‘You can tell our Stella’s a barrister; wanting to get all the facts lined up,’ Lark said with a chuckle.
‘Well…’ Florrie’s eyes flicked briefly to Jasmine – whose grin had made a reappearance – as she went on to explain how Leah, The Happy Hartes Bookshop’s young assistant, had informed her that her best friend, Abbie, had been in the local supermarket when she’d overheard part of a conversation Jasmine had been having with a notorious local gossip, Pat Grievson, and that the words ‘strippagram’ and ‘Florrie’s hen party’ had floated to her ears. Abbie had apparently reported it to Leah, who hadn’t wasted any time in sharing it with Florrie.
‘Then other customers started to mention it over the course of the afternoon, but what concerned me the most, was that some were saying they’d heard the stripper was going to turn up at the bookshop and…perform– if that’s what you call what they do – right there, which is why I was so past myself worrying about it.’ Florrie pressed her hand to her chest. ‘Leah’s a reliable source and she’d assured me that Abbie was, too, so I had no reason to doubt it was true.’
A collection of snorts ran around the table before all eyes turned to Jasmine. ‘Oops! Sorry I blabbed,’ she said, giving a cheeky smile.
‘It’s so not funny, you lot! It’s totally not my kind of thing, you should all know that!’ Such was her outrage, Florrie didn’t notice the subtle flick of Stella’s eyebrows in Jasmine and Maggie’s direction, nor their equally subtle, non-verbal responses.
Putting her famous poker face to good use, Stella said, ‘Look, flower, Ando’s already agreed to be a strippagram for the occasion. He’s looking forward to it; we can’t just dump him; tell him he’s surplus to requirements at this late stage, especially when he’s said it’s going to be the highlight of his year. We thought you’d be chuffed, especially cos he doesn’t have the most exciting life, bless him.’
‘Aye, Ando may be a bit of a daft lad, but he’s got a good heart,’ added Jasmine, clasping her hands to her chest. ‘Which is why we thought you’d be happy to go along with it.’
‘What?’ Florrie’s face paled as her heart went into freefall. It was even worse than she’d feared. She covered her face with her hands.‘No way! Ando?Seriously?’ She didn’t even want to think what him having a ‘good heart’ had to do with anything!
‘Yep, seriously. He told me he was looking forward to it, too, Stells,’ said Maggie. ‘Collared me when I first got here, told me how he’d already worked out his routine; something involving those pickled eggs he was tirelessly trying to tempt our Jazz with before she and Max got together.’ She flashed Florrie a wide smile as a loud snort came from Jasmine’s direction. ‘And I, personally, can’twait to see how he’s going to incorporate his skateboard into the routine, but he’s assured me it’s going to be a very polished affair.’ She scooped up her wine and took a sip, her eyes dancing as she peered over the top of her glass.
‘Oh jeez,’ Florrie muttered to herself as she let her hands fall away from her face. Her friends had created the most terrifying mental image; it was going to take a great effort to shift it from her mind.
With his battered leather jacket, ripped jeans and baseball cap worn back to front, Ando Taylor was a familiar sight in town, his attire more akin to the local teenagers he hung around with at the skateboard park than his peers in their forties. If he had a job, no one had a clue what it was since he seemed to spend most of his time skateboarding or propping up the bar at the Jolly. He was generally viewed as a harmless soul – if not a little misguided and prone to laziness. And, with the exception of Maggie – whose marital status appeared to have saved her from his unwelcome advances – he’d tried his luck with each of the women in the group, particularly when he was on the other side of several pints of Micklewick Mischief at the Jolly on a Friday evening.
He’d sway over to their table, his boozy breath making their noses twitch as he offered to walk home whichever of the friends was the subject of his attention at the time. It didn’t appear to occur to him that his suggestion of rounding the evening off with a visit to his bedsit where they could dine on pickled eggs washed down with a glass or two of the home brew he’d named ‘Gut Rot’ wasn’t remotely tempting. He’d never pushed further when his offer was declined; he’d simply stagger away, accepting their refusals. He’d finally given up when all of the friends had become happily settled in serious relationships. And though he’d been particularly persistent with Jasmine, everyone knew he’d had a soft spot for Florrie.
‘And then there’s the fact we’ve already booked and paid for him,’ said Jasmine, once she’d recovered from her giggle-snort. ‘Tell you what, for a hundred and fifty quid, Ando had better be bloomin’ good or I’ll be asking for a refund of my share.’
‘Aye, me too.’ Maggie was struggling hard not to laugh. ‘I’m expecting him to deliver big time on what he’s promised,’ she said, before finally dissolving into a fit of the giggles.
‘Ugh!’ Florrie groaned, realisation dawning as she clocked the amused expressions her friends were wearing. ‘You lot are terrible! Don’t even joke about it,’ she said, as the first ripples of relief kicked in.
‘Who’s joking?’ said Stella, giving a hearty chuckle. ‘Actually, didn’t he say something about roping old Lobster Harry into it, too?’ She feigned a questioning look. ‘Buy one, get one free…’
‘Aye, that’s right; two for the price of one,’ Maggie said through her laughter. ‘Gotta love a cheeky little BOGOF bargain.’
‘It would add a whole new dimension to proceedings, don’t you think, lasses?’ said Jasmine, mischief written all over her face. ‘Mind, I’d put money on Lobster Harry keeping his raggy old gansey on for the performance.’
‘’Course he would, Jazz,’ Stella said, feigning incredulity. ‘He’d have to have it surgically removed otherwise, and I can’t see him going to such lengths just for a few hours.’
Even Lark, who didn’t usually partake in such persistent teasing, couldn’t help chuckling at Stella’s observation. Locals regularly joked that the craggy-faced, dentally challenged fisherman had never been seen without his tightly knitted gansey, even in the height of summer, and that he’d only replace the one he was currently wearing once it had become so threadbare it started to unravel.
Florrie rolled her eyes and clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Stop now! All of you! Not funny! At all!’ The group collapsed into a riotous fit of the giggles, Florrie following suit, Jasmine’s dirty cackle standing out above them all and attracting curious looks from nearby tables.
‘Aww, poor Florrie,’ Lark said in her familiar gentle tones. She reached across and squeezed her friend’s hand, smilingkindly as she did so. ‘We wouldn’t do anything like that to you. Promise.’
‘’Course we wouldn’t,’ said Stella through her giggles. ‘But, oh, your face was a picture.’
‘Is there any wonder with you lot?’ Florrie shook her head as the final traces of her fears ebbed away, allowing the jaunty tune courtesy of the folk band to register in her ears. She slumped back into the settle and took a sip of her wine, savouring the feeling of relief.
With the exception of Maggie, the women had been best friends since primary school. It was no exaggeration to say they’d been through thick and thin together, fiercely supporting one another as they’d dealt with the numerous challenges thrown at them over the years. Florrie would argue that every trial and tribulation they’d faced had brought them closer together, deepening their friendship, and strengthening their loyalty. It meant they could be completely honest about their feelings and worries, safe in the knowledge that they wouldn’t be judged or ridiculed, or that they’d offend anyone. But that didn’t mean they were exempt from being on the end of a good bout of bantering. As Florrie had just experienced.
When the friends’ laughter had finally subsided, Stella asked, ‘What the heck made you start a rumour like that, Jazz?’
‘I was just trying to throw that dreaded gob-on-legs Pat Grievson off the scent, that’s all. The nosy old bat was pretty much interrogating me about it when she collared me at the supermarket; like a rat up a drain, she was. And knowing how quickly gossip spreads round this town thanks to the likes of her, I knew if word of ourrealplans got out, it wouldn’t take long before it reached our Florrie’s lug ’oles. I thought dropping a cheeky little decoy into conversation with one of the town’s biggest busybodies would work a treat and get her off the scent.’
‘Seems it did the trick,’ said Stella, her mouth twitching with a smile.
‘Didn’t it just?’ Maggie agreed,chuckling.
‘Threw me off the scent, all right,’ Florrie said dryly.
