Jenny Colgan 3-Book Collection: Amanda’s Wedding, Do You Remember the First Time?, Looking For Andrew McCarthy. Jenny Colgan

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Jenny Colgan 3-Book Collection: Amanda’s Wedding, Do You Remember the First Time?, Looking For Andrew McCarthy - Jenny  Colgan


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One arm was round his big pal Nash, the other round Amanda the blow-up doll, and they were all (the doll was faking it) singing ‘Danny Boy’ very very badly and making up the words.

      ‘I think losing one member of her family’s enough for my mum this year, don’t you? That fucking title. Just because you’re all modern women who can do anything, you think that kind of thing doesn’t happen any more. But it does.’

      He reverted to staring at his drink. His face was red. I stared hard at the table.

      ‘I think we need another drink,’ I said.

      ‘I’ll get them!’ shouted the bloke at our table, jumping up and rushing across the pub. We both looked after him, startled. As we turned round, Fraser and Nash made a bravura attempt at the high note at the end of ‘Danny Boy’ then immediately fell away as, silhouetted in the doorway, stood the very wan, very dirty Johnny McLachlan, looking for all the world as though he had, indeed, just been mauled by a lioness.

      A roar went up, as Johnny dazedly walked back amongst the tables with his eyes wide open. There was no sign of Fran behind him. He sat down, heavily at the bar, his eyes red.

      ‘A large one, please.’

      There was a crash as Nash and the doll fell over laughing. Everyone in the room was guffawing and clapping Johnny on the shoulder. I suddenly felt very much the lone female.

      I picked up my drink and headed off to the loo, and to look for Fran. It was like one of those Agatha Christie books, where the party gets picked off one by one. Everyone was extremely drunk now, and the whole scene was becoming confusing. I sat in the bathroom for a long time, fully dressed and staring intently at the dirty floor tiles while trying not to fall off the toilet.

      I had no idea how long I’d been there when I heard someone get into the cubicle next to me.

      ‘Fran!’ I whispered urgently.

      There was a long pause.

      ‘Err … no. It’s me.’

      It was one of the brothers, but I couldn’t tell which one. It sounded like Angus.

      ‘What are you doing in here, you twat?’

      ‘Oh, the boys loos are looking … pretty revolting. There’s blood in them. Mixed with –’

      ‘Oh, OK, I don’t want to think about that right at the moment.’

      ‘Sorry.’

      ‘It’s all right. Is that Angus?’

      There was another pause.

      ‘Erm … yes.’

      ‘Oh. Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize …’

      ‘That’s OK. I get a bit grumpy sometimes. I suppose it’s because everyone thinks my brother’s so great.’

      I heard what sounded like a strangulated giggle, but chose to ignore it.

      ‘Look, really I agree with you,’ I said. ‘I think Amanda’s a cow, and you think Amanda’s a cow, but your mate’s right: there’s no point in interfering, is there? People simply do things, whether you want them to or not. Tough. Who knows: maybe she’s different with him than she is with everyone else on the planet.’

      Suddenly the toilet next door flushed and the door banged. I gradually sat upright and let the blood flow back down from my head. Shakily, I opened the cubicle door. Shit.

      ‘You lying fucker!’ I yelled at him. I was furious.

      Fraser was bright red. ‘I just wanted to hear what you were going to say. What were you sorry about?’

      ‘It’s none of your fucking business was what I was going to say! I was talking to Angus, not you! What a stupid thing to do.’

      ‘Right, just because you’re too pissed to tell one voice from another.’

      I stared at him. ‘Oh, so it’s my fault. What? I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation. I do NOT give a toss.’ I headed out the door. He caught me.

      ‘Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.’ There was a note of urgency in his voice.

      ‘Fine!’ I was on my high horse now. ‘I can stay, go … I do NOT give a toss, remember?’

      ‘Shush a minute. Please. I’m sorry.’

      We stood there for a bit in silence. Then he set his lanky frame on the hand basins, his long legs kicking out in front. He got his arse wet, but didn’t seem to notice.

      ‘Is it true …?’ he faltered. ‘I mean, do you … does everyone …? Oh, fuck it.’

      He took a deep breath and started again.

      ‘Look, with Amanda and everything … I thought her and Angus just didn’t hit it off. She point-blank refused to let him be my best man after he asked her why she was inviting all these people she barely knew just because they were famous.’

      ‘Not Sean Connery’s son?’

      ‘Yes, people like that. Well, it’s her job, isn’t it?’

      That sounded familiar.

      ‘Ah mean,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re practically her best friend. Don’t you like her, either?’

      His voice was so soft and sad I couldn’t bear to hurt him.

      ‘Sweetheart, she’s not my best friend. I hardly see her. I hardly know her these days …’

      I could tell by his face that that tack wasn’t working. ‘I mean, she’s fine. Really, I’ve known her for ever … Look, do you remember at college, when I wanted to go out with Flattypuss Malloy? And you couldn’t bear him because he had a lump on his neck?’

      ‘It was gross! Really – especially from where I was standing.’

      There was at least a foot’s difference in height between us.

      ‘And he was really nice after all?’ I pursued.

      ‘He was a lumpy bastard.’

      ‘Well, sometimes people dislike other people without us understanding the reasons for it.’

      ‘What happened to him, anyway?’

      ‘I heard he painted a second face on it and rents himself out at parties.’

      ‘Wow.’

      We pondered that for a second. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Either a mouse had walked across my face or I was having a seriously bad mascara attack.

      I decided to make one last attempt.

      ‘Look, when Amanda wants something,’ I said, truthfully, ‘she goes for it. She’s completely single-minded and nothing holds her back.’

      Quite unlike myself. I touched him gently on the face. His eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheek.

      ‘So, therefore, she must really, really want you.’

      He looked down at me with a wounded look in his eye.

      ‘Do you really think so?’

      ‘Yes, I do.’

      He sighed.

      ‘Do you love her terribly much?’ I asked, suddenly longing for a bit of highly dramatic romance in my life.

      ‘She’s … you know, pretty and confident and, well, she knows lots of people and … stuff …’ Fraser looked down. ‘And, you know, she really wanted to marry me!’

      ‘Was that so difficult to believe?’

      He grinned. ‘I don’t know.’

      

      We got a few limp ‘Woah


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