Page 23 of What Fresh Hell

Thanks for this. How much do you think it’s going to cost, round about?

Also, can everyone stop cc’ing everyone else into their replies? My work email is getting overloaded.

Thanks guys,

Jess

From:[email protected]

To:You

Cc:30+

Seriously, take me off this group message.

From:[email protected]

To:You

Cc:30+

Hi there,

I’m out of the office this week. I’ll be back in on Monday 13 October 2008.

I’ll get back to you then.

Sofia

9

So it turns out a Jordan and Peter Andre style wedding is truly a thing to behold. There are hair extensions and tiaras everywhere I look, and everything from the dresses to the tablecloths are decorated using some variation of pink taffeta.IT IS AMAZING. Lauren is in her absolute element, hissing at every tiny detail and loudly stage whispering to me and Joely about it all being ‘disgusting’ and why it’s the exact opposite of what she’s planning for her big day. I keep trying to pretend I can’t hear her because we’re sitting on a table with all the bride’s aunts and uncles, who look a bit put out.

Joely’s having a much harder time of it. As the token single girl at every wedding we go to these days – and this is already number six this year alone – she’s barely been allowed to sit down because everyone has someone she ‘simply must meet’. She’s been dragged around and around the room over and over again to be presented to the very few single guys present. LiterallyANYsingle man. She’s so far been pointedly introduced to a 62-year-old widower called Leonard, who wanted to talk to her about the Stephen King novelGerald’s Gameto see if ‘that kind of roleplay was her cup of tea’. She also met another man in his forties called Bernard, who is ‘still technically living with his wife’, but only because they ‘can’t afford to split up just at the minute’. Oh, and – my favourite – Catherine’s second cousin, Brett, who has just done ‘really well’ on his A-levels and is turning eighteen ‘any day now’. There was also a really awful few minutes where she was forced to dance alone in the middle of the room to Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’.

Bernard tried to dance with her at the end.

Joely’s trying to make the best of it, and keeps repeating the mantra: ‘Any attention is good attention’ and that everyone here – especially the awful men she’s met – are all potential followers and subscribers. But she’s really starting to look a bit dead behind the eyes, and has been in the loo quite a bit more than usual.

On the plus side, she reckons the teenager is quite fit, so she gave him her number. I think she’s going to his birthday party in a couple of weeks. She said she can shag him and then he’ll sell his story to theSunand she can go onLoose Womento talk about age-gap romance.

I look around the room at all this love and goodwill, and think: seriously, fuck all of you.

No, just kidding. It’s nice, I guess.

The whole day – service and reception – has been held in a remote Scottish hotel, and you can tell the couple have been really involved with every aspect of the day. They’d written their own vows, which went on for sooo long. I had to stop Joely throwing something, and at one point she did this really exaggerated, loud yawn – which the groom totally saw. He still didn’t wrap shit up, though, and carried on talking for another twenty-five minutes or so. The speeches are up next, and they’re bound to be even longer, so we’re totally ditching. Joely has stolen two bottles of champagne and Will and I are trying to persuade Lauren to come hide in the catering tent with us. But she won’t – she says she needs to stay and take notes.

I feel a bit torn. I don’t want to abandon Lauren, but I’m so sick of talking to people from school who I hated and never wanted to see again. Many of whom called me Delly the Belly back then, and definitely not in an affectionate way.

Crap. In fact, here comes another girl from school, who I haven’t seen in ten years. She’s in a white dress, which seems like a brave choice at a wedding, and is flapping her hands in our direction, squealing.

‘Oh myGOD, hi, Lauren! I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been forever!’ she shouts at our whole table, before turning to Joely. ‘And Josie, right? I remember you – you used to come to our school discos and snog all the boys in our year! Ooh, remember what happened with Dean Clark? That was totes hilar. It’s so good to see you guys! How long has it been since we saw each other? Lauren, you never make it to the reunions, you naughty girl! We miss you! What’s been going on in the last ten years? Tell me everything about your life! Are you married? Have you found your special someone to complete you yet? I got married last year, so yeah, my life is truly amazing. He’s a lawyer, so...’ She stops and smiles smugly around the table, waiting for everyone to acknowledge her enormous accomplishment in bagging a rich human.

Her name is Petra Mooney and I don’t want to be mean, but she has this really whiny voice that hasn’t changed since Year Nine. There was a stray dog that used to hang around the school playground and, I swear to God, whenever Petra talked at lunchtime, that dog would start to howl and wouldn’t stop until she stopped speaking. It happened every single time, I’m really not even exaggerating.

Lauren smiles disinterestedly at Petra, while Joely barely nods an acknowledgement. Petra doesn’t seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm from the group and takes a seat beside Lauren – recently vacated by an uncle with bladder issues (that’s not a guess – he told us all about it over the main course).

Hopefully he leaked.

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