Actually, it’s probably my favourite night of the week. It’s hard to explain how awesome it is speaking to these incredibly clever women about their lives. And plus, they always have theBESTgossip about the woman who lives across the road, above the souvenir shop. The latest is that she’s apparently having an affair with the dog walker! He’s only 22!
Franny is still speaking. ‘But that’s another reason I assume you’ll say no to Will – your best friend would never forgive you if you got engaged while she’s engaged. Not that I think Lauren’s diva tantrums should stop you if you actually wanted to do it.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I say hastily. ‘I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t want to steal her limelight. Trust me, I’m more than happy for Lauren to have her moment. And it’s irrelevant because I really think Will was only joking anyway. It was just a joke. He is such a joker.’ I laugh but it’s hollow, and Franny cocks an arched, quizzical eyebrow at me. It conveys so much, that left eyebrow of hers. Arching one brow is a skill I have always wanted to master. I practised for months when I was little, but these face-slugs I have won’t do anything but sit there looking cross. They’re very straight and dark, like a child has taken a whiteboard pen to my face. And I specifically saychild, because they’re also entirely unsymmetrical. It is very sad. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the right one has a big bald patch in the centre, from when Lauren gave me a ‘makeover’ aged fourteen. I ended up with green hair, purple sparkly eyeshadow and extremely over-enthusiastically tweezed brows. A bit of one never grew back properly so I have to colour the patch in every day.
‘I said no to him, so I’m not sure why I’m even still talking about it. It’s not a big deal.’
Franny side-eyes me as she licks her fingers and dabs at the crumbs on her plate. ‘Good girl,’ she says agreeably.
‘Anyway, yes, Lauren is great, thanks for asking.’ I quickly change the subject back. ‘I’m meeting her and Joely for our weekly wedding meeting on Friday. This one is about making a final decision on the hen do over a glass of fizz. It’s very important.’
Franny tuts. ‘Hen dos these days.’ She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. ‘It used to be that going for a glass of fizzwasthe hen do. Never mind pre-hen dos to plan the sodding hen dos. It’s all so excessive. Everyone wants to out-do and one-up everyone else. You’re not going abroad, are you?’
I look sheepish. We are definitely, a million per cent going abroad. In fact, I’m still trying to subtly talk Lauren down from a week in Vegas. It would be logistically impossible with the amount of people she wants to invite and with only a few months to plan it. I also really, really can’t afford it. Not with all the other weddings and hen dos I’m doing this year. I keep being seized with panic when I think about my outgoings and the increasingly terrible financial situation I’m in. So I don’t think about it. That is the healthy way I deal with my problems.
‘Er, nothing’s set in stone just yet,’ I hedge.
She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Are you going to get an actual holiday for you and Will this year?’
I laugh. ‘Oh God no. As well as Lauren’s, I have a ton of other hen dos and weddings this year. That means loads of trips away, not to mention the actual nuptials themselves.’
I mentally start making a checklist for myself to crack on with tonight. I urgently need to book train tickets and a hotel for my friend Emily’s Devon wedding in a couple of weeks. I need to find the log-in for her wedding website – God knows where I put it – so I can find the link to their Debenhams gift registry and pick out a present for the happy couple. There’s also another overnight hen party coming up in London for a work friend, so I need to get a tutu for that and some presents for the eighteen goody bags I’ve been asked to sort out. I’ll worry about the rest of the weddings – and everything on the Lauren to-do list – after I’ve sorted those.
I feel the weight of everything all of a sudden, and out loud I add, ‘And I need to mass order some wedding outfits from Asos.’
Franny looks bemused. ‘Can’t you just wear the same frock to them all?’
‘Oh Jesus no!’ I am mock-horrified. ‘Think of the Instagram scandal, Franny! Everyone from my school days follows me on there. You can’t be seen in the same clothes more than once or twice when social media iswatching.’ I laugh.
Now Franny looks really aghast. ‘Bloody hell, you lot. We don’t need the government or Big Brother secretly watching us anymore, do we? We’re all volunteering our every move and action on Tweeter, or whatever the hell it is now. And what is this nonsense about your school friends? Most of them were horrible to you anyway. What do you care what they think?’
I don’t know how to explain why it matters, because it probably doesn’t really, so I fall silent.
She continues loudly, ‘This is because you used to be fat, my darling.’
Oh bloody hell, the fat thing again.
She starts waving at Andrea, who scurries straight over with two slices of lemon drizzle cake. She drops the plates in front of us with a clatter and runs back to the kitchen before Franny can comment on the state of the dessert.
‘You were fat,’ Franny goes on, wiping her fork on her dress and ignoring my sigh. ‘And you listened to those stupid little fuckheads in your year about not being worth anything. You believed it, and even now you’re still trying to prove something to them – and maybe to yourself. But you don’t have to. You didn’t then and you don’t need to now, either, my darling girl. You are worth ten times any of them.’
I look around the room, desperate for some kind of distraction. I don’t want to be talking about this. It’s boring and not even true.
Franny goes on: ‘I thought when you met that friend of yours – what’s her name? It’s something modern and ridiculous?’
‘Joely,’ I confirm.
‘Julie, that’s it, darling. The really fat one. I thought when you got close to her, you might take a leaf out of her book. Get a bit of confidence and start liking yourself a bit more. Instead –’ she gestures at my body – ‘you got thin. Which is fine, I suppose. And you’ll always be beautiful, whatever size you are, Delilah, but now you run around trying to prove things to people who don’t warrant a second thought from you.’
I sigh. She’s got it all wrong. It wasn’t like that.
Franny smiles nicely, sensing my irritation. ‘My wonderful girl, I just want you to realise that you can say no to people occasionally. You know that, don’t you? You don’t have to go to all these silly things. Send your best wishes and love, then make room for your own life and things you want to do. You have a wonderful life waiting for you here; don’t waste your time living out other people’s dreams. And what about Will? You have to make room for him and stop sidelining him in your life if you want it to work between you. Maybe this proposal of his was about trying to get your attention, stop the pair of you drifting apart. If you want to be with him, you should be listening to what the two of you need.’
I sit up straighter, determinedly brightening to show her I’m fine. ‘OK, I hear you, Franny,’ I say, ‘but you really don’t need to worry about any of this. This year is going to be really busy, yes, but I don’t have any other option. These are my friends, and their weddings are important. It’s really, totally fine. I’m excited.’
It sounds a bit hollow but never mind.
I know Franny means well but she doesn’t get it. I don’t have a choice in this. I have to do everything that’s expected of me. Once the weddings start, it’s like an endless parade. You say yes to one girl you only knew a little bit at university and suddenly you can’t say no to the other university friend you only knew a little bit. And when you’ve helped arrange one friend’s hen do, your other friends expect you to do it for them when it’s their turn too. Once you’ve spent a fortune on someone’s big weekend in Ibiza, why wouldn’t you do the same for everyone else? It’s wedding politics and it’s a very delicate balance; an endless white treadmill covered in fresh flowers. Franny doesn’t have a clue about any of that. She’s lucky she missed this generation’s obsession with showing off. It’s only started happening in the last few years. I blame America. It’s usually their fault when we do things, isn’t it? We copy everything they do.
