The Armchair Bride Read Free Page A

the bed with Andy and an empty whisky bottle. Black swirls dance before my dry eyes.
    ‘What did you say?’ I splutter, aware of something in my throat.
    ‘My fucking contact lenses were in that water. I’ve only worn them once.’
    ‘They didn’t suit you. You looked like something off one of those creepy American teen wolf dramas.’
    ‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘Have you not been on Gaydar? Everyone wants that look these days. Or someone to dominate them. Or both.’
    I swallow down a sick burp. ‘You’d need to add a million Photoshop filters to pass off as a teenager. A pair of cheap contact lenses won’t fool anyone.’
    Andy sits up.
    ‘I’ll have you know they cost me twenty quid. I’m well aware it’s a drop in the ocean compared with your daily make-up budget.’
    He mimes quotation marks in the air.
    ‘And anyway, if they look so stupid, how come I spent the evening attached to a Polish waiter called Nelek?’
    ‘When was this? I don’t recall any Polish waiters.’
    ‘It was after we got to the club. You slumped in the chill-out room and did this big speech about how all the people you know are married and how you’ve been left on the shelf.’
    My toes curl so tight they might snap.
    ‘Then you stood up and asked if anyone fancied giving you a quick dusting.’
    ‘Did anyone offer?’ My voice is a whisper.
    ‘It really wouldn’t have mattered if they did. I was sat with Nelek, minding my own business when you decided to serenade us with The Wind Beneath My Wings .’
    ‘I didn’t know they did karaoke.’
    ‘They don’t, but that didn’t seem to stop you.’
    ‘Why didn’t you stop me?’
    “You seemed to be having such a great time and I knew in the end you’d shut up. You almost always do.’
    I close my eyes. ‘How many verses?’
    ‘Just the one.’
    ‘Thank God!’
    ‘But you chucked in at least six choruses. Every time we thought you’d finished, up you’d pipe again.’
    A flashback skips unannounced into my head. A mad red-haired bird who looks like she’s been dragged through several bushes backwards then forwards then dumped in a ditch. Smeared lipstick and a pint in both hands.
    ‘Did anyone join in?’
    Andy leaps up and over to the mirror, his recovery verges on remarkable.
    ‘Eventually a couple of Chinese queens joined in, and that seemed to really cheer you up. When you’d taken your bow and kissed a few hands, you thanked everyone, told them they’d been a great audience, and passed out. I had to get Nelek to help pour you into a cab.’
    ‘I can never show my face in there again.’
    ‘It’s not as if anyone knows you,’ Andy plonks himself back down beside me.
    ‘You promise?’
    ‘I promise.’
    The shame is crippling. Thank God, I didn’t make a show of myself at the staff party. Andy gathers me to him and I lay my head on his chest. He smells of stale sweat, but I’m too weak to protest. He clears his throat.
    ‘I’d be more concerned about what happened when we got back to the theatre, if I was you,’ he says and my stomach flips.
    ‘I was all for coming back here, but you came round and insisted the taxi take us back to the party. You said you wanted to wish everyone at work a proper Happy New Year.’
    ‘Say you’re lying.’ I already know he isn’t, thanks to another flashback.
    Bemused faces, horrified faces, management faces.
    ‘You were quite insistent.’
    ‘Why didn’t you stop me?’
    ‘Do you even know what you’re like with a drink in you?’
    I want to die. The vivid recall of an impromptu sing-song plays out in my head. My arms draped around the neck of my boss Brian before I forced him down onto a chair and climbed astride to belt out Hey Big Spender with my skirt up around my ears.
    ‘Andy,’ I say after minutes spent staring at the ceiling and hoping it might crash down and end my shameful life. ‘Is there any chance nobody saw?’
    ‘None at all, Lisa, and for those who did miss out, there’s always