“I read about it in one of those online things,” my mother said breezily. My mother was not the kind to trawl the internet looking for trendy pubs. I should have realized something was up, but I was still stunned by her sudden support for my business and life plans. My critical faculties were dulled with shock.
I walked in. The place smelled like spilled beer and cheap perfume. This was so not the kind of place my dad would want to come for a drink. Mother seemed oblivious, though. I felt a suppressed excitement in her and imagined she was thrilled to be looking so nice for her husband. I thought it was kind of sweet that she still wanted to pretty herself for him. So I kept my mouth shut. We could have one drink here and move on. We walked in, and instead of going to the front of the pub where there were some tables, Mom kept walking towards the back.
“Where are you going?”
“He said he’d meet us in the back. Come along, dear.”
There was no point arguing with her. She was already striding on ahead. I followed as best I could in my unfamiliar new shoes. She pushed open a door and ushered me in ahead of her. There were no lights on, and it was gloomy. Like a party room with no party going on.
“Mom, there’s no one—”
Then two things happened at once. All the lights went on, and twenty excited women jumped up and yelled, “Surprise!”
For somebody who supposedly had witch powers, I could not believe how they got me. Mostly, I suppose, because Violet had promised me she wouldn’t let Mom organize a hen do. Now, here I was, surrounded by giggling women, trying to put a good face on things.
Violet was doubled over, hanging on to Jennifer and laughing. “Lucy, you should have seen your face.”
I gritted my teeth and smiled back at her. “Because it was such a surprise. I wasn’t expecting this.”
Clearly, she chose to ignore my sarcasm. She rushed up, along with Alice and Scarlett and Polly. “We are going on a hen do to end all hen dos,” Violet promised.
Somewhere, a bottle of champagne popped, and then I had a glass in my hand.
“But first, we have to get you properly dressed.”
“I am dressed,” I told her. And spread my arms so she could see I was in a new dress, new shoes. I looked good. I did not need further ornamentation.
Clearly, my hen party organizers felt differently. From out of a bag came, oh no, the thing I probably dreaded the most. A plastic tiara with a battery pack. Bride, it read, and when Violet pushed the button, which she did with great delight, the word bride flashed on and off. In case anyone might have missed that I was a bride based on the ugliest plastic tiara in the entire world, they also had a Miss America-style sash that said “Going to the Altar” in gold script. Still not happy with their handiwork, they each donned similar tiaras that either said “I’m available” or “Not available,” depending on who was married or otherwise hooked up and who wasn’t.
What had started out to be a great day was rapidly turning into the worst night of my life.
Scarlett and Polly joined Violet at a table and pulled me over. They spread out a map. “Now, here’s our route.” And they pointed out every noisy and rambunctious bar, tavern, and pub in Oxford. And there are quite a few of them, given that it’s basically a student town.
Oxford might have more genius brain cells per capita than most cities, but a bunch of twentysomethings still know how to party. Not only that, it had somehow become a hub for hen parties and stag parties. I had always sworn I would never inflict one of my own on a beautiful, old city I loved so much.
Apparently, I wasn’t going to get my wish.
It was really difficult to pretend to be a good sport when I was seething inside. Bad enough that my mother had wanted to do something crazy to celebrate my upcoming nuptials, but I’d made Violet promise me. Cousin, assistant, sister witch—didn’t any of those create a bond strong enough that I could trust her?
Even Jennifer seemed pretty pleased with herself. Wasn’t it the part of a bff to warn her closest friend of a do like this? She also wore a pretty dress so either the Blenheim tour had been a ruse or she’d rushed home and changed before coming out to party.
Violet’s glee seemed to know no bounds. It flashed across my mind, with the clarity of my flashing tiara, that she might be jealous. Maybe humiliating me like this was a little payback for her, since I had admittedly caught a pretty awesome groom and she couldn’t seem to get a second date. But I didn’t see how that was my fault or that I should pay such a high price for my good fortune. Even my mother was cackling with glee. Mom just didn’t seem like the kind of woman to do shots and ogle male strippers. And based on the way this party was already going, I strongly suspected there were male strippers in my future.
Seriously, if I’d known a disappearing spell, I’d have pulled it out of my bag right then.
Disappearing spell? If I could just tone down the garishness of our display, that would help. It was like every bad cliché of a hen party shoved in my face.
I glanced at my watch. It was still only ten to four. We’d be drunk and falling off
