‘You’re looking very handsome tonight.’ Florrie’s eyes roved over Ed who was wearing the new sky-blue shirt she’d bought him for his birthday, the colour setting off the deep blue of his eyes.
‘Thank you, you don’t scrub up so badly yourself.’ He crossed the floor, closing the space between them and slid his arms around her neck, brushing his lips against hers.
‘Why, thank you.’ She chuckled at his choice of words. It was the evening of the final hen party celebration and the only clue she’d been given was to get dressed up. The instructions had thrilled her; it was always a nice change to wear something special. Tonight, she’d opted for an A-line silk dress in a sumptuous shade of midnight blue, splashed with dots embroidered in a sparkly silver thread. It was a vintage piece she’d picked up in Lark’s Vintage Bazaar and it was the first time she’d worn it. She was secretly relieved when Stella had told her she didn’t have to wear her hen party sash and other items, since where they were bound that evening wasn’t keen to attract ‘that type’ of celebration with the potential for rowdiness – so the restaurant manager had informed her.
‘Give us a twirl.’ Ed took her hand and spun her round. ‘Actually, you don’t just scrub up well, you look gorgeous.’ He delivered a warm kiss to her lips.
‘Mmm. That was nice.’
‘Plenty where that came from, if you play your cards right.’ His playful grin that followed made her giggle.
‘Looking forward to your curry with the lads?’ As well as it being Florrie’s hen do, it was Ed’s stag celebration and the men had a table reserved at the Indian restaurant in Middleton-le-Moors, which was always a favourite.
‘Too right. The thought of the delicious food’s been tormenting me all day.’ He grinned. ‘Chicken Tikka Masala. Mm-hm.’ He gave an exaggerated chef’s kiss.
‘Well, at least you know where you’re going. I’m still completely in the dark about where we’re heading.’
‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll enjoy yourself, and all I can tell you is that you’ll be enjoying some delicious food, too.’
‘You tease! You could give me a little more info.’
‘Sorry, no can do.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Ey up, we’d better get a move on if we’re meeting everyone in twenty minutes.’
Florrie glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. ‘Oops, you’re right.’ She scooped up her shoes, threw her smart navy-blue velvet coat over her arm and grabbed her bag. ‘See you downstairs.’
The Cellar was heaving when Ed pushed the half-glazed door open, a babble of chatter spilling out onto the street, the indie-rock track that was playing growing louder.
‘There they are, over at the bar,’ he said, squeezing his way through.
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said, following him. Saturday nights were always popular at the town’s microbrewery thanks to its award-winning beers and friendly, welcoming atmosphere.
Arriving at the bar where a line of beer pumps gleamed under the lights, they were greeted by a flurry of hellos from their friends. It hadbeen arranged for them to have a drink together before the men went one way and the women the other for their respective celebrations. They were to have one drink in The Cellar, then the men would climb into a minibus where a driver would whisk them over to Middleton-le-Moors and wait there to bring them home, though Florrie had known none of this before tonight. A thread of excitement wove through their conversation, as the group of friends caught up on their day.
‘So, this is the last Saturday night you’re going to be able to call yourself Florrie Appleton,’ said Stella. ‘This time next week you’ll officially be a Florrie happy Harte.’
Florrie giggled at that. ‘Oh gosh, I know! I can hardly believe it.’
‘Exciting times, flower.’ Lark flashed one of her kind smiles. ‘You’re perfect for one another.’
‘Thanks, Lark.’
‘Let’s raise a glass to Florrie and Ed’s last Saturday as singletons,’ said Al, holding his bottle of beer aloft. ‘Cheers to Florrie and Ed.’ The others followed suit, echoing his words.
Waving the men off as the minibus headed out of the square, Jasmine looked at Florrie and said, ‘You’ll probably be very pleased to know we haven’t got far to go. We remembered you saying you’d be happy to celebrate your hen party by having a meal at Oscar’s, just the five of us, so that’s what we’re doing tonight. This one’s our Stells’ idea.’
‘Thought it’d be a good way to round things off.’ Stella smiled fondly at her.
‘Ah, lasses, I’m thrilled, thank you. I feel like I’ve been thoroughly spoilt over the last week or so. I might have to get married again, if this is what happens.’
‘That’s greedy,’ joked Maggie. ‘Surely, it’s Jazz’s turn next.’
Jasmine and Florrie exchanged a look that was instantly caught by eagle-eyedStella.
‘Ey up, what’s this? Did our Maggie inadvertently touch on something exciting there?’
‘Shh! Stells.’ Jasmine waved her hand in a bid to get her friend to lower her voice. Even under the muted glow of the streetlights, her blushes were hard to miss.
‘What’s this?’ asked Lark, cottoning on and leaning in.
