Fern Britton - A Good Catch

Greer arrived and stood on the periphery. She was on her own. Her mother had nipped to the Ladies and her father was at the bar chatting. Loveday spotted her and came bowling over, wreathed in smiles. ‘You made it! How did you manage it?’

Greer briefly explained and Loveday handed her a glass of punch. ‘My mum’s here too, see.’ Loveday pointed over to the bar area where her mum was laughing and joking loudly over a large vodka and orange with a group of fishermen and their women. Her cheeks were flushed, and when Loveday waved over to her, she blew her daughter an ostentatious kiss. Greer couldn’t understand why Loveday wasn’t more embarrassed by her mother. She dressed in clothes more appropriate for a girl half her age; her own mother would have said that she was mutton dressed as lamb.

‘Here, try this. It’s mostly fruit juice, with some sort of wine in it.’

Greer took a sip. It seemed innocuous enough. ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ was playing now. ‘I love Whitney!’ Loveday shouted above the noise. ‘Come on, Greer. Let’s dance.’ Greer was not the dancing type but she took another mouthful of punch and, looking around for Jesse, reluctantly followed Loveday into the throng.

Jesse was in the pub kitchen with Mickey, making another industrial-sized bowl of punch. The landlord, Pete, told them to help themselves to the cartons of fruit juice that he’d put into the huge fridge, and to add half a bottle of Lambrusco to each batch. ‘No more, mind! I don’t want to lose my licence.’

Mickey and Jesse had assured him they wouldn’t overdo it but, as soon as they were on their own, Mickey stepped outside the kitchen door and fetched the bottle of vodka he’d hidden in the hedge and he and Jesse took a swig each from it before pouring a good slug into the punch. ‘Well, Pete never said nothing about vodka, did he?’

‘No,’ agreed Jesse, assiduously measuring only half a bottle of Lambrusco into the deep container. The two boys took another mouthful of vodka each before hiding the bottle back under the hedge.

*

Loveday was hot. The music was getting faster and louder and she was getting thirsty. She spotted the boys lugging the punch tureen towards a trestle table. ‘Want a drink, Greer?’ she shouted.

Greer nodded and gently dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand. She was glad to stop, and gladder still to see Jesse.

Mickey saw the girls approaching and, emboldened by the vodka, nudged Jesse and slurred, ‘I’m going to make sure I give Loveday a big one.’

Jesse giggled. ‘You ain’t got a big one.’

Mickey snorted with laughter, ‘I don’t mean give her my big one.’ He creased over with hysteria.

‘Well, I’ll help you out and give her my big one if you like,’ hooted Jesse.

Mickey stopped laughing and squared up to his friend. ‘What did you say?’

Jesse was shocked that he’d said anything at all. The drink was muddling his thinking, but thoughts of Loveday were always bubbling just beneath the surface these days.

‘It was a joke. Just a joke. That’s all.’ He put his hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, mate.’

Mickey looked stony faced. ‘Loveday means the world to me and one day I’ll marry her, so no more talking that way about her. She’s my girl, you got that?’

For a brief moment, Jesse wanted to push back at Mickey, to ask him who said that Loveday was his girl. Why should he have her?

Mickey stood his ground, staring hard into Jesse’s eyes. Jesse saw the fierce possession that burned there and instead of challenging Mickey, the words that came from his mouth were ones of appeasement.

‘Of course, mate. I’m so sorry. I just … I don’t know … must be the booze.’

Then suddenly Mickey began to giggle again. ‘Yours is just a little chipolata anyway.’ Jesse, relieved, started to laugh too.

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Loveday as she arrived at the table. ‘What you two bollock-heads laughing at?’

The boys gave each other sidelong glances and started giggling again.

Loveday shook her head, dismissing their silliness. ‘Honest, Greer, how these two ever managed to get any O levels is beyond me. Bleddy idiots.’ She reached for the industrial catering ladle lying in a sticky pool on the paper tablecloth and dipped it into the punch.

‘Give it a good stir, Loveday,’ hiccuped Mickey, putting his arm round her fleshy waist and giving it a squeeze. ‘All the good stuff is at the bottom.’ She looked at him suspiciously. ‘’Ave you been drinking?’

‘No.’

She turned to Jesse. ‘Has he?’

Jesse attempted to focus his eyes on Loveday. ‘No.’

Loveday shook Mickey’s arm off her and leant forward to sniff his breath. ‘I can smell alcohol.’

Mickey was affronted. ‘You can’t smell vodka, ’tis a well-known fact.’

She opened her eyes in disbelief. ‘Yes you can, and where the bleddy hell did you get vodka?’

Jesse owned up. ‘Grant got us two litre bottles to celebrate. He’s home for the weekend.’

‘Your Grant is trouble – and now he’s going to get you into trouble.’ She stood with her hands on her hips, frowning at both boys. ‘Where is he now?’

Greer, who’d been listening to all of this, looked around the garden and pointed to Grant, who was dancing with a couple of girls. He was in a skintight T-shirt which enhanced his muscular shoulders and tattooed pecs. The girls looked very pleased with themselves for having netted the handsomest man at the party. DJ Ricky was not looking happy – it looked as if he’d be going home alone … again. ‘He’s over there,’ Greer said.

Jesse was unimpressed. ‘Janine and Heather? Is that the best he can do? Anyone can pull them.’

Grant was now bumping and grinding his hips, bum and crotch towards the girls as ‘Le Freak’ by Chic was blaring out over the speakers. The girls willingly followed his moves.

Loveday leaned towards Jesse’s ear and – above the noise – managed to ask him to dance with her.

‘No thanks,’ he answered, pouring himself another glass of punch. ‘Not in the mood.’

‘What are you in the mood for?’ she asked, putting her hand on his chest. She was wearing a low-cut baby- pink vest and the skimpiest of denim skirts. Her hair was tied in a side ponytail with a pink scrunchie, and her lips were parted seductively as she gazed up at Jesse.

He felt the warmth of her skin through his shirt and wanted more than anything to drop his mouth to hers and kiss her deeply. They were so close, with barely a hair’s breadth between them; all he’d have to do would be to lean in … but all at once Jesse became aware of Mickey standing right next to them. He took a step back, knocking the table as he did so. Loveday let her hand drop back by her side.

‘I’ll dance with you, Loveday,’ grinned Mickey. He grabbed her elbow, guiding her erratically onto the dance floor as she looked disappointedly over her shoulder at Jesse.

He and Greer were left to watch as Mickey and Loveday were swallowed by the crowd.

‘Want another drink, Greer?’ asked Jesse.

Greer drank very little, but the last glass of punch had left her feeling a little woolly around the edges, and she was enjoying the sensation. ‘Yes, please.’ She handed her empty glass to him. Carefully he dipped the ladle into the bowl and filled their glasses to the brim.

‘Cheers, Big Ears,’ Greer surprised herself by saying; the punch was definitely kicking in.

‘Cheers, Greers,’ he replied solemnly.

They clinked and drank.

‘Why aren’t you dancing?’ he asked.

‘No one’s asked me. Except Loveday, and she doesn’t count.’

‘Loveday’s a good girl,’ Jesse said quietly.

‘Mickey thinks so.’