Page 83 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘Oh, Mr Man Upstairs, please let Steph get through this in one piece.’ Anna pleads, while force-feeding me the glass of iced water she got from the bar.

‘Ooh, did you see the guy I’m sitting next to? He’s a hottie all right.’ I waggle my eyebrows at her. ‘Think he likes me too.’

‘I did see him, and I saw how much attention he’s been paying you.’

‘Yeah, see. I’m not unlovable. No wait, that would be unlikeable. Does that mean I’m still unlovable?’

‘You’re becoming more unlovable by the minute,’ Anna mutters through gritted teeth and I pet my lip in response to this, causing her to alter her tone. ‘You know I don’t mean it. You’re just a bit… challenging at the moment. Come on, keep drinking.’

I allow Anna to make me drink, because somewhere in amongst the wine-marinated tissue in my brain, I’m aware that I do need to sober the hell up.

‘OK, that’s it. We need coffee.’ She darts out of the toilets and returns a few minutes later with an espresso. ‘Here, down this. The caffeine will sort you out.’

I do as I’m told, and within moments of the hot, bitter liquid hitting my stomach, I feel my mouth start to water, followed by a lurch in my oesophagus. I charge into one of the cubicles, throwing the door closed behind me, just as my undigested dinner makes a sudden and dramatic bid for freedom. I remain there, hovering over the toilet pan, retching and hurling until there’s nothing left to come up.

‘You OK?’ Anna hollers through the door.

‘I’ve been better,’ I call back with a hoarse voice. ‘But at least it’s sobered me up a bit.’

Eventually, I feel safe enough to leave the cubicle and join Anna by the sinks. The amazing friend that she is, she’s already been to reception to get an emergency toothbrush and some toothpaste.

‘Oh, you’re a lifesaver.’ I take them from her and freshen myself up. ‘Honestly, thank you. There’s no way I could have done the auction in that state.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She pulls me into a side hug. ‘That’s what friends are for. I should have kept a closer eye on you tonight and intervened earlier.’

‘Ah, well. No harm done.’

‘And now you’re fresh and sober enough for a snog with the kilted sex-god later on as well. He’s exactly the kind of rebound fling you need after Jamie.’

My instinctive reaction to this statement, now I’ve sobered up a bit, is to reject it. Then a million thoughts of Jamie swoop into my mind, making me almost dizzy with the mix of emotions they fire up, and I swiftly change my mind.

‘You know what, you’re right. Maybe Calum’s just what I need to get Jamie out of my system.’

When we eventually exit the toilets, I’m in better form, and as we head back towards the function suite, Lizzie marches towards us looking flustered.

Chapter 27

‘There you both are.’ Lizzie throws up her hands in relief. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. We need to get the auction started.’

Anna and I share a look that says, thank goodness ‘looking all over’ didn’t include the ladies’ toilets we were in. That might have led to me being the world’s shortest ever role successor.

‘Of course.’ I flash Lizzie my brightest smile. ‘Let’s get this done.’

Returning to my earlier spot at the front of the room, I get mic’d up again. I then address our guests, whom, this time, it takes several tries to quieten down enough for me to get started. I’m clearly not the only one who’s more well-oiled than usual.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I do hope you’re enjoying your evening—’

‘I’ve not had this good a night out since my divorce,’ hollers a very large and merry man in a kilt.

I chuckle into the mic. ‘Thank you for sharing that, sir. I do hope you’re as loose with your wallet as you are with your tongue.’

The man hoots at my swift comeback and a collective guffaw rattles around the room.

‘OK…’ I continue. ‘If I can have your attention once again, we’re about to start the auction.’

I work my way through the items, managing the bids, while Anna operates the AV, displaying an image of each prize on the projector screen. It turns out to be a lot of fun and I’m amused by how competitive some of the guests become, trying to one-up each other with the highest bids. Lizzie looks positively gleeful, and I can see her mentally counting up the pledges.

‘All right!’ I call out. ‘We have a bid of two-thousand three-hundred pounds for the one-year gin subscription with a private tour of the distillery and tasting event for up to ten people. Going once… going twice…sold– to the lady in the beautiful purple dress.’

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