After a stressful hour herding the sheep into the next field, before cobbling together a makeshift barricade out of a fallen tree trunk, Hester rallied our soggy spirits by declaring an emergency trip to the nearest pub for hot food and running water. Some of the group didn’t even bother getting changed, shoving on a jumper and wellies over their pyjamas before diving into the cars.
We sat in the pub like a bunch of wild women, plates loaded up from the breakfast bar as though we hadn’t eaten a decent meal for a month. And I knew what that felt like. Glancing around at my cohorts, with their messy hair, grass-stained onesies, stale swamp stink and smudged faces, I suspected some of them might know that feeling, too.
‘Now I know why celebrities are so thin,’ Rowan declared, around a mouthful of limp bacon. ‘The more you slum it, the better food tastes. Rich people probably don’t even notice what their breakfast tastes like. I bet some of them don’t even have breakfast. Faith, does Perry eat breakfast?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. He eats granola with fruit and yoghurt.’
‘See. It’s in our genes. If you’re warm and dry, you’re fine eating fruit. If you wake up in a sodden tracksuit ’cos a sheep’s eaten your bedroom door, your body needs grease. It’s like “Dude! I’m going to need more fat deposits to keep warm in these conditions.”’
‘Is that why you’re tiny, Rowan. Are you prepping for being a celebrity?’
‘Yeah. Well. I can’t usually afford breakfast.’ She glanced up, suddenly embarrassed. ‘At least, I don’t usually have time to eat it. What with getting Callie ready for nursery and starting college and everything.’
‘How’s that going?’ I asked.
‘Not bad, actually. It’s not like school. I call the teacher by his first name, and he talks to me like I’m a normal person, not a deadbeat. He says if I keep it up, I can get a C first time.’
‘And then your beauty course?’
She nodded proudly. ‘Sherwood College say I can start in September if I pass maths and English. I just need to figure out how to pay for the fees.’
‘Would you like me to see if I can get you some waitressing shifts?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe once Callie’s at school full time. For now, it’ll be enough to leave her with my mum while I’m training. Thanks anyway. Hester says if it’s meant to be, something’ll come up.’
When we returned to the field, the first thing I noticed was a bubblegum-pink Mini parked up with the rest of the cars. Once Marilyn pulled over, I saw the bunting stretching between several trees towards the far side of the clearing. And balloons. A lot of pink balloons.
As I climbed out and started walking over to the wreckage of the tents, two pink people jumped out from behind a large oak tree.
‘Surprise!’ Natasha and Catherine were wearing pink wigs, pink cowgirl hats, pink wellies, and pink T-shirts that saidFaith’s Final Fling!in swirly, glittery letters.
‘What?’ I stood there, gaping like the fish out of water I knew I was about to become.
‘Surprise!’ they squealed again, flapping their hands about. ‘It’s your hen do!’
‘But I’m not having a hen do.’
‘Wrong, Faith. You totally are!’
I swivelled my head to face Marilyn, my matron of honour and therefore the one in charge of making sure I didn’t have ahen do. She grinned at me. ‘Outnumbered, outmanoeuvred and outvoted.’
‘What about this being my wedding? Where I get to decide what does and doesn’t happen?’ I hissed.
‘That only counts where you’re right. When you’re being silly, we get to overrule you.’
‘Yes!’ Natasha tipped out a bag of matching T-shirts onto the grass. ‘Outnumbered, outvoted, outmanoeuvred and overruled. We are going to give you the best. Hen do. Ever.’
Oh boy.
The itinerary for the best hen do ever?
To start with, a high-rise climbing, swinging, treetops, monkey-type ‘adventure’. A stroll in the woods compared to our adventures the night before. Only Marilyn tried to back out, and that was because she couldn’t believe she came under the weight restriction. Having worked herself up into a nervous frenzy when we arrived, the instructor didn’t even blink at her size. I thought back to the rock climbing trip, where she had sat on the sidelines with Polly. It was fantastic that Marilyn had energy now, was fitter and stronger and healthier. But more than that, those months of sweat and tears and aching muscles and utter exhaustion with Anton had enabled her to become a fully participating member of life again. Take that, sidelines! It was the sidelines’ turn to sit on the sidelines now!
I slung an arm around her shoulder. ‘I should charge you for all the extra dress material Rosa’s going to have to throw away.’
‘This hen do T-shirt is a medium. I’ve lost so much weight, I’m in the middle. Non-large.’ She tugged at the top in disbelief.
‘It’s what you’ve gained that makes the difference.’
