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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Mind you, they’re both pretty fierce.’

      ‘No they’re not!’ I said indignantly. ‘OK, Fran is pretty fierce. But Angus is a big pet. He’s really sweet.’

      ‘So, it won’t last long then. D’ya want tea?’ Alex went through to put the kettle on.

      Actually, it’s already finished, I thought to myself, slightly embarrassed for having fibbed about something so pointless.

      

      ‘You told them WHAT!?’ said Fran.

      ‘I thought it would be funny. Wind Charlie up a bit.’

      ‘I decide when I want to wind Charlie up.’

      ‘Oh yeah, NEW RULE!’

      ‘Oh, forget it. You really have a big mouth, don’t you?’

      ‘Yeah, you mentioned that.’

      Hurt and annoyed, I slumped back in my chair. We were in a greasy caff in North London waiting for Angus, who had been pestering us to know what had happened to the tape. I fiddled disconsolately with the grubby sauce bottle and drank my slightly suspect tea.

      ‘Angus!’ she said in a pleased tone as he popped into our booth, shaking the rain off like a dog.

      ‘Angus!’ I mimicked under my breath, then gave up and grinned at him. He grinned back and sat down opposite me and next to Fran, his heavy ribbed grey jumper taking up more than half his side. He pushed back his dark red hair.

      ‘Well?’ he said heartily.

      I looked at Fran. ‘Breakfast first!’ she said, and we trooped up and ordered bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, eggs, and white bread and butter, with a cholesterol seizure to follow.

      ‘I am honour bound to say,’ began Fran, once we were all tucking in, ‘Mel doesn’t want me to play this tape.’

      ‘Why not?’ said Angus, looking at me intently.

      ‘Well, you know, there was this big bunch of free champagne, and Amanda says lots of incriminating things, and I say, you know, lots of moronic things,’ I said quickly.

      He smiled and his eyes went all crinkly. ‘Och, I never say anything stupid when I’m drunk.’

      I smiled back. ‘Actually, normally I make trenchant political speeches about the European monetary system. I do not know what came over me on Friday.’

      ‘Must have been a bad pint … of champagne.’

      ‘OK, you two, have you got a sec?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘Bravery of the officer noted.’

      Fran brought the recorder out. I cringed, and paid very close attention to my sausage. Angus watched me quizzically.

      The mannered tones came across clearly:

      ‘You know, I’m only telling you this for your own good, but you can be incredibly naïve, Melanie. 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.’

      Angus’s face went red. ‘Bloody cow,’ he said vehemently.

      ‘Don’t you love him?’ That was me, and I winced.

      ‘He’s a nice chap. It’s a good situation. It’ll be a fabulous wedding.’

      She went on to talk about Fraser being all right, and someone who would have no objections to her living her life.

      ‘Does Fraser think that?’ I whispered to Angus.

      ‘Of course he fucking doesn’t.’ His fried egg was all but forgotten.

      Here came my big set speech.

      ‘I don’t care,’ I heard myself howl petulantly. ‘I do believe in all that crap.’ On and on and on. ‘So, I think you lose!’ My voice cracked at this bit, as I got ready for stomping off. My entire body cringed.

      Fran switched the tape off after that.

      ‘Thanks,’ I grimaced at her. ‘You could have switched it off before.’

      ‘Could I?’

      Then we just sat there in silence for a bit. Angus looked cross. ‘He’s so stupid,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe he’s a year older than me but so completely stupid.’ Then he looked at me across the grimy table.

      ‘Do you really think all that stuff you said?’ he asked suddenly.

      I shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’m sorry about the castle bit.’

      ‘Well, I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all. And the castle is complete crap. I think you were quite right,’ he said. ‘And so does Fraser. That’s why we’ve got to stop him getting into this mess.’

      ‘Are you going to play it to him?’ asked Fran.

      Angus heaved a sigh.

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Gus!’ I implored him. ‘After what I went through?’

      ‘Oh yes, I only did the taping and wore the wire and sorted it all out and switched it on and off inconspicuously,’ huffed Fran.

      Angus looked at the remains of his breakfast. ‘Oh God, it’s just so embarrassing. And so wrong.’

      We nodded our heads.

      ‘But I suppose I have to.’

      We nodded our heads again.

      Fran got up to refill her coffee cup.

      ‘Mel,’ Angus whispered urgently, ‘would you … would you come with me when I play the tape?’

      I was touched.

      ‘Well, yeah … Why did you ask me?’

      ‘Ehm … in case it gets a bit messy and he tries to punch me or something. And you and Fran are the only women I know down here.’

      ‘Oh, right. Why don’t you ask her?’

      ‘I will if you like. But you know Fraser and … and, well, I’d rather have you.’

      ‘Cool. OK.’

      ‘OK what?’ said Fran, rejoining us.

      ‘OK, that is definitely the best way to lift scum off a cup of tea,’ I said, picking up my cup.

      ‘Fascinating,’ said Fran. ‘Do you know, I think you two are made for each other.’

      

      We had to pick a night Amanda would be out. Fortunately, that was every night, so it wasn’t too difficult. She’d moved Fraser into her little pied-à-terre, after complaining too vehemently about his shared boy-tip in Finsbury Park and the copies of FHM left wrinkled up by the toilet for use in emergencies. They were only there temporarily: her father was scouring London for a large townhouse suitable for his noble offspring.

      Where they lived at the moment turned out to be a small but immaculate apartment in a mansion block in St John’s Wood, next to Regent’s Park. Angus and I met up beforehand, to plan, and for moral support. The November wind was freezing as we walked across the park. Angus betrayed his nerves by constantly kicking leaves out of the way.

      ‘Right,’ said Angus, ‘how are we going to do this?’

      ‘Have you got the tape?’

      ‘OK, let’s start a little later than that bit.’

      ‘Ehm … really, I think we should just go in and not be nice at all. Just push past him with stern faces and say, “Look Fraser, there’s something we have to tell you.’”

      ‘In a deep American voice?’

      ‘Yeah.’


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