A Summer to Remember. Victoria Cooke
do you, okay?’ I say, before realising I sound harsh. ‘Sorry. I love weddings and I love seeing my friends happy, but they do bring back memories.’
Sarah strokes my arm. ‘We get it, hon, but if you get sloshed and make a prized tit out of yourself, you’ll regret it.’
‘That happened one time,’ I say with an eye-roll.
‘Yes, and I forgave you because everything was still raw and because I wasn’t letting anything spoil my big day. You need to be here for Bridget today.’ Her eyes bore into me, but their intensity is broken by the waiter offering more Pimm’s. I decline and look pointedly at Sarah, who wears a smug expression.
Across the foyer of the hotel, Bridget and her new husband Alex are posing for photographs. The photographer is shepherding miniature humans into a line. It’s like a comedy sketch: just as he manages to get one end of the line straight, he loses a child from the other end. His face is starting to redden.
‘We should find our table,’ Viv says, moving us on.
The tables are not numbered or named like usual. Instead, we have to find ours by working out the punchline of a joke. ‘Well, Mrs Killjoy, you’ll never find your table,’ I whisper to Sarah, who gives me a tight smile and shakes her head. The joke for our table reads: ‘What happens when Iron Man takes off his suit?’ Viv and Sarah exchange confused glances.
‘Oh, come on,’ I say. ‘Seriously?’
They both shake their heads. I look to John and Mark, their husbands, who are wearing equally blank expressions.
‘He’s Stark naked! Tony Stark?’ I say, chuckling in response to a few groans. I remember Bridget running that one past me and I thought it was hilarious.
We find our table, and sure enough, the centre plaque reads ‘He’s Stark naked’. As we sit down we watch several bewildered guests wandering around in confusion.
‘Are you struggling?’ I say to an elderly gentleman hovering by our table.
‘Just a little.’
‘What’s your clue?’
‘RIP water.’ Puzzlement is etched into his brow. ‘It doesn’t even sound like a joke.’
I stifle a smirk. ‘You will be mist,’ I say, gesturing to the table to my right. I turn to the others. ‘I think this is more fun than the actual wedding.’
‘I’m just glad Bridget and Alex found one another, because they’re the only two people who get these jokes.’ Sarah takes the wine from the centre of the table and fills us up.
‘So, I’m allowed to drink now?’ I say sarcastically.
Sarah rolls her eyes. ‘I was just looking out for you.’
I’m about to retort when Viv’s husband, John, interrupts me.
‘So, Sam, no handsome prince on the horizon yet?’
‘Nope.’ I take a long sip of wine in place of a groan.
He tilts his head to the side. ‘You’ll meet someone soon.’ And there it is. I notice Viv giving him ‘a look’, which I’m grateful for. Maybe Bridget has had a word.
A loud gong interrupts the slightly awkward silence which ensues. ‘All rise, for the bride and groom.’
There’s a loud cheer and a round of applause as Bridget and Alex enter and take their seats at the top table. The happiness radiates from the pair of them and whilst I’m finding this whole day a little difficult, the smiles they wear are infectious. Not all romances are doomed and the love they have for one another is real, it only takes a quick glance in their direction to see that. They look beautiful together and the solid block of ice in my chest starts to thaw with the warmth that breaks through from just looking at them. I genuinely wish them a long lifetime of happiness.
Pick up, pick up, pick up. I can’t contain my excitement and Bridget, who always answers her phone on the first ring, is taking an age to answer today.
‘Sam, hi.’ She sounds breathless when she does pick up.
‘Sorry, I haven’t interrupted anything, have I?’ It’s early evening and her honeymoon was weeks ago so I hope not, but they are still technically newlyweds (eurgh).
‘No, not at all. Just had to run downstairs to get my phone. What’s up?’
‘I did it! I’ve finally been selected to go to Boston.’ I actually dance a little as I say the words.
‘Oh my god, Sam, that’s great. You’ve wanted this for so long!’ She squeals so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
‘I know! Finally, my boss has seen that I’m capable of bigger things.’ God, for the first few years I didn’t think I’d get any further than just making coffee and shredding crappy marketing campaigns. But then I got more responsibility, working on my own campaigns for local businesses which went down really well and that led to being part of a team, working on some national campaigns but after that, I got wedged in a giant rut, which I’ve been trying to claw my way out of for the past two years.
‘Oh, Sam, congratulations. I’m so happy for you. When do you go?’
‘A week on Sunday.’ My insides squeeze with excitement.
‘That’s too soon! We need to throw you a going away party.’
‘It’s only three months. It doesn’t warrant a leaving party.’
‘Drinks then?’
If I’m honest, drinks in my honour does sound good. Aside from my wedding, I’m not sure it’s ever happened before. ‘Okay, drinks. Does Saturday night work?’
***
On my way into the bar, my phone begins to vibrate in my bag. Thinking it’s one of the girls ringing to say they’re running late, I stand to the side of the door and take it out. The name on the screen knocks the wind out of my sails.
Mum mobile
I watch the screen, willing it to stop. The red and green circles seem to brighten; accept or reject? The name grows bigger on the screen and the vibration becomes more intense.
Then it stops. I exhale and slump against the wall. Why would she ring? I’d sent my dad a birthday card about a week ago and I mentioned the job in Boston. It could be about that. But why would she ring? I stuff my phone back in my bag and head inside.
‘Congratulations,’ Viv says as the waitress places four mojitos on the table of our booth. ‘You finally made the US team!’
Excited butterflies flutter in my stomach. ‘I know, I’m hoping to make a good impression so I’ll be on future projects. Three months in Boston each summer – yes please!’
After my third cocktail, I turn to my friends. ‘So, which one of you is going to look after Coco while I’m away?’ I say, feeling a little tipsy.
There are some animated glances around the room, and I swear I see tumbleweed roll past.
‘Oh, come on. She’s adorable.’
‘It’s not that, it’s the fact you’re leaving tomorrow and haven’t found somewhere for her yet,’ Viv says.
‘Oh, come on. You lot convinced me to get a cat, I knew one of you would mind her.’
‘She’s the Devil incarnate,’ Sarah says, to murmurs of agreement.
‘You guys told me to get a pet, so she’s partly your responsibility.’ I put on a mocking voice. ‘Get a pet, Sam, so you never have to go home