The Time of Our Lives. Portia MacIntosh
arm as she explains their connection.
‘What the fuck?’ Clarky whines. ‘We’re his oldest friends and we’re sat at the crap table with Kat’s dentist and his bird? No offence.’
From the looks on their faces, I’d guess they’ve taken offence.
‘Are you not drinking?’ Fiona asks me, nodding towards my orange juice.
‘No, I’m trying to keep a clear, sober head,’ I say.
‘Same,’ she replies, showing me her lemonade. ‘If I start drinking now, I’ll be hammered by tonight. I think I’m getting old.’
‘I bumped into Pete again,’ I tell her quietly. ‘He seems great. I don’t want to drink too much and start talking rubbish, I want to spend more time with him, so he can get to know the version of me that I have full oral and physical control over.’
My friend gives her eyebrows a playful wiggle at my choice of words.
‘Not like that,’ I quickly insist, although I know she knows what I mean really.
We had a spare few minutes after the ceremony, so I told Fi about what happened with Pete last night. It was nice, talking to her about boys just like told times. I miss having a female friend in my life – someone to confide in, someone to give me advice. Fi and I never fell out after uni, we just drifted apart. We all had good intentions to stay in touch and keep our friendships alive, but when you’re all living all over the country, juggling hectic jobs with relationships, and house moves … you just put off that night out you swore you’d plan so that everyone could catch up. It’s especially hard trying to plan reunions for a group of six, which is probably why we only see each other at weddings.
‘Ooh, Luca has a crush,’ Fi sings quietly.
‘That doesn’t usually end well for me,’ I point out.
‘Yeah, I had a quick chat with Tom. My God, he’s gorgeous. He might actually be better looking, now that he’s older.’
‘Thanks, mate,’ I say with a laugh.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s ancient history,’ I assure her. ‘Speaking of which, have you seen Alan?’
‘No?’
I glance around the room for my man mountain of an ex. He’s incredibly easy to spot.
‘There he is,’ I point out. ‘He’s some kind of Mr Universe type now.’
‘Oh my God,’ Fiona blurts.
‘What’s up?’ Zach asks.
‘Over there, look, it’s Anal Alan,’ she tells him.
‘Anal Alan?’ Kat’s dentist’s fiancée echoes. Once again, she seems horrified by our conversation. I feel like I should tell her that things are probably only going to get worse as this lot have even more to drink.
‘We only called him that because he was always very organised,’ I assure them.
‘Yeah, not because he was an arsehole,’ Zach adds with a chuckle. ‘He was though. What’s he doing here?’
‘Probably pulling the weddings cars along by his belt,’ I suggest. ‘I saw him doing press-ups with Matt’s mum on his back earlier.’
‘I bet he’s still boring,’ Ed says.
‘You have a shed where you go to escape from your life,’ Clarky points out. ‘You’re boring too.’
‘I suspect we’re all kind of boring now,’ I say. ‘Mr Muscle over there is probably more interesting than all of us put together.’
‘What do you two do for work?’ Clarky asks the couple.
‘I’m a dentist,’ Toby reminds him.
‘I’m a dental nurse,’ the girl adds.
‘You work together then?’ Clarky asks.
‘We do,’ he says proudly.
‘That must suck. If you’ve got your missus watching you all day, you can’t flirt with the customers, can you?’
I’m not sure if he’s making an observation or asking a question.
‘They’re not customers, they’re patients,’ Toby corrects Clarky, as his brow furrows angrily. ‘And I don’t flirt with them, it wouldn’t be ethical.’
That’s a real shame, because I can think of so many dental puns.
‘What do you all do?’ he asks us all, getting the subject back on track.
‘I’m a producer on a soap,’ Zach says, not that he seems all that proud of it. I think he’d rather be making stylish action movies with international location shoots, guns, sexy women and even sexier cars. Instead he produces a soap opera, set just outside Glasgow, in which one of the characters just died by accidentally drinking a spiked drink that was intended for his mum, who it turned out was actually his dad. I learned this watching an omnibus one night last week when I couldn’t sleep, so I can’t even begin to explain it.
‘I’m an acting agent,’ Fiona adds. ‘But we don’t work together.’
‘I’m a paediatrician,’ Ed says.
‘Oh wow, that’s impressive,’ Toby replies.
‘I do social media for a protein company,’ Clarky says.
‘You want to start using it, mate,’ Zach jokes. ‘You might grow a bit.’
‘Piss off,’ he snaps back.
‘Clarky is so short, I’m his doctor,’ Ed quips.
‘Alright, alright,’ he says. ‘Enough of the short jokes. I’m 5'8".’
‘I’m 5'8",’ I point out. The only way he’s 5'8" is with his arms in the air. ‘I work in PR too, for a fashion retailer.’
We’re interrupted by the starters being placed down in front of us. Everyone at the table gets two tiny canapés, apart from Toby and his fiancée, who get a couple of cherry tomatoes and a couple of sticks of celery.
‘Tight arse,’ Clarky muses, throwing one of the small savoury pastries into his mouth whole. ‘I hope the main is decent.’
‘I hope it’s surf and turf,’ Zach jokes, putting on a scouse accent.
‘Apparently we’re getting a little downtime between our starter and our main,’ Fiona tells us.
‘What?’ the boys all whine in unison.
‘I’m starving,’ Ed says. ‘And drinking heavily, but this is my day off so I don’t care.’
He dances in his seat a little, to demonstrate just how carefree he is.
‘You enjoy it, mate,’ Zach tells him, patting him on the back. ‘Before it’s back to misery.’
Fiona shuffles uncomfortably in her chair.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask her.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replies quietly. ‘Sometimes he just says the wrong thing and it winds me up.’
‘He’s just joking. Ed knows that.’
I look down at my canapés. One of them has a sort of creamy mushroom paste in, which I give to Clarky because I don’t like mushrooms, and he’ll eat pretty much anything. The other is a ham and cheese thing that isn’t too bad, I just wish I had twenty of them. It’s past lunchtime now, and the lack of food makes me really happy I decided not to drink. I can see Zach, Ed and Clarky getting quite merry already. Hopefully they are different drunks to the ones they were when we were at uni. The last thing we need today is to see these guys regress ten years.