The Perfect Escape: Romantic short stories to relax with. Julia Williams
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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;
‘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 Puck; The Art of Illusion
Chapter One
‘Is that the lot?’ said Harry as he paused to take a breather. Though early in the morning, the June sun was already hot and he was already working up a sweat. He looked on in horror as Josie, still somehow looking cool and collected in a strappy summer dress and sandals, came down the flat steps, with the second large holdall she had apparently packed for a simple weekend away. ‘How long are we planning to be away again?’
‘This one isn’t mine, it’s Di’s,’ said Josie. Di had come to stay the night before, terrified of oversleeping on her own. ‘And before you start bitching about how Diana always takes advantage of me, she’s bringing her bigger one.’
‘She’s got a bigger bag than this?’ Harry said as he took the bag from Josie, and tried to squeeze a space for it in the not-too-huge boot of his Honda Civic. A car that, not unnaturally, Ant had sneered at very loudly, as being ‘a girl’s car.’ Sometimes Harry wished Ant would keep his opinions to himself. But there was no chance of that. Ant, back from his travels, was louder and more opinionated than ever since his time away. It hadn’t taken him long to be employed by a flash advertising company (‘Recession, what recession?’ he’d queried) with more cash than sense and was driving down alone in his brand new top of the range Merc. He was planning to meet them at a motorway service station en route, as hilariously for Ant who was always overconfident, he appeared to have had an attack of nerves at the thought of arriving before them and meeting Josie’s parents on his own.
‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit this all in,’ said Harry, looking despairing as Diana, her ginger curls escaping from a straggly bun, tottered down the steps in high wedges, skinny jeans which accentuated every curve and a skimpy top which left nothing to the imagination, dragging an even bigger and more cumbersome bag behind her.
‘Di, you’re going to have to have your bag in the back with you,’ said Josie when she realised that there really was no more room in the boot. ‘Either that, or we’ll ring Ant up to see if he can take you in his car.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ said Diana as she squashed herself into the back, complete with the offending bag. ‘Ant’s an unusual name.’
‘It’s short for Anthony,’ said Harry, ‘though sometimes he goes by the name of Tony.’
‘I knew a Tony once, he was a total wanker. What’s yours like?’
‘A total wanker,’ said Josie, and Harry dug her in the ribs. ‘Well, he is,’ she protested, ‘as far as women are concerned. He’s charming and witty and funny of course, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.’
‘He’s not that bad,’ protested Harry half-heartedly as he started up the car.
‘He so is,’ said Josie, ‘Don’t you remember Suzie at uni? Poor cow was so in love with Ant, and I lost count of the number of girls he cheated on her with. And still she came back for more.’
‘I’d forgotten about her,’ said Harry.
‘Then there was the time we were out for my birthday and he started the evening with one girl and went home with another.’
‘Oh God, and the time we met him at the cinema and he pretended not to see us because he was with the wife of the local landlord,’ said Harry. ‘I’d forgotten all that. But you never know. Maybe he’s changed since he’s been away.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Josie. ‘He hasn’t stopped sulking since you asked him to be best man. Anyone would think you were committing suicide the way he goes on about the fact you’re getting married.’
‘Well to Ant, marriage is a form of suicide,’ said Harry, as he turned left out of their road and headed for the main road which led to the motorway. ‘I can’t see him ever getting hitched. He’ll be trying to pull birds when he’s old and grey.’
‘Birds,’ groaned Diana. ‘Does he really use the word birds?’
‘Afraid so,’ said Josie. ‘but it’s all right, he doesn’t bite, honest.’
‘To be fair to him,’ said Harry, ‘I think there was someone after uni he was quite serious about, and she ditched him. He’s always been really cagey about it, but I think she really hurt him.’
‘Well then, maybe it’s time he got over it,’ said Diana.
‘Perhaps you can help,’ said Josie slyly.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Di firmly, ‘he really doesn’t sound like my type.’
Within half an hour they were on the motorway and heading down to Cornwall, to Josie’s parents, where Josie’s mum was indulging in a spot of pre-wedding hysteria. After much dithering, Harry and Josie had only recently fixed the date for next June. They’d talked vaguely about September when they first got engaged, but it turned out getting married was like planning a military operation and no one in their right minds would attempt to organise a wedding in such a short space of time. Harry, who’d been hoping for something small and quiet, was beginning to realise his wishes were unlikely to be met. Josie’s mum, Nicola, had firmly taken charge since Christmas, when Harry had moved in with Josie, and now most of their spare time seemed to be taken up with wedding plans. Harry was beginning to find it a little wearing.
Nicola had insisted on having a long weekend with Josie, Harry, the best man (Ant, naturally) and bridesmaid (Diana, of course), to plan things. Quite why he and Ant were needed was a mystery to Harry. So far his input into preparations was to have been told things, like what he had to wear (morning suit, top hat, and pink ties – Josie was very insistent on the pink) – who he was inviting (‘we get twenty-five friends each and twenty-five family, or in my case, forty family and twenty friends,