past year. One was trying on lingerie and drinking champagne at Victoria’s Secret in London, one was a weekend in a country house with a chef, a yoga teacher and three beauty therapists. The other four were abroad: Paris, Las Vegas, Amsterdam and Magaluf. That’s why I couldn’t have a proper holiday last summer, I’d used up all my annual leave on hen do’s.”
“Blimey! I’m definitely not up for doing that,” I said. “What’s the alternative?”
“You can do something that proves how cultured you are,” Phoebe said. “Last year that’s what they all seemed to be about. Sarah had a salsa class for hers. Rosheen did a thing where we all had to make soap, it was a bit like being on The Apprentice . Lisa’s was an Italian cookery course. That was a good laugh, wasn’t it, Callie?”
“I think it’s fair to say I’ll pass on the Italian cookery,” I said. I hate to admit it, but I was feeling a bit jealous that Callie and Phoebe had been to all these hen weekends and weddings that I hadn’t been invited to, and had all these mutual friends who I’d never met – Sarah, Rosheen, Lisa, the Victoria’s Secret girl and all the rest of them. Callie was my best friend, but it was beginning to feel a bit like Phoebe was Callie’s.
That sort of thing is supposed to stop when you leave school, isn’t it? But I couldn’t help feeling both sad and slightly annoyed that the friendship I’d carefully kept alive through Facebook and email and text messages and regular nights out, either in London or in Southampton, was being eroded. When Callie advertised for a flatmate to help her pay her mortgage after she split up with David, and Phoebe moved in, I’d been really pleased that the two of them got on so well, and that there was someone to go with Callie to the pub and help mend her broken heart and stop her sending late-night, drunken texts to David. I’d welcomed Phoebe as a third member of our group, the one slightly on the outside, but now it was me feeling like the sad newbie.
“I’ll let you decide,” I said. “Make it a surprise. I’ll give you Katharine’s email address, I know she’ll have loads of ideas but they’ll probably all be completely over the top, so feel free to ignore her. I just want something small though. And no Italian cookery classes. Oh, and I don’t want Erica to be there.”
Callie burst out laughing again, and we speculated for a bit about the awfulness of having Erica along on my hen night.
“Anyway, we have to find a venue and finalise a date,” I said. “We haven’t even got that far yet, Nick’s starting to get quite stressy about it. He’s got this long list of stuff that he calls Wedmin, which we have to follow without deviation. He found it in Inspired Bride . And finding a venue is top of the list. So we’re going to see this Brocklebury Manor place tomorrow, and stay the night there.”
“Oooh, fabulous!” said Callie and Phoebe in unison.
“Bless Nick, he thinks we need to have regular romantic interludes in the run-up to the big day, to keep the passion alive,” I explained. “Apparently Inspired Bride recommends it. I don’t think we need help keeping our passion alive, to be honest, but I’m well up for romantic weekends away.”
“Awww!” Callie hugged me. “He’s lovely. You two are so good together.”
“He’s a keeper,” Phoebe agreed, and they both beamed at me like proud parents, and I beamed back, suddenly struck by how lucky I was to have Nick, and how fragile and precious our happiness was.
“Nick’s all right,” I said lightly. “I’m quite glad I didn’t let him get away in the end.”
People think – well, Erica thinks – that it was me who dumped Nick, but it wasn’t really. I almost didn’t go to London, in spite of being offered a place at Westminster Kingsway to train to be a chef, because I didn’t want to leave him. So it ended up with Nick having to do the dumping.
I’ve never cried as much as I
“Blimey! I’m definitely not up for doing that,” I said. “What’s the alternative?”
“You can do something that proves how cultured you are,” Phoebe said. “Last year that’s what they all seemed to be about. Sarah had a salsa class for hers. Rosheen did a thing where we all had to make soap, it was a bit like being on The Apprentice . Lisa’s was an Italian cookery course. That was a good laugh, wasn’t it, Callie?”
“I think it’s fair to say I’ll pass on the Italian cookery,” I said. I hate to admit it, but I was feeling a bit jealous that Callie and Phoebe had been to all these hen weekends and weddings that I hadn’t been invited to, and had all these mutual friends who I’d never met – Sarah, Rosheen, Lisa, the Victoria’s Secret girl and all the rest of them. Callie was my best friend, but it was beginning to feel a bit like Phoebe was Callie’s.
That sort of thing is supposed to stop when you leave school, isn’t it? But I couldn’t help feeling both sad and slightly annoyed that the friendship I’d carefully kept alive through Facebook and email and text messages and regular nights out, either in London or in Southampton, was being eroded. When Callie advertised for a flatmate to help her pay her mortgage after she split up with David, and Phoebe moved in, I’d been really pleased that the two of them got on so well, and that there was someone to go with Callie to the pub and help mend her broken heart and stop her sending late-night, drunken texts to David. I’d welcomed Phoebe as a third member of our group, the one slightly on the outside, but now it was me feeling like the sad newbie.
“I’ll let you decide,” I said. “Make it a surprise. I’ll give you Katharine’s email address, I know she’ll have loads of ideas but they’ll probably all be completely over the top, so feel free to ignore her. I just want something small though. And no Italian cookery classes. Oh, and I don’t want Erica to be there.”
Callie burst out laughing again, and we speculated for a bit about the awfulness of having Erica along on my hen night.
“Anyway, we have to find a venue and finalise a date,” I said. “We haven’t even got that far yet, Nick’s starting to get quite stressy about it. He’s got this long list of stuff that he calls Wedmin, which we have to follow without deviation. He found it in Inspired Bride . And finding a venue is top of the list. So we’re going to see this Brocklebury Manor place tomorrow, and stay the night there.”
“Oooh, fabulous!” said Callie and Phoebe in unison.
“Bless Nick, he thinks we need to have regular romantic interludes in the run-up to the big day, to keep the passion alive,” I explained. “Apparently Inspired Bride recommends it. I don’t think we need help keeping our passion alive, to be honest, but I’m well up for romantic weekends away.”
“Awww!” Callie hugged me. “He’s lovely. You two are so good together.”
“He’s a keeper,” Phoebe agreed, and they both beamed at me like proud parents, and I beamed back, suddenly struck by how lucky I was to have Nick, and how fragile and precious our happiness was.
“Nick’s all right,” I said lightly. “I’m quite glad I didn’t let him get away in the end.”
People think – well, Erica thinks – that it was me who dumped Nick, but it wasn’t really. I almost didn’t go to London, in spite of being offered a place at Westminster Kingsway to train to be a chef, because I didn’t want to leave him. So it ended up with Nick having to do the dumping.
I’ve never cried as much as I
Similar Books
