Amanda's Wedding (32 page)

‘What seems fine to you?' said Alex, coming in to
get some more wine. He lost his grip on the doorway temporarily, but caught it again.

‘Ehm, I always refer to my lasagnes as he's. Makes them, er, rise better.'

Alex stared hard at the blackened mass before him. ‘Looks like fucking terminal cancer to me.'

‘Yes, well, never mind about that. Go back in and sit down.'

Grabbing another bottle, he stumbled back into the living room, where I heard a whoop of laughter from Fran and Mookie. Must have been telling them about my lasagne, the bastard.

I stood back and prodded my handiwork with a knife.

‘Maybe if I just feed Nash and get some pizza in for everyone else …'

‘That would be great,' said Angus sweetly.

‘I spent all day making this lasagne.'

‘I know.'

‘I put nutmeg in it and everything.'

‘Don't worry.'

I walked back into the living room and cleared my throat. Fraser was still staring unhappily at his glass of wine, and downing it at an extraordinary rate, while Nash patted him companionably on the arm. Alex had moved to sit between Mookie and Fran, who were laughing around him like a couple of starlets, and he was interrogating Linda, whose face was a dreadful colour.

‘Come on, pet,' he was insisting, ‘just tell us who it is.'

Linda's face looked like it might explode.

‘Yes, come on, do tell us,' encouraged Mookie. Everyone seemed to have forgotten Linda's name.

Finally, she gritted her teeth. ‘Ralph Fiennes,' she said, almost inaudibly.

Fran waved her glass in the air. ‘No, Linda, it's got to be someone embarrassing as opposed to someone rich and handsome and gorgeous and lovely and …'

‘Four foot nine,' finished Alex snidely.

Linda looked up at him, eyes burning.

‘You'd never understand!' she shouted. I'd never heard her shout. ‘None of you could ever understand what he means to me!' And she stomped off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

There was a silence.

‘Two down,' said Alex, not very helpfully.

‘Would you like me to go and see to her?' Mookie offered gravely.

‘Thanks,' I said, ‘but, well …'

‘I'll go,' said Angus.

I turned round gratefully. ‘Would you?'

He nodded. ‘That means I'm not here when you tell them about the lasagne.'

‘What about the lasagne?' said Nash, stricken.

‘Ah.'

Half an hour later, everything was much improved. The pizzas had arrived and even Nash had had enough, although he insisted on picking every piece of vegetable matter off them first. Linda had gone to sleep, and
Angus assured us she was OK. Well, not suicidal. We'd cleared the stupid, mismatched tables out of the room and the seven of us sat bunched around the sofa or kicking our heels on the floor, trying not to knock over the candles, which had stayed with us. Van Morrison was playing, but very, very quietly.

‘You haven't gone,' said Alex to Fran.

‘Oh, go away, I don't want to go.'

He started poking her in the side.

‘You've got to! Forfeit, remember?'

Fran rolled over and lay on her stomach.

‘I'm refusing to answer. I'll take the forfeit.'

‘Wooo,' we said. ‘Forfeit! Forfeit!'

‘What, though?'

Alex grinned. ‘You could show us your tits.'

I kicked him. ‘Don't be disgusting.'

Fran sighed. ‘Yes, and everyone's seen them.'

‘I haven't!' said Mookie.

Everyone looked at her.

‘Later,' said Fran.

Angus was leaning against the sofa.

‘I know what you could do, Francesca,' he said softly.

The room turned to listen to him.

‘You're an actress. Why don't you do some acting for us? Do a piece. What are you auditioning for at the moment?'

There was a chorus of ‘good idea'. Fran looked embarrassed but shrugged.

‘I'm auditioning for
Much Ado
,' she said. ‘To tour schools with. I'm trying out for Beatrice.'

‘OK, give us a bit of that then.'

We shifted around to give her some room. For about a second she pretended not to be absolutely thrilled to be asked, then just got on with it.

‘Beatrice has just been asked if she's going to get married,' she said, then began:

‘Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust?'

‘Valiant dust?' whispered Alex loudly. ‘Woo … scary.'

‘Shhh,' I said.

‘… to make

an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.'

She was extremely good; her voice was strong, and the words rang out with perfect clarity.

‘The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing and so dance out the answer.'

‘Not another man-hater,' said Alex. Truly he was
extremely drunk, and I pinched him hard on the thigh.

‘… For, hear me, Hero:

wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his

grave.'

Everyone clapped; then suddenly Fraser leaned forward and clasped his head.

‘God!' he said. ‘It's just so much! It's just such a huge thing to do!'

We fussed around him and told him not to worry.

‘I'm not sure I want to dance the boring dances,' he sighed, holding his glass. ‘Not yet.'

‘You're right,' said Angus. ‘Listen to your instinct. Don't do it. In fact, let's take a vote on it. Hands up all those who think Fraser shouldn't get married.'

‘Please, don't do this, guys,' Fraser said, but too late. Angus's hand was already in the air, as was Fran's. Alex put his up, ‘but only because all marriage is a bunch of crap.' As he was sitting on the floor, he lost his balance and tipped over backwards, then decided not to get up again. Once we'd ascertained he hadn't set his hair on fire, we left him there. ‘I'll second that,'
said Nash. Mookie, once she'd realized that everyone else had, put her own hand up tentatively.

Fraser looked straight at me. ‘What about you, Mel? Are you conscientiously objecting? Has some doubt crept into your mind after my fiancée's delightful behaviour this evening?'

I realized I'd forgotten to put my own hand up.

‘Oh, no, I, ehm, got momentarily distracted.'

‘But you're still putting your hand up?'

I put my hand up and stared back at him resolutely.

‘Yes. Definitely.'

‘Just checking.'

‘Are you putting yours up?' said Angus to Fraser.

Fraser laughed hollowly. ‘What, you mean I'm allowed to have an opinion after you lot?'

‘Yeah, go on, Fraser, what's your vote?' said Fran.

‘Tell me what he does,' said Alex.

Fraser looked at his glass and laughed. ‘I don't think I have a vote.'

‘Of course you do,' said Angus. ‘Make your own fucking decisions, man.'

Fraser got to his feet, wobbling. ‘Against the might of the wedding industry, Pyrford Parish Church, Earthworks flower company,
Hello!
magazine, the PR industry, Charlotte Coleman Bridal Designs, Gieves & Hawkes the tailors, Sloane Caterers Inc, Asprey's, Moët & Chandon, Heal's furniture shops, the Phillipses, the McConnalds, and my great auntie Margaret, who is eighty-two and flying in from Australia,' he declaimed dramatically, ‘I am afraid I have no vote,' he bowed from the waist. ‘No vote at all.'

We all looked at him for a bit.

‘That,' he said, ‘would have been a great moment to depart. If I wanted to go, and not sit here and drink my little brother's whisky. As long as you promise to shut up about the fucking wedding.'

And so it was only once he'd gone to the loo that Mookie could come out with her idea about the bomb.

Alex sat bolt upright when he heard about the bomb.

‘Whaaa …' he coughed. ‘What bomb.'

Mookie was blushing, as usual, at being the centre of attention.

‘Well, rally, I suppose, it was an awful prank at school.'

‘What was?' Alex demanded.

‘When we wanted to ride our ponies and not go to assembly.'

‘Oh God, yes, we did that too, didn't we, Mel?' I shot Fran a Woking look.

‘Anyway, we set off all these smoke bombs – oh, the mess of it, rally – and that set off the fire alarms, and by the time they'd sorted everything out it was far too late to do anything at all. And of course with weddings, they're one after another, rally, aren't they? It's like Heathrow. If you miss your slot, you're there for ever.'

We stared at each other, stunned by the criminal genius.

‘Nash,' said Angus, taking command, ‘go distract Fraser.'

‘Hey, I'm the best man, ken. If I'm going to choke to death, I want to hear about it, OK?'

‘Fair enough. Alex, could you do it?'

‘Wha', walk into a toilet with your brother? He'll think I'm a fuggin' botty burglar.'

‘Go on, Alex,' I said. ‘You don't care anyway. Just distract him. Do a tap dance or something.'

‘Tap dance. Yeah. Right. Tap dance.' He staggered to his feet. ‘Fucking tap dance.'

Next thing we heard was the bathroom door opening and the sound of copious vomiting. Fraser's voice could be heard, enquiring as to whether he was all right.

‘What a stroke of genius,' said Angus.

‘What a fucking piss-head, more like,' I said, crossly.

‘OK,' said Angus. ‘This is a brilliant plan.'

‘Like the last brilliant plan?' I added.

‘But have we got the balls to carry it out?' Angus continued.

We looked at each other. Having come up with the idea, Mookie had retreated again and was staring at the floor.

Noticing our silence, Angus continued:

‘Where do you get the bombs, Mookie?'

‘Ehm, well, one of my cousins, he's pretty high up in the Met.'

‘You're joking – we'd steal them off the police?'

‘Not stealing, rally – he keeps a few around his house.'

Nash whistled through his teeth.

‘Then we'd need a couple of people to check the fire
alarm – and a couple of people to make sure all the grannies get out and stuff.'

‘Maybe we could keep the grannies out of the church all together?' someone said.

‘Hang on!' I said. ‘What if there's a mass stampede and hundreds of people are run over and killed? What if Amanda has a hysterical fit and commits suicide? What if Fraser never speaks to any of us again? What if you all get arrested?' God, I nearly wished I was going.

‘It could be a sign,' said Angus. ‘A beacon across the land to those in danger of wedlock.'

‘Oh no! Dangerous David Koresh visionary thing!' I said, getting agitated. Off stage, the vomiting seemed to be quieting down. I hoped he wasn't going to use my toothbrush.

‘For people to think more carefully about why they're getting married and who to. We'll only set off a little one. We'll make sure nobody panics. Then we'll run for it. Think of it in the slightly naughty rather than the deranged criminal stakes.'

‘Well, I'm up for it,' said Fran.

‘Of course you're up for it: it's got an element of chaos!' I said.

‘Huh! Well, if that's what you think …'

‘I know where to place the bombs for, you know … well, the best places for them to go off, rally,' said Mookie shyly.

‘Great, great,' said Angus. ‘And Nash, you'll be at the front, so you're on granny duty. Fraser will help you.'

‘I doubt this will sound so good when we wake up in the morning,' I said sourly.

‘And I'll do the fire alarms.'

‘As well as being the criminal master mind,' I said. ‘This is a terrible idea.'

‘We don't really need you,' said Fran.