Midsummer Magic (3 page)

Josie poured some more orange juice into the punch, while Diana answered the door to their first guests. Once Harry had sorted out the music, the next few hours went by in a blur of congratulations, drinking and laughter. By midnight, Harry was feeling distinctly the worse for wear, and sitting happily ensconced on the sofa, watching Josie dance to the dulcet tones of Lady Gaga. He could sit and watch her dance for hours, she moved so gracefully, it was mesmerising. He was so lucky to have her. Josie was so beautiful, and kind, and wonderful. And she was his … sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it.

Maybe it
was
time to make things more permanent between them.

Someone had put something slower on, and a few of their friends were cosying up together – Diana, he noticed with amusement, was smooching with Josie’s boss – ‘Come on, lover boy,’ Josie came swaying towards him, as drunk, he realised, as he was, ‘time to dance.’

‘Always time to dance with you,’ he smiled, and pulled her close. She leant against his shoulder, and he felt her softness, and smelt her perfume. He was suddenly overcome with a dizzying sense of what could only be described as joy. He wanted to hold her and keep her and never let her go. ‘You are so perfect,’ he said, kissing her softly on the lips, ‘how did I get this lucky?’

Josie blushed, and said, ‘I’m the lucky one,’ as she kissed him back, and he was overcome with a happiness he could never remember feeling before. With her small trim figure, her gorgeous fair pre-Raphaelite curls, and her stunning blue eyes, Josie was perfect in every way. She was kind, sweet, funny, loyal and he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. So why not make it formal? What was wrong with marriage, after all? A perfectly sensible institution which had been round for centuries.

‘Josie,’ he said, feeling his heart hammering with happiness, ‘will you marry me?’

‘Oh my God, Oh my God!’ An overexcited and slightly pissed Josie dragged Diana away from a rather interesting situation with Josie’s to-die-for good-looking boss, Philip (trust Josie to nab a lovely guy
and
have a good-looking boss) into the kitchen. ‘It worked, I can’t believe it, but it worked.’

‘What worked?’ Josie wasn’t the only one who’d drunk too much, Diana realised, as the walls came crashing in on her suddenly. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your Halloween thing,’ said Josie, ‘you know, the apple peel.’

Diana dragged herself away from the delicious prospect of a night in a penthouse with Philip, to focus on a faint memory of the early evening. ‘But you got an A!’

‘No I didn’t,’ said Josie, ‘I got an H, remember? Ta-da!’

She waved her ring finger in front of Diana’s bleary eyes. There was a platinum-looking ring on it.

‘What? He didn’t?’

‘Yup, Harry just proposed!’ said Josie triumphantly. ‘Of course we need to get a proper ring, but this will do for now.’

On closer inspection, Diana realised Josie was wearing the ring pull from a Coke can on her finger.

‘That’s, that’s – words fail me,’ Diana suddenly felt the urgent need to sit down, and slumped against the wall and slid down it. She wanted to say something more effusive, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.

‘I know,’ said Josie, sliding down to join her, ‘and it’s all down to you. You
are
going to be my bridesmaid, aren’t you?’

Diana screamed in delight.

‘You’re getting married!’ she whooped, ‘and I’m going to be bridesmaid. That is fabulous!’
Fabulous
. That was the word she’d been searching for.

‘I know!’ said Josie, ‘isn’t it great?’

Diana suddenly felt a sudden, sober chill. It was great, of course it was great, but drunken misery set in, ‘What about u-u-uss?’ she wailed. ‘You’re going off to get married and you’ll be shacked up and happy and I’ll be on my own and single for ever!’

Great sloppy tears were running down her cheeks. Damn, that punch had been a serious mistake.

‘Oh, Di, don’t say that,’ said Josie, clutching her in panic, ‘you’re my best friend, I couldn’t live without you.’

She was crying too.

‘You couldn’t?’ Diana paused and blew her nose, not very attractively. She hoped Philip didn’t choose that particular moment to look for her.

‘Of course not,’ said Josie, sobbing nearly as loudly as Di was, ‘you’re always going to be my best friend. What would I do without you?’

‘But it’s not going to be the sa-aa-me,’ hiccoughed Diana.

‘It will, it will,’ said Josie, ‘pinkie promise.’

She linked her little finger in Diana’s, setting off a fresh round of wailing, ‘Oh, that’s so lovely,’ she wept, ‘I love you so much.’

‘And I love you too,’ howled Josie, hugging her tightly.

‘But you love Harry more,’ said Diana.

‘I do,’ said Josie, her eyes shining through her tears, ‘I really do.’

Diana looked around her, suddenly surprised that they were sitting on the floor.

‘Then what are we doing sitting here?’ she said. ‘
You’re
getting married. That is
so
fantastic. C’me on, let’s dance!’

She staggered up, dragging Josie after her, and went to find Harry who was sitting looking slightly dazed in the corner, ‘Woohoo, you two getting married, that is so brilliant! Listen up, everyone, Harry and Josie have just got engaged!’

‘This calls for champagne!’ someone shouted.

‘We don’t have any,’ laughed Josie, ‘we’ll have to make do with vodka.’

‘Vodka it is!’ said Diana. She busied herself filling people’s glasses, and then declared a toast, ‘To Harry and Josie!’ she said. ‘Harry and Josie!’ everyone said, raising their glasses and cheering, and the next half hour disappeared in a flurry of congratulations and back slapping. It was only as the party began to die to down that Diana remembered Philip. She looked round for him and couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky bastard. A bleep from her phone confirmed it.
Sorry, had to dash. Catch you soon?
This year, next year, sometime, never. She looked over at Josie caught in a romantic clinch with her future husband, and tried not to feel that she was getting left behind.

In a bar in Australia, Anthony Lambert, known to his friends as Ant, opened his laptop and checked his emails. He’d sent a rude message to his best friend, Harry, the previous day in response to the dire (in Ant’s mind at least) news that he was settling down and moving in with his girlfriend, Josie, after a ridiculously whirlwind romance lasting a few short months. Ant had been horrified, not least because at twenty-eight the notion of settling down seemed as far removed as it had when he’d first met Harry at uni ten years ago, but also because Harry had already dated Josie back then, and they’d lost touch. If she was so great, why hadn’t they stuck together before? Hmm? Ant’s motto was always look forward, never look back. He felt sure that Harry was making a big mistake, and had told him so in so many words. Well. Very few words actually. It had been more along the lines of What are you doing you stupid bastard? I thought Josie was all in the past?

It seemed Harry had been remarkably swift in his reply. Their correspondence while Ant had been away had been in the main, short and sweet, and they’d often been known to go weeks without hearing from one another. It was only the imperative need to tell his best friend not make a complete dickhead of himself which had impelled Ant to write yesterday.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi mate,

1 I hope you’re sitting down …

2 And I hope you are in a bar …

3 And I also hope you have a drink in your hand …

What the …? Ant had a sip of his beer, and scrolled down to the bottom of the email where he read words which caused him to nearly spill his drink. He had to reread in case he’d got it wrong, but no, there it was in black and white.

I know you’re not going to like this, mate, but it’s my life.

So … the big news is Josie and I are getting married. Next year, September, we think.

I know, I know. It’s sudden. And I’m going to have to put off travelling for a bit. But … I let her get away once. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Try to be happy for us.

Harry.

P.S. We’d like you to be best man.

Best man. Harry wanted him to be best man? Could it get any worse?

‘Fuck me sideways,’ said Ant out loud. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’

‘Four days will quickly steep themselves in night

Four nights will quickly dream away the time …’

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
:
Act I, Scene 1

‘Magic tricks are all about dissembling. Distract the punter with your voice, or a bit of stage business, and they miss the actual trick itself. It’s easy when you know how.’

Freddie Puck:
The Art of Illusion

‘Is that the lot?’ said Harry as he paused to take a breather. Though early in the morning, the June sun was already hot and he was already working up a sweat. He looked on in horror as Josie, still somehow looking cool and collected in a strappy summer dress and sandals, came down the flat steps, with the second large holdall she had apparently packed for a simple weekend away. ‘How long are we planning to be away again?’

‘This one isn’t mine, it’s Di’s,’ said Josie. Di had come to stay the night before, terrified of oversleeping on her own. ‘And before you start bitching about how Diana always takes advantage of me, she’s bringing her bigger one.’

‘She’s got a bigger bag than
this
?’ Harry said as he took the bag from Josie, and tried to squeeze a space for it in the not-too-huge boot of his Honda Civic. A car that, not unnaturally, Ant had sneered at very loudly, as being ‘a girl’s car.’ Sometimes Harry wished Ant would keep his opinions to himself. But there was no chance of that. Ant, back from his travels, was louder and more opinionated than ever since his time away. It hadn’t taken him long to be employed by a flash advertising company (‘Recession, what recession?’ he’d queried) with more cash than sense and was driving down alone in his brand new top of the range Merc. He was planning to meet them at a motorway service station en route, as, hilariously for Ant who was always overconfident, he appeared to have had an attack of nerves at the thought of arriving before them and meeting Josie’s parents on his own.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit this all in,’ said Harry, looking despairing as Diana, her ginger curls escaping from a straggly bun, tottered down the steps in high wedges, skinny jeans which accentuated every curve and a skimpy top which left nothing to the imagination, dragging an even bigger and more cumbersome bag behind her.

‘Di, you’re going to have to have your bag in the back with you,’ said Josie when she realised that there really was no more room in the boot. ‘Either that, or we’ll ring Ant up to see if he can take you in his car.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ said Diana as she squashed herself into the back, complete with the offending bag. ‘Ant’s an unusual name.’

‘It’s short for Anthony,’ said Harry, ‘though sometimes he goes by the name of Tony.’

‘I knew a Tony once, he was a total wanker. What’s yours like?’

‘A total wanker,’ said Josie, and Harry dug her in the ribs. ‘Well, he is,’ she protested, ‘as far as women are concerned. He’s charming and witty and funny of course, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.’

‘He’s not that bad,’ protested Harry half-heartedly as he started up the car.

‘He so is,’ said Josie. ‘Don’t you remember Suzie at uni? Poor cow was so in love with Ant, and I lost count of the number of girls he cheated on her with. And still she came back for more.’

‘I’d forgotten about her,’ said Harry.

‘Then there was the time we were out for my birthday and he started the evening with one girl and went home with another.’

‘Oh, God, and the time we met him at the cinema and he pretended not to see us because he was with the wife of the local landlord,’ said Harry. ‘I’d forgotten all that. But you never know. Maybe he’s changed since he’s been away.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Josie. ‘He hasn’t stopped sulking since you asked him to be best man. Anyone would think you were committing suicide the way he goes on about the fact that you’re getting married.’

‘Well, to Ant, marriage
is
a form of suicide,’ said Harry, as he turned left out of their road and headed for the main road which led to the motorway. ‘I can’t see him ever getting hitched. He’ll be trying to pull birds when he’s old and grey.’

‘Birds,’ groaned Diana. ‘Does he really use the word birds?’

‘Afraid so,’ said Josie, ‘but it’s all right, he doesn’t bite, honest.’

‘To be fair to him,’ said Harry, ‘I think there was someone after uni he was quite serious about, and she ditched him. He’s always been really cagey about it, but I think she really hurt him.’

‘Well then, maybe it’s time he got over it,’ said Diana.

‘Perhaps you can help,’ said Josie slyly.

‘Don’t look at me,’ said Di firmly, ‘he really doesn’t sound like my type.’

Within half an hour they were on the motorway and heading down to Cornwall, to Josie’s parents, where Josie’s mum was indulging in a spot of pre-wedding hysteria. After much dithering, Harry and Josie had only recently fixed the date for next June. They’d talked vaguely about September when they first got engaged, but it turned out getting married was like planning a military operation and no one in their right minds would attempt to organise a wedding in such a short space of time. Harry, who’d been hoping for something small and quiet, was beginning to realise his wishes were unlikely to be met. Josie’s mum, Nicola, had firmly taken charge since Christmas, and now most of their spare time seemed to be taken up with wedding plans. Harry was beginning to find it a little wearing.

Nicola had insisted on having a long weekend with Josie, Harry, the best man (Ant, naturally) and bridesmaid (Diana, of course), to plan things. Quite why he and Ant were needed was a mystery to Harry. So far his input into preparations was to have been told things, like what he had to wear (morning suit, top hat, and pink ties – Josie was very insistent on the pink) – who he was inviting (‘we get twenty-five friends each and twenty-five family, or in my case, forty family and twenty friends, as I have more family’), and where the event was going to take place (‘St Cuthbert’s of course,’ Josie’s mum opined, ‘it’s where we got married, and Josie was christened, and Reverend Paul has known her since she was little, so it’s perfect’).