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here.’

      ‘Apart fae yer best man!’ someone shouted, and there was a burst of obscene laughter.

      ‘Yes, well, apart from – ahem – Mr McLachlan, who seems to be otherwise disposed.’

      ‘Aye, up the bits of some tart.’

      ‘Hey!’ I said to Angus. ‘That’s my friend they’re talking about.’

      ‘What, not your friend that was behaving completely like a tart?’

      ‘Huh. Well, maybe.’

      ‘OK, calm down …’ Fraser looked slightly unsteady. ‘I just wanted to thank you all for coming, and I know some of you came down a long way. Getting married is a frightening thing, although not as frightening as seeing you shower all in the same room at the one time.’

      There was a friendly muttering.

      ‘No, really. It’s great to see you all. I’d like to thank my brother for getting everything organized, Mr Flaherty for the loan of his pub, and … well, just the whole big bunch of you lads.’

      ‘And girls!’ I squeaked.

      ‘And honorary lads,’ said Fraser, bowing in my direction. I grinned.

      ‘So, get some drink down you. Oh, and sorry about the stripper …’ he petered out.

      ‘To Fraser!’ shouted Angus.

      ‘To Fraser!’ said the company. I think I was the only one who noticed that he’d missed out the bride from the toast.

      ‘To the stripper!’ shouted someone else.

      ‘To the dirty bint that’s taken Johnny up the close!’

      ‘What?’ I asked Angus. ‘Is that rude?’

      ‘Never mind.’

      We wandered back over to Fraser’s table and rejoined the company.

      

      The evening wore on – the landlord was an old drinking buddy of the McConnalds’ father, and wasn’t too bothered about licensing restrictions. I lapsed into lovely drunk time, where things just floated past, and I jumped in and out of different conversations at will. After dissecting the genius of Billy Connolly on one side, I tuned in like a radio to the other, where Angus and one of the Scottish boys were deep in serious conversation.

      ‘Just talk to him,’ Angus was saying.

      ‘Look, I only met her once. She seemed all right.’

      ‘She’s not all right. She’s a complete cow and she’ll make his life hell. This is why I got you all down here – to persuade him not to do it.’

      ‘What are you two talking about?’ I exclaimed brightly.

      ‘Nothing,’ said Angus shortly, turning back to his pint.

      ‘Have you met this “Amanda” that Frase is marrying?’ asked the other chap.

      ‘Course I have. I’ve known her all my life.’

      Angus looked up at me.

      ‘What’s she like then?’ the bloke asked.

      I paused, not quite sure what to say. Idiotically, I suddenly felt quite loyal. It was all right for me and Fran to talk about Amanda having her gizzards ripped out by vultures, but with anyone else it wasn’t really on.

      ‘Well, she’s … really pretty, and dead rich. She’s nice.’

      ‘Fair enough,’ said the bloke to Angus. ‘I’m not saying anything. You should never get involved in these things. My sister married this right bastard and she wouldn’t be told anything.’

      ‘What happened?’ I asked.

      ‘Oh, yeah, he turned out to be a right bastard. Left her with the kids and everything.’

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mel!’ burst out Angus. ‘She’s a complete bitch and you know it.’

      I sighed.

      ‘Sorry, forgive me if I’m being slow here, but you talk about her non-stop. I mean, why do you hate her so much? And Alex, and Charlie – well, it’s OK to hate Charlie … But, I mean, when I met you, I thought you were really awful, ’cause you hated us all so much. But now I know you’re not, you’re actually really nice, so I don’t understand it at all. Are you a secret communist? Do you hate posh people? You’re posh anyway. Well, your brother’s a complete nob … I didn’t mean that last bit the way it sounded.’

      ‘Have you finished?’ asked Angus.

      I thought for a second. ‘Ehm … yes.’

      He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.

      ‘Look,’ he said, ‘if I tell you something, do you promise on your life that you won’t tell Fraser?’

      The third bloke was still with us, unwilling to draw attention to himself by getting up and moving away, but embarrassed to be listening to something personal. He was staring very hard at the ashtray.

      ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe on my dog’s life.’

      ‘Be serious. You don’t have a dog.’

      ‘OK, no, I promise.’

      He looked away. ‘I overheard her. On her stupid minuscule mobile phone. When she came up to visit our mum a few weeks ago and behave patronizingly towards her. She had to lean out of the window to get a signal, and I was in the next room.’

      ‘With a glass up against the wall?’

      ‘With the window open. Look, do you want me to tell you or not?’

      ‘Yes please,’ I said meekly.

      ‘Anyway, she was talking to Hello! magazine.’

      He paused dramatically. I looked at him like he was crazy.

      ‘Hello! magazine? That’s it? You’re trying to wreck their marriage before it even starts because of Hello! and its … its inane pictures of unhappy celebrities??’

      He ignored me and went on.

      ‘She was offering them the rights for the wedding. I heard her. She promised them she could “get Tara”. You know, they love all that minor aristocracy bullshit. “Aren’t Posh People Lovely? Here’s a picture of one standing next to a horse.” That kind of thing. Bitch!’

      He grumbled into his pint.

      ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘She was just trying to get her picture in the paper.’

      ‘No,’ he said slowly, as if I was an idiot. ‘She asked them for £15,000 to let them take photos and have an –’ he imitated her shrill tones – ‘“in-depth interview with me about the new castle … not much point talking to the aristo, darling – you know what they’ve got between the ears, hee hee.”’

      ‘Jesus. Did she get the money?’

      He looked at me grimly.

      ‘I don’t know. Fraser certainly hasn’t heard anything about it if she did.’

      ‘No. You don’t think she half-inched it do you?’

      ‘You’re talking about …’ he turned away. ‘You’re talking about the woman who turned up, entirely by coincidence, in my brother’s life a month after our dad dies, we’re all completely fucking shell-shocked – still are – and guess what? He’s blinking in the daylight and they’re engaged. So she can get on the cover of fucking Hello! magazine. She’s probably been through every Right Hon in the country. I think she’s capable of it, don’t you?’

      ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ I said, not sure at all. ‘I’m sure she loves him.’

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