Jennifer Joyce - The Wedding Date

‘So what’s this meeting about then?’ Lauren asks me but I’m not ready to divulge my stupidity just yet. I don’t want to have to confess all twice.

‘Wait until Ryan gets here and I’ll tell you.’

As though on cue, Ryan Ford, Best Friend Number Two (but not in a toilet-y way), wanders into the pub. Alone. Good. The less witnesses the better.

I’ve known Ryan for as long as I can remember, as he and his family moved into the house next door when I was two. According to Mum, the Ford family – Ryan and his parents, Eleanor and Phil – moved in one sunny Saturday in June. She remembers that it was sunny because she says she was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a bikini top (I can’t imagine Mum wearing a bikini. She won’t even strip down to a one-piece on holiday any more) and it was around a month before my birthday. She and Dad were discussing plans for my third birthday and Mum suggested, because it was so warm already, that we could have a pool party.

‘But we don’t have a pool,’ Dad had pointed out.

‘We’ll buy one of those inflatable paddling pools and dangle our feet in.’ Which we did. Thankfully I can’t remember it. ‘Ooh, hello there! Are you our new neighbours?’

Eleanor and Philip had appeared beyond the back garden fence and Mum pounced to introduce herself. The house had once belonged to an elderly couple who banged on the wall if you dared to sneeze, so Mum was pleased that a young family was moving in. Ryan was already in their back garden, kicking a football around. She pictured the seven of us (Ryan and his family, plus Mum, Dad, me and my older sister, Clara) getting together for barbeques and dinner parties.

It didn’t happen. Eleanor is a snob and she took one look at Mum’s cut-off shorts and bare midriff, stuck her nose in the air and scarpered into the house. She declined Mum’s offer of a casserole that evening (no thank you, we’re very fussy about what we eat) and Ryan wasn’t allowed to come to my pool party (my Ryan is a very chesty child. I don’t want him catching a chill). The dinner party invites never materialised.

Mum said she wasn’t going to mention how the house next door became vacant as it was quite grisly. The elderly neighbours had died in the house – the old fella in the armchair downstairs and the old girl in their bed – and the bodies weren’t discovered for at least three weeks (and only because Mum rose the alarm due to the lack of banging. When she played Dad’s T. Rex at top volume and there wasn’t so much as a tap on the wall in return, she badgered the local coppers until they investigated). She wasn’t going to tell Eleanor for fear of upsetting the woman, but it all slipped out over the garden fence when they were both pegging the washing out.

‘I do hope the smell hasn’t lingered,’ Mum said as Eleanor grabbed her half-full washing basket and scuttled back inside.

Ryan and I weren’t destined to be friends. Our mothers certainly weren’t. But Ryan was sent to the all boys’ prep school so I, being a girl, became a bit of a novelty. I haven’t been able to get rid of the dude since.

‘Ladies.’ Ryan flashes a charming grin as he saunters over to our table. Luckily both Lauren and I are immune to the magnetism that seems to draw women to him. We’ve seen Ryan at his worst (his worst being the time he threw up an entire kebab in the gutter on the way home from the pub, retching so hard bits of meat flew out of his nose. You can’t fancy a bloke after that).

‘The lovely Kelsey not with you?’ Lauren’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, which isn’t like Lauren at all. She likes to tease and she can be a bit cheeky but she isn’t usually quite so harsh.

Ryan grins down at us. ‘It was a good night last night, wasn’t it? What did you think of Kelsey? She’s a right laugh, isn’t she?’

Lauren and I exchange a look. It’s one thing slagging the girl off behind Ryan’s back, but we can’t do that to his face. Honesty is good within a friendship. Total honesty not so much. Because as much as I defended Kelsey earlier, I have to admit that she was really, really annoying. And not just because she’s as thick as piggy poop (who am I to judge? My specialist subject during the pub quiz is our drinks and keeping them topped up). Kelsey seemed to have a fondness for chewing gum and chomped on it like a cow constantly, with disgusting sound effects. She was also fond of swearing, which isn’t such a bad thing (we all like a good swear, right?) but when you have a sentence with nine words and six of them are swears, you have a bit of a problem.

I’m surprised at Eleanor, to be honest. She usually sets Ryan up with dull girls from well-to-do families. She isn’t so much helping Ryan to climb the social ladder – she’s dragging him up the ladder against his will. But Ryan seems to like this one, so as his friend, I have to support him – right?

‘She was funny. Especially with that Legos thing.’ It’s the only thing I can think of to say. My only other thoughts of Kelsey are the monotonous slapping of chewing gum against teeth.

‘Laos,’ Ryan says. ‘She meant Laos.’ He nods knowledgably, as though the answer had been on the tip of his tongue last night. We all know he’s Googled it since. ‘But you liked her, yeah?’

‘Yes. Absolutely.’ I look at Lauren and she nods vigorously.

‘Great girl. Loads of fun. I hope you’re bringing her next week.’

‘Brilliant.’ Ryan’s grin widens. ‘Because I’ve invited her to join us. She’s on her way.’

Lauren and I eye each other as Ryan backs away towards the bar. We can’t leave now – it would be too obvious – but we don’t want to stay either.

‘One drink,’ Lauren hisses once Ryan has turned away from us. ‘We’ll drink up quickly and then make our excuses.’

The door opens and we both turn, groans ready to rumble from our chests, but it isn’t Kelsey this time. It’s a bloke; big, balding and not chewing gum.

‘Here we go.’ Ryan sets the drinks down on the table and sits himself down opposite us.

‘Thank you.’ Lauren takes her glass and gives her throat a little clear. ‘You know, Ryan. We can’t actually stay long tonight. I think we’ll have to go after this drink.’ Lauren takes a huge gulp of her drink, downing almost half of it in one go.

‘Oh? Why’s that?’

‘I’m not feeling too good.’ Lauren rubs at her stomach. ‘And Delilah’s hurt her knee quite badly.’

‘Have you?’ Ryan turns to me, concern wrinkling his brow. ‘What’s happened?’

‘She fell flat on her face,’ Lauren says and I nod.

‘Went down like a sack of spuds.’ I flash my plaster as proof.

‘She thought she was going to need stitches,’ Lauren says. ‘In fact, I think we should go now. You need to rest that knee. It was all swollen and nasty earlier.’

I look longingly at my pint, but then I think about Kelsey working her way through an entire packet of Wrigley’s and I push the thirst aside. ‘It is pretty sore, actually.’

Ryan suddenly bursts out laughing and I throw him an evil glare. My pain is amusing to him?

‘Will you two relax?’ Ryan titters to himself as he raises his pint to his lips and takes a sip. ‘Kelsey isn’t really on her way. I was just winding you up.’

‘What?’ Lauren and I both cry, which only makes Ryan laugh even more.

‘Why would you do that?’ Lauren asks.

Ryan chuckles. ‘Entertainment. Purely for entertainment. It was obvious that you two didn’t like Kelsey – the feeling’s mutual, by the way – so I thought I’d wind you up.’

‘Kelsey didn’t like us?’ The cheek! We invited her onto our team, put up with her vile gum-chewing and she didn’t like us. ‘Why not?’

Ryan shrugs. ‘She didn’t really say, but if it’s any consolation, she didn’t like me much either.’