Jenny Colgan 3-Book Collection: Amanda’s Wedding, Do You Remember the First Time?, Looking For Andrew McCarthy. Jenny Colgan
Читать онлайн книгу.
should care. But she normally told me everything, and she’d hardly talked about this at all. Maybe it was only a drunken fumble that had passed.
Amanda was talking about the floral arrangements for the service, and I could see the caged look in Fran’s eyes. Fearing for Amanda’s safety, I distracted her.
‘So, what’s Fraser wearing for the big day then?’
‘Oh God, he can’t dress himself at all.’
‘I like Converse trainers,’ Fran interjected.
‘Yes, well, some people like lager and some people like champagne, Francesca.’
Fran made clawing motions behind her back.
‘Daddy took him to his tailor, so at least he’ll look semi-decent.’
‘Is he excited?’
‘About what? Going to a tailor?’
‘About the wedding, stupid.’
Amanda looked contemplatively at her glass.
‘I suppose so.’
I shot a completely overt look at Fran, who raised her eyes to heaven and nodded her head. Yes, the tape was on.
I gushed on: ‘Gosh, you two are going to be so happy together.’
She fixed me with a stare.
‘You know, I’m only telling you this for your own good, but you can be incredibly naïve, Melanie.’
Huh, tell me something I didn’t know.
‘This … I mean, hell, it’s a great excuse to have a party, but it’s also a bloody practical affair. That castle needs sorting out, and Daddy’s happy to put up the loot to do it with.’
My eyes widened. That was proof all right – I assumed. Then something struck me; she was so matter-of-fact about it. Maybe Fraser felt the same way? Maybe this was how tons of people got married. After all, the aristocracy had been doing it for generations. I supposed this was how it all worked. Not helped by the copious champagne, I suddenly felt sad.
‘Don’t you love him?’
She sniffed. ‘He’s a nice chap. It’s a good situation. It’ll be a fabulous wedding.’
‘Hyear hyear!’ said one of the Sloane clones.
Amanda took a drink and continued: ‘You don’t believe in all that Hollywood crap, do you? I mean, God, how many times do you have to find out, Melanie? Men are complete bastards. Look at what Alex did to you. That wasn’t a terribly Tom Hanks way to behave, was it, darling? This way, everyone wins. We’ll have a beautiful home and a beautiful life, and we’ll be as happy as any marriage is these days, because we went into it with our eyes open. Fraser is a nice boy and he’ll have no objection to us both living our lives.’ She turned to the waiter. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know why you waste your time bringing us anything at all if you can’t get the lemon juice right.’
I looked at Fran for support, but she was nodding in agreement – presumably to keep Amanda talking, but it didn’t feel that way. Suddenly the situation felt dangerous. The blood rushed to my head a bit. I stood up, unsteadily.
‘I don’t care,’ I announced in a trembly voice. The waiter thought I was talking to him and stepped forward, then hopped back again. ‘I do believe in all that crap. Well, not all of it. But some of it. The actually being in love with someone stuff. Ehm, yeah. And … and I think you lose. Because you’ve got a lovely bloke like Fraser and you take the piss out of him and you just think of that bloody castle – which I have seen, by the way, and it’s a complete heap of shit – and that bloody title and you’ve absolutely no idea what you’ve got and how happy he could make you. So, I think you lose.’
I turned and made to walk out of the restaurant. Realizing I didn’t have my bag, I made a dignified right turn into the toilets, then leaned over and looked at myself in the low-lit mirror, breathing heavily. My throat felt tight.
What on earth was I doing? If I wanted to start a fight with Amanda, I should have done it a long time ago. And who, exactly, was I defending? But then, if Fraser did have his eyes open – which I doubted – Angus certainly didn’t. He had a blind spot for Fraser the size of the chip on his shoulder. Oh God.
Fran came crashing into the bathroom after me with two fresh glasses of champagne. She was absolutely delighted.
‘Ohmigod, the look on her face! What on earth were you talking about?’
I sunk my head into my hands.
‘Really, I don’t know.’
‘You went for her.’
‘I know. And I don’t even know why!’
‘Well, she was asking for it,’ Fran reflected.
‘No she wasn’t! She might even be right, for all we know. That probably is the best way to get married: find a nice bloke that you get on with all right and then ignore each other for the next fifty years.’
‘Well, I’ve heard stupider reasons.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, you know my brother Brendan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He got married because he kept losing his socks.’
‘Fuck off!’ I looked up briefly.
‘It’s true. He kept losing his socks, and one day he said, “That’s it, I’m fed up of losing all my fucking socks. The next woman I meet I’m going to marry, as long as she can count socks.” And he did.’
‘How are his socks now?’
‘Dreadful. She divorced him for being a sexist pig who talked about socks all day long.’
I giggled. ‘Complete socks maniac.’
‘Completely.’
We both smiled and sipped our champagne, and I felt better. It helped that the toilets were nicer than my entire flat.
‘So, ehm …’ I toyed with my glass.
‘What am I going to do about Angus?’
‘Psychic, you!’
She smiled. ‘I thought he might come up sooner or later.’
‘I thought he already did.’
‘Have you got a soft spot for him?’
‘No.’
‘Lying cow.’
‘Fuck off!’
‘Well, to set your mind at rest – although, if you will let me be so bold, if you would dump Mr Trevelyan and go out with the dumpy yet delightful Mr McConnald I would be the happiest best friend alive – he phoned me to apologize.’
‘To apologize? Why?’
‘Because he wasn’t going to phone me. To which I said it was quite all right, I didn’t mind a bit.’
‘No, no, hang on. I don’t understand. He phoned you to say he wasn’t going to phone you?’
‘Yes. So if I was hanging around the phone, I could stop and get on with my life. Which of course I wasn’t. So we had a nice little chat and said our goodbyes. An extremely civilized end to a one-night stand, I have to say.’
‘That is too weird. I don’t know whether it’s extremely polite or a damning indictment of today’s decadent society.’
Fran checked her make-up in the mirror and I joined her, still wondering.
‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked.
I winced. ‘Oh God. Apologize to Amanda, I suppose. I must be off my head.