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The BFFs
Text Message:
Delilah: I am dying, Lauren. Head is going to explode. Stomach is going to explode. I feel explode-y
Lauren: Germs or beer?
Delilah: Beer. Too much beer. Can’t get out of my pyjamas. Super-glued on
Lauren: Want me to come over in my pyjamas? We can slob out and watch Bedknobs and Broomsticks
Delilah: This is why you are my very best friend (but don’t tell Ryan I said that)
Lauren McIntosh is one of my best friends (I’m greedy and have two. Ryan is the other – more about him in a minute). We’ve known each other since our first day of secondary school, when we were shaking in our knee-length skirts (and they really were knee-length back then. We hadn’t discovered that they were totally uncool and we must roll them up to bum-cheek-skimming length to survive school). I was sitting at a table at the front of our form room (like the skirt situation, I didn’t know that you must endeavour to sit as close to the back of the room as possible yet) when a girl stopped by my desk. She was quite short and skinny with her ginger hair plaited into pigtails at the side of her head.
‘Scary, isn’t it?’
I was bloody terrified but I gave my own hair (blonde and loose around my shoulders) a flick. ‘I’m fine. Not scared at all.’ I caught this new girl’s eye and gave a wobbly smile, my show of courage completely failing before it had properly begun. ‘I’m lying. I’m so scared. Do you think we’ll get bog-washed?’ I’d heard so many horror stories about high school that I didn’t expect to last the day without serious injury and/or humiliation.
‘I hope not.’ The girl bit her lip and her big green eyes started to get a bit swimmy. ‘Can I sit here?’ She pointed at the empty seat beside me and I nodded, grateful that I wouldn’t have to sit on my own (I did already know that sitting on your own was a bit sad). ‘Thanks. I’m Lauren, by the way.’
‘Delilah.’ I moved my pencil case over, to make room for Lauren’s.
‘Like the Tom Jones song?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Yeah.’ I heard that a lot. I heard the song a lot as people thought it was hilarious to sing it to me on a regular basis. They still do that now, but it’s mostly the older generation or my friends when they want to wind me up. For a while, I had a burst of ‘Hey There Delilah’ by Plain White T’s but that’s mostly fizzled out now.
‘Do you know anybody here?’
I looked around the room and shrugged my shoulders. ‘Sort of. Some of them went to my primary school but they’re not really my friends.’
Lauren twisted a ginger plaited pigtail around her finger. ‘I don’t know anybody. We just moved here over the holidays.’
‘That sucks.’
Lauren nodded, her twisting becoming more and more erratic. ‘I haven’t got any friends at all.’
‘You’ve got me,’ I said and that was that. Delilah and Lauren, BFFs.
Lauren is waiting for me in The Farthing, our pub of choice for most occasions. Partly because it’s close and partly because the barman is so damn cute. I’ve called an emergency meeting of the BFFs to discuss my dilemma with Francesca, her approaching wedding and my big, fat, lying gob. I order a round of drinks, having a little flirt with Dan the Barman while I’m there (it would be rude not to) before joining her at our usual table.
‘Ryan not here yet?’
Lauren shakes her head and takes a sip of her red wine. ‘He isn’t bringing that awful Kelsey with him again, is he? Where does he find these women?’
‘His mother.’ Lauren and I share a look, both knowing what an utter pain in the bum Ryan’s mum is. Ryan’s choice in women is never good enough for Eleanor Ford so she’s taken to setting him up with ones she deems suitable. ‘Kelsey wasn’t that bad. Ryan’s dated worse women.’ At least this one didn’t mistake Lauren and me for the hired help.
‘She made us lose the quiz last night.’
‘Lauren.’ I place a hand on her arm. ‘We always lose the quiz.’
‘But she thought Vientiane was the capital of Legos!’
I try – and fail – to hide a smirk. ‘But who is thicker? Kelsey for thinking Legos is a country or us for believing her and writing it down?’
Lauren doesn’t have an answer – or at least one she is willing to admit to – so she takes a couple of long sips of her wine instead. ‘What’s so urgent anyway? It’s supposed to be a gym day.’ I’m alarmed when I realise Lauren is wearing her gym gear – she doesn’t think we’re actually going to the gym after this, does she?
‘I can’t go to the gym. My knee.’ I lift the hem of my pencil skirt to show off the plaster Adam applied this afternoon. My bloody, ripped tights are bundled in the bin back at Brinkley’s. I’d managed quite well once it had stopped stinging after Adam applied some nasty-smelling ointment, but I can feel my limp returning. It has nothing to do with the prospect of the treadmill and cross-trainer, of course.
‘What happened?’ Lauren asks.
‘I fell over running for the bus this morning.’ I could have told Lauren the mugger-lie but her porky-pies detector is pretty sharp. ‘The pavement was all wonky. Hey!’ I sit up straighter, only remembering at the very last second to wince. ‘Do you think I could make a claim?’
Lauren is a solicitor. She focuses on divorce, but I’m sure she could give me some advice.
‘Probably. People claim for tripping up over their own shoes laces these days.’ Lauren peers at my plastered knee. ‘So how bad is it?’
I wince and groan. ‘So bad, Lauren. Adam was ready to take me to A&E for stitches. You should have seen all the blood. You could practically see my kneecap once all the blood was cleaned up.’
Lauren cocks an eyebrow. ‘Delilah…’
Uh-oh. I’ve laid it on a bit too thick. ‘But it isn’t as bad as it looks. No stitches required.’ I cover the plaster with my skirt in case Lauren decides to whip it off and examine my knee herself. ‘But I don’t think I’m up to the gym. It hurts.’
‘Why don’t you just do something gentle?’
Gentle? At the gym? ‘Like what?’
Lauren thinks for a moment. I can practically see the cogs turning in her brain, but we both know it’s useless. If there was a gentle option at the gym, we’d have used it every time.
‘Fine, we’ll miss the gym this once.’ Lauren takes another sip of her drink. She doesn’t look too put out about missing her workout, but then why should she? Lauren and I go to the gym twice a week but our main motivation isn’t to be fit and healthy (that isn’t even a minor motivation, in fact). We only go so Lauren can ogle Courtney, the gorgeous fitness instructor. She’s had a massive crush on him for ages and has roped me into her perviness.
‘So what’s this meeting about then?’ Lauren asks me but I’m not ready to divulge my stupidity just yet. I don’t want to have to confess all twice.
‘Wait until Ryan gets here and I’ll tell you.’
As though on cue, Ryan Ford, Best Friend Number Two (but not in a toilet-y way), wanders into the pub. Alone. Good. The less witnesses the better.
I’ve known Ryan for as long as I can remember, as he and his family moved into the house next door when I was two. According to Mum, the Ford family – Ryan and his parents, Eleanor and Phil – moved in one sunny Saturday in June. She remembers that it was sunny because she says she was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a bikini top (I can’t imagine Mum wearing a bikini. She won’t even strip down to a one-piece on holiday any more) and it was around a month before my birthday. She and Dad were discussing plans for my third birthday and Mum suggested, because it was so warm already, that we could have a pool party.
‘But we don’t have a pool,’ Dad had pointed out.
‘We’ll buy one of those inflatable paddling pools and dangle our feet in.’ Which we did. Thankfully I can’t remember it. ‘Ooh, hello there! Are you our new neighbours?’
Eleanor and Philip had appeared beyond the back garden fence and Mum pounced to introduce herself. The house had once belonged to an elderly couple who banged on the wall if you dared to sneeze, so Mum was pleased that a young family was moving in. Ryan was already in their back garden, kicking a football around. She pictured the seven of us (Ryan and his family, plus Mum, Dad, me and my older sister, Clara) getting together for barbeques and dinner parties.
It didn’t happen. Eleanor is a snob and she took one look at Mum’s cut-off shorts and bare midriff, stuck her nose in the air and scarpered into the house. She declined Mum’s offer of a casserole that evening (no thank you, we’re very fussy about what we eat) and Ryan wasn’t allowed to come to my pool party (my Ryan is a very chesty child. I don’t want him catching a chill). The dinner party invites never materialised.
Mum said she wasn’t going to mention how the house next door became vacant as it was quite grisly. The elderly neighbours had died in the house – the old fella in the armchair downstairs and the old girl in their bed – and the bodies weren’t discovered for at least three weeks (and only because Mum rose the alarm due to the lack of banging. When she played Dad’s T. Rex at top volume and there wasn’t so much as a tap on the wall in return, she badgered the local coppers until they investigated). She wasn’t going to tell Eleanor for fear of upsetting the woman, but it all slipped out over the garden fence when they were both pegging the washing out.
‘I do hope the smell hasn’t lingered,’ Mum said as Eleanor grabbed her half-full washing basket and scuttled back inside.
Ryan and I weren’t destined to be friends. Our mothers certainly weren’t. But Ryan was sent to the all boys’ prep school so I, being a girl, became a bit of a novelty. I haven’t been able to get rid of the dude since.
‘Ladies.’ Ryan flashes a charming grin as he saunters over to our table. Luckily both Lauren and I are immune to the magnetism that seems to draw women to him. We’ve seen Ryan at his worst (his worst being the time he threw up an entire kebab in the gutter on the way home from the pub, retching so hard bits of meat flew out of his nose. You can’t fancy a bloke after that).
‘The lovely Kelsey not with you?’ Lauren’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, which isn’t like Lauren at all. She likes to tease and she can be a bit cheeky but she isn’t usually quite so harsh.
Ryan grins down at us. ‘It was a good night last night, wasn’t it? What did you think of Kelsey? She’s a right laugh, isn’t she?’
Lauren and I exchange a look. It’s one thing slagging the girl off behind Ryan’s back, but we can’t do that to his face. Honesty is good within a friendship. Total honesty not so much. Because as much as I defended Kelsey earlier, I have to admit that she was really, really annoying. And not just because she’s as thick as piggy poop (who am I to judge? My specialist subject during the pub quiz is our drinks and keeping them topped up). Kelsey seemed to have a fondness for chewing gum and chomped on it like a cow constantly, with disgusting sound effects. She was also fond of swearing, which isn’t such a bad thing (we all like a good swear, right?) but when you have a sentence with nine words and six of them are swears, you have a bit of a problem.
I’m surprised at Eleanor, to be honest. She usually sets Ryan up with dull girls from well-to-do families. She isn’t so much helping Ryan to climb the social ladder – she’s dragging him up the ladder against his will. But Ryan seems to like this one, so as his friend, I have to support him – right?
‘She was funny. Especially with that Legos thing.’ It’s the only thing I can think of to say. My only other thoughts of Kelsey are the monotonous slapping of chewing gum against teeth.
‘Laos,’ Ryan says. ‘She meant Laos.’ He nods knowledgably, as though the answer had been on the tip of his tongue last night. We all know he’s Googled it since. ‘But you liked her, yeah?’
‘Yes. Absolutely.’ I look at Lauren and she nods vigorously.
‘Great girl. Loads of fun. I hope you’re bringing her next week.’
‘Brilliant.’ Ryan’s grin widens. ‘Because I’ve invited her to join us. She’s on her way.’
Lauren and I eye each other as Ryan backs away towards the bar. We can’t leave now – it would be too obvious – but we don’t want to stay either.
‘One drink,’ Lauren hisses once Ryan has turned away from us. ‘We’ll drink up quickly and then make our excuses.’
The door opens and we both turn, groans ready to rumble from our chests, but it isn’t Kelsey this time. It’s a bloke; big, balding and not chewing gum.
‘Here we go.’ Ryan sets the drinks down on the table and sits himself down opposite us.
‘Thank you.’ Lauren takes her glass and gives her throat a little clear. ‘You know, Ryan. We can’t actually stay long tonight. I think we’ll have to go after this drink.’ Lauren takes a huge gulp of her drink, downing almost half of it in one go.
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
‘I’m not feeling too good.’ Lauren rubs at her stomach. ‘And Delilah’s hurt her knee quite badly.’
‘Have you?’ Ryan turns to me, concern wrinkling his brow. ‘What’s happened?’
‘She fell flat on her face,’ Lauren says and I nod.
‘Went down like a sack of spuds.’ I flash my plaster as proof.
‘She thought she was going to need stitches,’ Lauren says. ‘In fact, I think we should go now. You need to rest that knee. It was all swollen and nasty earlier.’
I look longingly at my pint, but then I think about Kelsey working her way through an entire packet of Wrigley’s and I push the thirst aside. ‘It is pretty sore, actually.’
Ryan suddenly bursts out laughing and I throw him an evil glare. My pain is amusing to him?
‘Will you two relax?’ Ryan titters to himself as he raises his pint to his lips and takes a sip. ‘Kelsey isn’t really on her way. I was just winding you up.’
‘What?’ Lauren and I both cry, which only makes Ryan laugh even more.
‘Why would you do that?’ Lauren asks.
Ryan chuckles. ‘Entertainment. Purely for entertainment. It was obvious that you two didn’t like Kelsey – the feeling’s mutual, by the way – so I thought I’d wind you up.’
‘Kelsey didn’t like us?’ The cheek! We invited her onto our team, put up with her vile gum-chewing and she didn’t like us. ‘Why not?’
Ryan shrugs. ‘She didn’t really say, but if it’s any consolation, she didn’t like me much either.’
‘She said that?’
‘She said we had no chemistry, which is pretty much the same thing.’
My spidey sense starts to tingle. ‘Did you bring her to the quiz to put her off, knowing she wouldn’t like us?’
‘Maybe.’ Ryan takes another sip of his pint. Sneaky git. ‘So what’s this special meeting all about then? What’s so urgent that you’ve made Lauren miss ogling the hunky fitness freak?’
So this is it. I take a fortifying sip of my pint while I determine if there really is no other way around this. Nope, there isn’t.
I spill all to my friends.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_7ecd466c-b08d-5525-ae77-48cabf0a52d2)
Project Wedding Date
Text Message:
Lauren: Got my invite for Lydia Jenson’s wedding. That’s 5 people from our year at school who have got/are getting married!
Delilah: You got invited???
Lauren: Want to be my plus one?
‘So let me get this straight.’ Ryan observes me for a moment, drumming his fingers lightly on the table top. ‘Ben is engaged so you want a boyfriend to take to Francesca’s wedding so you can prove that you’re over him? Even though you’re not?’
‘Exactly.’ Why can’t Ryan be this smart when it comes to the weekly pub quiz?
‘I think it’s a great idea.’ Lauren looks stunned at this admission, as though she never thought in a million years that she’d agree with my crazy plan. Which is fair enough – I’m stunned she’s agreeing with me too. ‘It really is. It’s about time you got back out into the dating scene.’
‘Whoa, whoa. Hold on there, missy.’ I hold up my hands before Lauren gallops way ahead and has me married off before you can say ‘catch the bouquet’. ‘I’m not looking to get back into the dating scene. Not really. This is going to be purely superficial. I want it to look like I have a boyfriend, that’s all.’
Lauren observes me for a moment and I begin to squirm under her scrutiny. ‘Wait a minute. I know what this is really about.’ Lauren nods as she confirms her thoughts internally. ‘You’re hoping that by turning up at the wedding with somebody new, Ben will finally realise what he’s missing out on and fall at your feet, begging for forgiveness and another chance!’
‘I am not!’ Am I? Well, maybe a smidgen. But that isn’t my main motivation. ‘I just want to prove to Ben and everyone else that I’m over him.’
‘So you’re going to dupe some poor sod into thinking you’re in a relationship with them before parading him in front of your ex?’ Ryan asks. ‘Why do you even need to have a boyfriend – real or otherwise – to parade in front of Ben?’
