by Lindsey Kelk
‘You’re still on dad duty for a while,’ I laughed. ‘Unless you’re planning to stay until June.’
No one said anything and Alex’s grip suddenly became uncomfortably tight.
‘You’re not staying until June,’ I said firmly.
‘We were saying in the car, on the way from the airport,’ Mum said, giving me a nudge, ‘what if we stayed on for a little bit after the wedding?’
‘What, for the holidays?’ I asked, slapping Alex’s hands away before he throttled me.
‘Holidays,’ Dad repeated, shaking his head in defeat. ‘Christmas, love, it’s Christmas.’
‘That’s only a couple of days.’ I peered up at Alex to see the same blank smile. His mouth was turned up at the corners but when I looked into his eyes? Absolutely nothing. ‘Of course, you can stay for Christmas.’
‘And we’ll fly back after New Year’s,’ Dad said. ‘It’s settled, then.’
‘After?’ I didn’t want to sound too alarmed but I also didn’t want my husband to leave me. ‘But that’s nearly three weeks away?’
Mum and Dad exchanged a look that could only be honed by forty years of marriage.
‘Do you not want us here or something?’ Mum asked.
‘More than anything,’ Alex said, clapping loudly and making me jump. ‘This is so great, a family Christmas. I’m so happy right now, you guys. Hey, Angela, I need to run downstairs and finish up. OK? OK. Awesome.’
Both of my parents studied their teacups with the utmost care as Alex thundered downstairs and slammed the door to the studio.
‘They were recording something this morning,’ I explained feebly, pointing over my shoulder. ‘He’s probably got things plugged in and that.’
‘And you can’t be too careful with electrics in an old place like this,’ Dad agreed. ‘He’s a clever lad, that Alex.’
‘You haven’t even got your decorations up yet,’ Mum said, observing my naked living room with dismay. ‘You’ve always had your decorations up on the first, I should have known something was wrong.’
‘What’s this, chopped liver?’ I stood up and waved my hands around in front of my nearly naked tree like a gameshow hostess gone wrong. I’ll take a vowel and a cyanide capsule, Bob. ‘Look, I’ve been really busy with work and I haven’t had quite as much time as I might have liked to decorate, and I’m pregnant, so I’m tired all the time, and Alex was away and I’m trying to help Jenny plan her wedding and we’re a bit worried about money and there’s a chance I might lose my job next week but, fucking hell, Mum, I’ve put up a Christmas tree, what more do you want?’
‘Looks like we got here just in time,’ she replied, casting her eyes sideways at my dad. ‘Don’t worry, your dad’s got a box full of Yorkshire Tea in his suitcase.’
‘Oh good,’ I said, swapping my first mug for my second. ‘Everything’ll be right as rain then.’
‘You really didn’t have to come tonight, Mum,’ I said while applying liberal quantities of kohl to my very tired eyes in the back of the taxi. ‘You can still go home if you want? Wouldn’t you rather stay in with Dad than trek around the city after us?’
‘I’ve been stuck on a bloody boat with the man for longer than I care to remember, so no thank you,’ she replied. ‘And besides, someone needs to look after you and the baby.’
‘I’m not going to trek up Mount Kilimanjaro,’ I said, watching as she checked the contents of her handbag for the fourteenth time since getting in the cab. ‘I’m going on a hen do.’
‘I haven’t been on a hen in years.’ Somewhere on her travels, she’d got hold of a very sparkly bronzer and her face glittered like a mirror ball in the back seat. ‘Are we going to have those little deely boppers? With the willies on?’
‘I couldn’t say for sure,’ I told her, not wanting to break her little heart. ‘But I don’t think so.’
She puffed out her bottom lip, fiddling with the sequins on her sparkly black top. Her favourite piece from the Annette Clark cruise collection.
‘I’d have popped into Ann Summers before I left if I’d have known,’ she replied.
I chose to ignore her as we rumbled over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan for the #JennyFest17.
‘Don’t you look nice?’ I leaned in to give my bestie a kiss, her sharp cheekbone colliding with my ever-softening face. ‘Good frock.’
She spun around in a neat circle, no mean feat given the height of her stiletto heels. The long sleeves and high neck of her white dress were deceptively modest for La Lopez, but when I came in closer, I noticed the strategically placed sheer panels covered in iridescent sequins and bum-skimming split hem that left literally nothing to the imagination. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need to bend over until we got her safely back home at the end of the night.
‘It’s Elie Saab,’ she replied, sashaying her hips in time to music I didn’t hear. ‘Don’t ask how much it should have cost.’
‘How much should it have cost?’ I asked immediately.
‘Seven thousand dollars,’ she mouthed. ‘But Erin had a friend at Belle call it in for a shoot. That evil skank Carrie Ann Roitfeld does their PR.’
There was truly nothing sweeter than nabbing a free frock and putting one over on your work nemesis at the same time.
‘I’ll try not to spill anything on it,’ I promised, flipping one errant curl over to the right side of her parting. ‘Thanks for abandoning ship this afternoon, by the way, you cow.’
‘I figured you wanted some family time,’ she said, patting me on the shoulder and almost falling over. Maybe she wasn’t quite as steady on those shoes as I thought. ‘Can we go inside? I need to sit down.’
‘Are you already wasted?’ I whispered, wrapping my arm around her waist and propping her upright. ‘Dude.’
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ Jenny whispered, leaning as far away from my mother as humanly possible. ‘But I got kind of stressed out while we were getting ready so Erin gave me a pot brownie and now I’m like …’
She held up her thumb and forefinger to make an ‘OK’ gesture but couldn’t quite manage to make them meet.
‘Fantastic,’ I said, shepherding her in through the double doors of the Soho Grand. ‘How could that possibly go wrong?’
‘Since Jenny is joining the ranks of married women, I figured it was only right that we revisit some of Single Jenny’s finest moments and give them the grand farewell they deserve,’ Erin announced as we trotted inside. As well as me and my bloody mother, she’d rounded up what looked like half of Jenny’s office, her friends Gina and Vanessa and, for better or worse, Sadie, who had of course insisted on wearing white. Only Delia was missing.
‘So, it’s champagne at the Soho Grand, cocktails at Pegu Club, dinner at Alta, and then, if everyone is still standing, we have a room booked at Planet Rose for some late night karaoke. Sound good?’
It sounded exhausting.
That said, Jenny’s original bachelorette plans had swung between a vineyard escape in Tuscany and somehow hiring Richard Branson’s private island for the weekend. Apparently, a friend of a friend of a friend had been with Kate Moss and she was certain she could get the hook-up. This was decidedly more low-key, but the bride-to-be didn’t seem to mind.
‘I’m so into this,’ Jenny said, dragging herself up the industrial iron staircase that led us from the lobby into the hotel proper. ‘It’s got to be two years since I was last here. Good call, Erin.’
‘For my bachelorette,’ Sadie announced, pulling her minuscule Hervé Léger white bandage dress down over her arse, ‘Teddy is going to hire us a jet and we’re all going to fly to Cabo and take over a resort with the boys on one side and the girls on the other and—’
‘Hey, Sadie,’ Jenny said, the sweetest smile on her face.
‘Yah?’
‘Tonight is my bachelorette and I don’t want to hear one more word about your goddamn wedding,’ Jenny replied, still smiling. ‘Got it?’
‘Got it,’ Sadie replied, sucking in her che
eks to keep in whatever it was she really wanted to say.
‘Good.’ Jenny grabbed Erin by the arm and led the way. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘This sounds like a long night,’ Mum muttered as we followed Jenny from a safe distance. I wanted to be able to catch her if she fell, and Mum wanted to stop anyone from seeing her very tiny knickers. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’
‘I’m going to be fine,’ I said, determined to make it through the evening. The baby had already taken away my ability to wear leather leggings, possibly forever, it was not taking Jenny’s hen do as well. I would see this through to the end if I had to prop my eyes open with matchsticks, even if I was already knackered just from climbing the stairs.
All of West Broadway bustled by in high heels and sequins. There were far fewer big coats than you might expect for the middle of December, but then again, this was Soho and not the real world. I wasn’t even sure rich people felt the cold – they were probably vaccinated against it. I’d have to ask Erin to make sure.
It wasn’t quite seven but the bar was already busy. I couldn’t remember why we’d stopped hanging out at the Soho Grand. When I’d first moved to Manhattan, we’d find ourselves propping up the bar at least once a week, knocking back Perfect Tens and hoping someone felt like expensing champagne. I looked around at the other guests for clues as to why we’d abandoned ship. Everyone looked the same, appropriately downtown, skinny jeans, leather leggings, smudgy eyeliner and a complete lack of interest. Exactly how I remembered it.
‘I say we get this party started right,’ Erin declared as we sat down. ‘Shots all round?’
Jenny and my mum looked over at me as though I’d yanked both of their heads on a string.
‘What?’ Erin asked. ‘What am I missing?’
‘I might as well tell her,’ I said, the secret smile I reserved especially for baby-related activity taking over my face. ‘I’m bloody pregnant, aren’t I?’
‘Darling, that’s the best news!’ She threw open her arms and pulled me in. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Thank you,’ I sniffed, automatically pulling my gorgeous midnight blue Rebecca Taylor frock tight around my belly to prove it. ‘I’ve got approximately a thousand questions for you.’
‘Get a caesarean, get a nanny, and buy shares in Touche Éclat,’ she replied while Jenny and my mum cheered. ‘You’re going to be great at this, you’ve already been Jenny’s mom for the last six years.’
‘That was exactly what I wanted to hear,’ I told her, dropping my head onto her shoulder and smiling. ‘Thank you.’
‘Any time, sweetie,’ she said. ‘We moms have to stick together.’
‘But are the rest of us still doing shots?’ I heard my mum ask. ‘Because I’d take your arm off for a sweet sherry.’
It really was going to be a long night.
Several hours later, post-Pegu Club, after Alta, and only very slightly delayed by my needing to stop and use the toilet every three blocks, we arrived at the karaoke bar. Everything in New York moved fast, the cars, the people, the dating apps. One week you couldn’t get a reservation at a restaurant because it was far too cool, and the next, it had gone out of business. But one part of the city was timeless. The East Village would always be the East Village. There might not have been so many punks loitering around St Mark’s Place these days, but it was still the best place to go if you were looking for a cheap drink and a good time, and we were in search of both.
We piled into Planet Rose, filling the seedy-looking bar with twenty pairs of high heels, galloping down the narrow entryway with one sensible pair of Marks & Spencer’s Footglove flats trotting close behind.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go home?’ I asked my mum.
Her eyes burned with the thrill of a girls’ night out and three very large gin and tonics, plus someone, somehow, had found her a pair of penis deely boppers and, from the look on her face, this was the happiest she’d ever been.
‘I’m fine,’ she insisted. ‘I wouldn’t turn down a cup of tea, but if they haven’t got any, I’ll have a Scotch.’
She pushed past and grabbed the songbook out of Sadie’s hands, scanning the pages like a pro.
‘I’m going to sing a Taylor Swift song first,’ Sadie babbled to anyone who would listen. ‘She’s the sweetest, her cats are the best, we hung out after the Victoria’s Secret show and she baked a cake and no one ate the cake but you could tell it was a good cake. You know, I should call her, let me call her.’
‘What has she taken?’ I asked Jenny as Sadie began manically swiping at her phone. How she was planning to call Taylor Swift from inside the Amazon app, I wasn’t quite sure. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘She is if she promises Tay-Tay and can’t deliver,’ Jenny bellowed before starting the girls in a chant. ‘We want Tay-Tay! We want Tay-Tay!’
‘Can I help you, ladies?’ A short, stout man in a fetching white vest and too tight jeans leered at me from behind the bar. I smiled politely, ignoring the fact he was addressing my tits rather than my face. If you ever wanted to meet drunk, gorgeous women who wouldn’t usually give you the time of day, open a karaoke bar in Manhattan.
‘We’ve reserved a room,’ I shouted over the bar as he openly perved on my friends. ‘Under the name Erin White?’
‘Room isn’t big enough,’ he replied, his gruff voice barely audible over the dulcet tones of someone murdering a Mariah Carey song in the background. ‘New York City ordinances say no more than twelve to a room. How many of you are there?’
‘Twelve,’ I said confidently. It was clearly a lie. There were at least twenty of Jenny’s best friends and well-wishers rammed into the shiny red walls and zebra printed sofas of Planet Rose’s main room. ‘Definitely no more than twelve.’
He looked each and every one of us up and down. Sadie got the once-over twice.
‘OK.’
Either he couldn’t count or he didn’t care, but I was grateful either way.
‘I’ll need a credit card,’ the bartender barked, and I handed mine over reluctantly. I wasn’t sure our baby budget covered drunk girl karaoke, and not one of these women was in a fit state to Venmo anyone anything. But it was Jenny’s hen do, a night for the ages. I would rally.
‘It’s tough, I know,’ Erin said as the girls piled into the room, Sadie still hammering away at her phone, even though it was almost 2 a.m. Taylor would be ecstatic. ‘Wanna get some fresh air?’
I nodded and followed her back through the bar. I hated being sober sister, especially on a hen do, and especially at karaoke. It was not fun, watching your friends peel off their shoes and run through the streets barefoot without so much as a sniff of booze in you. All I could think about was whether or not they would cut themselves, and what exactly they were stepping in, and enduring endless flashbacks of all the times I’d done exactly the same thing.
‘How are you doing?’ Erin asked, leaning against a sad tree a couple of doors down from Planet Rose. An all-night bodega hummed with fluorescent lights, tepid hot dogs and fridges full of foul-looking energy drinks. ‘Really?’
‘I’m good,’ I replied, stifling a heroic yawn. ‘I’ve been the full seven dwarves – hungry, sleepy, dopey – but I’m mostly all right. Apart from how I keep crying all the time, though. What’s that all about?’
‘That’s to prepare you for the next eighteen years,’ she said. ‘I heard it gets slowly better over time; you have one huge relapse when they leave for college and then it clears up, just like that. How’s Alex doing?’
‘Honestly, I’m not sure.’ I flashed back to his argument with Graham. Thanks to my parents’ unexpected arrival, there had been no time to discuss it. ‘He’s really happy about the baby, but he’s definitely more stressed than he’s letting on.’
‘Even Thomas worried about money and he has all of it. Seriously, I’m sometimes amazed that anyone else in the world has any money,’ she said, shaking her head at her own good fortune. ‘I think it’
s a throwback Neanderthal thing. They can’t kill a woolly mammoth and bring it home to you so they worry about their 401k and college funds instead.’
‘Makes sense,’ I replied, wishing it was that simple. Maybe if we got really stuck, I could nick one of her rings and pay the mortgage with that. I could always replace it with a fake from Claire’s Accessories, no one would ever know the difference.
‘So, how come Delia isn’t here tonight?’
The question caught me off guard.
‘She’s probably working,’ I said, twisting my own engagement ring around my finger. ‘No rest for the wicked.’
‘She’s certainly getting a reputation for that,’ Erin replied. ‘She’s making more cuts than Bob ever did. Who knew she was secretly the evil twin?’
‘I know that’s a joke but I’m not sure you’re that far off.’ I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. We’d had a mild winter so far, but it was the middle of the night and even with my internal super-furnace, I was feeling the chill without my coat. ‘We had a really fun conversation about whether or not my job is safe.’
Erin sucked the air in through her teeth. ‘And is it?’
‘It is not,’ I replied. ‘And how am I supposed to find another one when I’m pregnant? New York isn’t exactly known for its kind-hearted attitude towards women with children.’
‘I’d give you a job, but you would suck at PR,’ she said, tucking her hair back behind her ears. ‘You’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever known.’
‘I will take that as the compliment it was not intended to be,’ I said, annoyed even though I knew she was right. ‘Things are changing far too fast. I feel like it’s something else every day at the moment. I’ve had to stop reading the news altogether – between work and home and the Lopez-Cawston nuptials, I’ve got more than enough to worry about.’
‘Angela, things are going to change, like it or not.’ Erin sifted through her tiny Prada evening bag and produced a pack of chewing gum. She held it out and I shook my head as she unwrapped a piece and started chomping. Cinnamon flavour, the devil’s work. ‘But things are always changing. Do you feel the same way you did before you moved to New York? Shit, do you feel the same way you did last week? We change, constantly, we just don’t always think about it as much as we usually do when something as big as a baby comes along.’
