“I bought one for another baby shower I went to last year—it’s super cute. It’s like a cushion thing that you can lay the baby on. It’s meant to be good for tummy-time exercises.”
“It’s like you’re speaking another language.” Cara sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Tummy-time exercises?”
“They help the baby get moving. But it’s also nice and cozy for them.”
“Do they make snugglerugs for adults? Sounds like something I need.”
I laugh, ushering her to the right shelf. “Here you go.” I proudly hand her an elephant one with a little rattle attached to it. “Adorable, right?”
“When did we get so old that we spend our weekends either at weddings or baby showers?” Cara asks, picking up a bottle of nipple cream and wincing. “Remember when we didn’t have anything on at weekends and we’d just hang out? That sounds mental now. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”
“It’ll be nice to see Jen properly with the girls before the baby comes along,” I remind her.
“The baby isn’t due until December.”
“I encouraged Jen to host a baby shower earlier rather than later. She’ll be exhausted when it gets nearer the time and won’t want a load of women barging into her house,” I explain, then notice what she’s doing. “Cara! You can’t open the nipple cream unless you’re going to buy it.”
She reluctantly puts it down. “I just wanted to see what it’s like. You’re such a spoilsport.”
Once we’ve chosen a few more gifts for Jen, we head out of the shop and toward the tube, Cara ranting the whole way about how it’s unfair that, when a baby comes along, women’s nipples get ruined and men’s aren’t affected. We attract a few strange looks, but you get used to that when you’re with Cara. Her voice carries.
“By the way, how was the wedding yesterday?” Cara asks, losing her footing slightly as the train hurtles through the tunnel.
“Amazing.” I smile. “So colorful and vibrant.”
“I bet the food was delicious,” she says enviously.
“Unbelievable. I ate so much, I couldn’t move for a good ten minutes after they cleared the plates.”
“Any juicy stories? Come on, there must be something. Crazy things always happen at weddings. It’s like everyone loses their heads.”
“There was an argument between one couple that got a bit rowdy after the banquet—she threw a Bellini into his face—but I made sure they took it outside so the bride and groom didn’t notice. And one of the bride’s uncles was so drunk, he was chatting to a garden statue for ages before I told him it wasn’t a real person. I got him into a taxi home, sharpish. Oh, and there were about fifteen speeches, because people kept grabbing the microphone to say a few words.” I shrug. “But not much else happened.”
Cara throws back her head and laughs, making the carriage glance irritably in our direction. “You see? People always go crazy at weddings. It’s like they forget who they are and how to behave. I don’t know how you have the patience to put up with it.”
“It’s nice,” I say, as the doors open and we step onto the platform. “For one night, everyone can forget all the problems they have to sort and the work that’s getting on top of them. They’re just there to have fun and celebrate people they love.”
“Yeah, which is why all rules are thrown out of the window and suddenly it’s acceptable to start twerking with your mate’s uncle on a dance floor,” she says, getting onto the escalator behind me.
“What? You twerked with someone’s uncle?”
“Course not! That was just an example of something someonemightdo at a wedding. Completely random.”
“Oh, really?”
“Speaking of weddings, have you replied to Daniel yet?”
“Classic change of subject to avoid answering the question.I want to hear about this twerking incident.” I fish for my bank card before we get to the barriers.
“You haven’t RSVP’d to him yet, have you?”
“I haven’t had time.”
“Sophie!”
“What?” I check my phone to work out how to get to Jen’s house. “I really haven’t had time. I’ll do it when I get home this evening.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of going to your ex-boyfriend’s wedding,” she says, falling into step with me.
