Tales From a Hen Weekend (6 page)

We move on to a pub, just along the street from our hotel, where they serve food. It’s still early so it’s not packed yet, and with a bit of a squash and a couple of extra stools pulled up, we all fit round a big table by the window. We order pies, burgers, fish and chips – alcohol-soaking-up food – and luckily it’s served quickly as we’re all hungry and raring to go. We’ve got a lot of catching-up to do with Jude, and everyone needs to do a bit of ice-breaking with Helen, who doesn’t know anyone else very well, so we’re talking nineteen to the dozen all through the meal, as well as knocking back the white wine.

‘OK,’ begins Emily afterwards, as we settle down with a fresh round of drinks. ‘The forfeits are in my handbag.’

‘Forfeits?’ say Mum and Auntie Joyce in unison, looking horrified.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lisa reassures them. ‘You won’t have to take any clothes off.’

‘Well, I should hope not, Lisa!’ says Mum.

‘It’s a bit too cold altogether for that sort of thing, isn’t it, Marge!’ laughs Jude.

‘The rules for tonight are like this,’ Emily goes on. ‘One – no talking about our boyfriends, husbands, partners, whatever. Not even a mention of their names. We’re here to get away from them! Agreed?’

There’s a chorus of cheers.

‘Two – no talking about work. Anyone who mentions anything about their job has to do a forfeit. Three – anyone who can’t, or won’t, answer a Truth question properly, has to do a Dare. That includes anyone who we don’t believe is being truthful.’

‘Who makes up the dares?’ says Karen.

‘They’re the same as the forfeits. Give me a break. I sat up all night writing these!’ laughs Lisa.

Everyone’s gone quiet now, sipping their drinks, contemplating the table, probably too scared to talk in case they stray onto forbidden subjects.

‘This is all very strange, to me,’ says Mum suddenly. ‘We never did anything like this on our hen nights, did we, Joyce?’

‘No, Marge. But they were much more tame affairs, after all. Do you know, girls – I just had a few drinks at my local pub with Marge and our mum, and my best friend. I was scared to drink too much in case I overslept and missed the wedding!’

‘You actually had the hen party the night before the wedding?’ squeals Emily.

‘Of course – everyone did. That was the whole point of it!’ retorts Mum. ‘It’s all very strange, this business of having it weeks before the wedding. I can’t get used to it at all.’

‘One of our mates from uni had a hen party in Tenerife the
year
before she got married,’ says Karen.

‘And I know someone who went out to Australia for hers, and liked it so much, she and her husband went back out there to live, after the wedding!’ joins in Lisa.

‘Tenerife, Australia – honestly!’ says Mum, emptying her glass and beginning to sound a bit slurred. ‘What’s wrong with a trip to Southend, like I had, that’s what I want to know!’

Everyone groans. Not again. I wish she’d be quiet about bloody Southend.

‘You may laugh!’ she says, although we’re not. ‘But we had a brilliant evening in Southend. We knew how to have fun in those days without spending a lot of money – that was the difference, you see.’

‘Let’s start on the Truth or Dares game,’ suggests Emily, to change the subject. She pulls a little plastic bag out of her handbag, shakes it up and offers it to me. ‘Bride-to-be goes first!’

‘Oh, God!’ I groan, dipping into the bag obediently and taking out a folded piece of paper. ‘I don’t think I’m drunk enough yet!’

‘Go and get her another drink, someone,’ commands Emily. ‘And I’ll have another vodka while you’re at it!’

I unfold the paper.

Tell the truth: Have you ever slept with your boss?

‘Oh, well, that’s an easy one!’ I laugh with relief. ‘No! Not fucking likely!’

‘What’s the matter with him, then?’ giggles Jude.

‘Greg? Oh, I’ve
told
you how boring he is! He’d probably be as boring in bed as he is in the office.’

‘You don’t actually know that,’ points out Helen, surprisingly. ‘You can’t tell what someone’s like in bed, unless you’ve slept with them.’

I raise my eyebrows at her. A couple of the girls go ‘
Oooh
!’ in a silly giggly way.

‘I’m just interested in factual accuracy, that’s all,’ she says with a smile and a shrug. ‘If Katie hasn’t slept with him, she can’t actually say whether he’s boring.’

‘I
haven’t
slept with him! And I don’t want to!’

‘Nor any other boss? Ever?’ persists Emily, taking the slip of paper back from me and holding it up, inviting comment. ‘Do we believe her, girls?’

‘Yeah, I’ve had to listen to her whingeing about all her bosses ever since she started her first Saturday job,’ says Lisa. ‘She’s never had one she fancied.’

‘Never had one I even
remotely
fancied,’ I agree.

Emily drops the dare back into the bag.

‘Come on, then, Lisa – your turn,’ she says.

Lisa takes a piece of paper out of the bag and I watch her expression change as she reads it. Then I watch her composing her face and looking around the group. I know straight away that she’s going to lie.

‘What’s the question?’

‘It’s a stupid one,’ she says dismissively. ‘
Have you ever begged for sex and been turned down
?’

‘Well!’ says Mum. ‘Honestly!’

Auntie Joyce nudges her. ‘It’s only a bit of fun, Margie.’

‘Lisa?’ prompts Emily. ‘Have you?’

Everyone else is laughing. I’m still watching Lisa’s face.

‘No,’ she says, with a false laugh. ‘As if!’

‘You’re lying,’ I say, straight away. ‘Give her a dare to do!’

‘What d’you mean, I’m lying?’ she says indignantly, but she’s flushed red.

‘You
are
, aren’t you!’ squawks Emily. ‘Who was it, Lise? Were you pissed?’

‘Oh, just someone, years ago,’ she says, shaking her head, flustered. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘We’ll get it out of her later!’ Emily whispers to me. ‘Take a dare, Lisa. I can’t believe you’d lie to your friends!’

‘Piss off,’ says Lisa, mildly, recovering herself and dipping into the other bag for another piece of paper.
‘Hop on one leg for thirty seconds
. Well, that’s easy, anyway!’

‘She’s too sober!’ says Jude, disappointedly as Lisa jumps to her feet and performs this easily, grinning with relief.

‘Give it time,’ says Emily with a nasty grin. ‘They’ll get harder.’

‘
Have you ever had sex on a train
?’ reads out Jude. ‘Well, that’s a desperate idea. I haven’t, and that’s the truth, so it is. But I wouldn’t mind a try!’

Everyone laughs, except Mum, who says ‘Honestly!’ again and downs another drink. She’s swaying a bit in her seat. ‘I hope
we
don’t have to take part in this silly game, Joyce?’

‘We’ll let you off, Margie, if you don’t want to play,’ says Emily kindly. ‘We wouldn’t want you revealing all your deep dark secrets in front of your two daughters, would we, now?’

‘And we wouldn’t want to hear them, either,’ I mutter, but Mum’s got into her stride again about her hen night in Southend.

‘We didn’t need to play silly games like this, you see, because we
talked
to each other.’

‘I thought you said you got drunk and threw up on the Big Dipper?’ I remind her.

‘Not
on
the Big Dipper,’ she corrects me quite crossly. ‘It was the Big Dipper that made me
feel
sick.’

‘Not the booze you had before you got on it?’

‘Don’t be facesh… faceshi…’

‘Facetious?’

‘Of course we had a
drink
,’ she continues. ‘But we
talked
in the pub. About… you know. The wedding night.’

‘Oooh!’ exclaims Karen. ‘Get your mum another drink, Katie, while she’s talking about the wedding night!’

‘I think she’s had enough already.’

‘Don’t be mean! Come on, get another round in!’

I don’t like the way Mum’s eyes are going funny. But what can I say? It’s a party, after all.

‘Do you seriously fancy anyone in here
?’ Emily reads out, as we’re getting into the next drink, and we insist on her taking a turn at her own game. ‘Well,’ she lowers her voice and takes a quick look over her shoulder, ‘I wouldn’t say no to him at the bar, with the green top.’

We all spin round, instantly, and there’s a chorus of appreciative comments that predictably results in the guy in question turning round and grinning back at us.

‘
Would
you’ I whisper back to her. ‘If you got the chance?’

‘That’s not fair, Katie! It’s not one of the questions!’ says Jude.

‘So?
Would
you?’ I persist, watching Emily as she’s still sneaking glances at the guy at the bar.

‘Of course not,’ she laughs quietly. ‘I might like to, though, if I wasn’t seeing Sean.’

‘
FORFEIT!
’ shouts Lisa. ‘You mentioned Sean!’

‘Oh, fuck! That was Katie’s fault.’

‘Get on with it!’

‘OK, OK.’ She dips into the bag.
‘Approach a stranger and pretend you know each other’.

‘Good one!’ I laugh. ‘Why not try
him
!’

The guy in the green top’s still looking at us with interest. Emily pushes back her chair with determination, gets up and takes a couple of steps towards the bar. ‘Hello!’ she calls out as she approaches her target. ‘What a surprise to see you! What are you doing in Dublin?’

He picks up his pint of Guinness and takes a long drink, watching her over the top of the glass, before putting it slowly back down on the bar and saying, ‘I live here,’ and turning his back on her.

‘Shit!’ she says, loudly, as she sits back down at the table, her face burning. We’re all falling about laughing, of course. ‘Shit, I don’t fancy him at all, now. Miserable git. I wouldn’t have him if he was the last man in Ireland!’

‘Yer man next to him is all right, though,’ says Jude thoughtfully.

‘Honestly!’ says Mum again. ‘You girls, you’ve all got boyfriends, partners, whatever, but to hear you talk…’

‘No harm in looking, Mum! Just a bit of window shopping!’ I tell her.

‘Just a bit of fun, Marge,’ says Joyce again, giving her another nudge and almost sending her drink flying.

‘It’s where it all starts, though, isn’t it,’ says Lisa, who’s beginning to sound almost as drunk as Mum. ‘Seriously. I know this is just, you know, a bit of fun – but if you’re not careful, playing around, before you know it…’

‘Oh, leave off, Lise! What, you think him in the green shirt is going to jump on Emily and she’s going to go out the back of the pub with him and be unfaithful to… to that person at home that she’s not allowed to mention?’

‘No. But it just shows. Doesn’t it.’ The drink is making her talk in short, staccato sentences. She sways a bit between each one. ‘It just shows. If you fancy other blokes. There must be something. Not quite right. Don’t you think?’

‘Bollocks,’ says Emily.

‘Yeah. Your trouble is,’ I start, and then I forget what I was going to say her trouble was, so I have to stop and have a bit more of my drink until I remember. ‘Your trouble is, your marriage is
perfect.
’

‘Perfect,’ echoes Emily, who seems to be unable to say more than one word at a time.

‘Your marriage is so
bloody
perfect!’ I tell Lisa. For some reason it seems like a good idea to put my arm round her and kiss her. ‘You’re so
bloody
lucky to have such a
perfect
marriage to Perfect Prick!’

There’s a horrified silence.

‘I mean Perfect
Rick
!’ I correct myself, sobered up slightly by the shock of what I’ve said and at the look on Lisa’s face. ‘Rick, perfect Rick!’

‘Yes,’ she says stonily, shrugging my arm off her shoulders.

I put it back round her again.

‘Sorry. Don’t be like that. Didn’t mean it! Rick’s Mr Perfect, isn’t he, you’re always saying how great he is, how you have all this wonderful sex… every bloody night…even now you’ve got two kids.’

‘Not
every
night. But yes, he’s certainly…’

‘No talking about partners!’ Suze reminds us sharply, just as everyone’s looking like they’re about to throw up. ‘Forfeit, forfeit!’

‘Fuck the forfeits! Let’s get another drink!’ I say slurrily.

‘Not for me, thank you,’ says Mum before anyone even asks her. ‘I think I’ve had…’ She pauses, frowning. ‘I’ve had…’

‘Too much!’ says Joyce, firmly.

‘I think I feel a bit…’ She looks up at me, puzzled. ‘A bit…?’

‘Drunk!’ supplies Joyce.

‘I just feel a bit tired,’ Mum finishes, lamely.

Not really surprised. She started drinking before the rest of us and she’s been putting them away like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Come on!’ Joyce pulls Mum to her feet. ‘Let’s get you back.’

‘Home?’ says Mum, looking around the pub as if she’s wondering where her bedroom is.

‘Home’s a long way away, dear. Over the sea. Over the Irish Sea!’

‘Over the Irish Sea?’ echoes Mum, staggering after Joyce, knocking her chair over in the process.
‘Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…’

‘Oh, bloody hell!’ says Lisa, covering her ears.

‘Will she be all right?’ I ask Auntie Joyce, grabbing her arm as she passes. ‘Should we come?’

‘Don’t be daft! I’ll take her back to the hotel and put her to bed. It won’t be the first time.’

‘Really?’ I’m intrigued by this. ‘Well, OK then, if you’re sure you’ll both be all right?’

‘I’m fine, love. I’ve only had a couple, and the hotel’s almost next-door, isn’t it. See you all in the morning, girls! Be good.’ She winks at us. ‘Or maybe I should say be careful?’

At least we’ve heard the last of bloody Southend for tonight.