My Fake Wedding(95)

‘Sorry,’ I tell them. ‘I was busting. Shall we go?’

Pussy manages half a venison sausage before putting her knife and fork down with a clatter and declaring herself ‘full to bursting’. ‘Ew,’ she says, patting her concave stomach. ‘That filled me right up. I suppose that would just have been a tiny snack for you, Katie.’

Sam laughs indulgently at both of us, totally unaware that she means to make me feel small. I beam back at her.

‘May all your children have webbed feet.’ And port wine stains over their entire heads, I almost add. But, worried that might be taking it a bit far in front of Sam, I keep my trap shut.

‘Katie,’ Sam says, shocked. ‘Pussy was only joking, weren’t you, Pussy?’

‘Of course.’ She smiles sweetly, eyeing me over the top of his head as he ruffles her hair. ‘I’m just feeling terribly full up.’

‘Well, mind you don’t choke on a fur ball.’

‘Pussy’s only got a tiny little appetite,’ Sam fawns. ‘She can’t eat as much as you do.’

‘No,’ Pussy purrs, ‘I can’t fill my face like you can.’

‘In that case,’ I can’t resist saying, ‘I’ll be only too happy to assist you by putting my fist through it if you like.’

‘Katie,’ Sam says again. ‘Don’t be nasty.’

‘Sorry.’ I bite my cheek. There’s no point incurring the wrath of Sam now. Not when I’ve got something so completely major to ask him. When, oh when, is the silly cow going to at least go to the bog to throw up so I can get him on his own?

‘Have some more water.’ I pour Pussy a glass. If she’s only got a ‘tiny little tummy’, it can only be a matter of time until she has to dash to the lav to break her seal.

Eventually, she goes to put on more lipgloss and I have Sam all to myself. He’s looking particularly groovy tonight. Sort of smart but casual all at the same time. And suddenly, I realise what it is I most admire about him. It’s his confidence. He knows how to dress, act and behave himself at any occasion. You could, quite literally, take him anywhere.

‘I’m sorry about all the things I said when I left yours,’ I tell him. ‘When I told you about the wedding. I was upset.’

‘It’s OK.’ He rumples my hair affectionately. ‘And so was I. I felt rejected because you planned to live at George’s but you didn’t want to live at mine. And I asked you first.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I rest my head on his shoulder. ‘It just would have felt like charity, staying at yours.’

‘You’re staying at George’s…’

‘But that’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’m doing them a favour in return. Marrying David, I mean.’

‘Of course.’

‘You see, I started off this year so sure I was going to make a go of things. Not rely on a man again.’

‘I know.’

‘And now I’ve gone and mucked it all up.’ I want to confess all about Jake. And Nick. Suddenly, sleeping around doesn’t seem so big or clever any more. And, despite the fact that I live with two of my best friends, I feel kind of lonely.

‘But Neat Eats is going so well.’ He strokes my hair again. ‘I’m really proud of what you’ve done.’

‘Thanks. And I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.’

‘You’re more than welcome, Simpson.’ He turns to face me, suddenly serious. ‘You know that.’

‘Or George, or David, of course,’ I say hurriedly. For some reason then I felt like he was going to kiss me. More to the point, I sort of wanted him to. Which is, of course, ridiculous. I mean this is Sam, for God’s sake. My oldest bud. Plus, I’m seeing Jake again. Well, sort of. And Nick. I’ve got two on the go, so I shouldn’t be feeling lonely, should I?

‘About this wedding,’ he says tentatively. ‘You’re not going to have another go at me, are you?’ I beg. ‘I really don’t think I can bear that. You know, you’re a huge part of my life, Sam. You always have been.’

‘And you mine,’ he says, stroking my cheek.

‘In fact,’ I sit up and look at him seriously, ‘I’ve got something I need to ask you.’

‘Me too,’ he says.

‘You have?’

‘Sam?’ A voice suddenly pierces the intimacy of the moment. ‘I’m tired. Can we go now?’

Pussy, back from the loo.

Bugger.





Chapter 18


It seems as though I’m never going to be able to get Sam on his own to ask him to give me away at the wedding. You see, even though I know he doesn’t really approve, it means a hell of a lot to me to have his blessing. Plus, George has insisted that we need to make it look as real as possible. In case the Home Office turn up. And I can’t very well ask my own father, can I, seeing as I have absolutely no bloody idea where he is.