Natasha kicked us off. ‘Go on a date every fortnight. That’s what my parents do.’
‘Tell him you love him every day,’ Ebony said, her cheekbones pink. I nodded my thanks. How about I started by telling him I loved him once?
‘If you want to get the most out of a marriage, you can’t go into it with a fifty-fifty attitude,’ Mags said. ‘If you both decide to give 100 per cent and try to outgive the other, that’s when you get a marriage that sings.’
‘Sex begins at the breakfast table,’ Janice declared. ‘Or sometimes on the breakfast table. But that’s not what I mean. Don’t leave all thoughts of romance until the end of the day when you`re knackered and your brain is full of work, leaving you feeling about as sexy as a bowl of dirty dishes. Then, when his hand begins to creep across the bed, what you want to do is sit up, clock him over the head with your hot water bottle, and ask, “Are you kidding me?”’
Are you kidding me? That pretty much summed up how I felt about sex with Perry. Maybe we needed to start having breakfast together.
Millie nodded. ‘Then, before you know it, he’s going on business trips to conduct sneaky business with his thirty-two-year-old personal assistant and her fake boobs. That’s my advice. Make sure his personal assistant has her own boobs.’
We carried on. Rowan, whose only boyfriend had been Callie’s father, told me, ‘Dance together. In the kitchen. Under the moon. Pull each other close and learn to move in time.’ Sheshrugged. ‘When I find a decent man I’m going to dance with him every night.’
April solemnly advised me to stick with it; the bad times are worth fighting through to get to the good times on the other side.
‘Grace,’ Leona added. ‘Grace is the oil that keeps the wheels running smoothly. When he leaves his underwear on the bathroom floor, forgets your birthday, snores and snaps at the kids. Those days when you can’t stop fantasising about packing up a suitcase and running off to live a life of bliss on a deserted island, where nobody leaves an empty packet of tea in the cupboard, or burps when you are trying to enjoy your meal, or expects you to know where his rugby top is. On those days, you need to remind yourself – this is a good man. He is faithful, and kind. He works hard, and means well even when he hasn’t got a clue. He is decent, and he loves me as best he can. Take a deep breath and pray for grace.’
After the others had taken their turns, Polly went second to last. She crossed her arms and pulled a face. ‘What can I say, Faith? I’m the last person who should be doling out advice. Just don’t put up with any crap.’ A tear rolled down her cheek, as Melody reached over to give her hand a squeeze. ‘Marilyn?’
My best friend looked at me, her expression neutral. ‘Honesty. And trust. A good partner brings out the best in you, but that’s impossible when you don’t even let him know you.’
I cleared my throat, more than a little overwhelmed by the prospect of what I was letting myself in for. Marriage sounded like hard work. So much more than two people sharing a house, and a bed and some memories, maybe some kids.
That was okay, I decided. I could do hard work. I could learn to trust Perry. That took time, right? I could rustle up enough grace. We could dance in the kitchen. And his personal assistant was a man, so I felt pretty sure he didn’t have breast implants.
I could make it work.
My phone rang, as a tiny flicker of signal managed to penetrate the forest depths. Sam. As I answered my phone, the twelve missed messages and countless texts beeped through. I excused myself, finding a private spot a short distance away to answer.
‘Hi Sam.’
‘Faith! Why didn’t you answer my calls? I need to talk to you.’
I took a deep breath. I would make it work.
Having reassured Sam that I was fine, and reassured myself that he was as fine as could be expected underneath all the rambling waffle, I hung up and went back to the others. They had a gift for me. A set of china cups and saucers and matching teapot. I loved them, but I couldn’t help thinking how out of place they would look in Perry’s space-age kitchen. They’d look bloomin’ lovely sitting on the bashed-up oak dresser in my kitchen, bought for thirty pounds from a charity shop, sanded down and painted duck-egg blue to match my cabinets.
After the obligatory singsong around the campfire, leaving my bridesmaids fairly bedazzled, Natasha turned up her phone speaker and set the playlist to party. We all kicked off our shoes and danced on the cold grass – even Hester, even Polly. Especially Polly, who danced as if the leg irons holding her back for the past few years had finally been hacked off. We boogied until we were breathless, then we had a drink, and some more food and got up and boogied again.
During the middle of a particularly energetic reconstruction of the last dance fromDirty Dancing, high on endorphins, laughter and two rare glasses of wine, I launched myself acrossthe clearing into Marilyn’s waiting arms, leaving us both in a heap on the grass. At that moment, Dylan strolled up.
‘Hello, ladies.’ He grinned, hands in his pockets. ‘So this is what you get up to when no men are around.’
‘Dance with us, Dylan!’ Rowan grabbed his hands, and started attempting a pachanga, or whatever it is Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey do in the film. To my surprise, Dylan went with it, with relish, adding some spins and even a dip as the song came to an end. Huh. Well. There you go then. How nice for Rowan.
He pulled her back up again, ruffled her hair affectionately, then looked across at me and winked.
Good job it was too dark to see my schoolgirl blush. And if I was the one he winked at, well, we were friends. It wasn’t some secret signal, meant only for me, about how actually he was really pleased to see me…
Sheesh, Faith. This is why you don’t drink wine.
‘How’s the hen? Fun weekend?’ He wandered over while Hester began barking instructions for the evacuation.
‘Today was great. Yesterday…? Probably best summed up as memorable.’
He frowned, scanning the clearing. ‘Is there a problem with the drains here?’
‘Um, no. There are no drains. But we’ve been using the woods. And Hester brought a trowel.’
