Free Amanda's Wedding by Jenny Colgan

disease or other.’
    â€˜WHAT!?’
    Fran gave me the finger and laughed evilly.
    â€˜Melanie, given that you’re probably the only person who’s ever gone to bed with him, I wouldn’t worry too much.’
    The brief tension gone, I told her about how awful the party had been, which I knew would please her. She was particularly interested in Angus.
    â€˜Sounds intriguing. Was he handsome?’
    On the sniff, as usual.
    â€˜Ehm, I don’t know. Have you seen that film Babe ?’
    â€˜He looks like a pig?’
    â€˜Hear me out …’
    â€˜Farmer Hoggett?’
    â€˜No! You know the dog in it who goes bad and bites people …?’
    â€˜He looks like a dog?’
    â€˜Well, he has an air of wounded nobility.’
    â€˜In dog form.’
    â€˜Ehm …’
    We both sighed.
    â€˜God, there really are no men left,’ exclaimed Fran for like the billionth time.
    I couldn’t help it, but I must have involuntarily made an Amanda-type look, because she pretended to knee me in the tits. She didn’t quite pretend properly and unfortunately did hit me in the tits. Fran’s always played rough.
    Linda came back eventually, on her own. We both stiffened. As usual she headed straight past the sitting room for her bedroom. I held my breath, terrified shewas going to find something out of place. Maybe she had a hair taped over the doorframe and some talc or something, and now she was going to kill us …
    Fran gave me a meaningful look, so I heaved myself up again.
    â€˜Erm, Linda, do you want a cup of coffee?’
    There was silence from beyond. No doubt this was a terrifying and unprecedented advance on my part. I felt horribly embarrassed and ashamed. Finally:
    â€˜No, thanks.’
    â€˜I think you’ve only got half a pound of sugar left anyway,’ whispered Fran meanly.
    â€˜OK!’ I shouted. ‘We’re off to the pub. Do you want to come?’
    Linda came out of her room and looked at me, her pale eyes suspicious.
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Ehm, no reason … you know, Monday night …’ I trailed off weakly.
    â€˜No, thanks. I’m going to clean my wardrobe out.’
    â€˜Ohhh – I mean: Oh, right, have fun!’
    Then Fran and I fled to the pub to meet Alex and Charlie. ‘Amanda & Fraser Ltd’ had generously deigned to join us: the presence of two good-looking West London boys had obviously upped our social desirability somewhat.
    Walking into the pub, I shot a sidelong glance at Fran. It was not looking good. Amanda was sitting in the middle of the three men, showing off in her pertiest manner. Fraser was watching her dutifully – or staring at her adoringly, I couldn’t make out what wastrue and what was bitchiness on my behalf – and Alex and Charlie were sniggering and nudging each other.
    Alex gave me a kiss, and I went to get some beers, while Amanda said something and everybody laughed. I looked at the beautifully cut profile of the man I loved and suddenly felt empty, even when he yelled, ‘Mel, gorgeous gorgeous thing, get over here and sit on my knee immediately.’
    How could he be so sweet and still want to move to Fulham with Charlie? I sat on his knee and tried not to mope, but it wasn’t easy.
    â€˜So, anyway,’ Amanda was squawking, ‘I spoke to the designer and she says she’s never seen such a tiny waist! They’re going to have to do it all by hand specially, and it’s going to cost an extra two thousand pounds! Can you imagine!’
    â€˜Bloody hell!’ said Alex dutifully.
    The other boys nodded blankly. That infuriated me: they listened to her because she was pretty, but they wouldn’t know what a wedding dress cost at gunpoint.
    Then she gave Fraser a look and snapped her fingers. He immediately got up and fetched her another drink. Fran and I looked at each other in amazement.
    Anyway, to make myself sound at least vaguely