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Alex phoned that night.

‘Hey, pumpkin.’

‘Hey yourself.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Oh, you know, just hanging around the house in my black, silky, lacy underwear – oh, it’s so warm! I must unfasten my negligée.’

‘Yeah yeah yeah.’

‘Oh! Is that the door? Goodness me, hello, plumber. Have you come to … clean out my pipes?’

‘Mel, shut up for just one second.’

‘OK … big boy.’

‘Listen, ehm, Charlie really wants to come to this do on Saturday night.’

‘No he doesn’t. He said it sounded complete crap.’

‘Well, when I got back on Sunday he said he really wanted to come, and could I ask you.’

‘God, what’s the matter with the boy, is he a Johnny No-Mates? Is this the first party he’s ever been invited to? Hang on, no, I mean, is this the latest party he hasn’t been invited to?’

‘No, I don’t know what it is. He just keeps pestering me, and I said I’d ring you, that’s all.’

‘Ah ha ho – I think I know.’

‘What? What is it?’

‘I’m not telling you. And no, he can’t. He’s annoying.’

‘Oh, go on, Mel – please. Please. For a mate.’

‘A mate? Who, you?’

‘Well, you know what I mean.’

‘You’re my mate?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Your soul mate. Now, please, please can you get Charlie an invite?’

‘Alex, is he going to chuck you out if you don’t wangle him into this party?’

‘Ehmm … yes?’

‘Good. No, he definitely can’t come.’

‘I’ll … do the washing-up.’

‘I … probably wouldn’t notice.’

‘Oh, go on, Mel. It’ll be a laugh.’

I sighed. ‘Fine, fine, if it means that much to you.’

‘Fantastic.’ His voice turned curious. ‘Why does he want to come so much then?’

Ha! I don’t think Alex really needed to know that. Fran had obviously commenced the process.

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Well …’ I said. Then inspiration struck. ‘Apparently, Charlie’s never seen a stripper before and there apparently … might … be one.’

‘No, really? I’ve never seen one either.’

‘Good God, what is the public school system coming to these days? Anyway, good. I’m glad you’re happy. I’ll see you on Saturday … unless you feel like popping round now …?’

‘Jeez, Mel, it’s two hours away.’

‘Oh! So it is. Saturday, then.’

‘Bye, pumpkin.’

‘Bye, sweetpea.’

I phoned Fraser to check the rapidly extending guest list was going to be all right. Angus had already OK’d our presence by threatening to withhold stripper privileges if we weren’t granted entrance, so at least Fran and I were in the clear. Amanda answered.

‘Oh, hi,’ I said coolly. I was prepared for this. ‘Is Fraser there?’ Hee hee hee.

‘Is that you, Mel, darling?’

Uh-oh: what was this, scary reverse psychology? Maybe she was planning on turning my legs into the legs of a chicken.

‘I’m dreadfully sorry about the other day, darling. Pre-wedding tension and all that.’

I didn’t know what to say. She seemed to have had pre-wedding tension for the last twenty-six years.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I mumbled.

‘Darling, I’d love you to come to my hen party. Honestly.’

‘But …’

‘No, no “but”s, darling. Please, do come.’

‘What about Fran?’ I said loyally. Also I’d be too scared to go on my own.

She sighed. ‘Yes, and Fran too. It’s Quagli’s at eight, a week on Friday. We’ll squeeze you in somehow.’

‘Have you been dropped on the floor and landed on your head?’

‘No, darling, it’s just … I thought … Oh, it would be so silly and embarrassing for you two to have to go to Frase’s stag night. I mean, the humiliation …’

‘Oh no. We’re still going to that. It’s going to be a right laugh,’ I said.

‘Darling, don’t be a silly. It’s for boys. They won’t want you!’

I knew it! She couldn’t bear not being the centre of attention for even one tiny microsecond.

‘Can I speak to Fraser, please? And thanks for inviting us … eventually. It’s a sweet thought.’

‘Look, I’m only saying this to be kind …’ she said nastily, ‘but he doesn’t really want you there. It’s only because that retarded brother of his thought it’d be a laugh. Fraser thinks it’ll be embarrassing too. You’ll be the laughing stock.’

SHUT UP, WITCH! I badly wanted to say.

‘Look, Amanda,’ I said, as calmly as I could, ‘it’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Don’t worry about us. Can you put Fraser on the phone, please?’

There was a pause, and some frantic whispering. I wanted to hang up, but forced myself to stay on the line.

‘Urr, hullo,’ came a familiar gravelly voice.

‘Ehm, hi, Frase …’

There was a bit of a pause. I could picture Amanda in the background, drawing her finger across her throat … dramatically uplit like the queen in Snow White.

‘Frase, do you really mind us coming on your stag night?’

Fraser was obviously weighing up his options of girls plus stripper or nothing.

‘NO. DEFINITELY NOT.’

The stern tone surprised me.

‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DEFINITELY NOT, OKAY!’

Then he put the phone down. I hugged myself with glee. We were going all right. Although I did find Fraser tricking his fiancée slightly worrying. I mean, I was allowed to hate her – I wasn’t going to marry her.

I remembered I’d forgotten to ask him about Alex and Charlie. Oh well, surely they could blend into the background.

Finally, with the phone feeling welded to my ear, I managed to catch up with Fran, and told her what had happened. She was pleased.

‘I’d have given anything to be a ghost and have crept into her room and seen her face when that happened.’

‘Er, wouldn’t you rather just be a fly on the wall?’ I said.

‘Would I rather be a fly than a ghost?’

‘OK, can we have this conversation later? Because NOW you are going to tell me what happened with Charlie.’

She laughed evilly. ‘Oh, my dear, I couldn’t possibly tell you on the phone. Really, it was disgusting. Quite brilliant. Almost a shame to have to punish him, really.’

‘But you’re going to.’

‘Sadly, rules are rules. And I’ll see you on Saturday. Has he phoned up and begged to come?’

‘Yup.’

‘Excellente!’

Saturday was fast approaching, and I realized that I had no idea what to wear to a stag night. Cockney Boy was most surprised that we’d been invited to a stag, and even offered to teach me how to make a selection of suggestively named cocktails.

Janie was looking much better, apart from jumping six feet every time the phone rang and asking me whether I thought it was too early to introduce James to her parents.

I pondered this for a bit.

‘Well, I’ve always found the will reading to be the only really safe time. That might just be the boys I know, though.’

She turned green, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

I debated with myself whether to wear jeans, then decided against it, in case we ended up in one of those nightclubs that preferred cheap shiny Top Shop suits to real clothes. A good frock, however, was not the thing, as it would surely be raining beer at some stage. Anything tight or short was out, in case of stripper identity problems. And nothing too plain, or I might be mistaken for a dyke, which is why I had to come to the boys’ night out. Yikes. That pretty much just left my bought-on-a-whim catsuit, so called because if I ever walked past any cats in it their fur went on end and they made a ‘sssssssssssssssssuuuuuuuuu’ noise.

Fran turned up, looking glorious in something dainty and impossibly trendy. This was getting worse. I picked my kilt up from the back of the cupboard. Fran shook her head imperiously. Just as I was hopping about in my black tights gazing at some weird Japanese kimono thing which had somehow turned up in my clothes, the doorbell rang again.

‘Can you get that?’ I said. ‘It’ll be Alex and Charlie.’

‘Ah, my two favourite men,’ she purred languidly.

Fran swanned out of my bedroom and I could hear rowdy voices. Oh well, she sounded like she was being civil. Then Alex’s voice drifted into my room:

‘PLEASE – look, will you just stop calling me a cocksucker?’

I grinned to myself.

They did sound noisy, though. Oh God, I hoped they weren’t drunk already. That would be dreadful.

Finally settling on smart chinos and a flowery shirt, I shoved on some mascara and lippy and popped outside.

Alex and Charlie had hauled out one of Linda’s bottles of wine and were debating in loud voices exactly which hilarious rugby song they were going to sing next. Uh oh. I looked at Fran, who nodded and raised her eyes. They were absolutely, gloriously, buggeringly drunk.

‘BESTIALITY’S GREAT, MATE!’ shouted Charlie.

To which Alex immediately responded:

‘PUT YOUR LOG IN A FROG, MATE!’

‘PUT YOUR GEAR IN A STEER, MATE!’ hollered Charlie lustily.

‘BESTIALITY’S GREAT!’ they concluded together, holding each other up.

‘Oh God,’ I said to Fran. ‘We can’t take these two with us. They’ll be awful.’

‘You tell them.’

‘Oh, why does it always have to be me?’

‘Yeah, right, like I invited Charlie.’

At the sound of Fran speaking his name, Charlie fell to the ground and clasped her round the ankles. She kicked him.

I turned round to face the boys. They were both very red in the face, and the wine was sloshing around dangerously.

‘Alex, you’re completely pissed,’ I said, trying not to sound too headmistressy.

‘Jesus, gorgeous, you sound just like my old headmistress,’ he slurred, wobbling backwards and forwards.

‘You’re not coming to this stag night like that!’

‘STAG NIGHT! STAG NIGHT!’ they started chanting. Charlie got up off the floor and looked around, puzzled. ‘Are we there?’

‘Oh, shut up!’ My patience was gone, and I couldn’t cope. ‘You’re not coming, so you might as well just fuck off.’

‘PUT YOUR LOAD IN A TOAD, MATE,’ started Alex inexorably.

‘PUT YOUR GOO IN A ROO, MATE,’ Charlie joined in.

‘Oh God,’ I said to Fran. ‘What shall we do? Make a run for it?’

‘Oh, good idea,’ she said. ‘Then when Linda gets back from Singles Night at Tescos she can find them prostrate in vomit and weeing on her carpet.’

‘BESTIALITY’S GREAT, MATE! BESTIALITY’S GREAT!’

‘Maybe we can take them outside, then lose them.’

‘Good idea. Just as well you’ve already taken Alex’s set of keys back.’

‘Shit.’

‘Look, let’s go. They’ll probably be all right.’

‘SHE CAN SHOOT GREEN PEAS FROM HER FUNDAMENTAL ORIFICE!’ shouted Charlie suddenly. Fran and I stopped talking and turned round.

‘That’s the wrong song, you twat,’ said Alex.

‘I KNOW!’ hollered Charlie. ‘Err … PUT YOUR POLE IN A FOAL, MATE!’

‘THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!’ yelled Alex. ‘PUT YOUR STAFF IN A GIRAFFE, MATE!’

‘Oh God.’ I sat down, then stood up again when I realized I was sitting in the wine and spittle range of fire.

‘This is great. This is just great. First, Amanda is never speaking to us again for going behind her back.’

‘Yeah. One: who cares, and two: how is she going to find out?’

‘Oh, probably shortly after these two get arrested and in the papers.’

‘HAVE A SHAG WITH A STAG, MATE!’

‘HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH A HORSE, MATE!’

‘Then,’ I went on, bravely, ‘we turn up at this thing and get thrown out, and Angus and Fraser never talk to us again. So, in the space of a day I’ve managed to alienate about thirty-three per cent of all my friends. Not to mention Alex, when he wakes up tomorrow and I’m beating his face to a bloody pulp.’

‘Why don’t you do it now, when he won’t notice?’

‘What would be the point of that?’

‘Come on.’ Fran took me by the arm. ‘Let’s get this over with. Maybe they’ll fall out of the taxi …’

‘Yeah, and into another dimension. C’mon, you two, we’re going.’

They started to sway towards the door.

‘UP THE CRACK OF A YAK, MATE!’

‘HAVE A FRIG WITH A PIG, MATE!’

And the four of us sang, going down the hall:

‘BESTIALITY’S GREAT, MATE! BESTIALITY’S GREAT.’

We nearly got thrown out the cab, and it took all my conciliatory powers to get us to the Princess Louise pub, in Holborn. I shot a nervous look at Fran, but she appeared extremely cool, even though Charlie was trying to get on his knees in front of her to express his true and heartfelt devotion in loquacious terms. Every time he got too close she kneed him on the crest of his rugby shirt.

I took a deep breath at the door, squared my shoulders and headed in.

‘Neh, it’s a private party up there, mate,’ said this extraordinary talking-monkey thing.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘Fraser McConnald’s stag do.’

‘That’s Laird McConnald,’ added Fran helpfully.

The monkey raised its eyebrows.

‘’Ere, are you the …’

‘No, we’re not. We’re invited guests. Come on, Mel –’ and Fran shrugged us through imperiously.

As in werewolf films, the inn fell quiet when we entered the room. Lots of young men were standing around having a perfectly nice comfortable drink, and here were two pairs of breasts all set to ruin it. A couple of the blokes even had cigars, if it could be any more Freudian. I wanted to turn on my heel, but, fortunately, Angus came to the rescue.

‘Hey, hullose there!’ He walked over, beaming. ‘Glad youse could make it.’

His smile fell as he looked over his shoulder and cottoned on to the collapsing figures of Alex and Charlie.

‘I’m sorry!’ I said straight away. ‘They were going to get thrown into the river in a sack and we didn’t have the heart to leave them.’

Angus half smiled. ‘Och well, they’re here now, I suppose. Is he –’ indicating Charlie – ‘going to cause any trouble?’

Fran had somehow managed to conjure a cigar out of nowhere and was proceeding to look felinely wonderful with it.

‘Oh no,’ she purred. ‘He won’t be any trouble, will you, big boy?’ And she winked at Charlie like some thirties vixen until his eyes popped.

Angus looked understandably confused then turned back to me.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said eagerly.

‘Ehm … bottle of Budvar, please.’

‘I’ll have a long vodka please,’ ordered Fran imperiously.

‘A what?’ I said, when Angus had gone to the bar. ‘What are you playing at? Queen of all the Vamps?’

‘Oh, go on, Mel,’ she said. ‘Look around. There’s forty blokes here and two of us. When’s the last time I got off with a bloke?’

‘Thursday.’

‘He doesn’t count. That was duty. And tonight he’s hopelessly drunk, while I’m in the mood. I’m a prowling lioness. So stay out of my way.’ She took a draw on her cigar and blew smoke rings at me.

‘Huh. Well, my boyfriend’s here …’ I looked over. Alex was slumped on a sofa, stupefied. ‘So I have to behave myself.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes!’

Angus arrived back with the drinks, and Fran downed hers in one. Eyes shining, she looked around the room. ‘Who’s … that?’ she said to Angus, eyes trained on a sweet-faced, wan young man standing by himself next to the punch, and helping himself liberally to it.

‘That’s Johnny McLachlan – he’s the best man. Why, do you want to meet him?’

‘Yes. Have him washed and –’

‘Fran!’

Angus clearly thought we had both gone mad, but he beckoned Johnny McLachlan over anyway. Johnny McLachlan did a huge ‘Who, me?’ double take, and eventually sidled up, slightly hunched over.

‘Johnny, meet two friends of ours, Melanie and Fran.’

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Enchanted!’ exclaimed Fran. ‘Now, tell me all about yourself and how you came to be darling Fraser’s best man.’

‘Aye, well, hullo,’ said Johnny, in an accent so thick he made Angus sound like Princess Anne. ‘Well, actually, like, Ah’m a geography teacher, likesay.’

‘How fascinating!’ Fran leaned over intimately. A sweat broke out on Johnny’s forehead.

Through mutual eye contact Angus and I moved to one side.

‘What on earth is going on with your friend? Is she on heat?’

‘I think so.’

‘Is she serious?’

‘Serious? Well, if I were Johnny, I’d take out some life insurance.’

‘Eaten alive?’

‘Sucked clean.’

‘Woo.’ There was a pause.

‘Oh, I remember what I came for,’ I said.

Angus looked at me quizzically.

‘The bridegroom? That whole wedding thing? Horseshoes and stuff? You remember!’

‘Oh yes. I’m being a terrible host. Let me –’ and he bowed and proffered me his arm – ‘escort you to his lairdship’s table.’

‘You are too kind.’

Fraser was sitting on a large leather banquette in the corner, surrounded by some rather technical-looking young men, whom I assumed were fellow engineers. They all looked rather doleful, and not as if they were having a primeval bonding experience at all.

‘Hey,’ I said, still on Angus’s arm.

Fraser looked up and grinned.

‘Hey, yourself. Glad you could come.’

‘Me too. Is it going to get you into trouble?’

‘Och, Fraser’s always in trouble – aren’t you, lad?’ said Angus, and the whole table burst out laughing. Fraser smiled ruefully.

‘Of course not. Everyone is sworn to secrecy.’

There was a chorus of, ‘Yeah, right!’ and ‘How much are you going to pay us?’

‘Did you bring that terrifying friend of yours?’

‘Yes. She’s over there, being terrifying.’

Fraser looked over.

‘Oh my God, poor wee Johnny. You haven’t set her loose on him?’

‘Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. Apparently she’s being a lioness tonight.’

Angus and he swapped a look.

‘I was at primary school with Johnny. Haven’t seen him much since then, but he qualified as oldest pal when I was looking for a best man. God, I hope she doesn’t get her claws into him …’

In the corner, Fran was quaffing another martini, with one hand on Johnny’s lapel. He was laboriously trying to explain something to her – oxbow lakes, probably, but I could tell she wasn’t listening, just throwing her head back with raucous laughter.

‘He’s been married eight years and his wife never lets him out of the house. He only got to come here because I promised there wouldn’t be any strippers.’

‘Fraser, just how many lies did you have to tell to get this party together tonight?’

‘I don’t even want to think about it. Who’s for another?’

‘Way hey!’ shouted the boys at the table, and bumped up to make room for me.

They turned out not to be doleful at all, just serious about deconstructing the X-Files, e e cummings, politics, stand-up comedy and the general state of the world today, at least in so far as it related to the world of engineering and Dr Who. Strangely, I found them fascinating and non-judgemental company; infinitely relaxing. Of course, not having to buy any drinks helped.

Every so often there would be a loud grunt or guffaw, as Alex and Charlie seemed to have descended to the level of bestial communications. But just as I was thinking how very, very fond of Fraser’s friends I was, there was a muttering at the door. In walked a woman in a large coat, out of which was peeping a pair of open-toed stilettoes and fishnet tights.

All relevant political and cultural debate instantly went flying out the window. I suddenly had a lot less room on the bench as the testosterone level rose and the boys suddenly needed plenty of space to splay their legs wide open.

Behind the stripper was an enormous man who managed to make finding a plug point for the tape recorder seem imposing. Immediately, ‘Hey, Big Spender’ started up. Without removing her cigarette, the woman walked nonchalantly to the centre of the room and, showing no perceivable interest, slipped out of her coat.

The previously well-mannered and charming boys beside me turned into a host of baying beasts. The roaring was incredible, punctuated with wolf howls as the woman did a desultory shimmer to ‘Spend … a little time with me.’

Eventually, she started to walk towards our table. An excited ‘Way hey!’ went up as she bent over to have her bra strap undone, with the bloke she approached only just able to restrain himself – after a sharp look from the bouncer – from pinging it. The bra went whirling through the air and landed near a surprised Fran and Johnny, who were snogging like they’d just invented it over in the corner.

The bra got a big round of applause, but all eyes quickly came back round to the main attraction. The boys’ eyes were wide as saucers as the woman stifled a yawn, shot me a dirty look (I thought), and stuck her leg up on the table to undo her suspenders.

I stifled a yawn myself, and looked over to where I’d last left Charlie and Alex, muttering like two old alkies at a railway station. Alex was tottering uneasily to his feet, being egged on by Charlie. As I watched, hypnotized, ignoring the mounting hysteria behind me, Alex picked up the gold lamé-trimmed bra and put it on over his shirt, dancing along to Shirley Bassey. He approached Fran and Johnny, making lewder and lewder movements, while Charlie shouted encouragement. Finally, when all eyes had gone past her, the stripper turned round to see Alex rubbing her costume like a towel between his legs.

‘’Ere!’ she shouted, which was enough for the bouncer to stop looking menacing and do some actual bouncing.

He walked over to Alex and put his hand on his shoulder. Incredibly drunk, Alex leered up at him uncomprehendingly. Charlie, however, was back on his feet again.

‘Leave him alone!’ he shouted petulantly.

The bouncer gave Charlie his best ominous look.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah! Or you can just … fuck off!’

There was an ominous silence, except for the inaudible noise of me attempting to disappear. Oh my God, he’d done it again. And I had brought him.

Very deliberately, the bouncer retrieved the bra from Alex’s limp hand and laid it on the table. Then slowly, almost tenderly, he led both the boys outside. Nobody moved as some cartoon scuffle noises reached us from the other side of the door. After about three minutes the bouncer came back in, actually dusting his hands down.

‘You coming, Leese?’ he said.

Leese was already dressed – in her own terms. She stood in front of Angus while he paid her, then the pair left in a dignified silence.

I closed my eyes in horror. Nobody said anything. Then finally a lone Glaswegian voice from the back said plaintively:

‘Well, I thought the bloke was a better dancer, ken.’

I opened half an eye. Fraser turned round, but there was a glint in his eye.

‘You mean I brought a stripper to my stag night for a crowd of fucking poofs?’

The whole room guffawed with relieved tension, and new rounds were ordered in. I went up to Angus.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. I mean … oh, they’re just … I’m sorry.’

‘I know what you mean,’ he said kindly. ‘Why don’t you tell me all about it?’

‘I will, I need to go see if Alex is OK.’

‘Why? He deserved it.’

‘No he didn’t! It was just a prank.’

‘Not to her it wasn’t.’

‘Oh well, you know what boys are like.’

‘Huh. Not all of them.’

I could feel him watching me as I headed out the door. Fran and Johnny were now looking distinctly biological, and I averted my eyes.

Outside, everything was quiet. I couldn’t see the boys anywhere, or even hear any muffled groaning. I pondered the situation for nearly half a second, heard a burst of boyish laughter from upstairs and decided to head back to where the warmth and beer were.

Inside, everyone’s faces were looking redder. Fran and Johnny were nowhere to be seen, but the lads were presenting Fraser with a blonde blow-up doll, which happened to look extremely like Amanda.

Blushing, he stood up as Angus sidled alongside me and pressed a bottle of beer into my hand, which I swigged gratefully.

‘I wanted to say …’ Fraser started manfully.

‘Get yer tits oot!’ shouted the Glaswegian wag.

‘Shut up, Nash.’

I turned round to see who Nash was. Gosh, he doesn’t sound black, I found myself thinking, then immediately felt like the stupidest person in the world.

‘I just wanted to say,’ continued Fraser ‘that it’s good to see so many of you here.’

‘Apart fae yer best man!’ someone shouted, and there was a burst of obscene laughter.

‘Yes, well, apart from – ahem – Mr McLachlan, who seems to be otherwise disposed.’

‘Aye, up the bits of some tart.’

‘Hey!’ I said to Angus. ‘That’s my friend they’re talking about.’

‘What, not your friend that was behaving completely like a tart?’

‘Huh. Well, maybe.’

‘OK, calm down …’ Fraser looked slightly unsteady. ‘I just wanted to thank you all for coming, and I know some of you came down a long way. Getting married is a frightening thing, although not as frightening as seeing you shower all in the same room at the one time.’

There was a friendly muttering.

‘No, really. It’s great to see you all. I’d like to thank my brother for getting everything organized, Mr Flaherty for the loan of his pub, and … well, just the whole big bunch of you lads.’

‘And girls!’ I squeaked.

‘And honorary lads,’ said Fraser, bowing in my direction. I grinned.

‘So, get some drink down you. Oh, and sorry about the stripper …’ he petered out.

‘To Fraser!’ shouted Angus.

‘To Fraser!’ said the company. I think I was the only one who noticed that he’d missed out the bride from the toast.

‘To the stripper!’ shouted someone else.

‘To the dirty bint that’s taken Johnny up the close!’

‘What?’ I asked Angus. ‘Is that rude?’

‘Never mind.’

We wandered back over to Fraser’s table and rejoined the company.

The evening wore on – the landlord was an old drinking buddy of the McConnalds’ father, and wasn’t too bothered about licensing restrictions. I lapsed into lovely drunk time, where things just floated past, and I jumped in and out of different conversations at will. After dissecting the genius of Billy Connolly on one side, I tuned in like a radio to the other, where Angus and one of the Scottish boys were deep in serious conversation.

‘Just talk to him,’ Angus was saying.

‘Look, I only met her once. She seemed all right.’

‘She’s not all right. She’s a complete cow and she’ll make his life hell. This is why I got you all down here – to persuade him not to do it.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ I exclaimed brightly.

‘Nothing,’ said Angus shortly, turning back to his pint.

‘Have you met this “Amanda” that Frase is marrying?’ asked the other chap.

‘Course I have. I’ve known her all my life.’

Angus looked up at me.

‘What’s she like then?’ the bloke asked.

I paused, not quite sure what to say. Idiotically, I suddenly felt quite loyal. It was all right for me and Fran to talk about Amanda having her gizzards ripped out by vultures, but with anyone else it wasn’t really on.

‘Well, she’s … really pretty, and dead rich. She’s nice.’

‘Fair enough,’ said the bloke to Angus. ‘I’m not saying anything. You should never get involved in these things. My sister married this right bastard and she wouldn’t be told anything.’

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Oh, yeah, he turned out to be a right bastard. Left her with the kids and everything.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mel!’ burst out Angus. ‘She’s a complete bitch and you know it.’

I sighed.

‘Sorry, forgive me if I’m being slow here, but you talk about her non-stop. I mean, why do you hate her so much? And Alex, and Charlie – well, it’s OK to hate Charlie … But, I mean, when I met you, I thought you were really awful, ’cause you hated us all so much. But now I know you’re not, you’re actually really nice, so I don’t understand it at all. Are you a secret communist? Do you hate posh people? You’re posh anyway. Well, your brother’s a complete nob … I didn’t mean that last bit the way it sounded.’

‘Have you finished?’ asked Angus.

I thought for a second. ‘Ehm … yes.’

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘if I tell you something, do you promise on your life that you won’t tell Fraser?’

The third bloke was still with us, unwilling to draw attention to himself by getting up and moving away, but embarrassed to be listening to something personal. He was staring very hard at the ashtray.

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe on my dog’s life.’

‘Be serious. You don’t have a dog.’

‘OK, no, I promise.’

He looked away. ‘I overheard her. On her stupid minuscule mobile phone. When she came up to visit our mum a few weeks ago and behave patronizingly towards her. She had to lean out of the window to get a signal, and I was in the next room.’

‘With a glass up against the wall?’

‘With the window open. Look, do you want me to tell you or not?’

‘Yes please,’ I said meekly.

‘Anyway, she was talking to Hello! magazine.’

He paused dramatically. I looked at him like he was crazy.

‘Hello! magazine? That’s it? You’re trying to wreck their marriage before it even starts because of Hello! and its … its inane pictures of unhappy celebrities??’

He ignored me and went on.

‘She was offering them the rights for the wedding. I heard her. She promised them she could “get Tara”. You know, they love all that minor aristocracy bullshit. “Aren’t Posh People Lovely? Here’s a picture of one standing next to a horse.” That kind of thing. Bitch!’

He grumbled into his pint.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘She was just trying to get her picture in the paper.’

‘No,’ he said slowly, as if I was an idiot. ‘She asked them for £15,000 to let them take photos and have an –’ he imitated her shrill tones – ‘“in-depth interview with me about the new castle … not much point talking to the aristo, darling – you know what they’ve got between the ears, hee hee.”’

‘Jesus. Did she get the money?’

He looked at me grimly.

‘I don’t know. Fraser certainly hasn’t heard anything about it if she did.’

‘No. You don’t think she half-inched it do you?’

‘You’re talking about …’ he turned away. ‘You’re talking about the woman who turned up, entirely by coincidence, in my brother’s life a month after our dad dies, we’re all completely fucking shell-shocked – still are – and guess what? He’s blinking in the daylight and they’re engaged. So she can get on the cover of fucking Hello! magazine. She’s probably been through every Right Hon in the country. I think she’s capable of it, don’t you?’

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ I said, not sure at all. ‘I’m sure she loves him.’

‘Why? What, honestly, do you think someone like her sees in someone like him, apart from that stupid falling down piece of medieval crap in Kirkudbrightshire?’

I looked over. Fraser looked sweaty and dishevelled, and his curly hair was falling in his eyes. One arm was round his big pal Nash, the other round Amanda the blow-up doll, and they were all (the doll was faking it) singing ‘Danny Boy’ very very badly and making up the words.

‘I think losing one member of her family’s enough for my mum this year, don’t you? That fucking title. Just because you’re all modern women who can do anything, you think that kind of thing doesn’t happen any more. But it does.’

He reverted to staring at his drink. His face was red. I stared hard at the table.

‘I think we need another drink,’ I said.

‘I’ll get them!’ shouted the bloke at our table, jumping up and rushing across the pub. We both looked after him, startled. As we turned round, Fraser and Nash made a bravura attempt at the high note at the end of ‘Danny Boy’ then immediately fell away as, silhouetted in the doorway, stood the very wan, very dirty Johnny McLachlan, looking for all the world as though he had, indeed, just been mauled by a lioness.

A roar went up, as Johnny dazedly walked back amongst the tables with his eyes wide open. There was no sign of Fran behind him. He sat down, heavily at the bar, his eyes red.

‘A large one, please.’

There was a crash as Nash and the doll fell over laughing. Everyone in the room was guffawing and clapping Johnny on the shoulder. I suddenly felt very much the lone female.

I picked up my drink and headed off to the loo, and to look for Fran. It was like one of those Agatha Christie books, where the party gets picked off one by one. Everyone was extremely drunk now, and the whole scene was becoming confusing. I sat in the bathroom for a long time, fully dressed and staring intently at the dirty floor tiles while trying not to fall off the toilet.

I had no idea how long I’d been there when I heard someone get into the cubicle next to me.

‘Fran!’ I whispered urgently.

There was a long pause.

‘Err … no. It’s me.’

It was one of the brothers, but I couldn’t tell which one. It sounded like Angus.

‘What are you doing in here, you twat?’

‘Oh, the boys loos are looking … pretty revolting. There’s blood in them. Mixed with –’

‘Oh, OK, I don’t want to think about that right at the moment.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all right. Is that Angus?’

There was another pause.

‘Erm … yes.’

‘Oh. Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize …’

‘That’s OK. I get a bit grumpy sometimes. I suppose it’s because everyone thinks my brother’s so great.’

I heard what sounded like a strangulated giggle, but chose to ignore it.

‘Look, really I agree with you,’ I said. ‘I think Amanda’s a cow, and you think Amanda’s a cow, but your mate’s right: there’s no point in interfering, is there? People simply do things, whether you want them to or not. Tough. Who knows: maybe she’s different with him than she is with everyone else on the planet.’

Suddenly the toilet next door flushed and the door banged. I gradually sat upright and let the blood flow back down from my head. Shakily, I opened the cubicle door. Shit.

‘You lying fucker!’ I yelled at him. I was furious.

Fraser was bright red. ‘I just wanted to hear what you were going to say. What were you sorry about?’

‘It’s none of your fucking business was what I was going to say! I was talking to Angus, not you! What a stupid thing to do.’

‘Right, just because you’re too pissed to tell one voice from another.’

I stared at him. ‘Oh, so it’s my fault. What? I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation. I do NOT give a toss.’ I headed out the door. He caught me.

‘Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.’ There was a note of urgency in his voice.

‘Fine!’ I was on my high horse now. ‘I can stay, go … I do NOT give a toss, remember?’

‘Shush a minute. Please. I’m sorry.’

We stood there for a bit in silence. Then he set his lanky frame on the hand basins, his long legs kicking out in front. He got his arse wet, but didn’t seem to notice.

‘Is it true …?’ he faltered. ‘I mean, do you … does everyone …? Oh, fuck it.’

He took a deep breath and started again.

‘Look, with Amanda and everything … I thought her and Angus just didn’t hit it off. She point-blank refused to let him be my best man after he asked her why she was inviting all these people she barely knew just because they were famous.’

‘Not Sean Connery’s son?’

‘Yes, people like that. Well, it’s her job, isn’t it?’

That sounded familiar.

‘Ah mean,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re practically her best friend. Don’t you like her, either?’

His voice was so soft and sad I couldn’t bear to hurt him.

‘Sweetheart, she’s not my best friend. I hardly see her. I hardly know her these days …’

I could tell by his face that that tack wasn’t working. ‘I mean, she’s fine. Really, I’ve known her for ever … Look, do you remember at college, when I wanted to go out with Flattypuss Malloy? And you couldn’t bear him because he had a lump on his neck?’

‘It was gross! Really – especially from where I was standing.’

There was at least a foot’s difference in height between us.

‘And he was really nice after all?’ I pursued.

‘He was a lumpy bastard.’

‘Well, sometimes people dislike other people without us understanding the reasons for it.’

‘What happened to him, anyway?’

‘I heard he painted a second face on it and rents himself out at parties.’

‘Wow.’

We pondered that for a second. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Either a mouse had walked across my face or I was having a seriously bad mascara attack.

I decided to make one last attempt.

‘Look, when Amanda wants something,’ I said, truthfully, ‘she goes for it. She’s completely single-minded and nothing holds her back.’

Quite unlike myself. I touched him gently on the face. His eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheek.

‘So, therefore, she must really, really want you.’

He looked down at me with a wounded look in his eye.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes, I do.’

He sighed.

‘Do you love her terribly much?’ I asked, suddenly longing for a bit of highly dramatic romance in my life.

‘She’s … you know, pretty and confident and, well, she knows lots of people and … stuff …’ Fraser looked down. ‘And, you know, she really wanted to marry me!’

‘Was that so difficult to believe?’

He grinned. ‘I don’t know.’

We got a few limp ‘Woah hos!’ when we emerged from the ladies toilets together, but the single-entendre brigade was getting pretty tired, and the room was definitely a bleary party ready to go home. Fran was still nowhere to be seen, so I decided to brave it home alone …

I waved cheerily to Nash and found Angus in a corner, finishing a whisky contemplatively.

‘I’m off,’ I announced.

‘Bye then.’

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I said, for the second time that evening.

‘What for?’ he smiled wearily. ‘We just had a discussion, that’s all.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ I wasn’t going to tell him about what happened in the loo …

‘You never told me about …’

‘What?’

‘You never told me about Alex.’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘So you said before. I’ve got lots of time.’

‘Some other time then. Umm, when there’s lots of it. And not tonight, when I have twenty-eight minutes and counting before I pass out wherever I am.’

I leaned in to kiss him good night. Unexpectedly, he put his arms round me and gave me a hug.

‘Do you want me to come and find you a cab?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said gratefully. ‘This is Holborn, for God’s sake – what are they going to do, sue me to death?’

‘Goodnight then.’

I grinned, turned and left, before I could do something clumsy and spoil the moment.

Outside I spotted a cab and was just putting up my arm when I heard my name being called, weakly, from an alley.

Discounting the obvious, I assumed it was an evil spirit coming to reclaim me for the night, and jumped six feet in the air. When I saw the arm coming out of the alley, I discerned it was at least semi-human … I hoped.

I wandered over and crouched down beside the sorry specimen.

‘Wooooooah, Alex! I came looking for you earlier – I thought you’d gone.’

‘I wasn’t feeling too well.’

‘What on earth happened to you?’

‘Um, he hit me. Then I felt a bit tired and had a sleep. Then I woke up and didn’t know what to do. And then you came.’

‘That’s because I am in fact an angel from God,’ I said severely. ‘Can you stand up?’

I wanted to work out how bad a state he was in. Still pissed, he had a gorgeous black eye coming up, but his nice patrician nose remained in a nice patrician state, and I didn’t think he’d broken anything too major. I hoisted him to his feet.

‘And also, I was sick.’

‘Aha, so you were!’ I said, noticing suddenly, but managing not to drop him like a stone.

‘Charlie?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Fran?’

‘Dunno.’

I sighed.

‘Come on, you.’

I hailed the cab. The driver slowed down, saw me half-carrying a bloody, vomity war victim and speeded up again.

‘Bastard!’ I yelled after it. ‘Poxy poxy bastard.’

One freezing November hour later, all my pleasant, muddled, drunken feelings had evaporated and I was cursing London, cursing parties, cursing cab drivers, and especially cursing the enormous stinky sack of potatoes I had been delegated to haul around just because I was in love with it.

Finally we found a minicab driver too hashed up to care about the vomit – actually, judging from the smell of the cab, it was his speciality – and made it back to Kennington for 3.30 a.m. The entire building was silent and completely black.

Alex only wanted to get to bed, but he wasn’t going anywhere near me in that state, so I dumped him fully clothed in the shower and turned the water on.

Instantly, he started to make a noise like a howling dog. I made a flying tackle through the air, which successfully cut off the howling, but not without pulling the shower curtain down. It fell with a huge clatter as I stood there, hand over his mouth, tilted at a horrible angle and getting soaking wet, with the curtain over us both like a huge ghost outfit, waiting for the entire neighbourhood to descend and throw shoes at me. Alex looked up at me, wide-eyed and lost, as I closed my eyes and tried to think where on earth I could possibly move to when I got summarily ejected from the flat.

Nothing happened. I flopped out from under the curtain and tilted my head like a fox. Not a sound. I pulled Alex out, having wiped most of the dried blood off his face. He stood there dumbly while I tried to silently fix the shower curtain then decided to ignore it and hope it went away by the morning.

Sunday was half over by the time I limped through into the kitchen desperate for fluid. I drank half a pint of milk – YUCK – which was all there was, and steeled myself to go check out the bathroom. It was immaculate, as if we’d never been in. The curtain was back up, the blood was washed away. I wondered for a second if I’d dreamt it, then shook my head to clear it.

‘Ehm, Linda?’

I timidly knocked at her door. She opened it the way women do on The Bill when their men are escaping over the back fence.

‘Yes?’ She peered at me through her thick spectacles.

‘I’m … sorry about the shower curtain.’

‘S’OK.’

‘I mean it … I’ll, buy you another one, or … ehm, I’ll buy you another one.’

‘S’OK.’

I didn’t want to get into a staring match with her, so I gradually backed away, feeling creepy, and went back to the bedroom with another glass of milk. Alex was still completely unconscious, and his eye was turning fluorescent.

‘Alex,’ I hissed, flopping down beside him. ‘Alex! Wake up! I’m frightened of my anti-social flatmate! I think she’s going to chop me up with an axe! And leave me here, and no one will find me for three weeks!’

‘Pfnat.’ Alex tried to open his eyes and realized he couldn’t, because they’d been punched. He focused on the glass of milk, and his eyes bulged and his skin turned green.

‘NO! Don’t vomit!’ I pulled the glass away. ‘Again!’

His eyes slowly closed and he passed out.

‘Great,’ I thought to myself. ‘Caught between the silent psycho and the unconscious phlegm machine.’

I had to get out of the flat. And, of course, I had to find out what had happened to Fran. I thought I’d go round rather than phone; get some fresh air and hangover supplies. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a couple of random jumpers, I wandered out into the frosty afternoon.

Fran lived in a practically empty bedsit, about half a mile down the road. It was white, immaculate and had absolutely nothing in it. This wasn’t really a design statement: she had no imagination, and hated the place, which was why she practically lived around my house – it may have been full of psychos, but at least they were company. I set off manfully, stopping for some emergency Diet Coke infusions before I too vomited from a milk overdose. And a beer overdose, I suppose. The main door of the block was lying open as usual, and I made my way upstairs.

‘Yoo hoo!’ I yelled outside the door, banging on it loudly.

‘Rise and shine, sweetie pie. We have BIG time gossip to do, ESPECIALLY you, Ms Yo-Yo Knickers.’

There were sounds from inside, and I could hear someone moving about.

‘Come on!’ I yelled impatiently. ‘I need to find out about you and that skinny little twerp, and tell you about Angus and Fraser and everything.’

There was more noise on the other side of the door – what sounded like someone trying to pull on a pair of trousers, losing their balance, hopping about a bit then crashing over on to the floor.

It suddenly occurred to me that she may not, in fact, be in there alone. I tried to remember what had happened to Johnny McLachlan when he’d returned to the bar. Shit! He must have left and come back here! Argh! I hoped he hadn’t heard me call him a twerp. And she didn’t even know he was married! Or – yikes! – we hadn’t found out what had happened to Charlie. Maybe she’d gone back on her shag-to-death routine for once. Wow, she’d be annoyed. Oh no, the married man or the prick! Too many cocktails.

I leaned into the door.

‘Erm … d’you want me to go away and come back later …?’

It was too late: Fran had already swung the door open. She stood there, looking exhausted, with a man’s shirt on and a towel round her waist. I grimaced.

‘I can go away, you know. It’s no problem.’

‘Hello, Mel,’ she said wearily. ‘No, I suppose it’s OK.’

She drew back her arm from the door, and I entered the fuggy, darkened room – to see, of all people, Angus, looking extremely sheepish indeed, checking the zip on his flies was done up properly.

‘!’ I expostulated.

We stared at each other. He flushed beetroot, and I tried to recover myself.

‘Hi!’ I said brightly, shooting a fierce look at Fran.

‘Hullo,’ said Angus, looking at the floor. He pretended to look at his watch. ‘Ehmmm … I’d better go … I told Fraser I was going to … ehm, help him pick a cravat.’

I nodded slowly. We all stood stock-still, until Fran realized it was her cue to take his shirt off. He practically grabbed it, and buttoned it up at lightning speed.

Fran, refusing to look embarrassed, stood poised in her bra. For a moment, I thought she was going to shake him by the hand and thank him very much for coming, as it were.

Angus left, stuttering. I left it a full half-second and turned round.

‘WHAT the FUCK was that?!!!??’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Melanie, no need to get so overexcited.’

‘Overexcited?? Me?? I’m not the one who managed to shag two people in an eight-hour period.’

‘Neither am I, darling. Shall I put the kettle on?’

‘Huh? What on earth is up with you?’

Fran walked around the small room pulling up blinds and opening windows, before putting the coffee maker on. I was standing in the middle of the room, wringing my hands in frustration.

‘Tell me!’ I begged her. ‘I thought it was my job to get drunk and misbehave!’

Fran looked dreamily out of the window until I wanted to kill her. She’d always been fairly mercenary in her dealings with the opposite sex, but this was just too bizarre – first Charlie, then Johnny and now Angus, of all people. My new friend Angus, who, I had to admit to myself, I thought had rather liked me, (1), and (2) I had thought was rather noble.

Finally the coffee was ready and she sat down beside me in her ‘Frankie Says Relax’ T-shirt, which still fitted her.

‘Please, Fran,’ I said, trying to sound calm, ‘just tell me what’s going on. Are you on a special mission from space to sleep with everyone we know?’

She patted me gently on the hand. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘What, there are animals involved as well?’

‘No.’

‘What then?’

‘Well, you know I was being a lioness?’

‘Oh yes. So in fact there are animals …’

‘Johnny wasn’t quite up to being a lion.’

‘I’m not surprised. You practically ripped his head off.’

‘That is not true.’ She shot me a sharp look. ‘We’d gone outside …’

‘Yeah, to get arrested.’

‘… for a breath of fresh air …’

I snorted.

‘… and before we’d gone two yards, he burst into tears.’

‘Honestly, Frannie, that does not surprise me.’

‘Mel, does anyone ever tell you that you talk too fucking much?’

‘Ehm, yes, actually. Quite a lot. Funny, Alex was saying just the other day that I always talk more when … I’m –’ I saw her thunderstruck face – ‘nervous,’ I finished.

Fran harrumphed. ‘Anyway. He burst into tears and said he hated his wife and his life and his job and I was the nicest thing that had ever happened to him and how depressing everything was and this was the only party he’d been to for eight years and how I had no idea what it was like teaching geography day in day out to a bunch of illiterate animals.’

She paused, waiting for me to comment, but I wasn’t saying anything.

‘We ended up in the bar downstairs, with me having the most boring, sober three hours ever, listening to someone else’s ghastly life.’

‘Why didn’t you escape, and come and find me? I was having a great time.’

‘Every time I made the slightest move, he started weeping into his pint again and saying I was the best friend he’d ever had.’

‘Oh no.’

‘Honestly, Mel,’ she looked at me haggardly, ‘have you any idea how much I know about the amount of paperwork involved in the National Curriculum?’

‘Well, it’ll come in handy if you ever play Miss Jean Brodie,’ I said encouragingly.

‘So, finally, I decided I was going to have to leave before I started plunging a fork into my thigh. And then he tried to get off with me!’

‘Well, you can understand it from his point of view.’

‘Cheeky bastard! If he’s going to be a pale and interesting stranger, that’s fine. If he’s going to bore the tits off me for three hours about his wife, then he can go piss up a rope, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘You are possibly the kindest person I’ve ever known.’

She sighed. ‘I know. So, I sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

‘Did you hit him?’

‘Not that hard. Whining little toad! Then I sat and had a drink or two. And then I came back upstairs again, looking for you.’

‘I stayed to the end, so I must have just gone.’

‘You had – I saw you from the window, dragging Alex up the road.’

‘And you didn’t come and help?’

‘It was freezing out there.’

‘Yes, it was, thanks.’

‘And there was almost no one left in the bar except for Angus, who was propping himself up with some double whiskies.’

‘I know, I saw him before I left.’

‘He looked pretty miserable, so I started talking to him.’

‘Did he mention me at all?’

‘Ehm, no, not at all.’

‘Oh. OK.’

‘Why?’

‘No reason.’

‘Huh.’ She gave me another sharp look. ‘Anyway, he was pretty drunk, so I let him stay here. And that’s the end of it.’

I was extremely relieved.

‘So, you didn’t sleep with him?’

‘Oh well, yes, I slept with him.’

‘You are dreadful!’

‘I’m dreadful? Who’s worse, Angus or Nicholas?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘That’s exactly the point. Anyway, it’s hardly serious.’

‘You don’t even fancy him. You think he looks like a dog.’

‘It was you that thought that.’

‘Was it?’ I couldn’t remember thinking that now. Except in the sense of dogs being strong but kind, I suppose. Hang on, dogs didn’t have those qualities. What on earth was I thinking about …?

‘How’s Alex?’ asked Fran, sipping her coffee.

‘Who? Oh, I think he’s OK.’ I told her about the shower.

‘I hope he’s not concussed or anything,’ I said suddenly. ‘Oh my God! What if he’s in a coma for years, all because I didn’t take him to the hospital!’

‘Then I could perform my special little happy dance,’ said Fran. ‘Now, drink your coffee and I’ll tell you what Angus is like in bed.’

And she did.

I left Fran an hour or so later so she could get some much needed sleep, and walked home, my head spinning.

After buying bacon and eggs, I let myself into the flat quietly. I couldn’t hear anything. I was about to tiptoe into the kitchen when there came a sorrowful groan.

‘Mel … is that you?’

I peeped into my bedroom, which reeked of whisky.

‘Alex?’

‘Yes …’ he said weakly.

I sat down next to him on the bed. His eye had gone red and purple and green, but wasn’t swollen shut any more.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked tenderly.

‘Like I’ve been run over by the Death Star.’

‘Oh, sweetheart. Can I get you anything?’

‘No milk, please,’ he said. Then he half smiled. ‘Were we awful?’

‘You were naughty, and your friend was evil.’

He laughed, and then winced.

‘We didn’t mean anything. We just went to the rugby and had a few pints …’

‘And then chaos happened. Amazing that, isn’t it?’

He forced a slow grin. ‘How awful?’

‘You didn’t do anything you didn’t pay for.’

‘I could have had him, you know.’

‘Course you could, sweetheart.’

‘If I met him again, I’d take him …’ He reached out for me sleepily, and I let myself be grabbed.

‘I’m the most tolerant girlfriend in the world, you know.’

‘I know,’ he said, asleep. ‘I know.’