‘That’s why we limit you to two,’ he replied with hard-earned wisdom. ‘Go steady.’

  ‘Pssh,’ I waved away his concerns and took a seat at one of the dark wood booths opposite the bar. ‘He’s just not used to dealing with British drinkers. I could easily knock back four of these before they even touched the sides. It’s practically an alcopop.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Matthew said, taking the seat opposite, his eyes popping wide as he sucked through his straw. ‘Christ, that does go down easily. What did the bartender say? Maximum two of these?’

  ‘Et tu Matthew? Don’t be such a wuss,’ I groaned, the cool fruity drink soothing my tequila burn more and more with every sip. ‘It’s almost entirely juice, nothing boozy could taste this good. What was it you just said? Get it down you?’

  ‘I’ll remember that two drinks from now,’ he said as I happily guzzled my drink, beaming at my brilliant pals.

  ‘So, you’d fuck Batman, marry Superman and kill Spider-Man?’ Maddie asked, scribbling the order down on the back of a napkin.

  ‘No, no, no, marry Batman and do Superman,’ I corrected. ‘Superman is far too earnest, and Batman is loaded.’

  ‘Poor Spider-Man though,’ Em said with a slight slur in her voice. ‘He seems nice.’

  ‘You couldn’t marry him though, he lives with his auntie,’ I replied. ‘Also, he’s twelve.’

  Matthew nodded as he pushed aside eight empty tiki mugs. Two Zombies each and we could barely string a sentence together.

  ‘What about Captain America?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘We’re only doing DC.’

  ‘But Spider-Man is Marvel.’

  I slapped my hands against my face. ‘Fuuuuuck, you’re right. OK, OK, Aquaman?’

  ‘Fuck Aquaman,’ all three of my friend stated in unison.

  ‘And kill Superman?’

  ‘I might marry Superman,’ Maddie said. ‘It would be ever so handy to have a flying husband. Bruce Wayne is rich but what if you really fancied a bag of Mini Eggs? Superman could go and get them and be back on the settee before you’d even missed him. Bruce would still have to get the car out and drive to the shop, that’s going to take a lot longer.’

  ‘If I was married to Bruce Wayne, I’d have a lifetime supply of Mini Eggs at Wayne Manor,’ I replied. ‘I’d have an entire room full of Mini Eggs, Twirls, pickled onion Monster Munch and Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food and I’d be the only one with the key.’

  Em didn’t look entirely convinced. ‘He’s such a moody bastard though. Wouldn’t you rather have a nice, sincere, loving man like Clark?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind being married to Batman,’ Matthew said. ‘I like to have time to myself and I think I’d enjoy having a butler.’

  ‘We’re terrible people,’ I said, shaking my head in disgrace. ‘All of us choosing the wanker billionaire over the lovely thoughtful alien.’

  ‘There’s a theory that if he jizzed inside you it would actually tear you apart so don’t worry about it too much,’ Matthew said, patting my hand. ‘Everyone has a flaw.’

  ‘And speak for yourself,’ Em said. ‘I’ve had enough of assholes and emotionally unavailable men. I wish I could go back in time and tell baby me to ignore all the assholes and choose a nice, dependable guy.’

  Craning my neck, I put my lips around the straw and slurped the remnants of my drink to stop myself from asking one of the million follow-up questions that hovered on the tip of my tongue.

  ‘Oh!’ Maddie clapped her hands on the table and all of us jumped. ‘I meant to tell you, the florist confirmed while we were in the cookery class, the one you liked from Instagram?’

  I gave her a double thumbs up without letting go of my straw.

  ‘Can I see?’ Emelie asked, cosying up to her new buddy.

  Maddie nodded and pulled out her phone. ‘Aren’t they lovely? She does fantash … fantastish … brilliant work.’

  ‘They are and don’t take this the wrong way,’ Em said, immediately ensuring I would. ‘But this is not the wedding I imagined for you.’

  Narrowing my eyes at my best friend, I pursed my lips as I tried to decide how to respond. There she was, sat across the table with a sunny expression on her beautiful face, curly hair tied back, her red polka-dot dress still glowing in the low light of the bar, but I could tell from the look on her face that she was more than ready to stir up some shit.

  ‘I wonder if the bartender would let us split one more Zombie,’ Matthew mused as he shuffled out of the booth and made a hasty escape.

  ‘Go on then, tell me. What kind of wedding did you imagine for me?’ I asked, unable to stop myself.

  She started with a disappointed sigh, tossing her ponytail away over her shoulder. ‘Not this. Everything I’ve seen so far, it’s just so traditional. Big venue, Instagram florist, chicken or fish. I thought you’d been to enough of those weddings to last a lifetime and that’s only if we’re counting your dad’s. And for the life of me, I simply cannot work out why you’re using a cookie-cutter wedding planner, I thought you’d go more unique. No offense, Maddie.’

  Said wedding planner glanced over at me, her shoulder blades drawing tightly together. ‘I might pop outside,’ she said. ‘Get a bit of fresh air.’

  ‘No, stay, we don’t need a minute, Emelie needs to apologise,’ I insisted. ‘If it weren’t for Maddie, there wouldn’t even be a wedding, Em. You’ve got no idea how much work goes into planning it all.’

  ‘No,’ she replied tartly. ‘I haven’t.’

  If looks could kill, I’d have been dead, resurrected then chopped up into a thousand tiny pieces in under a second.

  ‘I didn’t mean because you aren’t married, I meant—’

  ‘And neither did I,’ Em interrupted. ‘I literally meant what I said. You’re right, I have no idea what it’s like to plan your wedding because you haven’t involved me in it at all.’

  Flushing a deep and humiliating red, I stared at my engagement ring, willing it to come up with a helpful response. It was true, I hadn’t included her. Partly because Maddie offered her professional services for free and partly because I didn’t want to ask my friend to deal with my wedding plans when I was so confused about her own relationship status. It didn’t seem fair to drag her into my wedding planning if things weren’t going well with her boyfriend.

  ‘Well, you’re so busy,’ I blustered, trying to come up with a good excuse. ‘You know, with work and traveling and Paul and …’

  My list of excuses dried up very quickly.

  ‘OK, Rach.’ She laughed but it was hollow. ‘Thank you for being so considerate. Just tell me you haven’t booked a DJ for the reception.’

  ‘He’s very good,’ Maddie answered quietly on my behalf.

  Emelie looked away, her brows disappearing into her wild curls as she rolled her eyes.

  ‘The wedding is going to be perfect,’ I said, my confidence uncertain. In that moment, I could barely remember a single thing we’d confirmed. ‘Maddie’s done an amazing job and you’re going to be right there with me through the whole thing and how long is Matthew taking with those drinks?’

  ‘Just didn’t have you pegged for something so … basic,’ Emelie said before turning to Maddie with a saccharine smile. ‘No offense.’

  ‘Sorry but loads of offense taken,’ she replied, taking a deep breath in and puffing up her chest. The truce was over, the gloves were off and was it me or was the room spinning just a little bit? ‘What’s the real problem here, Emelie? Have I done something to upset you?’

  ‘Not at all, like I said, it’s just not how I envisioned Rachel’s wedding.’ Emelie stirred the fruit in the bottom of the glass with her straw, her voice rising as if she couldn’t understand why Maddie was so upset. ‘This won’t mean much to you, but it seems to me what the two of you have cooked up is more of a “Simon” wedding than a “Rachel” wedding, if you know what I mean.’

  The colour drained from my face, but it wasn’t the casual mention of my ex that was the problem. It was the unnerving and undeniable sensation that she was right.

  ‘I’m going to the toilet,’ Em declared before standing abruptly. ‘Back in a minute.’

  Maddie and I sat side-by-side in silence in the booth. I bit my lip and stared at the textured wallpaper, the pin-up photos on the wall and, was that a puffer fish lampshade?

  ‘If there’s anything you want to change about the wedding, it is one hundred per cent OK,’ she said eventually, her voice as kind and sensible as ever. ‘The only way you can get it wrong is to not have the wedding you want. Nothing is locked in, everything can be changed. I just want you and Dan to have a perfect day.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, it’s brilliant, it’s all …’ I trailed off before I could fully reassure her or myself. ‘God, it’s all so confusing. The problem is, I’m not even sure what I want. Everything we’ve planned so far is so wonderful.’

  Maddie gave a knowing smile.

  ‘But maybe not for you? You can say it, Rachel, I won’t be offended. The wedding we’ve planned will be gorgeous but that doesn’t mean it’s right for you.’

  I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. ‘It started out as what we wanted but now I think it might have turned into something else. It will be more your mum’s and my dad’s dream wedding.’

  ‘That’s a terrifying thought,’ she laughed. ‘But trust me. We’ll work it out. That’s what I’m here for.’

  She squeezed my hand and I realized there was a reason her company was so successful. I would have jumped off a cliff if she’d said it was for the best.

  ‘All right, what did you say to Madam?’ Matthew asked, sliding back into the booth with a tray full of fresh drinks and four large glasses of water.

  I picked up one of the water glasses and drained half of it in one gulp. ‘We were just talking about the wedding.’

  ‘And that made her leave?’

  ‘What are you talking about,’ I asked, switching my head left and right around the tiny bar. ‘She went to the lav.’

  ‘No, she went home.’

  He presented me with his WhatsApp inbox, the latest message from Em at the bottom of the page with telltale double blue ticks.

  Gone back to the house. Jetlagged.

  ‘Oh, bollocking bollocks,’ I groaned. ‘I should go after her.’

  ‘You should let her be,’ he countered. ‘She’s drunk, jetlagged and she’s angry. We both know this is not the time to attempt to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with her, unless one or both of you want to end up in prison.’

  ‘I’m going to end up in prison one way or another,’ I bristled. ‘Because when we get home, I’m going to kill Paul. This is his fault, I’m sure of it.’

  Matthew put his phone back in his pocket and pushed a second glass of water towards me. ‘Don’t ruin your day thinking about your wanker brother. Right now, we should be celebrating, this is your hen do, isn’t it? What else is on that list of yours? Let’s do something fun.’

  ‘Well, we’re not learning about wine today,’ I said, sipping from my glass of water. The room had stopped spinning, but my liver hadn’t forgiven me for thinking I knew better than a bartender, and I was sure I could feel it working as I pulled out my notebook. ‘What else is there? We’ve done the road trip and the cooking class, and I learned the best way to change a tyre is to pay someone else to do it. The festival is tomorrow, and I already know I won’t be out until dawn tonight so that leaves a massage course, sorting out my knicker drawer, declaring a friendiversary and seeing one last penis.’

  ‘Would it count as taking a course if we were to get massages?’ Maddie suggested. ‘Very important to see how the professionals do it before you try to do something yourself and I could totally go for a rub down.’

  ‘You are very wise,’ Matthew replied with a confirming nod. ‘There must be a spa around here somewhere.’

  ‘I can have all three of us booked in at The Parker inside the hour,’ she said, tapping away at her phone. ‘There’s a chance I did some background research, just in case.’

  ‘Should we call Emelie and see if she wants to come?’ I asked. I felt guilty about leaving her behind but excited to go to the spa and more than anything else, still quite drunk.

  ‘I’ll text her,’ Matthew promised. ‘All you need to worry about is having a good time.’

  Having a good time, fixing things with my best friend, ticking off everything on my list and whether or not a massage at a fancy spa was the best idea when I was half cut at the very best. More like three-quarters cut, maybe even seven-eighths.

  ‘We’re going to need to see a bit more enthusiasm, otherwise I’m bringing out the big guns,’ he warned. ‘Just know I’ve got four pairs of penis deelyboppers in my bag and I am not afraid to use them.’

  ‘I’m fine, everything’s fine,’ I insisted, finishing off the second glass of water then rattling my hands against the table and cheering loudly. ‘Let’s get massages! Woo, hen party! Let’s go!’

  ‘OK, not that much enthusiasm,’ he said with a scowl. ‘We are British, after all.’

  ‘Thank god,’ I muttered, following Maddie towards the door. ‘And you don’t really have penis deelyboppers, do you?’

  ‘Why would you ask a question if you don’t want to know the answer?’ he replied, resting one hand on the back of my neck and guiding me out of the bar. ‘Just do as you’re told and you don’t need to worry about it, do you?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  The spa at The Parker hotel had left me a squidgy pile of bliss with rubbery limbs and an intense desire to see that all was right with the world. Also, I’d had another cocktail at the hotel bar before we left and fully believed I was in the absolute perfect state in which to engage my best friend in a proper deep and meaningful.

  While Matthew and Maddie made margaritas out by the pool, I opened the door to our bedroom as quietly as possible which was, in all fairness, not that quietly at all.

  ‘Emelie?’

  She was in bed, silk sleep mask pulled down over her eyes, her curly hair tethered in a top knot, warm and rich against the white silk pillowcase she always travelled with.

  ‘I’m asleep.’

  ‘You’re not asleep,’ I replied, tiptoeing across the room and carefully sitting on the edge of her bed. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I am asleep,’ she insisted. ‘Please try again during office hours.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll talk, and you can listen.’ I rolled my head around in a slow circle, my neck turning to jelly. Such a good massage. ‘I love you, you’re my oldest friend and I want you to know how much I appreciate you. I’m sorry if you’ve felt left out of the wedding planning and I’m sorry if you feel like I haven’t been around enough lately or that I’ve been spending more time with Maddie than you, but I want you to know you can talk to me about anything ever, even if it’s Paul and even if he’s done something shitty and you think it’ll be weird.’

  Pulling the sleep mask up onto her forehead, Emelie squinted at me out of one eye.

  ‘As someone who watches at least fourteen YouTube videos a day, I want you to know that was a terrible apology.’

  Pouting, I put on my best hangdog expression and held out my arms for a hug.

  ‘Oh, you’re pathetic,’ she breathed, sitting up and pulling me in close. ‘OK, listen up. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult with Maddie, I’ll apologize to her in the morning, and I’m sorry I Irish Goodbyed you at the tiki bar, it was rude and childish. See? That’s how it’s done, direct accountability and measurable action. Real apologies don’t have the word “if” in them, Rachel.’

  ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s going on with Paul,’ I whispered into her hair.

  ‘And I wish you’d go and brush your teeth,’ she replied, pushing me away. ‘You stink of booze. Now piss off, I’m sleeping. You can try again tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re not coming out to the pool?’

  Emelie pulled her sleep mask back down over her eyes with one short, sharp tug.

  ‘Goodnight, Rachel.’

  ‘Goodnight, Em,’ I said, sneaking back across the bedroom like a pantomime burglar. ‘Love you.’

  ‘As you should,’ she replied as she pulled the duvet over her head.

  ‘I can’t believe this is your first festival,’ Maddie said as we rolled down a long, dusty trail on the back of a VIP golf cart the next day, passing other festival goers as they trekked the miles-long length of the car park on foot. ‘You never did Reading? Glastonbury?’

  ‘I have a natural aversion to tents,’ I replied. Emelie held her hand up for an approving high five. ‘This is much more my speed. Golf carts, cocktail bars, proper toilets. This is a dream.’

  ‘It’s still filthy,’ Matthew said, tightening the bandana he’d fastened over his nose and mouth. ‘If I’d known it was going to be this dusty, I wouldn’t have approved it.’

  ‘This is why I made a prep package,’ Maddie said, clucking her tongue. ‘Bandanas, SPF, closed-toe shoes and sunglasses. IndioFest essentials.’

  ‘If only I hadn’t left my sunglasses—’

  ‘In their case, on the dining room table, next to the vase of powder-pink peonies,’ Emelie, Maddie and I chorused together.

  Without wanting to curse the hours ahead of us, the day was going well so far. Emelie had woken up in a much better mood than the day before and hadn’t picked a fight with a single soul. In fact, she’d even let Matthew use her special conditioner to soothe his pool-ravaged hair and walked to the coffee shop on the strip for the muffins Maddie’s friend recommended to us in their house notes.

  But she was still Emelie.

  ‘We know, you arsehole,’ she groaned. ‘I told you to buy some more this morning.’

  ‘Not at those prices,’ he grumbled, pulling the peak of his five-dollar ‘I Heart Palm Springs’ baseball cap lower over his eyes. The combination of baby-blue tourist tat hat and the pink paisley bandana covering his face made him look as though he was on his way to hold up a sweet shop. The campest outlaw in the west. ‘I feel like a rabid badger’s arsehole. I knew we shouldn’t have finished the night with shots.’

 

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