Page 62 of Wedding Crasher

Marla waved as she spotted her saviour lounging in the bar area, looking particularly splendid in a leopardskin shirt, a lurid blue cocktail in his hand.

‘Well don’tyoulook lovely, darling.’

He smiled and kissed her cheek with a discreet nod of approval towards her close-fitting aubergine silk dress, which was held up on one shoulder with a glittering brooch. She’d opted for all-out vintage glamour tonight in an effort to prove to her mother how sorted her life was. She was sophisticated, and successful, and she had an attractive,normalman on her arm. Although, to be honest, Rupert’s behaviour since the accident with Bluey had been anything but normal. He’d been on edge and overly attentive, but maybe she was reading too much into it. She just wanted things to settle back to the no-strings-attached relationship they’d had at the beginning. Back then he’d been fun and sociable, and she’d enjoyed his company.

Why did it always have to become more complicated?

He seemed happy enough tonight, thankfully, and she had to confess she was glad to have him there. He was by both nature and breeding a ‘social animal’. Between him and Jonny, conversation was guaranteed to flow easily.

Marla felt conspicuously on show as they took their seats around a circular table in the centre of the room, as if they were the after-dinner cabaret act. Given that their party included a sex therapist, a taxidermist and a gay wedding celebrant, the other patrons of the restaurant would be well within their rights to expect something of a performance.Please don’t let them get one, Marla prayed as she sat down.

Her daily quota of prayers had risen significantly since her mother’s arrival – impressive for someone who didn’t really have faith. It just made her feel better to ask someone,anyone, to intervene and come to her rescue if the going got too tough. Her mother had only been around a few days, and already Marla’s arms ached from the effort of juggling balls, trying to maintain the illusion that she was sorted. It wasn’t that Cecilia was judgmental. It was more of a personal battle to prove that she wasn’t going to reverse up the same emotional cul-de-sacs as her mother.

She shot a glance across at Brynn, the latest case in point.

He’d found himself perched between Dora and Rupert. She wasn’t sure who she felt most sorry for. Possibly Brynn, which spoke volumes.

The group had already started to yack between themselves and not so much as glanced at their menus. At this rate, it would be a long, long evening.

‘Shall we order?’ Marla attempted to steer the group in the right direction.

Cecilia took this as her cue and cleared her throat with a dramatic cough as she stood up.

‘Could I just take a moment to thank you all for being here this evening.’

Marla smiled. Her mother was in her element when she was the centre of attention.

‘I feel truly blessed to be here with my daughter’s special people. You’ve all made me feel very welcome,’ she gushed, and fluttered her ringed fingers at her throat. ‘At this rate I won’t want to go home!’

She squeezed Marla’s shoulder to a flurry of ‘aaah’ from around the table, and Marla arranged her face into what she hoped looked like a smile to mask her inner horror at the thought of her mother staying forever.

‘And can I also just add a huge good luck to my darling Brynn before his speech at the taxidermy expo tomorrow. You go, honey!’

She raised her glass down the table towards her fiancé.

A mildly bewildered silence fell across the table until Jonny leapt into the breach feet first.

‘So, Brynn. Taxidermy. Tell me, what’s the biggest cock you’ve ever stuffed?’

Everyone around the table gasped in unison and stared from Jonny to Brynn like tennis spectators. Brynn, for his part, appeared completely unperturbed by the question as he paused for a moment’s thought and chewed on his bread roll.

‘Well, Jonny, I guess that would have to be a bull. Boy oh boy, was he a cracking specimen. Well over two foot long.’

Brynn held out his hands to demonstrate and Jonny’s eyes boggled with excitement. ‘Why do I suddenly feel so inadequate?’ He cackled and crossed his legs.

‘No need at all, Jonny my love,’ Cecilia squawked from down the table. Marla groaned, shut her eyes, and wished for death. Her mother was always eager to don her sex therapist hat. She cast a longing look towards the door. Could she get away with a loo break yet?

Cecilia pointed a long, red nail at Brynn.

‘Brynn honey, be honest. Don’t I always tell you that girth is more important than length?’

Brynn turned beetroot, casting a glance down at his own trouser department.

‘I mean,’ Cecilia leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stage whisper and they all leant in a little, ‘I, for instance, am terribly small –’ she glanced at her lap with an exaggerated grimace, ‘– down there.’

Marla, who had heard this spiel many times before, waited for the requested earthquake or alternative divine act to strike her mother and shut her up.

‘Anything more than a few inches would just hang around outside in the cold.’ She threw her hands up and nodded sagely at her stunned-into-silence audience. ‘Girth wins every time. A man can never be too wide.’

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