the remaining half of the bottle Harry had resisted pouring in before. Diana was a whirlwind. One he quite liked, he thought, but so different from Josie, Harry sometimes wondered how they could be friends. She was vivacious, lively, pretty and incredibly flirty: like a female version of Ant, a good-time girl out on the pull. She often gave off a tough vibe, but underneath it all Harry suspected she hid a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared to let most people see. And she liked him and seemed genuinely happy for them both. Harry had a huge soft spot for her.
Josie poured some more orange juice into the punch, while Diana answered the door to their first guests. Once Harry had sorted out the music, the next few hours went by in a blur of congratulations, drinking and laughter. By midnight, Harry was feeling distinctly the worse for wear, and sitting happily ensconced on the sofa, watching Josie dance to the dulcet tones of Lady Gaga. He could sit and watch her dance for hours, she moved so gracefully, it was mesmerising. He was so lucky to have her. Josie was so beautiful, and kind, and wonderful. And she was his … sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it.
Maybe it was time to make things more permanent between them.
Someone had put something slower on, and a few of their friends were cosying up together – Diana, he noticed with amusement, was smooching with Josie’s boss – ‘Come on. Lover boy,’ Josie came swaying towards him, as drunk, he realised as he was, ‘time to dance.’
‘Always time to dance with you,’ he smiled, and pulled her close. She leant against his shoulder, and he felt her softness, and smelt her perfume. He was suddenly overcome with a dizzying sense of what could only be described as joy. He wanted to hold her and keep her and never let her go. “You are so perfect,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips, “how did I get this lucky?”
Josie blushed, and said, “I’m the lucky one,” as she kissed him back, and he was overcome with a happiness he could never remember feeling before. With her small trim figure, her gorgeous fair pre-Raphaelite curls, and her stunning blue eyes, Josie was perfect in every way. She was kind, sweet, funny, loyal and he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. So why not make it formal? What was wrong with marriage, after all? A perfectly sensible institution which had been round for centuries.
‘Josie,’ he said, feeling his heart hammering with happiness, ‘will you marry me?’
‘Oh my God, Oh my God!’ An overexcited and slightly pissed Josie dragged Diana away from a rather interesting situation with Josie’s to-die-for good-looking boss, Philip (trust Josie to nab a lovely guy and have a good-looking boss) into the kitchen. ‘It worked, I can’t believe it, but it worked.’
‘What worked?’ Josie wasn’t the only one who’d drunk too much, Diana suddenly realised, as the walls came crashing in on her suddenly. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your Halloween thing,’ said Josie, ‘you know, the apple core.’
Diana dragged herself away from the delicious prospect of a night in a penthouse with Phillip, to focus on a faint memory of the early evening. ‘But you got an A?’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Josie, ‘I got an H, remember? Ta-da!’
She waved her ring finger in front of Diana’s bleary eyes. There was a platinum-looking ring on it.
‘What? He didn’t?’
‘Yup, Harry just proposed!’ said Josie triumphantly. ‘Of course we need to get a proper ring, but this will do for now.’
On closer inspection, Diana realised Josie was wearing the ring pull from a Coke can on her finger.
‘That’s, that’s – words fail me,’ Diana suddenly felt the urgent need to sit down, and slumped against the wall and slid down it. She wanted to say something more effusive, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.
‘I know,’ said Josie, sliding down to join her, ‘and it’s all down to you. You are going to be my bridesmaid aren’t you?’
Diana screamed in delight.
‘You’re getting married!’ she whooped, ‘and I’m going to be bridesmaid. That is fabulous!’ Fabulous. That was the word she’d been searching for.
‘I know!’ said Josie, ‘isn’t it great?’
Diana suddenly felt a sudden, sober chill. It was great, of course it was great, but drunken misery suddenly set in, ‘What about u-u-uss?’ she wailed. ‘You’re going off to get married and you’ll be shacked up and happy and I’ll be on my own and single for ever!’
Suddenly great sloppy tears were running down her cheeks. Damn, that punch had been a serious mistake.
‘Oh Di, don’t say that,’ said Josie, clutching her in panic, ‘you’re my best friend, I couldn’t live without you.’
She was crying too.
‘You couldn’t?’ Diana paused and blew her nose, not very attractively. She hoped Philip didn’t choose that particular moment to look for her.
‘Of course not,’ said Josie, sobbing nearly as loud as Di was, ‘you’re always going to be my best friend. What would I do without you?’
‘But it’s not going to be the sa-aa-me,’ hiccoughed Diana.
‘It will, it will,’ said Josie, ‘pinkie promise.’
She linked her little finger in Diana’s, setting off a fresh round of wailing, ‘Oh
that’s so lovely,’ she wept, ‘I love you so much.’
‘And I love you too,’ howled Josie, hugging her tightly.
‘But you love Harry more,’ said Diana.
‘I do,’ said Josie her eyes shining through her tears, ‘I really do.’
Diana looked around her, suddenly surprised that they were sitting on the floor.
‘Then what are we doing sitting here?’ she said. ‘You’re getting married. That is so fantastic. C’me on, let’s dance!’
She staggered up, dragging Josie after her, and went to find Harry who was sitting looking slightly dazed in the corner, ‘Woohoo, you two getting married, that is so brilliant! Listen up, everyone, Harry and Josie have just got engaged!’
‘This calls for champagne!’ someone shouted.
‘We don’t have any,’ laughed Josie, ‘we’ll have to do make do with vodka.’
‘Vodka it is!’ said Diana. She busied herself filling people’s glasses, and then declared a toast, ‘To Harry and Josie!’ she said. ‘Harry and Josie!’ everyone said, raising their glasses and cheering, and the next half hour disappeared in a flurry of congratulations and back slapping. It was only as the party began to die to down that Diana remembered Philip. She looked round for him and couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky bastard. A bleep from her phone confirmed it. Sorry, had to dash. Catch you soon? This year, next year, sometime, never. She looked over at Josie caught in a romantic clinch with her future husband, and tried not to feel that she was getting left behind.
In a bar in Australia, Antony Lambert, known to his friends as Ant, opened his laptop and checked his emails. He’d sent a rude message to his best friend, Harry, the previous day in response to the dire (in Ant’s mind at least) news that he was settling down and moving in with his girlfriend, Josie, after a ridiculously whirlwind romance lasting a few short months. Ant had been horrified, not least because at twenty-eight the notion of settling down seemed as far removed as it had when he’d first met Harry at uni ten years ago, but also because Harry had already dated Josie back then, and they’d lost touch. If she was so great, why hadn’t they stuck together before? Hmm? Ant’s motto was always look forward, never look back. He felt sure that Harry was making a big mistake, and had told him so in so many words. Well. Very few words actually. It had been more along the lines of What are you doing