I need her to get married on a desert island with only a monkey and coconut tree in attendance.
Or I need to develop some kind of lurgy that is non-life-threatening but highly contagious. I could say I’ve caught ringworm off the kittens (sorry kittens). Nobody likes a fungal infection, do they?
I spend the first couple of days in Brighton licking my wounds, and many slices of pizza, and quite a lot of fish and chips with Freddie and then I realise that I really do need a kick up the arse. This is because, 1. It isn’t fair on him that I’m such a miserable git, 2. My jeans will burst if I don’t quit eating so much crap, 3. The girls will arrive soon and I have to put on a happy face for Rach and, 4. being here is actually fun. Though I am very sad that I can’t post my hilarious photos of us on Insta.
The one I got of him with a seagull hovering six inches above his head is a classic. And our selfie with the top of the Royal Pavilion looking like it’s a crown on my head is pretty good, even if I say so myself. And so is the sunset, and the one of Freddie snogging the giant terrapin in Sea Life – honestly, you’d really think they were puckering up for real.
Okay, the sunset wasn’t hilarious, or even funny, but it was beautiful. We’d sat side by side in silence, in awe, and I’d really wanted to reach out for a hand to hold.
But that was fantasy Freddie. The version of him that somehow manages to occupy my brain every now and then (and sometimes brings on a hot flush).
Real Freddie is different.
There is no hand-holding involved. He is a friend. Just a friend, who turned to look at me just as I’d turned to look at him. For a second, we’d shared a look, then we’d both glanced away, back out to sea and been disproportionality interested in the waves.
‘Thanks for this.’
‘The ice cream?’ Freddie grins.
‘No, you idiot, for everything. Bringing me here, cheering me up.’
‘That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?’
I smile. I’ve never had a male friend like Freddie before. He’s currently nearly on a par with fantasy Freddie, the one who (in my head) is currently walking with me barefoot on the sand, rubbing that spot between my thumb and forefinger that makes me go all tingly.
I mean, we all need dreams, don’t we? And dreams are a safe option – no disappointments, no ugly reality, just pure unadulterated pleasure and total control.
‘Cockle?’ He dips his cocktail stick into the tiny tub and lifts the ugly little mollusc into the air. My tingles stop.
I grin and shake my head, thinking of my gran’s old saying about ‘warming the cockles of your heart’. Freddie warms mine. At least I think it’s my cockles. ‘Yeah, but it’s kind of going above and beyond …’
He shrugs. ‘I was due some holiday anyway, and I like coming here.’ He stares at me, and for a moment his gaze locks with mine. I’d never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before, how intense and dark. I feel a brief shiver of some feeling I can’t pin down, then he glances away and points at the seagulls. ‘Hurry up and eat that or they’ll be dive bombing you.’
I am about to hurry up, when my phone pings. ‘It’s Rach!’
Freddie nods, waits, as I look at the text.
‘How’s Brighton?’
‘Great.’
‘How’s Freddie?’
‘Rach! Will you stop it?’
‘Ha-ha just wondering. We’re all set for the bridesmaids booze up – see you Friday!’
‘Aren’t you going to tell me who’s coming?’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh, come on, can’t you give me at least a hint? I’ve spent all my spare time scouring your Facebook and Insta feeds for clues!’
‘No way, I want to see your face!’
This is a teensy bit worrying. I have, in between ice cream eating with Freddie, been wondering why my best friend cannot tell me who am I going to be walking down the aisle with.
There are several worrying scenarios: 1. One or more of the girls were supposed to be my bridesmaids. This thought makes me a bit queasy; 2. Some of Rachel’s gang are girls that really didn’t like me at all at school; and 3. A combination of both.
‘See you Friday, can’t wait! Love you Rx’
I know they say that your school days are the best days of your life, but how often is that true? I spent a huge proportion of mine worrying about not being liked, not being kissed and not wearing the right gear.
And, as far as friends go, well, I trusted Rach … but the rest? Girls can be bitchy, cliquey and spiteful, as well as supportive, lovely and generous. And there’s often a fine line …
I frown at Freddie, well, not at him. Past him. ‘At least I know it won’t be Andy!’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘Sorry, Rach was talking about the bridesmaids.’
‘True, he’d look rubbish in a dress, not got the legs.’
We grin at each other, mine a bit strained, his soft at the edges. ‘Stop worrying.’
‘I can’t help it. What if they’re people I hate?’
‘Is that really what you’re worried about?’
‘Yes. Well, no. Gawd, it’s the whole wedding thing, Freddie.’ I bury my head in my hands for a moment, which is better than in the sand I guess. ‘Why does all the crap stuff come at once?’
‘It’s to test your mettle as one of my up-themselves teachers used to say.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘You are okay, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, yeah, groovy, babe! I’ve got a rubbish job, got ditched just as I was about to go to New York, and now I’ve got to be thrilled for Rach with all this wedding stuff, and I’ve got to go to her hen party! Arghh.’ I pretend to tear my hair out and he laughs, then hugs me.
‘I mean it Jane. Are you sure you can do this?’ The concern in his eyes brings a lump to my throat. ‘The wedding I mean.’
‘She’s my best friend, Freddie. I can’t not do it.’
‘You haven’t got to do anything. She’ll understand if you say you can’t cope.’
‘I can cope.’
‘It’s not going to send you loopy again?’ His voice is light and his words funny, but I know that he’s bothered. Oh, sweet, sweet Freddie, where would I be without you?
‘Look …’ I’ve got to be honest with him. I’m never anything but, we’ve always been able to talk, and after I’d poured out my heart (and most of my insides) after Andy had dumped me, there’d been no going back. I’d not wanted to go back. ‘Okay, part of me is dreading this.’ He nods. ‘But I’m excited for her as well. I’m just a bit nervous about what it will be like, doing all the stuff I did.’ Our gazes lock. ‘It’s the hen party that’s going to be the weird one, I mean, I never actually walked up the aisle, did I? So that can’t be such a biggie.’
‘It can.’ He smiles, a soft smile that reaches his eyes – and my heart.
‘Okay,’ I sigh, ‘it can, it is. I think I need to know that these other bridesmaids are going to be there to pick me up if I fall.’
‘I’ll be there, if they’re not.’
‘You’re too nice for me.’ I kiss him on the cheek, and the roughness of the slight stubble against my lips sends