Free The Stag and Hen Weekend by Mike Gayle Page A

him had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Aiden Reid.
    The accusation not only hit home, but it hit home hard, so hard in fact that once he’d delivered a heartfelt declaration never to propose to Helen again, without missing a beat she actually proposed to him. And they were happy, really happy, or at least he’d thought so at the time. But now, as he lay in bed fighting through his raging hangover and reviewing his reaction to the news that Helen’s ex had reared up in his life again, he began to wonder not only whether he was happy, but also if Helen, whom he had effectively bullied into saying yes, was happy too.
    Leaving Phil to his thoughts the boys gathered themselves together and came up with a plan for the morning ahead.
    ‘Well,’ said Simon, ‘I did have us down for something later in the day but that was before we got trashed, rolled in at five in the morning and kipped on the floor. Perhaps I’d better cancel it.’
    Phil sat up. ‘Don’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Whatever it is let’s do it anyway. Keep ourselves busy.’
    Surprised by Phil’s response, Simon shrugged: ‘Fine, I’ll leave it. But first off we’ve got to eat. How about we meet downstairs in half an hour, then nip out and find somewhere to get a decent breakfast.’
    The boys began trooping out when a question occurred to Phil. ‘I get the fact that things went a bit mental last night but what I don’t understand is how you all came to be sleeping in my room.’
    Degsy laughed. ‘Who knows? I’m just glad that we didn’t end up kipping in the hotel corridor like we did for my thirtieth. My back’s never been the same.’
    Alone in his room Phil yawned and ran a hand over his scalp hoping to calm the raging chaos inside his skull and then, summoning every last particle of his energy reserves, he made his way to the bathroom, turned on the light and as the extractor fan began whirring in the background stood looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
    Phil was perversely pleased to see that he looked as awful as he felt because he knew it would help make the case that he ought to stay sober for the rest of the weekend. Simon and Degsy were expert at drinking their way through the pain of even the worst hangovers and he knew that they would encourage the others to do the same. The prospect made Phil’s stomach churn. He didn’t want to get in that state ever again, even more so, having made the connection between his readiness to drink and the appearance (albeit in an abstract manner) of the man who had been a constant bone of contention in his relationship with Helen.
    Reaching into his trouser pocket Phil pulled out Sanne’s phone number. There was no way he would use it. Even though he had made it clear that he was getting married, she was an attractive woman and he, being a man, was programmed to find attractive women attractive. It really was a complication he could do without. He put it back in his pocket.
    On the other hand, Sanne was Aiden Reid’s ex-wife and having never met the man who had blighted his girlfriend’s life to such an extent that she wouldn’t even contemplate marriage the best part of a decade later, Phil was sorely tempted to meet her again, if only to find out what about Aiden (apart from his fame, good looks and bags of money) made him so special.
    Phil knew it was a stupid, petty and childish way for a grown man to think, and that it was beneath him even momentarily to indulge these feelings of inadequacy. But in this instance at least what he felt in his heart carried more weight than what he thought in his rational mind.
    Phil shed his suit, climbed into the bath, pulled back the curtain and turned on the shower, cowering away from the cool spray until steam began to rise from the lower reaches of the bath. Stepping under the hot water Phil’s skin tingled as the water blasted through the dirt and grime that had plastered itself to him over the past twenty-four hours