her, apparently,’ joined in another.
‘I think she’s fat,’ said one.
‘Are you kidding? She looks like she’s been flayed!’ I said.
Silence reigned. However, they were well brought up girls, and tried to be deliberately polite to us shitkickers.
‘Oh, you know, I am going to be in a film after all!’ yelled one suddenly. Fran’s ears pricked up. ‘Yah, Daddy stumped up a major stake. He’ll never see it again, of course, but the director’s so hunky, and apparently Rufus is interested.’
‘Put the fork down,’ I tried to psychically send to Fran, ‘just put it down and no one will get hurt.’
She was coping well, even if she did look a bit strained. I still hadn’t had a chance to ask her if she was going to see Angus again. Not that I should care. But she normally told me everything, and she’d hardly talked about this at all. Maybe it was only a drunken fumble that had passed.
Amanda was talking about the floral arrangements for the service, and I could see the caged look in Fran’s eyes. Fearing for Amanda’s safety, I distracted her.
‘So, what’s Fraser wearing for the big day then?’
‘Oh God, he can’t dress himself at all.’
‘I like Converse trainers,’ Fran interjected.
‘Yes, well, some people like lager and some people like champagne, Francesca.’
Fran made clawing motions behind her back.
‘Daddy took him to his tailor, so at least he’ll look semi-decent.’
‘Is he excited?’
‘About what? Going to a tailor?’
‘About the wedding, stupid.’
Amanda looked contemplatively at her glass.
‘I suppose so.’
I shot a completely overt look at Fran, who raised her eyes to heaven and nodded her head. Yes, the tape was on.
I gushed on: ‘Gosh, you two are going to be so happy together.’
She fixed me with a stare.
‘You know, I’m only telling you this for your own good, but you can be incredibly naïve, Melanie.’
Huh, tell me something I didn’t know.
‘This … I mean, hell, it’s a great excuse to have a party, but it’s also a bloody practical affair. That castle needs sorting out, and Daddy’s happy to put up the loot to do it with.’
My eyes widened. That was proof all right – I assumed. Then something struck me; she was so matter-of-fact about it. Maybe Fraser felt the same way? Maybe this was how tons of people got married. After all, the aristocracy had been doing it for generations. I supposed this was how it all worked. Not helped by the copious champagne, I suddenly felt sad.
‘Don’t you love him?’
She sniffed. ‘He’s a nice chap. It’s a good situation. It’ll be a fabulous wedding.’
‘Hyear hyear!’ said one of the Sloane clones.
Amanda took a drink and continued: ‘You don’t believe in all that Hollywood crap, do you? I mean, God, how many times do you have to find out, Melanie? Men are complete bastards. Look at what Alex did to you. That wasn’t a terribly Tom Hanks way to behave, was it, darling? This way, everyone wins. We’ll have a beautiful home and a beautiful life, and we’ll be as happy as any marriage is these days, because we went into it with our eyes open. Fraser is a nice boy and he’ll have no objection to us both living our lives.’ She turned to the waiter. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know why you waste your time bringing us anything at all if you can’t get the lemon juice right.’
I looked at Fran for support, but she was nodding in agreement – presumably to keep Amanda talking, but it didn’t feel that way. Suddenly the situation felt dangerous. The blood rushed to my head a bit. I stood up, unsteadily.
‘I don’t care,’ I announced in a trembly voice. The waiter thought I was talking to him and stepped forward, then hopped back again. ‘I do believe in all that crap. Well, not all of it. But some of it. The actually being in love with someone stuff. Ehm, yeah. And … and I think you lose. Because you’ve got a lovely bloke like Fraser and you take the piss out of him and you just think of that bloody castle – which I have seen, by the way, and it’s a complete heap of shit – and that bloody title and you’ve absolutely no idea what you’ve got and how happy he could make you. So, I think you lose.’
I turned and made to walk out of the restaurant. Realizing I didn’t have my bag, I made a dignified right turn into the toilets, then leaned over and looked at myself in the low-lit mirror, breathing heavily. My throat felt tight.
What on earth was I doing? If I wanted to start a fight with Amanda, I should have done it a long time ago. And who, exactly, was I defending? But then, if Fraser did have his eyes open – which I doubted – Angus certainly didn’t. He had a blind spot for Fraser the size of the chip on his shoulder. Oh God.
Fran came crashing into the bathroom after me with two fresh glasses of champagne. She was absolutely delighted.
‘Ohmigod, the look on her face! What on earth were you talking about?’
I sunk my head into my hands.
‘Really, I don’t know.’
‘You went for her.’
‘I know. And I don’t even know why!’
‘Well, she was asking for it,’ Fran reflected.
‘No she wasn’t! She might even be right, for all we know. That probably is the best way to get married: find a nice bloke that you get on with all right and then ignore each other for the next fifty years.’
‘Well, I’ve heard stupider reasons.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, you know my brother Brendan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He got married because he kept losing his socks.’
‘Fuck off!’ I looked up briefly.
‘It’s true. He kept losing his socks, and one day he said, “That’s it, I’m fed up of losing all my fucking socks. The next woman I meet I’m going to marry, as long as she can count socks.” And he did.’
‘How are his socks now?’
‘Dreadful. She divorced him for being a sexist pig who talked about socks all day long.’
I giggled. ‘Complete socks maniac.’
‘Completely.’
We
