other day … she asked me, did I think you’d mind being in charge of the games at the hen do?’
Claire’s lower lip ceased to be quite so tremulous. ‘Really? She was saying that?’
Bea nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yeah. She said she couldn’t think of anyone better to get the fun started.’
‘Well, that’s so funny, because I actually just happened to read a load of articles about hen-party games the other day … you know, I was so bored at work …’
Yeah, I’ll just bet that was the reason … thought Bea. ‘Yeah, so she’ll probably ask you about it closer to the time.’
‘Oh, no, I’ll have to start thinking about it straight away!’ Claire tutted. ‘A truly great hen-do scavenger hunt can’t be put together in just a few weeks!’
I am instantly regretting this, thought Bea, making a mental note to warn Nora about her unexpected and overexcited new party planner.
Claire had taken on the orbit of their group not long after they’d moved up to secondary school. She’d probably fancied one of the boys initially – Bea can’t really remember now – but despite the fact that nothing had happened there she’d stayed around. She had been – and still was – hard work sometimes, but Bea still loved her to death. And she’d been an absolute godsend to her when Nora upped and left to go to university …
‘Come on, Nora wants a bride-and-bridesmaids picture before the speeches,’ Daisy summoned Bea, thoughtfully already having diverted around the far table to collect the latter’s discarded heels. Bea winced as she saw Claire’s face fall again. It was going to be a really long year. She could only hope that Claire’s friendship with Nora would survive it intact.
Nora, merry and bright, held out her hands for Bea’s as she neared, pulling her neatly into her appointed slot next to her; Bea on the right, Cleo on the left, as usual. Sarah chose to complete Cleo’s side – Bea couldn’t help but wonder if it could be on purpose? – and Daisy moved into place next to Bea. Assorted guests gathered around them in a loose circle began snapping away on their own phones but the girls angled their faces and focused their smiles at Eli, the official photographer of the evening.
‘Cleo,’ he called suddenly, gesturing awkwardly at his own forehead. ‘Your hair-thing’s gone a little bit …’ Cleo immediately turned to Nora for assistance, who pushed the thin jewelled headband back into place and smoothed her friend’s hair around it. ‘Perfect,’ Eli announced, as Cleo shot him a grateful smile. ‘1, 2, 3 …’
Bea barely managed to swallow down that particular throat-full of annoyance, just in the nick of time before it would have shown on her face: immortalised on Eli’s phone, immediately on Facebook. And – despite the firm agreement that she’d made with herself – she was back wondering: about Cleo, and about Nora, and about which of the two of them she was going to pick as her maid of honour.
‘Everybody say WEDDING!’ Eli cheered as he captured the moment.
‘WEDDING!’ the bridal quintet grinned, even though they knew it would put their mouths and their faces into a stupid shape.
‘WEDDING!’ Barlow echoed as he appeared from the back room, several fat green bottles of Cava held to his chest. ‘Speech, speech!’ Everyone howled their agreement. Bea accepted a healthy helping of the bubbles, even though she was probably already slightly too tipsy for good sense. Those who had initially based themselves in the beer garden had pressed into the room, driven as much by the chilly evening as the toast, and the room felt suddenly far smaller. Everyone pressed close, closer. Harry reached for Nora’s hand, pulled her fully to his side, held their joined fingers for a moment at his heart. They were framed by the loops of fairy lights Sarah and Eli had carefully pinned into place. The twins and Cillian crowded in, beaming at their sister and even Eileen’s famously iron expression was soft. Nora, already in white, face flushed; Harry, looking smart in crisp chinos and a slim-fit shirt, eyes shining. They were so perfect and so happy, Bea almost had to look away.
Cole threw a heavy arm over her shoulders. ‘Ah, Beebee.’ She hadn’t heard that old nickname for a while. ‘Look at them. Who would have thought it?’
‘I’d like to thank everyone for coming,’ Harry had started, unimaginative to the last. ‘It means a lot to me and to N—my future wife!’ Cue requisite cheering, whooping. ‘I don’t want to spoil the main event, of course, so I won’t go on for too long, (‘Good!’ some joker heckled from the crowd of guests). So, as you guys know, Nora and I met when we were four, in Miss Proctor’s reception class. Needless to say, it wasn’t love at first sight!’ Harry joined his audience with a laugh. ‘I thought she was the bossiest little madam going. Okay so, some things never change.’ Nora playfully slapped at her fiancé’s chest in protest. ‘But regardless, we became best mates. And we stayed close even when we went to secondary school, through that time when we were fourteen and I thought she was secretly in love with Cole!’ Nora threw Cole a kiss and he returned a wink. ‘And then she went away to university, and to be a gap-year wanker, and moved to the arsehole of East London – and still we were friends.
And I was nice to all her boyfriends. And I was always a go-to cinema date when she didn’t have one.’ Harry was speaking softer now, rubbing Nora’s fingers with his thumb. ‘And one day we were at the cinema – two for one, you know – The Amazing Spider-Man 2, of all bloody films!’ He laughed sheepishly. ‘I wish it had been something a little cooler, but how was I to know I’d ever be telling this story? Because it was just a normal Wednesday evening. And then, it suddenly wasn’t, because I realised I was in love with my best friend. Right there. In the Wimbledon Odeon. Over the salted popcorn and Andrew Garfield’s weird mug gurning at me on-screen.
And so here we are! Celebrating the fact that my best mate not only fell in love with me back, but that I haven’t put her off in the last year and a half, and she’s mental enough to want to marry me!’ Harry laughed, delighted, fizzing, brimming with joy, raising his glass of Cava. ‘Quick turnaround, I know, I know, but I couldn’t wait any longer to ask. I’d waited long enough to be with the love of my life, after all.
So, everyone. Eat. Drink. Be merry. Dance. Thanks Daisy for the tunes, and Barlow for the booze and Eileen for the cake, which we’ll be cutting now, so get in line. And thanks so much, again, for coming.’ Harry was laughing now, distracted, Nora hanging off of him like her very body was light with happiness. ‘And see you all at the wedding!’
Her feet, bare as they were, couldn’t take the required bouncing for Kriss Kross’s Jump, so Bea made a swift exit, dance-floor right, claiming a seat at a table, empty but for general party detritus: paper plates with sandwich crusts and unwanted samosa triangles; discarded cardigans and handbags; the jagged skins of burst balloons. She tried to dust off the soles of her feet but they were smudged so grey she gave that up as a bad lot and sat back in the chair.
‘Are you alright there, child?’ A red-faced Eileen was there almost immediately, hovering at Bea’s elbow. She’d always mothered her far more than her real mum; Bea only pretended to mind. ‘Sure, you should go on home, if you’re tired. I’ll be off myself before too long now.’ The sherry must be finished, thought Bea with a smile.
‘I’m fine,’ Bea assured her godmother. ‘I’m just resting.’ She gestured at her well-danced-upon feet.
‘Ah, yes now, I’m the same. The dogs are barking.’ And with that Eileen lowered her stiff frame into the chair next to Bea’s and placed her cool hand over hers. ‘It’s a shame Hannah couldn’t make it tonight.’ Bea sighed in agreement. Her mother was currently living the ex-pat lifestyle in Portugal and seemed to have washed her hands of all motherly – and godmotherly – responsibilities as a result. Bea had only seen her twice in the last five years. With no dad ever in the picture, and no siblings, it had definitely left