don’t you real men go to the bar, then?’ suggests Sophie. ‘We’ve run out of drinks.’
The guys get up and run towards the door of the bar, pulling each other and fighting to get inside first. Robert wins, followed by Dave. Luke walks in with JimmyJames hanging onto his back like a koala. Ollie follows them sedately, and would appear to be the only sober one if it wasn’t for the fact that he misses the step and stumbles inside.
‘Frank’s gonna love them,’ says Sophie drily.
‘Are they always like that?’ asks Vix. ‘So, um, competitive?’
‘Yes,’ say Sophie and Bella in unison, and both start laughing. I think it’s the first time Bella’s laughed today, though I’m still peeved with her for the fairytale comment. Then there’s an awkward pause.
‘Ollie seems lovely,’ says Vix. Untruthfully.
‘You think? He’s fucking furious at me. We’ve never fought for 24 hours straight,’ she says, and pauses. ‘It’s actually kind of fun.’
There’s a pause, but no one is game to ask her what they’re fighting about. Bella lights a cigarette and sighs, and for a second, I think she might cry.
Then she looks up and assumes her normal sexy-bemused mask. I wonder if she’s just unhappy.
‘I heart Robert, by the way,’ says Vix. ‘He’s gorgeous. I bags being his partner in the ceremony.’
‘I don’t care who I’m partnered with, as long as it’s not fucking Dave,’ says Bella.
Sophie smiles nervously. ‘I’m sure you two can get on for one, um, night?’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ says Bella.
The inevitable awkward pause that follows is relieved only by the guys spilling out of the bar, shouting at each other.
Dave and Robert are stuck in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, as neither will let the other out first. Robert eventually wins, as he’s the taller and broader one. Dave looks thunderous, and immediately heads across the square to make a phone call. Robert sits down next to me.
‘Abbyyyy . . .’ he croons, propping his legs over mine as though they were a footstool.
‘Oh, no. When you’re singing at me, I know we’re in trouble,’ I say, swinging my knees away so his feet crash to the floor.
‘A bit like when you’re sleeping on me,’ he retorts.
‘One time!’ I say. ‘I fell asleep in a cab once! And you won’t let me forget it.’
‘Actually, you did it that night we went out in Shoreditch about a month ago, too, remember? And you snogged that hipster guy with a beard,’ says Robert.
‘Beardy!’ I’m delighted at the memory. ‘He was far too cool for me, though. I mean, I was a Brownie. I just don’t think ex-Brownies can ever be hipsters. We’re a bit uncool forever.’
‘Do you still have your Brownie uniform? I love playing dress-up,’ says Dave, who has finished his phone call and is back at the table. I didn’t realise, or I’d never be able to talk so unself-consciously. My face is hot again, and I don’t know what to say, so I just frown up at him.
As I look away, I meet Bella’s eye, she stares at me without expression for a second, and then looks away. God, she’s unpleasant. So unlike Luke. He’s sitting on Sophie’s lap now, nuzzling her head lovingly. JimmyJames starts singing ‘That’s amore’. Robert and Dave join in, very loudly.
‘I think we should take this party home,’ says Sophie, as yet another local woman pauses and frowns at us.
‘I knew it was a swingers’ party,’ says Dave.
‘Christ, can you keep it in your pants for one night?’ snaps Bella.
‘Easy, kids,’ says Robert. ‘Everyone be nice.’
Sophie and I exchange a worried glance as we leave the square. This is not going as we planned.
By 10 pm, the atmosphere has improved. A bit.
We’re sitting around the courtyard table, with a smorgasbord of bread, cheese and pâté, and about 16 bottles of wine. It’s getting cold, but we’ve drunk enough not to care.
And I’m feeling less self-conscious. With the help of wine, Sophie and Vix.
‘And the moral of the story is that snowflakes are not an adequate form of rehydration,’ says Vix, finishing a story about a house party in Scotland.
‘But the condensation from a cold beer bottle is OK, right?’ says JimmyJames.
‘Definitely,’ agrees Vix, leaning over to bump her fist against his.
‘We should make up a secret handshake!’ says JimmyJames.
‘Let’s not, and say we did,’ says Vix.
‘Robbie! Robbie. Robbie. Robert!’ says Dave. Robert, who is trying to talk to Bella and Ollie, ignores him. ‘Fine, ignore me. JimmyJames and Luke, what do you think about the Vegas plan?’
‘Vegas, baby,’ grins Luke. ‘Vegas!’ shouts JimmyJames.
Why is it that you mention Las Vegas to any man aged between 20 and 40 and he starts shouting ‘Vegas’ like a fratboy on spring break?
‘Aw, it’s so cute that you think you’re allowed to go to Vegas for your stag,’ says Sophie tenderly.
‘Vegas,’ whispers Dave hopefully.
I laugh, and he grins at me.
‘I’m having a low-key hen, with a fireman stripper, blow-up penises and L-plates,’ says Sophie. She’s joking, obviously. That’s her worst nightmare. She’s banned us from organising any kind of hen night.
‘Fucking hell, this wedding is just cliché after cliché,’ snaps Bella.
The table falls silent. Ollie gets up and walks inside without saying anything.
There’s a pause. Sophie stares into space. She’s pretending she’s not here. But I’m furious, and I can’t hold it in any longer. How dare Bella take her mood out on my poor sister?
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ I say. She looks at me unblinkingly, then slowly gets up and follows him inside. I shake my head to myself. What a cow.
‘Love on the rocks!’ shouts Dave. He turns to me conspiratorially. ‘It’s a Neil Diamond song. Love on the rocks, ain’t no surprise . . . pour me a drink and I’ll tell you some lies . . .’
‘Shut up, Dave,’ says Luke. He looks upset.
‘To be honest, I’m not surprised
