Page 6 of What Fresh Hell

‘KILLJOYS!’ Joely shouts at the hostile room and Lauren shushes her frantically. The pair of them glare at each other for a few seconds.

Joely is Lauren’s cousin. They were born just days apart, so they’ve been pretty much treated as sisters – twins, even – since birth. They’re really close, as you’d expect, but they’re also fiercely competitive and bicker like you cannot even imagine. And it’s over everything and anything. I’ve honestly seen them get into a shouting match over a salt and pepper shaker before. But it was one of those combo contraptions, and they are really very confusing, so I get it.

The third bridesmaid of the group is Simone. She’s Charlie’s little sister – Lauren’s soon-to-be sister-in-law – and a total duty pick. She seems really sweet, though, hovering now on the outskirts of all the inane shrieking. She’s only nineteen and I think she’s a bit overwhelmed by all this noise. Even though we’ve only just met, I can tell with some certainty that she finds strangers screaming and climbing on the furniture in a public place quite intimidating. Which is understandable. But I’m afraid she really will have to get used to it if she’s going to be part of this #TeamBridesmaid thing.

I top up everyone’s glasses, wondering how to make the point that I spent more than our usual £5.50 on the bottle, without sounding like I’m making that point. I can’t think of anything, so instead I raise my glass.

‘To the bride!’ I say, grinning.

Lauren giggles and shouts back, ‘TO ME!’ while Joely cackles. The nearby tutters tut some more as Simone cheers quietly too, glancing self-consciously over her shoulder to gauge how close we are to being thrown out. I would hazard: very close.

I push down a feeling like I want to hug Simone and tell her things will beOK. I remember being nineteen and worrying all the time about what strangers thought of me. It’s much better being twenty-eight and only caring what my friends, family, work colleagues, acquaintances and every single follower I have on social media thinks of me. Much, much better.

I take another sip of my fizz, feeling its warmth spread through me. I’ve never seen Lauren look this happy; she’s absolutely glowing. She’s the type of person who is always running around, taking charge, getting shit done, looking after me. It’s gratifying to see her stop and enjoy this moment. Even if it is just for a moment, this needs marking.

‘Hold on,’ I say suddenly, feeling all emotional. ‘I want to make a proper toast.’

Lauren puts down her drink and we stare at each other, grinning for a long second, silently communicating like we always do. I briefly consider climbing up on the chair but catch the barmaid’s eye and decide against it.

‘Lauren,’ I start, my voice wobbling a bit. ‘You’ve been my very best friend since I was twelve. I remember the first day back at school after the Easter holidays, seeing you that first time. You were standing over in the corner with the cool kids on the basketball court, looking so grown-up. I was impressed by your super awesome Nike cap, and the crimped orange-y yellow hair sticking out from under it. I never thought I’d be cool enough to hang out with you. And then you came over and asked me about the pink streak in my hair and I realised you were nice, too. I told you all about my obsession with the singer P!nk and then you listened for a good ten minutes while I tried to justify the exclamation mark in her name, even though there is no justification. Then we screamed the words to ‘You Make Me Sick’ at each other and you laughed so hard you spilled Apple Tango all over yourself.’

Lauren sniffs, her eyes wet, and Joely snorts. Simone looks confused. I understand these must be strange, foreign words to her. Does Apple Tango even still exist?

I clear my throat and continue, ‘You could’ve used your popularity powers for evil at school, but you didn’t. You were so kind and generous. You lent me all yourSweet Valley Highbooks, one by one, and we read them together and called ourselves The Unicorn Club. I was the loser new kid no one liked, and you took me under your wing. You’re still that person, always looking out for me and making me feel like somebody special and important. Protecting me whenever you can. We’ve seen each other through the best and the worst of life. You helped me recover from my first big heartbreak, when Ben Gage dumped me in front of everyone at the freshers’ ball in week two of uni. You were there when my parents split up.’ I pause to swallow. ‘And you encouraged me to apply for my dream job and made myCVlook all shiny. You’re always rooting for me, and you make me a better person, Lauren.’

Joely grins at us, while Simone still looks confused.

I keep going. ‘Lauren, back at school, I thought you were the most beautiful, cool and funny girl I’d ever met, and 16 years later, I still think that. I feel very lucky to call you my friend and even luckier to be your maid of honour.’ I pause, thoughtfully. ‘I’m so happy for you and Charlie. He is an excellent choice and we all adore him. Much, much better than 2011’s bed-wetter, Gary. But let it be noted that he is very lucky indeed to have you and he better be worthy of you. I can’t wait to help you plan this wedding, Lauren, and I will really try not to let you down.’ I break off and Joely bursts into applause.

Lauren leaps up to give me a hug, shouting, ‘That was so beautiful, Lilah, I love you so much and I hate you for making me cry. You have to make a toast at the wedding! But don’t mention that Nike cap. I wore it for three months straight and Charlie would call the whole thing off if he found out.’

We start giggling again, and next to us Simone suddenly starts loudly sobbing. ‘I don’t have any friends as nice as you lot,’ she wails, and Lauren, Joely and I all look at each other a bit awkwardly. Simone continues, speaking in her cut-glass accent through tears. ‘I moved to London last year and all my school friends stayed at home to have babies. I’ll never find a boyfriend and I’ll never have children. It’s so unfair. I’ve got no money and Isowanted to prove to Dad and Charlie that I could make it on my own and stand on my own two feet, so I put my whole trust fund into this “Toblerone scheme” a boy on Tinder told me about. I thought I was going to make a huge pile of money – he said I was.’ She looks around at us, tearfully. ‘How was I supposed to know it was a pyramid scheme and they’d just re-branded the shape? I thought I was going to get rich and eat mounds of free chocolate.’ She trails off into muffled incoherency, as the rest of us look at each other bewildered.

I pat her kindly. Poor little thing. Being young is hard.

Simone suddenly points accusingly at Joely’s generous bosom. ‘And you are so pretty and havehugeboobs, which totally isn’t fair. No boy will ever like me because I don’t have any boobs. I’m basically just nipples.’ She cries harder, waving at her childish figure.

I search for consolation and find none.

‘Of course you have boobs!’ Lauren says warmly, putting her arm around her new sister. ‘Those are definitely boobs. All you need are nipples, anyway. Nipples are the basic ingredients of boobs.’

Simone looks flummoxed. ‘I have the... basic ingredients for boobs?’ she says slowly, and I nod encouragingly as Lauren gives me a helpless look.

Joely chimes in loudly. ‘You’re lucky,’ she says, patting her own chest, which jiggles happily in response. ‘Without a bra, these are already somewhere around my vulva. I have to push them aside when I’m having sex. And it’s only going to get more and more inconvenient as I get older. At some point I’ll need to have them up in stirrups for intercourse.’

Simone looks a little cheered and I pick up my glass. ‘Let’s get back to the celebration,’ I say, clinking her drink and smiling nicely.

‘Yes,’ shouts Joely, adding, ‘it’s a Monday night, so let’s drink ourselves to death!’

Simone’s face falls again and she stutters, ‘Actually, my cousin drank himself to death...’

Joely cuts her off. ‘OK, that’s enough about you for now.’ Simone flinches as Joely continues, ‘We’re here formycousin, Lauren; we don’t want to gossip about your weird family right now.’

Joely doesn’t care what Simone or anyone thinks, and that’s probably what I like most about her. We all grew up in the same area, outside Manchester, and we knew each other as teenagers, but Joely went to a different school. It wasn’t until after uni when we all moved into Manchester city and shared a flat that the three of us got to be best friends. Living together has a way of cementing a friendship – or cracking it wide open – and honestly, we could’ve gone either way. It was great for the most part – bonding over drunken takeaways, bonding over drunken film nights, bonding over drunken My Single Friend dates (yes, there was a lot of drinking and a lot of bonding) – but Lauren did almost murder Joely on a weekly basis over the bins. And also the washing up. And the hair in the drain. Oh, and also the hoovering. Basically, we wouldn’t be where we are today if we hadn’t eventually agreed to pitch in for a cleaner.

Joely is a plus-size model and actually kind of famous now. It is the weirdest thing when someone you know – someone who has peeled you unconscious out of a plate of garlic dough balls – becomes a Famous Person. She started blogging about clothes and beauty stuff five years ago, and last year she realised she was doing so well, she could quit her job as a fashion PR to be a full-time ‘social media influencer’. I was so worried about her doing that, because I couldn’t believe that was a real job that would pay her very real rent. But she has 2.3 fucking million followers on Instagram and one of those blue ‘verified’ ticks! She makes way more money than any of us now, and, whenever we’re out, young girls are constantly coming over to fawn and ask for a Snapchat-filtered selfie with her. Actually, I’m surprised Simone hasn’t said anything yet, because she looks just like every one of Joely’s other fans – young, posh, fashionable and scared. You wouldn’t believe the stuff she gets sent for free, too. Designer bags, posh make-up, clothes that never fit (why send a plus-size Instagrammer size-eight clothes?!). She gets offered free luxury holidays just about every day, and all they ask for in return is some Instagram comment saying it’s great. I told her she can’t take the holidays because it wouldn’t be ethical – and also mostly because they won’t let her take us – but we’ve all agreed designer bags are absolutely fine.

The whole fame thing is confusing. But looking back now, it seems like it was always pretty much inevitable for Joely. She’s had that star quality people talk about, right from day one. But probably much, much more important and relevant is just how extremely, ridiculously good-looking she is. She looks like that model, Ashley Graham, but hotter, taller and larger. Everything about her is big and luminous. As long as we’ve been friends, people have always turned and stared at her longingly when we enter a room. And unlike me – worrying that it’s because everyone is judging me – Joely firmly believes and knows it’s because she looks gooooood. She’s always been my most terrifyingly confident friend, and it totally works for her.

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