The Last Word (17 page)

‘Might be a laugh?’ Harry grinned, and Tabby’s eyes widened.

‘Are you kidding? If they’re not divorcees, they’ve been repressed housewives for twenty years! My Auntie Jill phoned up to ask where the nearest Ann Summers is. I’m going to die, Harry, you’re not taking this seriously!’

Harry stopped laughing and put his hand over hers. ‘I’m terribly sorry, darling, you’re right. But at least they’ll have you there to explain the difference between a vibrator and a dildo.’

‘What are you insinuating?’ Tabby looked around at their few fellow diners.

‘That I read the article you wrote on that for the feminist webzine? Excellent piece, Tabby, really.’

Tabby rolled her eyes. ‘Oh shut up. Money is money.’

Harry grinned at her and reached across to stroke her cheek. ‘Sad Tabby. Cheer up. The answer to the hen night is clearly to get as smashed as possible, note down as many hilarious stories as possible, and then come over to mine tonight so I can make you feel better about it.’

Tabby bit her lip, trying to pause, but knowing that it would make her feel better, having Harry to rant at, and laugh with and distract her in a variety of interesting ways. ‘It’ll finish pretty late…’

‘Nothing I love more than being woken up by a drunk girl stumbling into my bed.’ Harry winked. ‘Plus, you should have dessert as I’m sending you into the lion’s den.’

‘I don’t have time. Plus as soon as she gets me into that changing room and starts prodding all my wobbly bits, I’ll start feeling shitty about everything I’ve eaten in the last week.’ Tabby carefully considered her dumpling, holding it up between chopsticks and glaring at it, before eating it and grinning at Harry. ‘Mmm. Worth it.’

‘Aw, you should have told me you were feeling a bit low, self-esteem wise,’ Harry said, his voice dropping deliciously. ‘I’ll happily find us a very private alleyway where I can prove to you that you’re a terribly sexy woman. I’m very committed.’

Tabby grinned, and once again wondered what on earth he was doing with her. ‘I know you are. You can convince me later, when I’m drunk. I’ll be a lot more willing to believe all the rubbish you tell me then.’

‘Who said I was going to say a word?’ Harry laughed.

Tabby rolled her eyes and looked at her watch. ‘I hate to eat and run but I’ve got to go if I’m gonna meet the Dragon Lady on time. Can’t give her one more thing to be irritated about.’ She started rifling through her purse until Harry waved it off.

‘Business lunch, expenses.’

‘Oh, I keep forgetting you important editor types do that. So you never actually pay for dinner, do you?’ she teased.

‘I bought pizza last week!’

‘Yes, and I spent a long time sincerely thanking you for that.’ She stood up and pulled on her coat.

‘So I’ll see you later tonight?’ Harry stood up as well, helping her with her jacket.

‘Yes you will. Well, unless I get too drunk. You never know with these fifty-year-olds. They’re wild.’

Harry put his arms around her and leaned in to whisper, ‘Well, don’t get too drunk then. I’ve got plans for you.’

Tabby smiled against his mouth, and kept trying to force herself to leave. It wasn’t until she managed to wonder if the wait staff saw Mr Harry here with different girls all the time, doing exactly the same thing that she managed to pry herself away. She was fifteen minutes late to meet Claudia. And it was worth it.

‘Tabitha, really!’ Claudia was already in fuming harpy mode. ‘I’ve spent years impressing on you the importance of being on time. Why it never stuck I have no idea.’

‘Hi Mum,’ Tabby said pettily, and smiled weakly at the poor salesgirl.

‘Get in the changing room now; we have no time for your games. There’s three possibilities in there.’

Tabby took a deep breath, followed the sales assistant to the dressing room and paused briefly before pulling back the curtain.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how much am I going to hate this?’ she asked the girl.

‘Depends on how you feel about taffeta.’

‘Oh dear God.’ Tabby pulled back the curtain and was faced with a lot of lilac, fluffy dress stuffed into the tiny cubicle. There was barely enough room to edge in, without being smothered in pouffy fabrics.

‘Barbie dream wedding,’ Tabby grumbled to herself.

‘It’s a popular choice with mature brides,’ the girl shrugged and offered a small smile. ‘We offer a glass of complimentary champagne?’

‘I think we’re going to be good friends.’ Tabby grinned. ‘Thank you.’

Tabby shimmied into the first purple monstrosity, complete with pouffy skirt, silken layers and lace sleeve cuffs. ‘I look like Barney’s depressed cousin,’ she said to her reflection.

‘Tabitha, come out so I can see, I don’t have time for this!’ Her mother’s shrill voice seemed extra loud. She pulled open the curtain and saw her critically scan her body.

‘Hmm. You’ve been eating carbs, haven’t you?’

Yes…but I’ve been having a lot of sex to work off the calories
.

‘Mum, it’s not the right style anyway.’

‘What on earth makes you say that?’ Claudia crossed her arms, and Tabby prepared to assume the crash position.

‘It’s very eighties. Don’t you think something a little more simplistic, streamlined? I don’t want to be on show, this is your special day, after all,’ Tabby said, assuming a saintly expression.

‘Oh, so you’re worried you’ll steal the limelight? Don’t worry about that, darling. I want you to be on show, anyway. This might be the closest thing you get to your own wedding, after all.’

Tabby rolled her eyes and all but pounced on the glass of champagne the sales girl brought along with a simple A-line dress in lavender, with a darker purple ribbon around the middle. ‘How about something like this?’

‘That’s lovely! Look, isn’t it lovely, Mum?’ Tabby tried to get her interested. Claudia picked up the material and stroked it experimentally.

‘It’s OK…a little plain for my tastes. But perhaps with your body shape, simple is better.’

Tabby gritted her teeth. ‘I think you’re right. Shall I try it on?’

‘Yes, all right. I’ll go find you a little bolero to go with it. Do you have fur in that matching purple?’ Claudia asked the sales girl, who looked rather confounded, but led her back to the main room.

‘Tabitha, don’t drink that champagne, too many calories!’ she heard her mother call, and downed the glass in one.

‘Too late, sorry!’ She shrugged when Claudia poked her head back in to retrieve the glass.

‘Hmm.’

She changed into the lifesaver dress, which was still not her colour or style, but was definitely a step up from the fluffy monstrosity. She got out her phone to text Harry:
Bridesmaid dress is terrible. I look like a dessert. T x

His response was immediate:
I’ve been telling you you’re good enough to eat. I’ll prove it later. H x

Tabby grinned to herself and put the phone back into her bag.

‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Claudia pulled back the curtain and surveyed her again. ‘Yes, fine, it’ll do. I just want to get out of here now. They’re ordering the fur edging, and I was thinking lace gloves. You need a little bit of bling.’

Tabby rolled her eyes. ‘If you want bling, buy me a pretty pair of earrings.’

‘I’m buying you quite enough as it is. I thought you said you had a new job. Does that mean I can finally stop supporting you?’

Tabby pulled back the curtain and started getting changed back into her regular clothes.

‘Well, they’re going to offer me a permanent position. I’m considering it. If that’s the case, you could probably stop. I do really appreciate your help, though.’

She reappeared, and Claudia seemed partially mollified. ‘Why are you only considering it? You said it was a good job?’

‘It is, I really enjoy it, it’s exactly what I wanted.’

‘So…?’

‘I don’t want to make any rash decisions, that’s all. I’m trying to be adult about big choices these days.’

Claudia looked as if she was going to say something, possibly list any of the times Tabby had made a bad decision, but instead she just tucked a curl of hair behind her daughter’s ear and said, ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

Then, before she knew it, Tabby was across town once again, this time in a cocktail bar. The surrogate aunties from throughout the years were all there, loud and overly made-up, tottering in ridiculous heels. She missed the days when all her aunties wore homemade jumpers and thrift-store earrings. Now, post divorce, most of them were out on the prowl for someone just as young as Liam. Claudia Riley was up on the pedestal as the woman who had done it: married, raised a child, had a career, got divorced and found someone young and rich. Claudia Riley was a winner. Shame about her daughter, though.

Tabby fielded questions about her job, her love life and whether she was really living in a squat with a lesbian. It was then that she decided her job would be getting the drinks in, and making sure her mum was having a good time.

To be fair, the aunts had chosen the venue, and it wasn’t really Claudia’s style. Tabby expected her mum wanted something like a spa day, or afternoon tea. A few good glasses of wine, and a bit of a giggle. Cocktails in a place where the barmen wore T-shirts saying ‘No one’s ugly after four a.m.’ was not really Claudia’s style.

There were also presents, and it became increasingly apparent that Aunt Jillian was not the only one who’d found Ann Summers. After four cocktails, however, the look of shock on her mother’s face when she received a goodie bag containing cocktail-flavoured lube was a beautiful thing. As was the response to the female Viagra and a thong for Liam that had a monkey’s face on the pouch.

After an evening of whooping, screeching and laughing, Tabby escaped unscathed but pretty drunk, amid complaints. ‘She’s off for a fumble!’ Aunt Edna had screeched, and it took the length of the tube journey from Covent Garden to Highgate to eradicate that memory. She stumbled out and tottered down the road to Harry’s, imagining how much better it would be if she could just crawl into Harry’s bed, waking him with her proximity, instead of having to knock loudly, and rush past him, yelling,‘Really need to pee!’

When she emerged from the bathroom, having tidied up her hair and reapplied her make-up, she took some time to properly look at him. He stood there with a glass of water for her, topless, wearing plaid pyjama bottoms. He took his glasses off and placed them on the side table. She gulped down the water noisily, not taking her eyes from him. He was staring right back at her, grinning.

‘God, you’re hot,’ her drunken mouth said automatically, and then she felt herself blush. Harry, to his credit, didn’t laugh, only moved closer until she could feel his body heat radiate, and his hands settled on her hips.

‘So are you. Drunk and dishevelled is a good look for you.’ He kissed her neck, down to her collar bone, slipping her coat off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

‘I’m wearing the same thing I was wearing when you saw me earlier,’ Tabby said in confusion.

‘Yes, and I wanted you earlier too.’ He took advantage of her confusion to capture her mouth and start unbuttoning her shirt. ‘I always want you.’

With the shirt gone, he unzipped her skirt, backing her up against the kitchen table.

‘This is where you eat!’ Tabby exclaimed stupidly, as she gripped the table behind her for support, her heels making her unsteady.

‘Stop thinking, Tabitha.’ Harry grinned, and proceeded to erase every thought and worry she had.

***

Tabby had discovered that she loved sleeping naked. She loved waking up next to another warm someone who slept naked. She also loved when that other person put out a glass of water for her in the middle of the night, knowing that all the alcohol would dehydrate her.

She kind of understood why people got drunk and had sex. There was a freedom there. A giggly understanding that sex was a very strange thing, but sometimes you needed it. She also realised that when she was drunk and giggly, she was very willing to take orders from Harry. In daylight, sober hours, taking sexual orders from a man would start a whole part of her brain buzzing with shoulds and shouldn’ts. But drunken in the dark with Harry’s mouth doing wonderful things to her, she had to admit, it turned her on for him to be in control.

He shuffled closer and slung an arm across her body, his hand resting on her breast.

‘Good morning,’ he mumbled, and kissed her neck.

‘It is.’ She smiled and snuggled back into him. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, one that would have been normal for anyone else but seemed strange and dangerous to her. She decided, basking in a non-existent hangover and in the wake of multiple orgasms, just to ask.

‘Hey Harry?’

‘Yes?’ He kissed her neck with more insistence.

‘Would you go to my mother’s wedding with me?’

She felt him shrug against her skin. ‘Sure.’

‘That’s it? Sure?’ She rolled over to see him, and caught the dopey grin on his face before he could wipe it off.

‘Sure, I’d love to? It would be my absolute pleasure to accompany you, milady? I’m honoured? It’s the morning, what do you want from me?’ But he pulled her closer so she could tell he wasn’t mad.

‘No I didn’t mean…I just…people tend to freak out about weddings.’ She tucked her head under his chin.

‘Not me, I love weddings.’ Harry traced circles on her shoulder. ‘Cake, booze, family drama. Hot bridesmaids,’ he added. ‘What’s not to like?’

‘I’m going to look like a meringue. Or a purple…something. Something bad. Something befitting the situation…’

‘The situation?’ Harry yawned.

‘Being a twenty-six-year-old bridesmaid at your mother’s wedding to a twenty-eight-year-old.’

‘Maybe you could do a piece on it? For the paper?’ Harry rolled onto his back and pulled Tabby with him. ‘Miss Twisted on the pointlessness of marriage? Why parents shouldn’t wear white? The Toy Boy myth? Desperately Clinging to Youth: The Claudia Riley Story?’

The thing that made Tabby snort and muffle her laughter in his chest was that he wasn’t joking.

‘Ooh, she’d never forgive me!’

‘But she’d never read it, would she?’