“Hi guys.” I call, already turning towards the kitchen.
“No, no, come and join us.” She takes my hand and tugs me towards the sitting room.
Six or seven others take up all available seats and even spill over on the carpet. There are bottles of drink and at least one spliff making the rounds. Oh God, I’m really not in the mood, but Emma seems excited. Very Excited.
“What’s up?”
She doesn’t answer. Paul, another of our friends, jumps up to make room for me on the sofa then perches on the arm next to me so now I’m sandwiched between him and Mike.
To make matters worse, Paul slips an arm around my shoulders. He’s actually Mike’s friend, but since Mike is almost always here, we see a lot of Paul. And since I split up with my ex, he’s become very touchy-feely.
I look up at Emma, my excuses ready, the long drive, a headache, an early audition, anything. I just need to be alone to think.
She’s still looking at me, eyes sparkling but lips pressed together as if on a big secret.
“What? You’ve been nominated for an Oscar?”
“I don’t think toothpaste ads qualify for academy awards,” she says unable to hold back her smile.
Mike pulls her down to sit in his lap and holds her hand out for me to see the small but very shiny diamond.
“Oh my God, Emm.” I fling my arms around her and she hugs me back just as hard.
“When?”
“Last night.”
Now the party, the champagne bottles, the takeaway, all make sense. And Emma is my good friend, so I stay and celebrate with her and everyone. At least the need to fetch plates and forks from the kitchen gets me away from Paul for a minute and when I come back, I sit on the floor next to Fatima, the only other woman in the room.
“Happy birthday,” she says, unfortunately just loud enough for someone else to hear.
“It’s your birthday?” Paul shouts from the sofa.
There’s a chorus of congratulations and someone shoves a glass of Champagne into my hand. I set it aside on the coffee table.
“Did you get anything nice?” Emma asks.
When she sees my eye-roll she laughs. “Let me guess, a spa day?”
“Mum thinks being an actor on equity minimum shouldn’t stop me getting regular beauty treatments.”
Paul’s eyes widen. “What the hell do you need beauty treatments for?”
Another of the guys joins in. “Shouldn’t you be on the poster advertising the spa?”
Oh good, let’s have all the attention on me. No, not onmebut on my face, my figure, my hair, my legs. I bring my knees up and hug them. It’s my go to move to hide my 36DD, less obvious than crossing my arms.
Sometimes, like just now, I wish I had a figure like an ironing board, short stumpy legs, and maybe a unibrow.
“So?” I ask Emma to give her the spotlight again. This is her engagement party after all. “Have you set a date?”
“Mike’s got a new job.” She leans into him and he kisses her quickly. “A fab job.”
“Yeah,” Fatima, beside me agrees. “Dance teacher. Private school and a relocation package worth thousands.”
Relocation? You don’t have to be a genius to work out what this means. “Where?” I lift my eyes to Emma?
Her smile slips for the first time this evening. “St Andrews.”
