Chapter Fourteen
As I apply my make-up with a distinctly shaky hand, I lament the fact that it’s much too early to start drinking.
I’ve been both dreading and anticipating this day in equal measures, and now it’s finally upon us.
Lucy Middleton’s Hen Party - the event of the year, as far as I’m concerned - and it’s all on my shoulders.
Today, I prove my mettle as a best friend.
Today, I show everyone that I’m a worthy maid of honour.
No pressure, then!
When I finally come downstairs, the bride-to-be is ready, and she’s absolutely stunning in a silky white shift dress complete with a hot pink sash, and the sparkly tiara veil I bought for her is placed carefully atop her soft curls.
‘Luce, you look great!’ I grin, threading my arm through hers. ‘Come on, we’d best get to our first destination.’
‘ First?’ Lucy’s eyes bulge with glee. ‘There are multiple destinations?’
‘There is indeed.’ Brimming with excitement, it’s tough not to spill the beans as we head for the door. ‘The first one, I think you’ll be quite familiar with.’
Although the Cosy Little Tea Room is just minutes down the road, I still decided to hire a taxi to save our feet from aching in our sky-high heels.
I was beginning to doubt my decision to host it here, after all, she comes to this tea room all the time.
However, when we step through the door, all my worries dissipate.
Rachel and Bill have done a fantastic job; the cafe is beautifully decorated with eclectic vintage bunting that matches the wedding theme to a tee, fresh flowers cover every surface and a golden banner that says Future Mrs Preston hangs above a large trestle table, where all the guests are waiting, their goodie bags marking their place settings.
Best of all, we’re the only ones here - the tea room has been closed to the public for a private event, which makes Lucy feel all the more special as I usher her to the head of the table.
Rachel and Bill bring out the three tier stands two-by-two, each one laden with delectable treats.
My mouth waters as I survey the finger sandwiches stuffed full with chicken salad, cheese and cucumber, and egg and cress, raspberry and white chocolate mini muffins, an assortment of colourful macaroons and freshly baked scones that are still warm and served with thick, clotted cream.
Each guest has her own small pot of tea too, even little Grace, who sits up higher in her chair, looking very pleased to be treated like one of the grown-ups.
Glowing, Lucy beams at Rachel and Bill. ‘Thanks, you two, this all looks wonderful. And thank you to Alicia, for organising this lovely afternoon tea that we get to spend together.’ She lifts up her mug.
‘This tearoom is such a special place to me, because when I first came to Lily Vale, Holly took a chance on me and gave me a job. She was my first friend here, and I’ll never forget her kindness and compassion for me that day when I first stumbled through that door. ’
Holly’s eyes fill with tears and she rests her hand over Lucy’s. ‘I’ll never forget it, either.’
I raise my cup along with everyone else, feeling an immense amount of pride. I knew I made the right choice to host afternoon tea here!
A little awkwardly, I clear my throat to get everyone’s attention. ‘Maybe now would be a good time to open the goodie bags?’ I suggest.
‘Oh yes, let’s!’ Lucy bounces up and down in her seat, suddenly looking as young as Grace.
My heart thuds hard beneath my polka dot dress as I watch them all dive in and inspect each gift one by one.
‘Ah, perfect!’ Ruth comments as she pulls out a foot mask. ‘My trotters definitely need some pampering.’
‘Oh, how cute are these?’ Grace coos at the love heart sweets, popping one straight into her mouth.
‘How very thoughtful,’ Phyllis strokes the soft fabric of the fluffy socks.
‘Ooh, what’s that smell?’ Lucy reaches a hand into her bag and pulls out her bag of personalised wax melts and takes a big sniff. ‘Yum, that’s delish!’
Jen is the only one who doesn’t seem at all impressed. ‘What exactly are these?’ she scowls, holding the mesh bag by the corner, as if it contains something horribly contagious.
‘They’re wax melts,’ I explain to the rest of the table, purposely turning away from Little Miss Grump. ‘You can use a tea light to heat them up and they’ll make your room smell lovely. I made them myself.’
Lucy gasps in delight. ‘You made them all by yourself, Leesh?’
I shuffle in my seat, hoping my cheeks aren’t turning as pink as it feels like they are. ‘Well, I had some help from a - a friend.’
Thank God the goodie bags - and especially the wax melts - are a total hit. Part one of Lucy’s Hen is all ticked off and it’s officially a success! Maybe now my pulse will start to beat at a normal rate again.
Once every scrap of cream scone has been scoffed, Grace’s dad comes to pick her up while we big girls pile into a second taxi that whisks us away to Gladeswood, where we head to the spa for massages.
I opt for the hot stone massage, and its a strange yet oddly relaxing sensation, one that almost sends me to sleep on the masseur's table.
Next, it’s time for our facials. We all get to sit in the same treatment room this time, and I’m pleased to hear that everyone is raving about the massages they just received, but of course, one person has to make a complaint.
‘What was the point of having us doll ourselves up only to have our make up wiped off?’ Jen grumbles, shooing the poor beautician away with a dismissive hand. ‘You should have warned us about this, I didn’t even pack my make up bag.’
‘I’ve arranged for us to have our make up professionally done right here,’ I strive to keep my tone in check, though I must say, it’s getting harder and harder as the day goes on.
Thankfully, that buttons Jen’s lip, and delights everyone else.
As I lie back in the bright white leather chair and allow my face to be smothered with luxurious lotions and potions, I take the moment to bask in the success of the party so far.
All the guests - bar one - are having a fabulous time, and Lucy is positively pink with glee.
My skin feels as soft and bouncy as a baby’s after the facial, and it’s so glowy, I almost don’t want to put any make up on.
I soon change my mind about that when the make up artist Hannah begins expertly applying creamy foundation, explaining exactly how she’s achieving the perfectly smooth base I can never quite master myself.
If I felt good after the facial treatment, well, when Hannah stands back from the mirror to show me the finished look, well, now I feel a million dollars!
We all complement each other enthusiastically, and after leaving tips for the beauticians, off we hop into another taxi, onward to our next destination.
Knowing we’d all be starving again after a good few hours at the spa, I booked a table at a five-star restaurant called Impression .
Ruth and Mel ooh in unison as the taxi pulls up just outside it, and dear Lucy is beaming from ear to ear.
If I do say so myself, the restaurant is pretty snazzy looking, with its polished chrome and glass double doors and floodlit twin palm trees canopying the entrance with their swooping fronds.
Still, sweat beads on the back of my neck as I stride over to the marble podium where a glamorous ma?tre d' stands, ledger in hand.
‘We have a reservation at six thirty?’ Spoken like it’s a question, and truth be told, it kind of is. There’s every chance I’ve made a terrible mistake and accidentally booked for tomorrow night instead - it’s happened before. ‘Party of nine under Lucy Middleton.’
Mercifully, the ma?tre d' smiles. ‘Of course, would you please follow me, ladies?’
We’re seated in a plush red leather booth beneath a glittering crystal chandelier, and everyone seems pleased enough.
‘You’ve really outdone yourself, Alicia,’ Gina says, glancing up from the wine list. ‘Thank you so much for making my girl’s day so special.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ With a soppy grin, Lucy lays her head on Gina’s shoulder, then looks at me. ‘You really have, Leesh, everything has been just wonderful.’
I manage to respond with a pale smile and a modest mumble. The night is still young, something could still go south yet.
After a glass of red wine, I begin to relax a little.
The meal is heavenly - the most succulent, tender fillet mignon I’ve ever tasted, and the decadent chocolate bomb dessert is the icing on top of a very rich cake.
Today has been a roaring success, and it’s all down to me!
I can’t believe I managed to plan this all by myself - me, the girl who’s never been able to organise anything.
Even moody Jen seems to be enjoying herself, though that might be down to the fact that she’s swigged two glasses of vino.
Already tipsy, we spill out of the restaurant and stagger arm in arm down the road to the club, all except Phyllis, who rolls ahead in her wheelchair, cackling back at us.
‘God, I haven’t been clubbing in years!’ she laughs as the bouncer nods us through.
‘Me neither,’ Mel says. ‘Definitely not since Grace was born.’
‘It’s a bit loud, isn’t it?’ Jen turns her nose up.
‘Oh, lighten up, Jenny!’ I snigger, throwing a slightly drunken arm around her shoulders. ‘Anyway, we’re heading to the VIP area, it’ll be a bit more chill there.’
‘The VIP area!’ Lucy squeals, hopping up and down in her heels. ‘Oh, Alicia, this is magical!’
Swaying close, I plant a lipsticky kiss on her cheek. ‘Only the best for our bride-to-be!’
Feeling like celebrities, we swan across the dance floor over to the VIP zone, which is cornered off with a purple velvet rope. The girls scream at the pole and without hesitation, Holly tries out a spin, much to our collective hilarity.
Champagne is flowing, the ladies are having a blast and most importantly, Lucy is all smiles. With a sigh of relief, I lean back against the velvet sofa, savouring the bubbles on my tongue as I sip from the frosted flute. I can confidently say that Lucy’s hen party was a complete and utter -
‘Hi,’ a sultry voice interrupts my musing. ‘So, who’s the bride-to-be?’
A tall, tanned woman with platinum blonde hair dressed in a long leather trench coat stands before us, hands placed confidently on her hips.
‘Erm, that’s me,’ Lucy answers uncertainly, her hand in the air like a school girl answering the teacher’s question.
Suddenly, the mystery woman whips off the trench and we all gawk.
Underneath, she’s wearing nothing but a lacy pair of red knickers and a matching bra, bronzed, toned body on full display.
Horrified and fascinated by turns, we all watch in silence as she marches over to Lucy and begins gyrating in front of her, swinging her slim hips to the music.
All at once, it dawns on me. Oh my God, this is the stripper I hired, this is Ash Skye! Oh no, oh no, I swore I clicked on male strippers, but I must have made a mistake.
Eyes awash with something between exhilaration, confusion and just pure shock, Lucy waves her arms in the air as Ash takes to the pole, showing us all how it’s done.
Good old Holly whoops and gets up to dance with her, shaking her stuff like no one’s business, while Ruth pulls out a fiver and stuffs it into Hol’s low cut top.
Mel and Lottie are too shy to join in, but they giggle girlishly, not knowing where to look.
Bless her, Gina seems a bit shell shocked, but she smiles weakly and claps her hands in time with the music, clearly trying to join in the fun, and Phyllis, well, she seems to be loving the performance!
Through the gloom and neon lights, a red-faced Jen glares in my direction, her contempt freezing me to the spot.
She snaps something sharp at Gina and storms off, forcing poor Luce’s mum to rush after her.
My stomach gurgles and bile climbs my throat, threatening to paint the shimmery floor with puke. What have I done? How could I have made such a stupid, stupid mistake?