Lauren: I think I should do it. [2.22 a.m.]
Lauren:OMG SHALL I DO IT? [2.25 a.m.]
Lauren: Sorry, I know I’m being silly. It’s 2.30, I have work in the morning, I can’t start dyeing Jimmy Choo shoes in the middle of the night. What was I thinking????!!!! [2.39 a.m.]
Lauren:LOL, ridiculous, sorry. Haha, can’t believe I was seriously considering doing that. Night babe. [2.50 a.m.]
Lauren:OK, I did it. Looks really, really terrible. These shoes cost £400. Charlie’s going to kill me. [3.43 a.m.]
Lauren: Have also dyed my hands. [4.10 a.m.]
Lauren: Morning! You awake yet? Have emailed you links to possible new wedding shoes. [6.45 a.m.]
Joely: Hey, just a heads-up, I’m going to murder Lauren. [7.15 a.m.]
My phone is on constant high alert. And when Lauren’s not texting me her wedding shit, Joely’s texting to complain about the wedding shit.
I’m still trying to look on the positive side, though. The constant stream of messages is making me feel dead popular. Everyone at work thinks I’m so in demand! And itisbrilliant to see Lauren so passionate about a project. I haven’t seen her like this in ages.
She works in commercial advertising, coming up with ideas and liaising with clients. She’s really good at it from what I can tell – she’s won awards and that – but she really hates everyone in her office (all men), as well as the work itself, which mostly seems to be centred around adverts for sanitary towels. The rest of her team (to reiterate – all men) don’t want anything to do with that ‘women stuff’ so she gets stuck with all the feminine hygiene products, which apparently makes up seventy per cent of their revenue. She says she’s trying to move away from the patronising shit – like, why is Mother Nature chasing you around in fucking pearls? And how can a sanitary towel be shaped ‘especially for me’, when I’m shaped like a pebbly Brighton beach down there? But that faux-feminist, faux-empowering stuff is all the clients ever want. So this wedding has been a great distraction from blue water and silky packaging. It’s nice to see Lauren focusing and channelling her creative talents into something she genuinely cares about.
But still, she’s being annoying.
‘What happened to that one out ofJLSyou were meant to be seeing?’ I say, moving the subject towards safer territory. ‘I thought you were going on a few dates with him?’
Joely shakes her head. ‘He’s started going out with someone from last year’sX Factorfinal. She has a single coming out, so his agent said she is more “right now” for his solo career.’
I nod sagely, like I understand. I do that a lot. These insights into the celebrity world are completely fascinating and completely perplexing.
‘At this rate I’m going to have to leak some topless pics from my phone just to get some media attention,’ she says, giggling. ‘My agent said I could claim I’ve been hacked. He said hacking is really cool at the moment and my follow rates have dipped a little this month.’ She throws back her head and laughs, and I join in. She wipes her eyes and goes on. ‘Sorry, I know my life is utterly ridiculous these days. Who would’ve thought a couple of years ago that I’d find myself debating nude selfies?’
I snort. ‘I’m pretty sure you were doing that three years ago. Weren’t you dating that awful teacher back then? The one who prided himself on having catchphrases?’
‘I’ve farted so I’ll finish!’ Joely shouts triumphantly and we both fall apart.
‘Speaking of dreadful men with great hair,’ she says, still giggling, ‘how’s your boss? How’s work, how’s life? Tell me everything, Lilah. And if you mention weddings, I will smash this bottle across your face.’
My mouth falls open and for a moment I’m at a loss for a response. It feels like ages since someone properly asked me how I am, without it coming back to someone’s wedding or hen do. It’s been all wedding, all the time lately. How even am I? Usually it would be Lauren checking in on my life, but she’s been so preoccupied lately, it seems strange to be sharing this moment alone with Joely.
‘I’mOK...’ I start, hesitating.
Right, this is the time to tell her about Will’s non-proposal and how awkward it’s been between us since. It’s now or never. Can I trust her not to say anything to Lauren? Is it a betrayal to tell one of them and not the other? Joely is looking at me quizzically, waiting for an answer.
Thankfully I am saved from myself by a commotion towards the front of the bar. Lauren has arrived and it looks like she’s dropped an enormous pile of bridal magazines all over the floor. A group of women are on their hands and knees helping her pick them up. Lauren is bright red, her long blonde hair messy over her face, telling everyone she’s sorry, sorry, sorry. Joely and I run over to help, collecting up copies ofWeddings,You and Your Wedding,Perfect Wedding,Elle Wedding,Brides,Bride Magazine, and a whole host of other gleaming white publications. Lauren is still saying sorry, so we start saying sorry too, and then the women who’ve helped pick the mags up also start apologising. There’s nothing more British than excessive, unnecessary apologising – apart from maybe getting angry at other people having too much fun.
We eventually sit back down to our drinks and, for a moment, I think we will pick up the conversation about me again. It feels like the right time to talk to them both about Will and I realise suddenly how much I need their advice.
‘Guys...’ I start and Lauren shoves a magazine in my face.
‘It’s wedding meeting time,’ she says curtly. ‘You two can finish your pointless bitching later. We don’t have time for silly stuff.’ She barks out a laugh to show she’s joking, even though she’s not.
Oh.
Feeling a bit stung, I dutifully study the pages, and halfheartedly listen as Lauren tells us about researching table stands. She cheerfully details how she and Charlie had a screaming row about marquees this morning and how she’s changed florists. Again.
Around about bottle three, Joely starts getting twitchy. It’s obvious she’s bored, flicking table crumbs at an oblivious Lauren, who is still chattering away. Joely’s even started vaguely making eyes at the Lidl suit guy, who’s still hovering nearby, looking wounded by the earlier dismissal, but rallying his ego to make another attempt. They always come back. Men rarely take no for an answer when it comes to Joely – and not because she’s so beautiful – but because she’s fat. I’ve seen it over and over. Guys think she should be grateful that they’re interested, and it won’t compute when she says she’s not. You’d be surprised how often a man approaches with a flirty smile, is rebutted and then gets nasty and angry. Which is when the horrible comments about her weight come out – those usually only found online where the literal wankers can hide behind their keyboards.
‘Do you think you and Will might get married?’ Joely says out of nowhere, turning her attention back towards us and interrupting a Lauren monologue about wedding make-up rehearsals. Lauren looks alarmed for a moment, and then rearranges her face into a neutral, polite smile. I feel the flush creeping up my neck and face, wondering for half a second whether Joely and Franny have been texting. They do that sometimes – they like to gossip about me.
