully. From the sitting room I could hear him howling and whooping like a dog as the less blessed single women came on.

‘Oh, usual responsible grown-up old Alex,' I said.

‘I'm sorry I was so pissed off.'

‘That's OK.'

‘Arf arf arf,' came from next door.

‘Can you give me a hand to put these salmon roulades together?'

Fran looked doubtful, and removed her cardigan. Underneath, she was wearing some beautiful ethereal dark blue thirties-style dress which looked almost see-through but actually wasn't, if you looked closely.

‘Oh my God! No, don't worry,' I said heartily. ‘That's a gorgeous dress. You look fantastic.'

‘Thanks very much: I half-inched it from Madam Elizabeth.'

‘No!'

Fran had a couple of days' work as an extra in a high-budget thirties melodrama. No wonder the dress fitted her so well: it'd been made for her. She
twirled round slowly. It was slim and diaphanous and beautiful. I wished with all my heart that I could wear a dress like that, in a way that wouldn't make me look like a chunky five-year-old ballerina, and rolled up the salmon and cream cheese mush in approximately attractive ways.

‘Do you think we've got enough food?' I wondered gloomily.

‘Tons! Amanda and Mookie don't eat, remember.'

‘Oh, yes.' I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘It's just the boys and us then, really, isn't it?'

Fran indicated Linda's bedroom.

‘Bugger it. Listen, would you nip across the road and get me another French stick?'

‘But I'll get mugged and killed,' she complained.

‘I'll send Alex with you.'

‘Why don't you send Alex by himself?'

‘Because he'll come back in three days with a fish supper and a new fishing rod. Alex!'

He appeared. Even he looked taken aback by the sight of Fran in her beautiful dress.

‘Can you walk Fran across the road to get some bread … coffee – real coffee – and …' I tried to work out what else I'd forgotten. ‘Oh, and some more candles.' I was sticking them in old wine bottles, just like real students do.

‘I can go by myself,' said Fran, disgruntledly.

‘And if you got mugged and killed, I'd hate it. It'd be rubbish,' I said, pushing both of them out the door. It slammed behind them and I heard them walking off in silence. Oh God, if they'd only get on, everything
would be fine. Here I was, part of a couple, hostessing and actually cooking things. I felt uniquely proud of myself. Alex and I would have dinner parties all the time. Hey – we'd get on a dinner party circuit. It would be fantastic. Humming, I went in to lay the tables.

Half an hour later, stepping back to admire my handiwork, I was quite proud of myself. With all the lights out and candles everywhere, the dining room looked less Laura Ashley and more a state of gothic horror – the bows and frills everywhere took on sinister undertones and it looked like a ghostly bride's boudoir. I artistically placed some bowls of nuts around the place. The kitchen might look like a nuclear explosion, but in here was pretty good, particularly after I'd used some of Linda's Celine Dion CDs (she didn't have any books) to prop up the table legs so they almost matched. I toyed with the idea of placecards, then realized two things: (1) I was turning into an idiot, and (2) where the hell were Alex and Fran? The shop was only five minutes up the road. Maybe it hadn't had any bread and they'd had to go elsewhere.

This practical explanation wasn't enough for me, however. What if one of them had been run down and had to go to hospital? What if they'd been mugged? I started to panic. What if they'd had another big fight and Fran had given him a kicking and he was in intensive care and she was being held by the police? Oh God, that would be awful. I was so fascinated by
this idea that I almost didn't hear the doorbell ring, despite its closeness to a submarine honk.

Thank God. I dashed to the door to demand where they'd got to. But it wasn't them. It was Angus, with Nash. We stood on either side of the open door, looking at each other, as I became more and more aware of the fact that not only were they three-quarters of an hour early, but I was still dressed in my cooking gear – which, as I didn't have any cooking gear, was in fact my pyjamas covered by Linda's apron, which had some pussy cats on it. And I hadn't brushed my hair – because I was cooking – and I was covered in gruesome stains. And I hadn't had a bath. Or cut my toenails, and my feet were bare. Fucking hell. Both of them had suits on, and Nash was even taller than Angus, gangly and handsome, so they just looked far too good to be here.

Nash looked worriedly at Angus.

‘Are you sure it's tonight?' he whispered.

With that, I regained my composure.

‘Nash! Angus!' I yelled, in a carefree manner. ‘You're VERY, VERY early!'

‘Sorry about that,' said Angus, ‘we misjudged it. Do you want us to go out to the pub and come back?'

‘Man, it's freezing out there,' said Nash. He caught sight of my scary wide-eyed Harpy look. ‘But, you know, no problem …'

‘NO! No, come in, come in. Sorry, you've caught me off guard, you know.'

I didn't know what to do first, particularly when
they started taking off their coats and scarves and handing them to me. I held on to them.

‘Come through, come through,' I said, and led them through to the sitting room, wondering if I'd remembered to put any pants on.

The two tables filled up every square inch of the space, I noticed.

‘Do you want us to sit at the table?' said Angus.

‘No! No!' I indicated the sofa, which had been pushed flat up against the variety of chairs.

‘Sit here!'

The boys moved over carefully, and crammed themselves in.

‘I just need to change, and, well, you know, get ready.'

‘Actually,' said Angus, ‘I really like that spoon in your hair.'

I clapped my hand to my head, and found a teaspoon covered in tomato puree peeping out of one of my more unruly curls. I made a grab for it, but dropped one of the coats instead. Nash stood up again.

‘Would you like a hand?'

‘No, no, I'm fine,' I screeched, trying to reach down to the floor without exposing my breasts over the top of my baggy pyjamas. Despite being practically hysterical by this time, I remembered what came next in the good hostess book of gracious living.

‘Would you like a drink?'

The boys muttered that that would be lovely, and started to bring out bottles of wine they'd brought. Angus had also brought a bottle of whisky. They
handed them to me, although I already had my arms full of coats. Not knowing what to do, I indicated that they should pile the bottles on top of the coats. As they didn't know what to do either, they did so, and I staggered into the kitchen. Or tried to; I didn't quite make it, and everything fell on the floor. The boys dashed in looking worried when they heard the noise, but fortunately nothing had smashed, so my luck was in.

‘Are you OK?' Angus lent me a hand and I scrambled up, blushing fiercely.

‘Calm down,' he said, gently, not letting go of my hand. ‘It's only us. Me, remember, who's nice, and Nash, who's a bit mad.'

‘Aye, right enough,' said Nash.

‘I'm sure dinner will be lovely, no one else will be here for ages, so why don't you let us get ourselves a drink, then you can disappear and get changed and beautify yourself, then re-emerge like a butterfly.'

‘Will you pretend I'm somebody else?'

‘If you like. Just leave those coats there, we'll sort everything out. Now, off you go.'

I escaped to the shower, and was in and out in double quick time. I shoved the grey silk dress on again and bunged on some slap. Twenty-five minutes later, I was just about presentable. Still no Fran and Alex.

I walked back into the sitting room, where the boys
applauded sweetly. They were intrigued when I explained my dilemma.

‘Do you think I should call the police?' I asked them.

‘Naw, they dinnae file until forty-eight hoors,' said Nash.

‘What?'

‘He means they won't listen unless they've been away for a couple of days,' Angus explained. ‘Up until then it's assumed they're out on the razz somewhere.'

That didn't make me feel any better.

‘Do you think they're up to anything?' asked Nash, as if the thought had just occurred to him. Angus frowned.

‘No, they hate each other,' I explained. ‘That's why I'm so worried.'

I got up and pottered around the kitchen, bringing in a bottle of wine.

‘They've probably just gone for a pint somewhere to get out of helping you,' said Angus.

Relief that this was obviously the case was tempered with annoyance.

‘You're right. They're like a pair of spoilt twins sometimes, those two.' And I stopped stuffing my mouth with pistachio nuts like they were going out of fashion.

The doorbell rang again.

‘Christ, what was that?' said Nash.

‘I'll get it.' I hoped it was them and I could give them a bollocking. On the other side of the door, however,
stood Mookie, looking skinny, blonde and absolutely freezing.

‘Hello! Come in!' I said.

‘Thank you. Rally! South London. Well, you know, I have some friends in Chelsea, but I never normally get down this far!'

‘That is fascinating,' I said, taking her Barbour jacket.

She snorted with laughter. ‘I'm more used to Kensington than Kennington!' she said hilariously.

I laughed along merrily. ‘You know, Mookie, you are really funny,' I said.

She stopped immediately.

‘Do you rally think so?'

‘No!' I said, and she laughed herself silly, even though I was being honest. I beckoned her through to the dining room. Angus and Nash were out of sight behind the table.

‘Oh God, am I first? That's
so
embarrassing. I'm so mortified. I thought quarter past eight would be fine, but I've obviously completely messed it up. Oh God. This was always happening in Switzerland.'

‘Mookie,' I said gently, ‘it's fine.'

The boys stuck their arms out from behind the table and waved vigorously.

‘What would you like to drink?' I asked.

‘Vodka martini, please.'

Ahh. Linda's drinks cabinet was pretty wide, but we'd drunk all the vodka, and it didn't stoop to martini.

‘Aha! Look at your face, it's rally funny,' said Mookie.
I was regretting asking her already. She'd seemed quite nice in the taxi.

‘Here you are, darling!' And she drew out an enormous bottle of Absolut Vodka, some brand of martini I'd never heard of, and a jar of olives.

‘I came prepared. Have you got some lemonade, darling? And some ice?'

I nodded, stunned at such largesse. I began to like her again.

‘Would anyone else like one?' The boys nodded their assent, and I headed back to the kitchen with the bottles. Mookie tapped in behind me. ‘Oh, let me make them,' she cooed. ‘I'm very particular.'

So I left her to it and went and rejoined the boys. I was chain-munching pistachios again, which obviously meant I was getting tense. And sure enough, when Mookie brought back the delicious martinis, we sat perched in between the table legs in a not entirely comfortable silence. I sensed Angus giving me faintly wounded looks for not returning his calls.