‘I’ve bought a dress,’ I reply simply. I don’t mention that it’s one I’ve had for ages, but it’s perfect for a wedding, so why waste money on a new one?
‘Do you need help?’ Bea says, her voice dripping with faux concern. ‘I know you’re not used to events like these, and that it might be difficult for you to find a suitable dress…’
Bea is the kind of woman who can always home in on your insecurities and, if you don’t have any, she can easily point some out for you.
‘Events like these? Weddings?’ I ask, sarcasm oozing from every word. ‘I’ve been to weddings before.’
‘Of course you have,’ Seph says, as if she’s trying to calm a feral cat. ‘I think Mummy just means that this is a nice wedding.’
Oh, boy.
‘The next point of order is wedding companions,’ Seph continues, clearly oblivious to how irked I am right now. ‘Everyone has, of course, received an invitation that also accommodates a wedding companion. I think it’s important that we discuss this, as we only want a certain calibre of person at the wedding, so…’
Why is everyone looking at me? I make a big point of turning to Eleanor.
‘Are you bringing a plus-one?’ I ask her.
Eleanor stiffens like I’ve asked her to take her top off to prove she isn’t trying to smuggle an unsavoury C cup into the wedding.
‘I will be attending the wedding alone,’ she says primly. ‘My sole focus is to be on the bride and groom, and celebrating their special day.’ She glances at Seph and smiles. ‘It’s all part of my role as principal bridesmaid.’
Of course. I’ve long since realised that Eleanor’s role in this wedding is less about helping Seph and more about making sure I know that she didn’t pick me, which is crazy, because I really don’t care. Being a bridesmaid sounds like a nightmare – having all eyes on you, wearing what you’re told, and having jobs to do. Who wants to do jobs at a wedding? Weddings are for getting drunk and flirting with hot groomsmen.
‘Lana,’ Bea prompts me, dragging me back to reality.
‘Yeah?’ I reply.
‘Are you bringing a companion to the wedding?’ she asks.
Chester smirks.
‘She’s bringing the waiter,’ he says just as Tyler returns with our drinks.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Seph jumps in, but by the end of her sentence, she actually sounds worried. ‘She isn’t – are you, Lana?’
Does she really expect me to dignify that with a response?
‘Look, Lana is a big girl, let’s not beat about the bush,’ Dad interrupts, clearly at the end of his patience. ‘Lana, some people are worried about how you might behave at the wedding, and so this lunch is just to make sure that you’re up to speed on the dress code, that you don’t bring a companion who may make things unpleasant or embarrass you, and that you behave in a way that is befitting of this family. Obviously, we would all love for you to be there, and we’re looking forward to spending time with you.’
Yikes. That’s not just a shit sandwich; it’s a shit buffet. I don’t know if I’m in a state of pure disbelief or furious anger. Did they really invite me here just to make sure I don’t embarrass them at the wedding?
‘Sorry, what?’ I say, keeping my cool. ‘This whole thing is to tell me to behave?’
‘Somewhat,’ Seph says carefully.
‘Yes,’ Bea says at the same time, without flinching.
I can’t decide what’s worse: that they think so little of me, that they’re so comfortable saying it to my face, or the fact that this entire thing is an intervention for me – a fucking catered one. What do they think I’m going to do? What have I ever done that was so wrong, other than be what they consider common?
‘What makes you think I’m not just going to, you know, turn up, be a guest, and have a nice time?’ I ask.
‘I’ll take this one,’ Chester says with a smirk. ‘We all know what you’re like, and we love you for it, but you’re known for your antics. Remember when there was that spot of something, out on the lawn, and you went on a dating website to find us a greenkeeper?’
I frown. ‘It was a dating app, not a website, and I didn’t go on there to find him, he just happened to be someone I was talkingto when you were talking to Dad about the grass problem – I was trying to help,’ I remind him.
‘Did he see to your turf?’ Chester jokes.
‘Don’t be an ass,’ Dad ticks him off.
