The Stag and Hen Weekend

by Mike Gayle

  ‘You look great too,’ she said, admiring Helen’s outfit. Helen had been uncertain about diverting from her usual smart trousers and top combo in favour of a dove grey soft drape dress teamed with strappy heels. It was, she was aware, more of a sexy look than was her usual and this had been exactly why she had bought it to wear for the meal tonight, knowing that surrounded by her closest friends, she wouldn’t have to feel self-conscious. But Caitlin inviting Aiden to the meal had changed everything. Now Helen was veering between defiance that she had every right to dress the way she wanted, to anxiety that her choice of clothing would send out the wrong signals. Decades of feminism and the supportive comments of her friend eventually won over. ‘Phil is the luckiest man in the world getting to come home to you every day.’

  The moment she heard Phil’s name Helen’s stomach tightened into a ball. Much as she resented this neediness that seemed to have bubbled up from the depths of her subconscious, she really did wish that he had called her back. His lack of communication was yet another issue for her already overstretched emotional resources.

  The two women made their way over to the meeting place over loud applause from the rest of the girls, much to the hotel staff’s amusement. There was no sign of Catlin yet and so seizing the opportunity Helen called over one of the porters, handed him her camera and asked him to take a photo of them. As the flash went off Helen knew even without seeing the evidence that what had been captured was a proper Kodak moment: all of her oldest, closest friends gathered together in one spot ready to have a good time. A rare thing and something to be treasured.

  The girls were all still cackling and making outrageous comments to the porter as Caitlin emerged from the lift.

  ‘What did I miss?’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Helen quickly. ‘We were just messing about, that’s all. You look great.’

  Caitlin smiled but there was no compliment in return. She glanced around the lobby clearly looking for signs of Aiden but didn’t say as much to Helen.

  ‘What time are the cabs booked for?’

  ‘About now,’ said Helen.

  Caitlin nodded. ‘Right, we’ll I’m just going to check my make-up. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Helen was tempted to herd the girls into a cab the moment she was gone but before Caitlin had taken a step Aiden appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing a black suit and tie matched with a white shirt that instantly recalled Phil’s Reservoir Dog outfit. Helen swallowed hard. It was as if the universe was doing all it could do to tip her over the edge.

  ‘I’m not late, am I?’

  ‘No,’ said Helen. ‘You’re right on time.’

  He kissed her on the cheek. His skin felt soft and his aftershave smelt light and citrusy. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She determined never to get that close to him again.

  Caitlin moved expectantly into his orbit and Aiden kissed her too. Helen glanced at her watch. How was she ever going to get through this night when it already felt like it had gone on too long?

  Aiden smiled. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with me coming tonight?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure these things are usually girls only but Caitlin here was very insistent.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Helen graciously. ‘The more the merrier. Although shouldn’t you be out with your friends?’

  ‘I said I’d catch up with them later. Things never really get going with that lot until the early hours.’

  Helen looked at her watch again and peered outside. There were two limousines parked outside but no sign of the taxis Yaz had ordered. ‘I’d better go and check on the cabs,’ said Helen. ‘It looks like they’re running a bit late.’

  ‘ ‘Fraid not, fella,’ said Aiden. ‘They’re not coming.’

  ‘And you’d know this because?’

  ‘I sorted those bad boys out front by way of an early wedding present instead.’

  Shocked, Helen stepped forward to take another look at the limousines. With their blacked-out windows they were the kinds of cars celebrities emerged from looking radiant at red carpet events. This was so typical of Aiden. Big gestures had always been his thing.

  ‘It’s very kind of you,’ she said. ‘But it’s too much, Aiden. We’ll be fine as we are.’

  ‘Too late,’ he replied. ‘They’re paid for and you’ve got them for the night.’

  ‘You’ll have to forgive my sister-in-law,’ said Caitlin sidling closer to Aiden. ‘She’s just not used to the high life. They are fantastic, and it’s a lovely gesture. Of course we’ll take them.’

  ‘Plus,’ said Aiden guiltily, ‘I’ve already cancelled your other cars so I’m afraid you’re stuck with them.’

  Helen sighed. She hadn’t even left the hotel and already the evening was turning weird. Why was Aiden trying so hard with her? Was it guilt or was there something more?

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Yaz. ‘Everything okay?’

  Helen gestured to the limousines. ‘Grab your stuff, girls. Looks like we’ve just been upgraded.’

  Helen had been desperate to visit their destination for the evening, the Michelin starred restaurant La Salle de Classe ever since she had read rave reviews of its opening in several Sunday newspapers at the beginning of the year. Around her birthday she had hinted to Phil that he should take her there but despite many lovely gifts and surprises from her fiancé (although she had to admit the La Perla underwear he had bought that was two sizes too small had gone down like a lead balloon) the big day had come and gone without the requisite visit. So when Yaz had asked for ideas about restaurants for the second night of the hen weekend Helen got out her laptop, typed the name and its address into Google Maps. Once she was sure that the journey was doable in a taxi, she gave the details to Yaz with orders to book it straight away.

  The journey to the restaurant was suspiciously incident free although it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Helen that when she, together with Lorna and Kerry, had climbed into the first car, Aiden had climbed in straight afterwards quickly followed by Caitlin. For most of the journey Caitlin locked Aiden into her conversational orbit leaving Helen to chat with her friends while exchanging increasingly excited texts with the second car following behind. Every once in a while Aiden attempted to break free of Caitlin and join Helen’s conversation, but even his extensive verbal skills were no match for Caitlin, and with a surgical skill that betrayed her borderline sociopathic tendencies she made sure that the conversation came back to her and only ever had two participants.

  It was just after eight o’clock as the limos pulled up in front of the large plate glass windows of their destination.

  ‘What’s this place like?’ asked Aiden peering into the packed restaurant. ‘Anyone eaten here before?’

  ‘I think it’s new for all of us,’ replied Helen. ‘But I for one can’t wait to get inside.’

  The décor of La Salle de Classe was as high end as its food and as she waited to be seated Helen fell in lust with so many of the fixtures and fittings that had she possessed a screwdriver and a much larger handbag some of the items she coveted would have quickly been liberated.

  As the maître d’ arrived to show them to their table Yaz took control of the seating plan. Helen as guest of honour was at the head of the table with Yaz on one side and Heather on the other, whilst Aiden and Caitlin were tucked at the opposite end as far away from Helen as possible. Carla, Ros and Heather set the tone for the rest of the evening by ordering champagne to toast the bride to be.

  The meal was stunning and Helen found herself enthusing about the beetroot and caramel sauce on her wild sea bass long after the waiter had handed out the dessert menus.

  The girls had done such a good job of keeping her wine glass topped up and entertaining her with stories from the past that she had barely taken any notice of Caitlin and while Aiden had once or twice tried to attract her attention, she had so far managed to avoid making eye contact. As the waiter cleared away the dessert plates and took coffee orders she began to feel that s
he was home and dry.

  It was at this point that her plans started to unravel. Some of the girls began talking about the next stage of the evening, given that it was only half past ten, and a consensus began to form that the only fitting conclusion to the evening would involve going on somewhere else. Helen tried to hint that she wanted to go back to the hotel but the girls were so emboldened by alcohol that the idea assumed a life of its own with suggestions ranging from heading to the nearest wine bar through to going clubbing in Buxton’s one and only nightclub. In the end a compromise was struck; they would go clubbing but not in Buxton and after half an hour of Aiden making various calls to people in the know, they got back in the limousines and made the fifty-minute trip to a Manchester club where he had got them on the guest list.

  Helen knew all she had to do to put a stop to this madness was play the ‘It’s my party card’ and the girls would fall into line. She didn’t want to go clubbing at all and certainly not in Manchester with her ex-boyfriend and her borderline insane future sister-in-law. But her friends were having such a good time that she found herself saying feebly, ‘Okay, if we aren’t back too late.’ Before she could change her mind, a club hits CD was on the sound system and a bottle of champagne from the car’s drinks cabinet was being popped open.

  By the time the limousines pulled up in front of Koko’s, on the south side of Manchester city centre, a combination of the champagne and the long car journey had left Helen feeling slightly nauseous and she couldn’t wait to get out of the car. The fresh summer air cleared her head and as she saw just how excited her friends were she resolved to enjoy herself after all.

  According to Aiden, Koko’s was Manchester’s most exclusive club and the number one destination for the city’s beautiful people. Helen cared less about Manchester’s beautiful people than she did about whether or not she would be able to dance to the music. It had been a long while since she had enjoyed a good dance and even longer since she had been out clubbing and the last thing she wanted was to have this sterling opportunity frustrated by a DJ playing anonymous dance music.

  Reassured that the DJ was one of the country’s best they all followed Aiden past the door staff and straight to the club’s VIP section where three bottles of champagne were waiting on ice.

  ‘Was this your doing again?’ asked Helen as they all sat down.

  Aiden shrugged nonchalantly. ‘My only concern this evening, my lady, is that you have a good time.’

  Before Helen could respond Caitlin appeared at Aiden’s side and dragged him over to Heather and Ros under the pretext that they were desperate to hear more of his celebrity stories.

  Aiden flashed Helen a look of apology that she felt obliged to acknowledge. Even Helen could see that whatever her future sister-in-law’s attractions, he was paying too high a price for the privilege.

  Helen rounded up those of her friends that were up for a dance and led them to the dance floor just as the DJ played a track that seemed to be so well known that the whole room erupted. Helen had never heard it before, but with her friends by her side and the champagne flowing through her veins she didn’t care. Tonight was her hen night and she was going to have a good time no matter what.

  ‘I know it’s all been a bit mad,’ slurred Yaz, knocking back the last of the drink in her hand and lighting up a cigarette as they stood looking out across the city on the club’s outside terrace after a solid hour on the dance floor, ‘but you have to admit it’s been an absolutely amazing night. Beats my Blackpool bash hands down!’

  Helen kissed her intoxicated friend’s glowing cheek. ‘I don’t remember you complaining too much.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Yaz. ‘It’s been brilliant hasn’t it?’

  Helen nodded. ‘It’s like we’re all twenty-one again! Last week I would’ve put good money on us all being in bed by now. It’s fantastic.’

  ‘And Caitlin’s not ruining it for you?’

  Helen plucked Yaz’s cigarette from her hand and took a deep drag. ‘She’s good,’ replied Helen, savouring the smoke in her lungs before exhaling, ‘but not that good.’ She handed the cigarette back to Yaz. ‘I’m just grateful that you talked me into coming. It would have been awful if tonight hadn’t happened just because of her.’ She hugged Yaz. ‘You, my lady, are easily the best friend a girl could have. Someone should clone you so that everyone can have one.’

  Yaz laughed and then shivered. ‘It’s colder than you think,’ she said rubbing her bare arms. She took one last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out. ‘I’m going back inside. Coming? I’m gasping for a drink.’

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t had enough? You’ve been knocking it back since we got here. Why don’t you give it a rest?’

  ‘What for? So I can spend the rest of the night thinking about what Simon’s up to in Amsterdam? No thank you very much! I’ll take being clattered over being sober, clattered is good, sober is just too much of a ball ache.’

  Helen watched as Yaz turned and headed unsteadily down the stairs to the club. She thought about trying to talk her around but with everything going on in her own life, she thought Yaz had made a good point.

  Helen turned her attention to the illuminated cityscape behind her. She loved imagining the lives behind the lights, lives she would never know, people she would never meet. It was like a visual representation of her job as a DJ.

  Helen was lost in thought when she heard footsteps and turned around to see a young man standing in front of her. He looked to be in his twenties, tall and handsome and, judging from the surreptitious glances of some of the girls out on the terrace clearly something of a catch.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind me talking to you,’ he said. ‘You look miles away.’

  ‘Got a few things on my mind,’ said Helen.

  He raised an eyebrow cheekily. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Helen laughed. ‘I doubt it.’

  He held out his hand. ‘The name’s Paul but my mates call me Biz. Couldn’t help but notice you on the dance floor earlier. You have one amazing body. Can I buy you a drink?’

  ‘That’s very kind of you . . . er, Biz . . . but apart from you being way too young for me . . . I’m actually getting married next weekend. So thanks but no thanks.’

  ‘Well tell him from me he’s one lucky guy.’

  Helen smiled. ‘They’ll be the first words from my lips.’

  He nodded, and gave Helen a wink. ‘Knocked back by the pretty lady, you know you’ve broken my heart don’t you?’

  ‘You’ll heal.’

  He laughed. ‘I probably will as well.’ He offered a wave of his hand. ‘You take it easy and have a good wedding, yeah?’

  Grinning, Helen returned her gaze to the Manchester streets. Chatted up by a hot young guy in a trendy nightclub! The girls were going to love this story.

  She picked out a minicab snaking its way through the late-night traffic and tried to imagine who was in there and where they might be going. That was the key to being a good local DJ, being interested in people and their stories. It was true what Aiden had said about her ability to make something out of nothing. It was a skill that not everyone possessed.

  Shivering slightly she rubbed her arms and was considering heading back inside when she saw the familiar figure of Aiden outlined against the night sky. Although she could barely see his face she knew he was looking at her. Every instinct told her to walk away but she didn’t move.

  13.

  ‘Have you been out here long?’

  ‘A little while,’ said Helen. A group of young girls were pointing in Aiden’s direction and sniggering, clearly having recognised him. ‘Where’s Caitlin?’

  Aiden shrugged. ‘She went off to powder her nose or whatever. It’s cold out here. You must be freezing.’

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ shrugged Helen, ‘but I was going inside anyway. I’ll leave you to have your cigarette in peace.’

  Aiden held out a hand to stop her. ‘I don’t smoke,’ he said
. ‘I told you the day my gran died I’d never smoke another cigarette and I haven’t.’

  Helen was flooded with shame. Aiden’s gran had died of lung cancer in the third year they were together and losing her had affected him deeply.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you stuck to it.’

  It was clear Aiden had other things on his mind.

  ‘I came out here to find you,’ he said as if daring her to challenge his assertion.

  Helen didn’t speak. Engagement in conversation was tantamount to encouraging him and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  ‘I’m out here because you’ve been avoiding me all night and I think I know why,’ he continued.

  Helen could no longer remain silent. ‘Well, since we’re here,’ she said coldly, ‘why don’t you enlighten me?’

  Taken aback by the sharpness in her voice Aiden held her gaze. ‘I don’t get it, why are you being so hostile? This can’t be about your sister-in-law surely?’

  Helen flushed with anger. ‘Can you even hear yourself? You really think that nine years after you cheated on me I’m going to get upset because you’re sniffing around that wannabe wag? Get over yourself! She could be moving into your penthouse and having your kids and I still wouldn’t care. I can’t think of two people who deserve each more.’

  Aiden put his hands in the air in an effort to placate her. ‘Helen, please, just calm down for a second! I’m not interested in Caitlin. I thought you would have guessed that straight away. The only reason I accepted her invitation to come out tonight was because I knew it would be the only way that we’d ever get a chance to talk.’

  ‘About what exactly?’

  It was Aiden’s turn to be indignant. ‘Oh come on, don’t play games, Helen. When I told you why Sanne and I split up I could see in your eyes that you wanted to know the reason why, but were scared to ask.’

  ‘Well, if that was all so bloody obvious what are you even doing here? It’s my hen weekend, Aiden! This time next weekend I’ll have promised to be with the man I love for the rest of my life. Is this some kind of joke? A game where you waltz back into my life just because a very long time ago, we used to mean something to each other? I don’t want to know why you split up with your wife. It has nothing to do with me.’