Page 5 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘Thank you all for coming out to Camden Lock,

To see Charlie Cook’s new show.

I hope your assessment isn’t that he’s a ginormous cock,

With as much talent as your big toe.

I’ve been writing comedy lyrics since I was a boy,

So I’m pleased I’ve gotten through a line or two.

Because my guitar was always my favorite toy,

And you’ve not yet started to boo.

You’ve been a wonderful crowd,

You’ve made me feel paternalistic and proud.

And as a father figure, I’m allowed to give you gyp,

Unless you head up to the stage and leave me a tip.’

I take a bow, hold up a hand in a wave, and say, ‘Goodnight.’ Then I lift a tin can from the stage, on which I have painted the word TIPS, and jingle the ten or so two-pence pieces into the microphone, garnering my last laugh of the evening.

Having splashed my face with cold water in the toilets and swapped my shirt for an equally offensive but less sweaty version, I take a seat with Jake and the rest of the stag do. With an air of arrogance befitting of my on-stage persona, I accept the pats on the back in the actual and figurative sense, and other variations of congratulations on a good show.

Once the guys have resumed conversations, banter and pints, I make all the right noises and actions to appear part of the conversation, but in actual fact I am enjoying the quarter of an hour of calm in my own mind, recovering from the show.

I can only liken the way I feel after being on stage to coming around after fainting or allowing yourself to get so hungry, your body is energy-less. I feel weak and drained, sleepy, and I know from experience that I won’t feel 100 per cent until I’ve slept it off.

Hearing my name being spoken drags me from where I’ve been staring without thought.

‘Come again?’ I say in Jake’s direction, realizing that it was Jake who spoke to me.

‘A shhhed…’ Hiccup. ‘Yourappy to pick sup Shhharah from the airport tomorrow.’ Hiccup.

Jake’s exaggerated gestures, slightly wonky-looking facial expressions and very slurred speech make clear he is exactly as rat-arsed as a stag should be by this time of night. It isn’t often that Jake is the most drunk of our group of friends in London but when he overdoes it, he goes from zero to sixty, from absolutely fine to melting into the furniture. That is the state of play tonight. Fortunately, I have spent enough drunken nights in Jake’s company to understand every word he is saying.

‘Yeah,’ I tell him. ‘Absolutely fine to pick up Sarah from the airport, buddy.’

Given the groomsmen who travelled over from America yesterday are yet to be fitted for their suits for the weekend, Jake has asked me if I can collect Sarah and drive her out to Surrey, where Jake’s brother has hired a large house for Jake and Jess’s American friends, plus me (flattered much!), in the run-up to the wedding.

Apparently, Sarah is tall, beautiful, funny and totally together. Why wouldn’t I have offered to collect her? It’s a no-brainer.

I feel, rather than see, the eyes of both Drew and Brooks boring into me and I know instinctively they would be like pit-bulls if I tried anything untoward with her.

The thing is, when people tell me not to do something, I am generally inclined to pursue that very thing.

4

SARAH

After another very sleepless night spent trying to find Drew’s needle in a haystack (which had been buried in the final bundle of the final disclosure box, number six of six), I am regretting not having caught up on some sleep during the extremely early morning flight to London. Sluggishly, I collect my luggage from the arrivals carousel in Heathrow Airport.

It was after 11p.m. Eastern time last night when I called Drew with the good news. He was still up and I could hear music in the background, albeit drunken renditions of well-known songs being played on the guitar by what sounded like a worse for wear Brooks and a very drunk Jake.

Drew’s usual business calm was more business excitable as he gushed and told me what an amazing secretary I am… And an amazing woman and all the rest of the slurred compliments he had offered. Most importantly, he gave me the greenlight to book myself a fancy class ticket on the flight over to London.

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