‘Gross, gross, gross,’ she shouts, clearly very upset. ‘Please don’t refer to your vagina asherorshe. That is so offensive. Don’t personify it like it’s a little girl or something. What is wrong with you? I had no idea you were one of those kinds of people. Jesus, Lilah.’
I make a face, feeling ashamed. ‘Sorry, Joe, I promise I’ll never do it again.’
Her shoulders relax and she slouches further into her seat, checking the time again. ‘Anyway, you can come with me to the beauty clinic if you like, but definitely don’t get the vag steaming actually done. It’s an absolute waste of money. All the experts say it’s nonsense pseudo-science and, from everything I’ve read, it’s actually probably quite bad for you. Your vagina is too precious to me to take any risks with, Lilah.’ She giggles again, adding, ‘But sod it. I’m going to write up the experience for my blog and it’s going to get so many accidental hits from dirty old men using vagina-y search terms. I can’t wait. Do you think I should include pictures or not? A before and after? Might be a bit much?’
Our phones both vibrate. It’s another update from Lauren. She’s still stuck on the road and is at least another twenty minutes away. Bugger.
A look suddenly crosses Joely’s face. She looks over at me and smiles one of her huge, worrying smiles.
Uh-oh.
‘What?’ I whisper, a tiny bit scared. Her look reminds me of the time I told her I’d never shoplifted anything and so she took me into Superdrug where she forced an eyebrow pencil into my bag and then flashed the security guard so I could get out unnoticed. That was last year.
Joely doesn’t answer me. Instead she jumps up and strides over to the furious-looking shop assistant, who stares at her, saying nothing and bristling with hostility.
‘We’ve decided not to wait for our bridesmaid anymore,’ she tells the woman loudly.
Um, bridesmaid?
‘So we’re just going to start trying dresses on already.’
WE?
The shop assistant pauses for a moment, the silence dripping with her disdain. I feel myself pale. What is Joely doing?
‘Both of you?’ she says at last, her tone carefully studied boredom.
Joely is nodding. ‘Yes, sweetie. Lilah and I are marrying each other, so we’re both going to be in wedding dresses for our big day this December. Is that OK with you or are you a filthy homophobe that needs exposing to my millions of followers?’
The women stiffens, sensing the potential publicity crisis.
‘Fine,’ she snaps. ‘Pick a few dresses out.’ She waves at the curtained area. ‘You can both use the large changing room at the end.’
Joely turns back to me, her face glowing. She is trying not to burst with excitement.
‘Come on then,my darling fiancée,’ she crows. ‘Let’s choose a few dresses to try on.’
‘You’re going to get us in so much trouble,’ I hiss. ‘And you can’t flash your tits to get out of this one.’
She ignores me, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the first row of elaborate dresses. Row after row of white, cream and ivory is laid out before us. Lace, satin, twinkling beads and raw silk dazzles me. They’re all so beautiful and expensive.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this!’ I whisper, my voice full of fear, fingering a fitted bodice with a mermaid skirt.
‘Shush.’ Joely isn’t listening. ‘Don’t be silly, this is going to be amazing. I’ve always wanted to try on a wedding dress. Haven’t you?’
‘No,’ I say truthfully, but now I’m thinking about it, white is such a good colour. I look really nice in white.
We hang tags on several dresses at random and the shop assistant follows us around, picking them up passive-aggressively and escorting them reluctantly over to the changing area. Joely grabs my hand and I squeeze it as she leads me excitedly into the room, pulling the curtain across.
‘Let me know if you need any help,’ the woman says through gritted teeth, definitely not wanting to help.
‘More champagne please!’ Joely sings as she whips her top off in a single move with one hand. She’s clearly used to doing that.
Oh, man, she gets naked with such ease. I am still plucking awkwardly at my t-shirt, wondering if I can subtly hide my boobs in the wide folds of the curtain somehow, meanwhile she is already taking her knickers off.
Hold on, she’s what?
‘You know you probably definitely don’t need to take your knickers off, Joe,’ I say, trying not to be too obvious about admiring her downstairs natural look.
