Tales From a Hen Weekend by Olivia Ryan Page A

than one word at a time.
    ‘Your marriage is so bloody perfect!’ I tell Lisa. For some reason it seems like a good idea to put my arm round her and kiss her. ‘You’re so bloody lucky to have such a perfect marriage to Perfect Prick!’
    There’s a horrified silence.
    ‘I mean Perfect Rick !’ I correct myself, sobered up slightly by the shock of what I’ve said and at the look on Lisa’s face. ‘Rick, perfect Rick!’
    ‘Yes,’ she says stonily, shrugging my arm off her shoulders.
    I put it back round her again.
    ‘Sorry. Don’t be like that. Didn’t mean it! Rick’s Mr Perfect, isn’t he, you’re always saying how great he is, how you have all this wonderful sex… every bloody night…even now you’ve got two kids.’
    ‘Not every night. But yes, he’s certainly…’
    ‘No talking about partners!’ Suze reminds us sharply, just as everyone’s looking like they’re about to throw up. ‘Forfeit, forfeit!’
    ‘Fuck the forfeits! Let’s get another drink!’ I say slurrily.
    ‘Not for me, thank you,’ says Mum before anyone even asks her. ‘I think I’ve had…’ She pauses, frowning. ‘I’ve had…’
    ‘Too much!’ says Joyce, firmly.
    ‘I think I feel a bit…’ She looks up at me, puzzled. ‘A bit…?’
    ‘Drunk!’ supplies Joyce.
    ‘I just feel a bit tired,’ Mum finishes, lamely.
    Not really surprised. She started drinking before the rest of us and she’s been putting them away like there’s no tomorrow.
    ‘Come on!’ Joyce pulls Mum to her feet. ‘Let’s get you back.’
    ‘Home?’ says Mum, looking around the pub as if she’s wondering where her bedroom is.
    ‘Home’s a long way away, dear. Over the sea. Over the Irish Sea!’
    ‘Over the Irish Sea?’ echoes Mum, staggering after Joyce, knocking her chair over in the process. ‘Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…’
    ‘Oh, bloody hell!’ says Lisa, covering her ears.
    ‘Will she be all right?’ I ask Auntie Joyce, grabbing her arm as she passes. ‘Should we come?’
    ‘Don’t be daft! I’ll take her back to the hotel and put her to bed. It won’t be the first time.’
    ‘Really?’ I’m intrigued by this. ‘Well, OK then, if you’re sure you’ll both be all right?’
    ‘I’m fine, love. I’ve only had a couple, and the hotel’s almost next-door, isn’t it. See you all in the morning, girls! Be good.’ She winks at us. ‘Or maybe I should say be careful?’
    At least we’ve heard the last of bloody Southend for tonight.
    We manage a few more turns of Truth or Dare before everyone gets too drunk to be bothered. It’s interesting stuff. Karen refuses to answer a question about whether she’s ever snogged someone else’s boyfriend, so she has to stand up and sing ‘ Like A Virgin’ as a dare. She can’t remember the words and her singing is so awful we let her off after the first three lines. And then Helen, of all people, admits to having gone to work once wearing no knickers, but she won’t tell me whether it was before she worked for Greg, or since, which only serves to convince me it must have been recently.
    ‘Because you forgot to put them on? Or on purpose ?’
    ‘That’s not part of the question.’
    ‘But I want to know !’
    ‘Sorry!’ She smiles calmly. ‘Not telling!’
    Well, it couldn’t have been for Greg’s benefit so she must have been meeting some guy after work. Or in her lunch-break. Unbelievable! I look at her with a new respect. I know she doesn’t like men but she doesn’t seem to have a problem with having sex with them.
    ‘Fair play to you!’ mutters Jude, with her face in her wine glass.
    ‘Go, girl!’ agrees Suze, who sounds too tired to say it with very much enthusiasm.
    The tiredness is catching. Before we know it, we’re all yawning.
    ‘I hope no-one’s expecting me to get up early in the morning!’ says Lisa with a groan. ‘I’m looking forward to a good lie-in. I never get the chance at home, what with Richard being so