And she winked at Charlie like some thirties vixen until his eyes popped.
Angus looked understandably confused then turned back to me.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said eagerly.
‘Ehm … bottle of Budvar, please.’
‘I’ll have a long vodka please,’ ordered Fran imperiously.
‘A what?’ I said, when Angus had gone to the bar. ‘What are you playing at? Queen of all the Vamps?’
‘Oh, go on, Mel,’ she said. ‘Look around. There’s forty blokes here and two of us. When’s the last time I got off with a bloke?’
‘Thursday.’
‘He doesn’t count. That was duty. And tonight he’s hopelessly drunk, while I’m in the mood. I’m a prowling lioness. So stay out of my way.’ She took a draw on her cigar and blew smoke rings at me.
‘Huh. Well, my boyfriend’s here …’ I looked over. Alex was slumped on a sofa, stupefied. ‘So I have to behave myself.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes!’
Angus arrived back with the drinks, and Fran downed hers in one. Eyes shining, she looked around the room. ‘Who’s … that?’ she said to Angus, eyes trained on a sweet-faced, wan young man standing by himself next to the punch, and helping himself liberally to it.
‘That’s Johnny McLachlan – he’s the best man. Why, do you want to meet him?’
‘Yes. Have him washed and –’
‘Fran!’
Angus clearly thought we had both gone mad, but he beckoned Johnny McLachlan over anyway. Johnny McLachlan did a huge ‘Who, me?’ double take, and eventually sidled up, slightly hunched over.
‘Johnny, meet two friends of ours, Melanie and Fran.’
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Enchanted!’ exclaimed Fran. ‘Now, tell me all about yourself and how you came to be darling Fraser’s best man.’
‘Aye, well, hullo,’ said Johnny, in an accent so thick he made Angus sound like Princess Anne. ‘Well, actually, like, Ah’m a geography teacher, likesay.’
‘How fascinating!’ Fran leaned over intimately. A sweat broke out on Johnny’s forehead.
Through mutual eye contact Angus and I moved to one side.
‘What on earth is going on with your friend? Is she on heat?’
‘I think so.’
‘Is she serious?’
‘Serious? Well, if I were Johnny, I’d take out some life insurance.’
‘Eaten alive?’
‘Sucked clean.’
‘Woo.’ There was a pause.
‘Oh, I remember what I came for,’ I said.
Angus looked at me quizzically.
‘The bridegroom? That whole wedding thing? Horseshoes and stuff? You remember!’
‘Oh yes. I’m being a terrible host. Let me –’ and he bowed and proffered me his arm – ‘escort you to his lairdship’s table.’
‘You are too kind.’
Fraser was sitting on a large leather banquette in the corner, surrounded by some rather technical-looking young men, whom I assumed were fellow engineers. They all looked rather doleful, and not as if they were having a primeval bonding experience at all.
‘Hey,’ I said, still on Angus’s arm.
Fraser looked up and grinned.
‘Hey, yourself. Glad you could come.’
‘Me too. Is it going to get you into trouble?’
‘Och, Fraser’s always in trouble – aren’t you, lad?’ said Angus, and the whole table burst out laughing. Fraser smiled ruefully.
‘Of course not. Everyone is sworn to secrecy.’
There was a chorus of, ‘Yeah, right!’ and ‘How much are you going to pay us?’
‘Did you bring that terrifying friend of yours?’
‘Yes. She’s over there, being terrifying.’
Fraser looked over.
‘Oh my God, poor wee Johnny. You haven’t set her loose on him?’
‘Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. Apparently she’s being a lioness tonight.’
Angus and he swapped a look.
‘I was at primary school with Johnny. Haven’t seen him much since then, but he qualified as oldest pal when I was looking for a best man. God, I hope she doesn’t get her claws into him …’
In the corner, Fran was quaffing another martini, with one hand on Johnny’s lapel. He was laboriously trying to explain something to her – oxbow lakes, probably, but I could tell she wasn’t listening, just throwing her head back with raucous laughter.
‘He’s been married eight years and his wife never lets him out of the house. He only got to come here because I promised there wouldn’t be any strippers.’
‘Fraser, just how many lies did you have to tell to get this party together tonight?’
‘I don’t even want to think about it. Who’s for another?’
‘Way hey!’ shouted the boys at the table, and bumped up to make room for me.
They turned out not to be doleful at all, just serious about deconstructing the X-Files, e e cummings, politics, stand-up comedy and the general state of the world today, at least in so far as it related to the world of engineering and Dr Who. Strangely, I found them fascinating and non-judgemental company; infinitely relaxing. Of course, not having to buy any drinks helped.
Every so often there would be a loud grunt or guffaw, as Alex and Charlie seemed to have descended to the level of bestial communications. But just as I was thinking how very, very fond of Fraser’s friends I was, there was a muttering at the door. In walked a woman in a large coat, out of which was peeping a pair of open-toed stilettoes and fishnet tights.
All relevant political and cultural debate instantly went flying out the window. I suddenly had a lot less room on the bench as the testosterone level rose and the boys suddenly needed plenty of space to splay their legs wide open.
Behind the stripper was an enormous man who managed to make finding a plug point for the tape recorder seem imposing.
