by Jenny Colgan
Only Fraser sat quietly amongst the kerfuffle. And Linda, of course, but I was less worried about her. I stuck my tongue out at him. He stuck his back, so I felt that he wasn’t suicidal quite yet. On the other side, Amanda was trying to make small talk about castle furnishings, and Fran was pretending to listen and making increasingly sarky comments that Amanda was oblivious to. Nash and Alex were having a conversation about rugby versus football (I wasn’t sure who was on which side) which looked like it may degenerate into bodily harm, and on my other side Angus was chatting quietly to Linda behind Nash. Linda was staring terrified at her place, but occasionally nodding along. Suddenly Alex shouted out, ‘Game! Game!’
Everyone stopped talking.
‘What game?’ said Fran.
‘I don’t know. Let’s play a game. Something. Ehm, Truth or Forfeit.’
Everyone groaned.
‘If only we were all fifteen,’ said Fran, ‘that would be a great idea.’
‘No, come on, guys … just for a laugh.’
Fran passed him an empty bottle. ‘Hey, maybe then we can spin this!’
‘Fine, OK.’ Alex hated losing his cool like that. ‘I don’t give a toss. Just thought it might add a bit of spark, given that we’re sitting here starving to death.’
‘Thanks very much,’ I flared up from the top of my high chair. Then I remembered that they were my guests and I was starving them to death, so I shut up again.
‘Rally, I don’t mind, but why don’t you ask the first question and we’ll see if we want to play or not?’ said Mookie quietly. The girl was a born compromiser.
Alex still looked a bit sulky. Then he took another drink of wine and sat back.
‘OK then.’ There was a general groaning around the table, but the wine was going down easy and we couldn’t talk football for ever. I looked at Angus, and he seemed relieved that his nursemaiding duties would be over for a bit.
‘Here we go,’ said Alex. ‘Who’s –’
‘Wait a wee minute,’ said Nash. ‘Whit’s the forfeit?’
‘You’ll find out.’ Alex showed his teeth.
‘Och, that’s no fair, ken. You cannae just make up the rules.’
‘For God’s sake, you two!’ said Fran. ‘Jesus, you can’t let boys anywhere near each other when it comes to games.’
Nash sat back in his chair.
Alex decided to start with Mookie, across the table.
‘OK, Mookie, who’s the most embarrassing person you’ve ever fancied?’
‘Hang on,’ I said, ‘famous or not famous?’
‘Famous. Unless everyone else knows them.’
‘Fine.’
Mookie thought for a minute.
‘Well, we did have this very dishy stable hand, but I don’t suppose that counts.’
‘Boy or girl?’ asked Alex curiously. I threw my napkin at him.
‘Oh, rally,’ said Mookie, blushing. ‘No, I suppose it would have to be … Adam Ant.’
‘Adam Ant’s not embarrassing!’ said Fran and I practically simultaneously. The boys howled with laughter.
‘Oh God, what turned you on most?’ asked Alex, laughing. ‘The highwayman or the pirate?’
‘Shut up! At the time, it was not embarrassing!’
‘Erm, actually, I fancy him now,’ said Mookie, going red.
‘Ohhh.’ That put a different slant on things.
‘Who is he now?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. Still a highwayman, probably,’ she said dreamily. My mouth dropped open as Fran and I looked at each other in horror.
‘Definitely straight into the lead there,’ said Alex.
‘I thought this was Truth or Forfeit?’ said Nash. ‘How come there’s points?’
‘There’s points for the most embarrassing truth,’ said Alex.
‘Oh, right. New rule,’ said Nash. Everyone else yelled at him to shut up.
‘OK, you next,’ said Alex.
‘I’m no going if Ah don’t know what the forfeit is.’
Alex looked exasperated. ‘Melanie,’ he yelled at me unexpectedly, ‘even though we’re moving in together, we’re never having kids in case they end up like him, OK?’
I nodded understandingly.
‘The forfeit is, if you don’t answer the question, I hang you out of the window by your ankles for two minutes.’
‘That’s no a forfeit for me, that’s a forfeit for you.’
‘Believe me, it’s a forfeit for you.’
Nash thought about it for a moment.
‘Aye, all right then.’
‘So, who’s the most embarrassing person you’ve ever fancied?’
Nash looked shyly at his hands for a moment, then smiled to himself.
‘Gail Tilsley.’
It took us a moment to figure out who this character was, before remembering Coronation Street.
‘No!’
‘When?’
‘How?’
‘Well, ken, I just felt sorry for her, and it kind of went from that, really.’
‘Felt sorry for her how?’ asked Fran. ‘Because she still uses curling tongs on only half her hair?’
Nash still couldn’t help himself grinning with embarrassment.
‘No, like, after Brian died and that.’
I laughed merrily to myself. This was working out well after all.
‘That’s pretty good,’ said Alex.
‘Do Ah get more points?’
‘No, I’m afraid a twenty-year attachment to a man named after an insect is worth more than a passing sympathy fuck for a fictional character.’
Amanda was next.
‘This is a stupid game,’ she said.
‘Oh my God – not the pony!’ yelled Fran. Everyone burst out into guffaws. Definitely, there was a bit too much wine floating about for this early in the evening.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Francesca.’ Amanda’s face resumed its habitual snotty look.
‘Forfeit! Forfeit! Forfeit!’ Angus and Nash took up the chanting.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she looked furious.
‘Forfeit! Forfeit! Forfeit!’ Alex had started banging his cutlery on the table.
‘Oh, bloody hell. OK, then: bloody Gerry Adams. Now, fuck off.’
Instantly there was silence. Fran clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘No!’
‘Ha, so, now you don’t believe me!’
‘No, but just …’
‘Don’t say it. He’s a politician, that’s all.’
‘He’s not a politician! He’s a …’
Amanda shot Fran a very dangerous look. Fran grinned and edged away slightly.
‘You don’t … know him, do you?’
‘No, of course not. Right, can we move on now, please? I’ve done mine.’
Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m afraid dodgy Irish type beats dandy highwayman. Sorry, Mooks.’
Amanda looked cool as a cucumber, but as the attention moved to Fraser, I saw her take a huge swig of wine. Well, bloody hell. Maybe there were some depths to this woman, after all. Or maybe she just liked beards and a sense of danger. That must be it.
Fraser was pondering. ‘I suppose I should say Amanda,’ he said. Nobody laughed. ‘Only kidding,’ he said. Still, nobody laughed, although we did try to look encouraging.
‘God, I don’t know,’ he sighed.
‘I do,’ said Angus, looking evil.
‘Who?’ said Fraser.
‘You know.’
‘No, I don’t. Remind me.’
Immediately, Angus got up and started stroking and fondling imaginary long hair.
‘Don’t push too far …’ he sang. ‘Your dreams are/China in your hand …’
Fraser’s smile widened. ‘No way!’
‘Don’t wish too hard/Because they may come true.’
‘That red-headed midget from T’pau …?’
‘… And you can’t help them/Don’t push too far …’
‘Jesus, I can’t even re
member her name!’
‘China in your hand …’ finished Angus, managing to mime a huge pair of tits and look coy at the same time. ‘I love you, Fraser McConnald.’
We gave him as much of a storm of applause as eight people could muster – seven, if you discounted Amanda, who was looking furious.
Fraser laughed heartily. ‘So I did. I thought she was gorgeous, then I looked at her one day and thought she was absolutely awful.’
‘She was awful,’ I agreed, nodding my head vigorously.
‘I know. Well, there you go. How do I do on the points-ometer, Alex?’
‘Not too well, actually, old chap.’
‘Why not?’
‘Ha!’ said Nash.
‘Erm, no reason,’ said Alex, blushing.
‘Did you –’ I started with delight. Fran coughed up her red wine until it came out her nose.
‘Carol Decker!’ she spluttered, getting red wine everywhere. ‘That was her name!’
I was helpless with laughter watching Fran spit everywhere.
‘But she was four foot one!’ I yelled. ‘She made Kylie Minogue look like a heifer!’
‘Kylie Minogue only has the brains of a heifer,’ said Fran.
‘Ehm, Kylie was going to be mine, actually,’ said Angus. ‘I don’t need to have a go now.’
‘No!’ I yelled. ‘I can’t believe what a THING you boys all have for fucking skinny midgets! Sorry, Amanda.’
I realized suddenly that I had put an apology in where there should never have been one.
Foot, mouth, and easy insertion instructions.
Amanda sniffed imperiously, and looked at her watch.
‘Is this game finished? Because, Fraser, it’s time we were going.’
‘Amanda, it’s only ten o’clock and we haven’t eaten yet.’
‘Well, I’m tired and I want to go home. Take me home, please.’
Fraser looked at her straightforwardly. ‘I’m not ready to go yet. It would be rude, and I’m hungry and I want to stay here and chat to my friends.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Fraser! Do you want me to go by myself?’
‘I don’t mind.’
There was a silence.
‘OK then, I will.’ Her face went very tight. ‘In fact, I think I’ll just go out on my own.’
‘I thought you were tired.’
‘Shut the fuck up!’
Shakily, she stabbed at her mobile.
‘Jacintha? Hi, darling, it’s Amanda.’
‘Yes … no, just at this really dull dinner party. Thought I might come over. Where are you? … Oh, Blinski’s – great. I’ll hop in a cab and see you there in half an hour. Ciao, darling.’
She hung up, then stalked imperiously out of the room.
‘I’ll get my own coat, thank you,’ she shouted as she heard me get up.
‘Mookie, are you coming?’ we heard from the hallway.
Mookie looked at us, terrified. Fran shook her head vehemently. ‘You don’t have to go,’ she whispered. Mookie took a deep breath.
‘Ahem … no,’ she said quietly. We could hear Amanda pausing outside.
‘Say hello to Gerry for us!’ hollered Fran.
Then the door slammed and she was gone.
Fourteen
Silence fell. Everyone gazed at their plates. Finally Fraser heaved a sigh.
‘I’m sorry, everyone.’
‘What, for your wife? Might as well get used to that,’ Fran said.
‘Shh,’ I said to Fran. ‘Don’t worry about it, Frase. She must just be really tense.’
‘Tense,’ he said. We watched him with bated breath, but he didn’t say any more.
‘Rigid, more like,’ said Alex, and Nash sniggered.
‘Can we get on with the game, please?’ Alex poured himself another glass of wine.
‘Thanks, Mr Sensitivity,’ I said snidely.
‘God, it’s the all-in couples fun match night tonight,’ pointed out Fran. Alex grimaced at her and she shut up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nash risk a very small piece of salad.
‘Oh my God! The lasagne!’
I dashed into the kitchen, followed closely by Angus. As I opened the oven and smoke poured out, he knelt down next to me with a serious look on his face.
‘I think we should get Fraser NOW,’ he whispered urgently.
‘For God’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk seriously to me while I’m holding burnt lasagne?’
He grinned. ‘You know what I mean. I’ll tell Mookie – she’s on our side –’
‘I don’t have a side any more.’
‘Och, come on. Yes, you do.’
‘No, I don’t.’
He ignored me.
‘Then we’ll get him pissed and talk him out of the wedding.’
I dumped the lasagne on the kitchen unit. It was black and hard round the edges. I started to file those bits away with a knife.
‘What do you think this is, Mission: Impossible?’
‘Come on. Look at the way she behaved. Bet you he’s having second thoughts.’
‘Gustard, no one ever has an idea of what’s going on inside other people’s relationships. We just don’t know. I think we should leave them alone. He seems fine to me.’
‘What seems fine to you?’ said Alex, coming in to get some more wine. He lost his grip on the doorway temporarily, but caught it again.
‘Ehm, I always refer to my lasagnes as he’s. Makes them, er, rise better.’
Alex stared hard at the blackened mass before him. ‘Looks like fucking terminal cancer to me.’
‘Yes, well, never mind about that. Go back in and sit down.’
Grabbing another bottle, he stumbled back into the living room, where I heard a whoop of laughter from Fran and Mookie. Must have been telling them about my lasagne, the bastard.
I stood back and prodded my handiwork with a knife.
‘Maybe if I just feed Nash and get some pizza in for everyone else …’
‘That would be great,’ said Angus sweetly.
‘I spent all day making this lasagne.’
‘I know.’
‘I put nutmeg in it and everything.’
‘Don’t worry.’
I walked back into the living room and cleared my throat. Fraser was still staring unhappily at his glass of wine, and downing it at an extraordinary rate, while Nash patted him companionably on the arm. Alex had moved to sit between Mookie and Fran, who were laughing around him like a couple of starlets, and he was interrogating Linda, whose face was a dreadful colour.
‘Come on, pet,’ he was insisting, ‘just tell us who it is.’
Linda’s face looked like it might explode.
‘Yes, come on, do tell us,’ encouraged Mookie. Everyone seemed to have forgotten Linda’s name.
Finally, she gritted her teeth. ‘Ralph Fiennes,’ she said, almost inaudibly.
Fran waved her glass in the air. ‘No, Linda, it’s got to be someone embarrassing as opposed to someone rich and handsome and gorgeous and lovely and …’
‘Four foot nine,’ finished Alex snidely.
Linda looked up at him, eyes burning.
‘You’d never understand!’ she shouted. I’d never heard her shout. ‘None of you could ever understand what he means to me!’ And she stomped off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
There was a silence.
‘Two down,’ said Alex, not very helpfully.
‘Would you like me to go and see to her?’ Mookie offered gravely.
‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but, well …’
‘I’ll go,’ said Angus.
I turned round gratefully. ‘Would you?’
He nodded. ‘That means I’m not here when you tell them about the lasagne.’
‘What about the lasagne?’ said Nash, stricken.
‘Ah.’
Half an hour later, everything was much improved. The pizzas had arrived and even Nash had had enough, a
lthough he insisted on picking every piece of vegetable matter off them first. Linda had gone to sleep, and Angus assured us she was OK. Well, not suicidal. We’d cleared the stupid, mismatched tables out of the room and the seven of us sat bunched around the sofa or kicking our heels on the floor, trying not to knock over the candles, which had stayed with us. Van Morrison was playing, but very, very quietly.
‘You haven’t gone,’ said Alex to Fran.
‘Oh, go away, I don’t want to go.’
He started poking her in the side.
‘You’ve got to! Forfeit, remember?’
Fran rolled over and lay on her stomach.
‘I’m refusing to answer. I’ll take the forfeit.’
‘Wooo,’ we said. ‘Forfeit! Forfeit!’
‘What, though?’
Alex grinned. ‘You could show us your tits.’
I kicked him. ‘Don’t be disgusting.’
Fran sighed. ‘Yes, and everyone’s seen them.’
‘I haven’t!’ said Mookie.
Everyone looked at her.
‘Later,’ said Fran.
Angus was leaning against the sofa.
‘I know what you could do, Francesca,’ he said softly.
The room turned to listen to him.
‘You’re an actress. Why don’t you do some acting for us? Do a piece. What are you auditioning for at the moment?’
There was a chorus of ‘good idea’. Fran looked embarrassed but shrugged.
‘I’m auditioning for Much Ado,’ she said. ‘To tour schools with. I’m trying out for Beatrice.’
‘OK, give us a bit of that then.’
We shifted around to give her some room. For about a second she pretended not to be absolutely thrilled to be asked, then just got on with it.
‘Beatrice has just been asked if she’s going to get married,’ she said, then began:
‘Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust?’
‘Valiant dust?’ whispered Alex loudly. ‘Woo … scary.’
‘Shhh,’ I said.
‘… to make
an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.’
She was extremely good; her voice was strong, and the words rang out with perfect clarity.
