not going to cuddle you,’ says Sophie, giggling. ‘Get off. You’re squashing me.’
Standing up, Dave looks over and winks at me and I wink back. Suddenly I see Bella staring at Dave, and her gaze slowly moves to me. I look away, but not before I see the look of shock on her face.
She’s not over him, I realise. The idea makes my stomach flip.
‘I’m going to call Ollie,’ Bella says, bounding up and heading towards the stairs.
No, she’s fine, I tell myself as I walk into the kitchen. She’s calling her boyfriend. I’m imagining things.
Dave sits down on the other couch.
‘So, Luke, are you playing nice again? You know how much I hate fighting.’
‘Then stop fucking stirring everyone,’ replies Luke.
Sophie comes into the kitchen and sidles up to me, whispering: ‘Am I imagining things, or did you and Dave . . .?’
I meet her eye and grin. Sophie chortles with glee, and then, as Dave and Luke both look over, pretends to have a coughing fit. I deliberately hadn’t mentioned my uber-crush to Sophie, as I knew she’d tell Luke. (Not that I’d blame her, that’s how relationships work.)
‘Something funny to share with the rest of the class?’ calls Dave.
‘Scuse me, something in my throat,’ she says, taking the orange juice and glasses out to the courtyard.
‘Morning, all,’ says Robert, coming into the living room, followed closely by Vix. I look at them delightedly. They scored! I thought JimmyJames fancied Vix. Typical Robert. Oh well.
‘Coffee for you, sire?’ I say to Robert cheerfully, as Luke and Vix help Sophie carry the rest of the breakfast things outside.
‘Yes, please,’ he says. He’s not as grinny as I’d expect, having just scored with one of the bridesmaids. I would have thought that’d be the kind of thing that’d make him happy.
‘Victoria,’ I say, waggling my eyebrows at Vix, as we walk outside.
‘Calories don’t count in France, right?’ says Vix, picking up a pain au chocolat.
‘Not when you’ve burned them all off during the night,’ says Bella, coming back out into the courtyard. I glance up immediately, but she’s not looking at me. Guess Ollie didn’t answer her call.
‘I bloody love everything French,’ continues Vix airily, ignoring her. ‘French pastries, French wine, French cheese—’
‘French fries, French kissing—’ inserts Sophie.
‘Écoute, Robert,’ Vix calls into the kitchen. ‘We need more milk! How do I say milk in French?’
‘Lait,’ Sophie and I say in unison.
‘Plus de lait!’ she shouts. Robert returns with the milk, and Vix winks ostentatiously at him, mouth full of pain au chocolat. ‘Thanks for the lait.’
I smirk to myself. They’d make a good couple, wouldn’t they?
‘Please move to London,’ says Sophie mournfully to Vix. ‘I’m tired of only seeing you on one drunken weekend every three months. And I’m too old to make a new best friend.’
‘I might,’ replies Vix. ‘I’m running out of men in Edinburgh, fast.’
‘Sleep well, princess?’ I whisper, as I pour Robert some coffee. He looks tired, I suddenly notice.
‘Pretty good,’ he whispers back, putting his sunglasses on. ‘Well done, by the way. Looks like you made this weekend your bitch. Attagirl.’
‘High fives to me,’ I agree, smiling to myself.
Everyone’s eating with hungover enthusiasm. Dave is down the other end of the table, talking to Luke and Sophie about the wedding. It is just not fair the way men can wake up and look gorgeous even when they’ve been drinking. I needed ten minutes of careful make-up just to look human.
Suddenly, there’s a moan from the side of the courtyard, and a figure wrapped in the waterproof barbeque cover rolls across the courtyard, unravelling as it goes. It’s JimmyJames.
He has leaves in his hair and his face is marked where he used the barbeque cover rope as a pillow. He looks like Edward in an amateur production of King Lear.
‘You locked me out,’ he says indignantly. ‘I could have frozen to death. To death. Oh, goody. Breakfast.’
JimmyJames came outside for a cigarette when everyone moved inside at midnight, and the courtyard door locked behind him. Everyone assumed he’d gone to bed.
‘I scaled the outside of the house using the barbeque cover rope to help me,’ JimmyJames tells us, tearing into a pain au raisin. ‘I knocked on all the shutters, till I fell off and lacerated my arm – see? Look,’ he rolls up his sleeve to show off a very mildly grazed elbow.
The girls all make sympathetic noises. I splutter into my coffee with laughter, catch Dave looking at me in mock-alarm and blush. Darn it, I thought I had this self-conscious thing under control.
‘I shouted for a bit, till your neighbour yelled at me.’ Sophie and I exchange a grimace. ‘And after about an hour, I decided my priority was survival.’
Luke laughs so hard at this he starts to gag and has to leave the table and lean over, hands on knees, gulping deep breaths till he feels better.
JimmyJames carries on.
‘Temperatures can get down to six or seven degrees celsius in France at this time of year. And, as we all know, it’s imperative to keep your head warm. So I fashioned a sockturban, thusly, wrapped myself in the waterproof cover, using leaves and the rope as a pillow.’ He smiles proudly at us all.
‘Very, uh, impressive,’ says Robert.
‘So, what have I missed?’ JimmyJames says. ‘I’m glad to see Lady Bella is smiling again.’
Bella grins and blows JimmyJames a kiss. ‘Oliver has, sadly, left us,’ says Dave solemnly. ‘Rest in peace, Oliver.’
Sophie, Vix and I all immediately glance at Bella, anticipating fireworks, but she just grins and lights a cigarette.
‘What an exciting weekend it’s been,’ says JimmyJames, reaching for another croissant. I catch Dave’s eye and can’t help but grin helplessly. Blushes be damned. ‘Right. Who was bad with whom? And why do you look like the cat that’s got the cream, Abigail?’
The last activity of the weekend is a boules tournament in a nearby town. Personally, I think we could do without it, but Luke is set on us all bonding as a wedding party.
Boules, in case you’ve never seen it, is a French version of bowls, and the specific game they play in our area is known as pétanque. The Béziers boules tournament is taking place on the long gravel pedestrian area in the centre of town, and there’s a carnival atmosphere. It’s a much bigger town
