‘Joe, I hate to point out the obvious, but there is nobody on the planet with a sadder love life than me. I’ve systematically worked my way around half the men in this room and I’m still bloody single. So no, I’m not going to give you any advice. If I did, you’d probably be doomed to a life of bitter loneliness, but I am here if you need a shoulder to cry on.’
May as well make the offer. By the looks of things, it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to physical intimacy for the rest of my life.
He leans over to give me a hug. Over his shoulder, I can see Callum waving frantically at me. The photographer must be getting impatient. I’m just about to extricate myself when I see a taxi thundering up the driveway. Oh no. Who is it now? It can’t be any of my guys – they’re all inside stuffing their faces with vol-au-vents and chipolatas.
It halts and the passenger flies out. I let go of Joe and turn him round. The look on his face as he sees Claus running towards him is almost enough to make me smile. Bearing in mind the day I’ve had, that’s right up there with raising the dead.
I pose for an hour with a benign smile on my face while an assortment of guests are dragged out of the hotel and placed around us. There can’t be anyone left to snap – I’m sure that last lot were the maintenance staff.
‘Right, I want a photo of just me and the girls,’ Carol announces.
The rest of the crowd stands to one side as Carol, Jess, Sarah and I try to squeeze into the frame with Kate and her bump.
‘Okay, my lovely ladies, say cheese,’ the photographer shouts.
‘Urgh, he’s smarmy,’ Jess whispers and the five of us scream with laughter.
I want to frame this one and put it on my wall. That is, if I ever have a wall again.
‘Okay, now I want one with the girls and their partners.’
Bollocks! What do I do? Why can’t he have said ‘past partners’, then I’d have a multiple choice.
Kate reaches for Bruce and Jess grabs Basil. I think she just wants photographic evidence of their affair. The tabloids will pay a fortune for that.
Never mind, Sarah doesn’t have a partner either, so she can be mine. I look around for her. Where has she gone? Then I spot her – heading back to the hotel with Nick Russo.
‘Kate,’ I whisper, pointing in their direction, ‘What’s Sarah doing with Nick?’
‘Oh shit, I forgot to tell you. They’re engaged. They’ve been seeing each other since you left St Andrews. He proposed to her last night on a boat out on the loch. It was so romantic.’
Great. Bloody, sodding, pissing great.
There’s nothing else for it. I run into the hotel and grab Sam, much to the annoyance of the middle-aged, overdone, over-jewelled woman he’s nestled in the corner with.
‘Sam, I need you to perform one last task in your capacity as my fake fiancé.’
I frogmarch him outside and we grin for the camera. Another crisis averted.
Raindrops start to fall, so we all rush back inside for cover. I can’t take much more of this. I want to go home. Slight problem. I wouldn’t know where to go. Where is the nearest homeless shelter?
My mum appears from nowhere, startling me. ‘Carly, darling, you look terrible.’
‘Hi Mum, nice to see you too.’
‘Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours? I was sitting next to him during the service. He was charming, darling.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend any more, Mum.’
‘My goodness, that was over quick. Mind you, I’m not surprised; you never seem to hang on to anyone for very long, do you, dear?’
That’s it! My nerves snap and I ceremoniously and very publicly lose control of any sense of dignity I ever had.
‘He is not my boyfriend now, Mum, because he’s an escort whom I asked to come with me today and pretend to be my boyfriend so that I wouldn’t have to explain to people like you why I’m thirty, single, unemployed, homeless…’ I can’t stop. I’m a runaway train doing a hundred miles an hour and heading for a brick wall ‘… And so far into debt that I’m fucking drowning. It’s not a man I need, Mum, it’s a good lawyer and legal bloody aid.’
The whole room is now silent; two hundred open mouths in the middle of two hundred startled faces, all staring at me.
I turn and rush back outside, running through the rain until I can’t run any more. I slump down on the banks of the loch and put my head in my hands. I sob until I can’t even remember which part of my disaster of a life I’m crying about. How could I have been so stupid? What possessed me to gamble with everything I ever had? I should have played it safe, bided my time and just waited for things to happen. How could I honestly have believed that I could go charging around the world, meet Mr Right and live happily ever after? I’m a fool. A sad, pathetic fool.
‘I hear you need the services of a good lawyer.’
A sad, pathetic fool who’s now hearing voices in her head. At least now I can plead insanity in the bankruptcy courts.
‘Thought maybe I’d offer my services.’
My head snaps up. I recognise that voice!
‘Mark?’
Mark Barwick is leaning against a tree five feet behind me, a smile on his face, his wavy brown hair
