The nice staff member clears her throat, pulling nervously at the collar of her soothing avocado-coloured polo shirt. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve been told to tell you that you’re making a lot of noise and this is a spa, not a pub. We are all about tranquillity and serenity here, and our other guests have reported that they don’t feel terribly tranquil and serene with you making so much noise. And I’m sorry, I’ll have to ask you to collect up those empty wine bottles floating about in the pool, please.’
‘That sounds like bollocks,’ shouts a familiar voice, and I hide a giggle when I realise it’s Joely. She’s wearing the tiniest bikini you can imagine and is rippling beautifully in every direction. I recognise her eyes as Drunk Eyes, and watch in amused horror as she staggers over to the lady.
‘Come on, Fiona, we’re just havingFUN,’ she shouts at the confused-looking staff lady, who may or may not be called Fiona. I don’t know where Joely’s getting that from. She puts her arm around Fiona (TBC) and rests her head on her shoulder. ‘Fiona, you have no idea what today has been like. It’s been so fucking boring, I can’t even tell you. We weren’t allowed alcohol and there were cucumbers and everyone had the shits. But it’s fun now, at last! We’re finally letting loose and having a good time. Does your spa have a policy on people not having fun, Fiona? Because that would suck and my millions of follo-hiccup-wers would love to hear all about that. Sorry, I’m not taking it out on you, Fiona, babe. I know you’re just doing your job, but we should be able to have fun, y’know? This is meant to be a hen do, for god’s sake.’
Fiona (TBC) looks even more alarmed. ‘A hen do? You’re a hen do? We weren’t informed that you were a hen do. We don’t allow hen dos in here. We have a level-one policy about it. I could get in so much trouble.’
The original drunk girl pipes up again. ‘Well, Fiona, love, we’re not leaving. So off you pop, and bring us more wine, will you? We’re paying through the nose for it, so you might as well take advantage of our loose credit cards while you can.’ She waves an empty bottle in the air before lobbing it into the pool, narrowly missing the maybe drowned girl.
Fiona (TBC) looks panicked, her brow furrowed. ‘I’ll have to get the manager,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what to do. I might get sacked. I certainly can’t bring you any more alcohol. Stay here, I’m getting Darren. He’s right upstairs. He’ll know what to do.’
She scurries away in a panicky blur of pale green and the hens all look at each other.
‘What shall we do?’ slurs Millie, the bride. ‘I don’t want to leave, I’m having too much of a laugh. We only just got rid of my stupid great aunts. I don’t want this to end. Can Fiona and Darren really make us leave, do you think, Joely?’
Joely squints at her. ‘Who’s Fiona?’ she says, confused.
‘Shall we hide?’ shouts Lauren from the other side of the pool, and she’s laughing. I feel warm inside at the sight, it’s so nice to see. ‘Come on, let’s all hide!’ she roars, jumping delightedly up off her lounger. The whole room erupts with giggles as we all leap up and run in different directions. Even the drowned girl is alive again and running. Everyone is sprinting and shrieking and laughing. This is going to be hilarious and work out totally fine. There is no chance this won’t be fine.
So we got arrested. The whole lot of us. They rounded us all up one by one – I was hiding in the showers with Flora – and marched us out. I passed out in the police van, and when I woke up we were in a drunk tank. I didn’t even know those things existed anymore, I thought it was just forTVshows. Maybe they don’t call it the drunk tank, but sure, everyone here is drunk. It’s a large, windowless room that works as a kind of cell, with a loo in the corner. We’re all crammed in here with a few other older women who may or may not be sex workers. That is not for me to say.
A bunch of the hens are crying, but most of the party seem to be unconscious, sleeping off the intensive binge-drinking on the cold, cement floor. I feel surprisingly refreshed but I think it was the nap rather than the spa. I flash back to that awful never-ending ‘detox cellulite-buster seawood float wrap bath’ and my skin itches.
I look blearily around until I spot Lauren and Joely. They’re a few feet apart, backs turned on each other, but they’re both wide awake. Lauren looks livid to be in this situation. Her arms are folded, and she has streaks of black mascara criss-crossing in every direction across her face. Joely is more joyous-looking, still head to toe soaking wet from when she jumped into the pool to escape the police officers.
That was glorious, actually. Two of them had to go in there to fetch her out and the whole lot of us sang ‘Fuck Tha Police’ as she was escorted out, sopping, in handcuffs.
I should admit here that I was too scared to sing the swear words, so I just mouthed them, and then stopped altogether when one of the police officers looked in my direction.
Anyway, I know it was completely insane but I felt so proud of Joely. Especially when she screamed, ‘I know my rights!’ and the police officer said, ‘OKthen, what are your rights?’ and she didn’t actually know them so she started singing again.
I feel a sudden stab of something in my chest. These two are my best friends. For all their flaws, they are my best friends. Yes, Lauren is difficult and selfish, but she’s also fiercely loyal and thoughtful. Joely is rude and spoilt, but she’s also hilarious and warm. These are my favourite people in the world, apart from Franny.
Surely there is something we can do here. Surely this is the moment to say sorry and make amends. We’re likely going to be stuck here all night. Couldn’t the three of us talk things out? Figure out where things went wrong? Are we really going to stand here, backs turned, and ignore each other all night?
Just then, one of the possible sex workers (not for me to say) trips over one of her own stilettoes and staggers backwards into Lauren. Lauren shrieks as she falls like a domino into Joely, who remains standing, an immoveable force. They both turn on each other simultaneously with a growl, and the two of them stand there for a long moment, panting at each other.
Joely is the first to break the silence, snapping, ‘Don’t you dare touch me, princess.’
Sigh.
OK, it doesn’t look like this is going to be the make-up chat I was hoping for, then.
‘I didn’t do it deliberately,’ Lauren snaps back. ‘She knocked me over.’ She points at the woman, who shrugs vacantly and sits on the floor, examining her shoe for damage.
‘It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?’ Joely hisses. ‘I don’t care, Lauren, just leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you.’
Lauren takes a furious step closer and they are barely centimetres apart as she shouts back, ‘What is your problem, Joely? Why are you being so pathetic? You’re the one in the wrong here. Why do you get to be the one acting like such a cow? I should be the angry one; you should be bombarding me with apologies.’
Joely takes a deep breath, ready to launch into everything again, and that’s when I snap.
‘THAT IS ENOUGH!’ I shout. A couple of the hens asleep by my feet sit up, startled, before immediately passing out again. Lauren and Joely both stop talking and turn to me, looking shocked. ‘That is e-fucking-nough,’ I say again, still loudly, but steely this time, calmly.
‘I’m done listening to you two tear each other to pieces,’ I say through gritted teeth, and my voice is more forceful than I remember it ever being before. They gape at me, but say nothing, so I keep going.
‘You can both stop that right now. I’m sick of it. The truth is, you’vebothbeen behaving absolutely horrendously. And I’m not having it anymore,’ I say, in full-on scolding teacher mode. ‘You want to know which one of you is in the wrong? You’re both in the wrong. You said you wanted to know what I think, whose side I’m on? I’m on nobody’s side because the pair of you are being dicks in equal, terrible measure.’ I breathe out and turn on Lauren. ‘Lauren, we know this wedding is important to you. It’s important to us too, it really is, but Joely was right, you were going over the top with it all. The calls going on all night, the endless meetings, the constant demands, the way you would change your mind about everything every five minutes and panic-spiral. We all want to be there for you, we love you very much and we want your big day to be perfect. But you’ve been treating us like we don’t have lives of our own and that nothing matters more than your wedding. And we do have lives. Or, at least, we had lives before all this took over.’
Lauren opens her mouth to reply but I put up my hand to silence her, before turning on Joely.
