Midsummer Magic. Julia Williams
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worked?’ Josie wasn’t the only one who’d drunk too much, Diana realised, as the walls came crashing in on her suddenly. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your Halloween thing,’ said Josie, ‘you know, the apple peel.’
Diana dragged herself away from the delicious prospect of a night in a penthouse with Philip, to focus on a faint memory of the early evening. ‘But you got an A!’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Josie, ‘I got an H, remember? Ta-da!’
She waved her ring finger in front of Diana’s bleary eyes. There was a platinum-looking ring on it.
‘What? He didn’t?’
‘Yup, Harry just proposed!’ said Josie triumphantly. ‘Of course we need to get a proper ring, but this will do for now.’
On closer inspection, Diana realised Josie was wearing the ring pull from a Coke can on her finger.
‘That’s, that’s – words fail me,’ Diana suddenly felt the urgent need to sit down, and slumped against the wall and slid down it. She wanted to say something more effusive, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.
‘I know,’ said Josie, sliding down to join her, ‘and it’s all down to you. You are going to be my bridesmaid, aren’t you?’
Diana screamed in delight.
‘You’re getting married!’ she whooped, ‘and I’m going to be bridesmaid. That is fabulous!’ Fabulous. That was the word she’d been searching for.
‘I know!’ said Josie, ‘isn’t it great?’
Diana suddenly felt a sudden, sober chill. It was great, of course it was great, but drunken misery set in, ‘What about u-u-uss?’ she wailed. ‘You’re going off to get married and you’ll be shacked up and happy and I’ll be on my own and single for ever!’
Great sloppy tears were running down her cheeks. Damn, that punch had been a serious mistake.
‘Oh, Di, don’t say that,’ said Josie, clutching her in panic, ‘you’re my best friend, I couldn’t live without you.’
She was crying too.
‘You couldn’t?’ Diana paused and blew her nose, not very attractively. She hoped Philip didn’t choose that particular moment to look for her.
‘Of course not,’ said Josie, sobbing nearly as loudly as Di was, ‘you’re always going to be my best friend. What would I do without you?’
‘But it’s not going to be the sa-aa-me,’ hiccoughed Diana.
‘It will, it will,’ said Josie, ‘pinkie promise.’
She linked her little finger in Diana’s, setting off a fresh round of wailing, ‘Oh, that’s so lovely,’ she wept, ‘I love you so much.’
‘And I love you too,’ howled Josie, hugging her tightly.
‘But you love Harry more,’ said Diana.
‘I do,’ said Josie, her eyes shining through her tears, ‘I really do.’
Diana looked around her, suddenly surprised that they were sitting on the floor.
‘Then what are we doing sitting here?’ she said. ‘You’re getting married. That is so fantastic. C’me on, let’s dance!’
She staggered up, dragging Josie after her, and went to find Harry who was sitting looking slightly dazed in the corner, ‘Woohoo, you two getting married, that is so brilliant! Listen up, everyone, Harry and Josie have just got engaged!’
‘This calls for champagne!’ someone shouted.
‘We don’t have any,’ laughed Josie, ‘we’ll have to make do with vodka.’
‘Vodka it is!’ said Diana. She busied herself filling people’s glasses, and then declared a toast, ‘To Harry and Josie!’ she said. ‘Harry and Josie!’ everyone said, raising their glasses and cheering, and the next half hour disappeared in a flurry of congratulations and back slapping. It was only as the party began to die to down that Diana remembered Philip. She looked round for him and couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky bastard. A bleep from her phone confirmed it. Sorry, had to dash. Catch you soon? This year, next year, sometime, never. She looked over at Josie caught in a romantic clinch with her future husband, and tried not to feel that she was getting left behind.
In a bar in Australia, Anthony Lambert, known to his friends as Ant, opened his laptop and checked his emails. He’d sent a rude message to his best friend, Harry, the previous day in response to the dire (in Ant’s mind at least) news that he was settling down and moving in with his girlfriend, Josie, after a ridiculously whirlwind romance lasting a few short months. Ant had been horrified, not least because at twenty-eight the notion of settling down seemed as far removed as it had when he’d first met Harry at uni ten years ago, but also because Harry had already dated Josie back then, and they’d lost touch. If she was so great, why hadn’t they stuck together before? Hmm? Ant’s motto was always look forward, never look back. He felt sure that Harry was making a big mistake, and had told him so in so many words. Well. Very few words actually. It had been more along the lines of What are you doing you stupid bastard? I thought Josie was all in the past?
It seemed Harry had been remarkably swift in his reply. Their correspondence while Ant had been away had been in the main, short and sweet, and they’d often been known to go weeks without hearing from one another. It was only the imperative need to tell his best friend not make a complete dickhead of himself which had impelled Ant to write yesterday.
From: [email protected]
Hi mate,
1 I hope you’re sitting down …
2 And I hope you are in a bar …
3 And I also hope you have a drink in your hand …
What the …? Ant had a sip of his beer, and scrolled down to the bottom of the email where he read words which caused him to nearly spill his drink. He had to reread in case he’d got it wrong, but no, there it was in black and white.
I know you’re not going to like this, mate, but it’s my life.
So … the big news is Josie and I are getting married. Next year, September, we think.
I know, I know. It’s sudden. And I’m going to have to put off travelling for a bit. But … I let her get away once. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Try to be happy for us.
Harry.
P.S. We’d like you to be best man.
Best man. Harry wanted him to be best man? Could it get any worse?
‘Fuck me sideways,’ said Ant out loud. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’
‘Four days will quickly steep themselves in night
Four nights will quickly dream away the time …’
A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Act I, Scene 1
‘Magic tricks are all about dissembling. Distract the punter with your voice, or a bit of stage business, and they miss the actual trick itself. It’s easy when you know how.’
Freddie