The Armchair Bride Read Online Free Page B

pick up the glass and choke it back.
    ‘What if that was for someone else?’ he says.
    ‘I’ll get them one back.’ I look around. ‘Was it?’
    He shakes his head.
    ‘Fancy another?’
    ‘Is something wrong?’
    ‘Helen’s getting married.’
    Andy understands at once.
    I watch him at the bar. Nobody else in the whole world knows as much about me, cares as much about me and really would do anything for me. A plan forms.

Three

    ‘There’s absolutely no way on God’s earth I’m doing it Lisa, and that’s final.’ Andy makes clear his disapproval of my suggestion that he pretend to be my husband at Helen’s wedding.
    ‘Just this once.’
    ‘No.’
    I try a different line of attack, one I’m sure will work.
    ‘You’re scared you can’t pull it off.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You reckon nobody will believe you’re my husband.’
    ‘Are you saying I’m too gay?’
    ‘Well if the pretty pink cap fits...’
    ‘How dare you? I’ll have you know I’ve played more straight men than you’ve had yeast infections.’
    There’s only one way to win this argument.
    ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked. Forget about it.’
    ‘I didn’t say you shouldn’t have asked. You know I hate weddings and the idea of going to one filled with your ghastly classmates is about as appealing as a re-enactment weekend.’
    I hold up surrender hands.
    ‘I should’ve known better than to ask.’ I pause for dramatic effect before delivering the killer blow - the one to secure me a stand-in spouse. ‘I’ll ask Martin.’
    Martin, like Andy, is an aspiring actor. He also works part-time in the box office and was a graduate of the same drama school. The crucial difference here is that Martin is six years Andy’s junior - and that really matters.
    Andy sips his drink.
    ‘When is the wedding?’ he says.
    ‘March.’
    ‘I suppose I might be able to take on this particular engagement.’
    ‘What if you can’t get the time off ?’
    ‘You fired me, remember?’
    Shit! He’s right. I didn’t mean to fire him. It was a silly idea.
    ‘The thing is …’ I start to explain, but he cuts me short.
    ‘Seeing as how I now officially have no income, you can get the next round.’
    ‘Fine,’ I say and gather our empties. ‘But when your Giro comes, you’re paying.’

    ‘I’m sorry,’ I say as I sit back down. ‘It was mean of me to mention Martin. Forget I ever asked.’
    ‘You’re not backing out now.’ Andy leans forward. ‘This Helen. She’s definitely the last one?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    I refuse to meet his eye.
    ‘The last sad singleton. All the others are jail birds, God botherers or happy eating muff.’
    ‘I haven’t traced everyone,’ I say. ‘There might be others.’
    ‘Oh please! If you can’t find them, what hope has anyone else got? The anti-terrorist police are sloppy by comparison. It’s no wonder you can’t find a bloke, you spend every waking hour chained to a computer, tapping away in the hope of finding a fellow spinster to rely on for support in your dotage.’
    Tears well. Why the hell do I care if Helen is getting married? I begin to play with the ice in my drink and when Andy puts his arm around my shoulder, I collapse into him.
    ‘That really is so unfair,’ I say, my voice a wobble.
    It costs me three expensive drinks and dinner at the Peking Gardens before Andy gives in and offers to play my husband.
    ‘Let’s celebrate by going dancing,’ he says and even though I’m tempted, the growl of protest from my belly makes me think again.
    ‘Andy, if I drink any more, I’m in danger of liver failure. I think I’ll be better having an early night.’
    ‘And this early night is nothing to do with the doggy bag you’re carrying.’
    A guilty smile spreads. Andy picked at his meal and insisted he wanted to watch his weight. I’d managed to persuade the waiters to let me have his leftovers by inventing a pet dog named Fido.
    ‘At least