The Accidental Proposal (25 page)

Dan stares morosely at his beer bottles, as if he can’t decide which one to have first, then eventually picks the left-hand one. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re gaining a wife, but for me, it’s like I’m losing a best friend.’

‘No, I mean your own situation where women are concerned.’

He glances over at Kelly and Kate, possibly trying to make the same decision as he’s just done with his drinks. ‘I still like them, if that’s what you mean.’

‘In terms of you meeting someone. Long term. And maybe settling down yourself.’

‘Me?’ Dan starts to do a little dance under the table, as if to indicate how footloose and fancy free he is, then stops when he sees I’m being serious. ‘With who?’

‘Whom.’

Dan frowns. ‘She some foreign bird, is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Home. Or whatever you said.’

‘Never mind. But seriously, how are you finding the current dating scene?’

He shrugs. ‘Fairly quiet, actually.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course not,’ says Dan. ‘I’m still having to beat them off with a shitty stick. But there’s no one, you know . . .’

‘Special.’

As usual, Dan mimes sticking his fingers down his throat at the mention of that word. ‘No. So I hope you’ve lined up someone tasty for me at the wedding.’

As he picks the other beer bottle up and takes a swig, I decide now might be a good time to impart a certain snippet of information.

‘Well, as a matter of fact, I have.’

‘Really?’ Dan stops, mid-swig. ‘Who?’

‘Polly. I got her RSVP this morning. ‘

‘What about the small matter of what’s-his-name?’

‘Steve? She’s not bringing him.’

‘Why not?’

I decide to play my trump card. ‘Why would she want to bring someone she’s not seeing any more?’ I say, using it as a diversionary tactic to snatch Dan’s other beer from the table and quickly pour some lager into my glass.

‘I’m sorry?’ Dan slams his bottle down in shock, nearly missing the edge of the table. ‘She’s single?’

‘I believe so.’

‘So she’s coming on her own?’

‘Yup.’

‘You have told her I’ll be there?’ he says, eyeing me suspiciously.

‘I think she’ll have assumed that already,’ I say enjoying seeing Dan a little nervous where a woman is concerned.

‘And yet, she’s still coming . . .’ Dan’s face goes through a range of expressions, as if he’s trying to work out the flavour of a boiled sweet. ‘Although that might be because she feels she can’t miss your wedding,’ he says, eventually. ‘Rather than because she wants me back.’

‘I’d say that’s spot on,’ I say, remembering the size of Dan’s ego, and realizing what an effort that admission must have been for him. ‘But what would you do if she did?’

‘Did what?’

‘Want you back.’

He picks his beer up and starts to pick distractedly at the label. ‘That’s hardly likely, is it?’

‘Why not? It might be the reason she’s coming.’

‘Fuck,’ says Dan. ‘Now I’m going to be spending the whole time worrying about Polly.’

‘No you’re not,’ I correct him. ‘You’re actually going to be spending the whole time worrying about me and Sam, and ensuring everything goes well from our point of view. Then and only then can you go and do what you have to do with Polly.’

‘That’s not very fair, is it?’ He sniffs.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Dan. I forgot that the only reason Sam and I were getting married was so we could set you up with your ex-girlfriend again.’

He glares at me. ‘It’s all right for you. You’re going to be going to bed next Saturday as a married man, and with the surest guarantee of a shag that evening that anyone could ever have. Me? I’ll be doing the home-alone thing. And I’m not referring to that McCauley thingummy film. That’s going to make for one fun evening, I can tell you.’

‘Or, you could look at it this way,’ I say. ‘Polly finished with you . . .’

‘Keep your voice down,’ hisses Dan.

‘Sorry. You and Polly split up because she thought you were immature. Too self-centred. Too selfish. Well, this is your big chance to show her you’ve changed.’

After the few seconds it takes to sink in, Dan looks at me as if I’m a genius. ‘It is, isn’t it?’ he says before frowning suddenly. ‘How, exactly?’

‘By being the perfect best man,’ I say. ‘By running the show. By giving the world’s best speech. By making sure everything goes smoothly, and that everyone – especially Polly – has a great time. That way, she can’t help but be won over. Then you can decide how you really feel about her.’

A change comes over Dan’s face. ‘I can, can’t I?’

‘Yup.’

‘Excellent,’ says Dan, draining the last of the beer he’s holding, then doing the same with the bottle on the table. ‘In fact, that calls for a drink.’

I stare at him for a second or two before realizing that – as usual – that’s my cue.

10.18 p.m.

When I get back from the bar and deposit a bottle of beer on the table in front of him, Dan seems not to notice, possibly because he’s engrossed in blowing over the top of the one he’s currently halfway through drinking, as if he’s just discovered it makes a sound when he does.

‘What are you so lost in thought about?’

‘Me?’ Dan drinks a bit more, then blows again, and seems delighted that the note has changed. ‘Oh, nothing. Well, something, actually.’

‘Come on. Penny for them.’

‘Cheapskate.’ He blows a couple more times, then puts his bottle down before I can snatch it away from him. ‘I was just thinking about this marriage lark.’

‘What about it?’ I say, wishing he’d stop referring to it as a lark. Particularly because it’s been feeling like anything but.

‘You know. And why some people do it and some don’t. I mean, I know why they do
it
, but marriage. Why they do
that
.’

‘Thank you for clarifying that for me, Dan.’

‘You’re welcome. So, come on then.’

‘Come on then what?’

‘It’s just that . . . I mean, do you think some people just aren’t cut out for it? Ever, I mean?’

‘You’re talking about you, right?’

Dan drains the last of his beer. ‘Yeah. Because I can’t see the point of giving all this up,’ he says, nodding over to where Kelly and Kate are still watching him from the bar, ‘just so one woman can take up permanent residence in Davis Villas.’

Pushing my rubber belly to one side, I lean over and move Dan’s empty bottle out of arm’s reach to stop him from blowing into it again. ‘Let me explain something to you. You seem intent on seeing marriage as bad, because you think it’ll restrict you from doing whatever – or rather, whoever – you want. For the rest of us – us
normal
people – we want to get married because we’ve found someone we think it’s worth giving all that up for.’ As I let what I’ve said swim through the beer-soaked synapses towards Dan’s brain, I hope,
pray
, he’ll finally realize that this person needs to be someone who can see through all this celebrity bollocks. Someone who’s unaffected by all the glitz and glamour surrounding him. Someone who can help him keep his feet on the ground. And more than ever, I’m convinced it needs to be someone he was interested in before all this started. Someone who he’s interested in more than all of it. Someone whose name begins with a ‘P’, perhaps. And maybe now’s the perfect time, given his current unemployed state. ‘And they’re out there, Dan. Believe me. Even for you.’

‘So it’s not that I’ll never meet the right person?’

‘Not at all. Maybe you have already, but you weren’t ready for her at the time. But you’ll recognize her when she comes,’ I say, instantly regretting my choice of words as Dan can’t help but snigger.

He shakes his head slowly. ‘I mean, I just can’t see it. It’s like becoming a vegetarian.’

‘What is?’

‘Me getting married.’

‘Huh?’

‘You know. Asking me to give up meat. Because I really like meat. And I don’t think I could do it.’

‘Yes, you could. You just need the motivation.’

‘Yeah, but’ – Dan searches for an example – ‘people usually become vegetarians because they’ve visited an abattoir, or seen some programme about how badly animals are treated, not because they suddenly decide they like salad so much that they’re going to stop eating bacon sandwiches ever again.’

‘Maybe you need to visit an abattoir, then. Or start sampling some tastier vegetarian meals, as opposed to this junk food you seem to enjoy . . .’

Dan grins. ‘Eating?’

‘Or maybe you need to look for that one particularly tasty carrot. Let’s face it, if you’re looking for a carrot, then they don’t come any tastier than Polly.’

There’s a pause, and then: ‘You mean “carrot” as in “incentive”, right?’

‘Right, Dan.’

‘Maybe, Ed,’ he says. ‘But I’ll tell you. I’m only going to give up meat when
I
decide to.’

‘Which might be sooner than you think,’ I say, pulling at the neck of the fat suit, which is starting to smell a little suspect.

Not unlike some of Dan’s excuses.

12.13 a.m.

I’ve not often seen Dan under the influence. Normally when we’re out for the evening he likes to stay sober, just in case he’s asked to perform later – and I don’t mean in the acting sense. This evening, however, he’s downing his beer like it’s water, which is actually what I feel like drinking, given how much the fat suit is making me sweat.

After what seems like his fiftieth trip to the toilets, and without question his longest one, so much so that I start to wonder whether he’s actually gone home, Dan sidles up to me, a lop-sided grin on his face.

‘Edward, Edward, Edward,’ he says, putting an arm round my shoulders and handing me a pint glass full of some strange concoction.

‘Dan, Dan, Dan.’

‘Dan, Dan-Dan Dan Dan Dan,’ he replies, to the
Match of the Day
tune, then collapses against me in a fit of giggles.

‘What’s this?’ I say, holding the glass up to the light and peering at the contents, which seem to be settling into differently coloured layers.

‘Sardine.’

‘Really?’

Dan nods. ‘Scaled a Minesweeper.’

‘And what’s in it?’ I ask, sniffing it suspiciously.

‘What isn’t in it?’

‘Ah. Well, thanks,’ I say, not too drunk to be unaware of the significance of Dan actually buying me a drink. And what looks like an expensive one too.

‘Cheers,’ says Dan, picking up his beer bottle and clinking it against my glass, which I take a tentative sip from, although I’m not quite able to identify the flavour.

He flops onto the sofa, beckoning for me to sit down next to him. ‘Ed,’ he says, putting his hand on my knee and giving it a squeeze, ‘can I tell you something?’

‘Anything,’ I reply, picking his hand up and putting it on his own leg. ‘As long as it’s not “I love you”. Which would still be okay, of course.’

‘Nope. Snitching like that.’

‘Well, what, then?’ I say, when he doesn’t enlighten me, but instead stares wistfully towards Kelly and Kate, who are still standing gamely at the bar trying to make eye contact with him. Unfortunately, given the fact that he can hardly focus on the beer bottle in front of him, it doesn’t seem to be working.

‘You’re my best friend,’ he says, or rather, slurs, ‘and shall I tell you why that is?’

I look at his blurry expression, and decide not to suggest that it’s because he’s slept with all his other male friends’ girlfriends, so they’re not speaking to him any more.

‘Please do.’

‘Because you’ve always been there for me.’

I put on a miserable expression. ‘So it’s not because you like me or anything?’

‘There’s that too, obviously. Obviously!’ he adds, getting louder. ‘Keep your chins up. But back when I was having trouble. With, you know . . .’

‘Someone’s husband? Your eleven-plus?’

‘The “P” word.’

‘Your penis?’

‘No! I’ve never had trouble with my penis,’ he almost shouts, which turns out to be the final straw for Kelly and Kate, who pick up their drinks and walk off to the other end of the club.

‘Though it’s got you into trouble once or twice. More than once or twice, in fact.’

‘Polly,’ he stage-whispers, so loudly that Polly can probably hear him, and she doesn’t even live in Brighton.

‘Oh. Right.’

‘Anyway. As I was saying. And that’s what’s most important. The “L” word.’

‘Love?’ I say, not sure I want to play this game again.

‘No,’ says Dan. ‘Loyalty. And that’s why I’d never sleep with Sam.’

‘Apart from the fact that she’d knock your block off if you tried.’

‘Well, there’s that, too. But that’s what it’s all about, friendship, loyalty.’ He puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘I mean. If you don’t have that, and trust, then what have you got?’