Jenny Colgan 3-Book Collection: Amanda’s Wedding, Do You Remember the First Time?, Looking For Andrew McCarthy. Jenny Colgan
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‘Shit.’
‘Look, let’s go. They’ll probably be all right.’
‘SHE CAN SHOOT GREEN PEAS FROM HER FUNDAMENTAL ORIFICE!’ shouted Charlie suddenly. Fran and I stopped talking and turned round.
‘That’s the wrong song, you twat,’ said Alex.
‘I KNOW!’ hollered Charlie. ‘Err … PUT YOUR POLE IN A FOAL, MATE!’
‘THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!’ yelled Alex. ‘PUT YOUR STAFF IN A GIRAFFE, MATE!’
‘Oh God.’ I sat down, then stood up again when I realized I was sitting in the wine and spittle range of fire.
‘This is great. This is just great. First, Amanda is never speaking to us again for going behind her back.’
‘Yeah. One: who cares, and two: how is she going to find out?’
‘Oh, probably shortly after these two get arrested and in the papers.’
‘HAVE A SHAG WITH A STAG, MATE!’
‘HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH A HORSE, MATE!’
‘Then,’ I went on, bravely, ‘we turn up at this thing and get thrown out, and Angus and Fraser never talk to us again. So, in the space of a day I’ve managed to alienate about thirty-three per cent of all my friends. Not to mention Alex, when he wakes up tomorrow and I’m beating his face to a bloody pulp.’
‘Why don’t you do it now, when he won’t notice?’
‘What would be the point of that?’
‘Come on.’ Fran took me by the arm. ‘Let’s get this over with. Maybe they’ll fall out of the taxi …’
‘Yeah, and into another dimension. C’mon, you two, we’re going.’
They started to sway towards the door.
‘UP THE CRACK OF A YAK, MATE!’
‘HAVE A FRIG WITH A PIG, MATE!’
And the four of us sang, going down the hall:
‘BESTIALITY’S GREAT, MATE! BESTIALITY’S GREAT.’
We nearly got thrown out the cab, and it took all my conciliatory powers to get us to the Princess Louise pub, in Holborn. I shot a nervous look at Fran, but she appeared extremely cool, even though Charlie was trying to get on his knees in front of her to express his true and heartfelt devotion in loquacious terms. Every time he got too close she kneed him on the crest of his rugby shirt.
I took a deep breath at the door, squared my shoulders and headed in.
‘Neh, it’s a private party up there, mate,’ said this extraordinary talking-monkey thing.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘Fraser McConnald’s stag do.’
‘That’s Laird McConnald,’ added Fran helpfully.
The monkey raised its eyebrows.
‘’Ere, are you the …’
‘No, we’re not. We’re invited guests. Come on, Mel –’ and Fran shrugged us through imperiously.
As in werewolf films, the inn fell quiet when we entered the room. Lots of young men were standing around having a perfectly nice comfortable drink, and here were two pairs of breasts all set to ruin it. A couple of the blokes even had cigars, if it could be any more Freudian. I wanted to turn on my heel, but, fortunately, Angus came to the rescue.
‘Hey, hullose there!’ He walked over, beaming. ‘Glad youse could make it.’
His smile fell as he looked over his shoulder and cottoned on to the collapsing figures of Alex and Charlie.
‘I’m sorry!’ I said straight away. ‘They were going to get thrown into the river in a sack and we didn’t have the heart to leave them.’
Angus half smiled. ‘Och well, they’re here now, I suppose. Is he –’ indicating Charlie – ‘going to cause any trouble?’
Fran had somehow managed to conjure a cigar out of nowhere and was proceeding to look felinely wonderful with it.
‘Oh no,’ she purred. ‘He won’t be any trouble, will you, big boy?’ And she winked at Charlie like some thirties vixen until his eyes popped.
Angus looked understandably confused then turned back to me.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said eagerly.
‘Ehm … bottle of Budvar, please.’
‘I’ll have a long vodka please,’ ordered Fran imperiously.
‘A what?’ I said, when Angus had gone to the bar. ‘What are you playing at? Queen of all the Vamps?’
‘Oh, go on, Mel,’ she said. ‘Look around. There’s forty blokes here and two of us. When’s the last time I got off with a bloke?’
‘Thursday.’
‘He doesn’t count. That was duty. And tonight he’s hopelessly drunk, while I’m in the mood. I’m a prowling lioness. So stay out of my way.’ She took a draw on her cigar and blew smoke rings at me.
‘Huh. Well, my boyfriend’s here …’ I looked over. Alex was slumped on a sofa, stupefied. ‘So I have to behave myself.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes!’
Angus arrived back with the drinks, and Fran downed hers in one. Eyes shining, she looked around the room. ‘Who’s … that?’ she said to Angus, eyes trained on a sweet-faced, wan young man standing by himself next to the punch, and helping himself liberally to it.
‘That’s Johnny McLachlan – he’s the best man. Why, do you want to meet him?’
‘Yes. Have him washed and –’
‘Fran!’
Angus clearly thought we had both gone mad, but he beckoned Johnny McLachlan over anyway. Johnny McLachlan did a huge ‘Who, me?’ double take, and eventually sidled up, slightly hunched over.
‘Johnny, meet two friends of ours, Melanie and Fran.’
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Enchanted!’ exclaimed Fran. ‘Now, tell me all about yourself and how you came to be darling Fraser’s best man.’
‘Aye, well, hullo,’ said Johnny, in an accent so thick he made Angus sound like Princess Anne. ‘Well, actually, like, Ah’m a geography teacher, likesay.’
‘How fascinating!’ Fran leaned over intimately. A sweat broke out on Johnny’s forehead.
Through mutual eye contact Angus and I moved to one side.
‘What on earth is going on with your friend? Is she on heat?’
‘I think so.’
‘Is she serious?’
‘Serious? Well, if I were Johnny, I’d take out some life insurance.’
‘Eaten alive?’
‘Sucked clean.’
‘Woo.’ There was a pause.
‘Oh, I remember what I came for,’ I said.
Angus looked at me quizzically.
‘The bridegroom? That whole wedding thing? Horseshoes and stuff? You remember!’
‘Oh yes. I’m being a terrible host. Let me –’ and he bowed and proffered me his arm – ‘escort you to his lairdship’s table.’
‘You are too kind.’
Fraser