What about yours?’
‘Average. Average to good.’
‘Ha ha ha. Listen, bloody Amanda phoned me again.’
‘Wow, now she’s falling in love with you.’
‘She just wanted the gossip on Charlie. And she wants to know if we’ll help her pick out a tiara.’
‘I’d rather eat my feet with a spoon.’
‘Me too.’
We were sitting in an All Bar One, after spending six hours with Amanda trying to choose a fucking tiara because her mother was in the Priory, a drying-out clinic so exclusive that Amanda managed to make it sound like an absolute honour to end up there, and her bridesmaids were all in Barbados or somewhere. Not only had I been forced to make admiring noises in Amanda’s direction as she tried on four thousand identical filigree things that cost more than I make in three months, I’d had to stop Fran from shoplifting out of delirious boredom. It had been a tiring day.
‘So, ‘manda, when’s your hen night, then?’ asked Fran.
Unusually, Amanda didn’t immediately start talking. Instead, she blushed.
‘Ehm … I’m not sure I’m going to … you know, nothing big.’
‘But you just said you wanted to do everything properly!’ I said, the implications not hitting home. ‘You can’t get married without a hen night!’
‘Ehm, yes, I know …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Ectually, ehm, I am having one, but with a few close friends from varsity.’
I was genuinely shocked.
‘What?!’ said Fran. ‘When? Why didn’t you invite us, you bitch?’
‘Ehm, it’s in a couple of weeks. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
Yeah, right …
‘… I’m sorry. But, you know, I didn’t invite you because you’d probably get drunk and cause a fight. You two are always getting into trouble. I mean, aren’t you, darlings?’
She gave a little laugh.
‘Fraser and I, well, in the position we’re in now, we have certain friends and, anyway, we’re going to Quagli’s, and that’s so expensive, and then Yanna’s, and, well, it’s just going to be my close friends really. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘Close friends! Amanda, you came crying to us when you had two periods three days apart in primary seven!’ Fran was furious. ‘And when Daryl Stobson said you’d gone up the bikes with him and everyone believed him, we convinced them all otherwise for you, even though it was true!’
That was true?
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Francesca! Can’t you see that this is exactly why I’m not inviting you? What if you started coming out with that kind of … crap in front of all my friends? You’d completely show me up. We’re just … Things are different now.’
‘No, they’re not,’ snarled Fran. ‘You’re still the spoilt little cow you always were. God, I pity Fraser. Come on, Mel, we’re off.’
She dragged me up by the sleeve.
‘Are … are we … still invited to the wedding?’ I couldn’t help asking, pathetically, as we left.
‘Yes. But then everyone is,’ sneered Amanda, turning away from us.
Outside, I could see Fran’s nostrils flare like a horse.
‘That stupid cow,’ I said companionably.
‘Oh, who gives a fuck!’ said Fran. ‘It’s not like I even want to go to that poxy wedding anyway. What do I give a toss for? Prats in cravats? Some chinless wonder whose life she’s about to make a complete misery?’
‘Fraser’s not a chinless wonder.’
‘Yeah, right, and Alex isn’t a complete piss weasel.’
We walked along in grumpy silence for a while. Then a brilliant idea occurred to me. Really, a brilliant, brilliant idea.
‘Of course,’ I began subtly, ‘we could always …’
Fran looked at me sideways. ‘What?’
‘No, no, you probably wouldn’t like the idea.’ Heh heh heh. My reverse psychology skills were second to none.
‘OK, cock that then.’
We marched on in silence.
I started again.
‘We could always’ – it came tumbling out – ‘ask Angus if we could go to the stag night instead, and really piss her off.’
‘My reverse psychology skills are second to none,’ said Fran. ‘But, you know what?’
‘What?’
‘Oh no, you wouldn’t be interested …’
‘What?’ I said.
‘That is not at all a bad idea.’
‘Thank you,’ I said proudly.
‘We could annoy them big time. In fact, a few little words in Fraser’s ear … Maybe we should let him know what little missie is really like before he gives her a castle and stuff.’
I looked at her, shocked.
‘What, like, talk to him about Amanda?’
‘Why not? You’re his friend, right?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And if you saw a friend about to be eaten by a crocodile, you’d warn them, right?’
‘Hmm.’ It sounded a bit dubious to me.
‘A big, poisonous crocodile, Mel!’
‘Do you get poisonous crocodiles?’
A look at Fran’s face convinced me that you did.
‘Well,’ I concurred, ‘then, yes, I suppose I would.’ ‘Jamesh Bond?’
‘Hullo thair, Moneypenny.’
‘You know the Evil One, whom that brother of yours insists on marrying?’
‘The person of whom you speak is not unfamiliar to me.’
