The One with All the Bridesmaids: A hilarious, feel-good romantic comedy. Erin Lawless

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       Chapter 11

      Her feet, bare as they were, couldn’t take the required bouncing for Kriss Kross’s Jump, so Bea made a swift exit, dance-floor right, claiming a seat at a table, empty but for general party detritus: paper plates with sandwich crusts and unwanted samosa triangles; discarded cardigans and handbags; the jagged skins of burst balloons. She tried to dust off the soles of her feet but they were smudged so grey she gave that up as a bad lot and sat back in the chair.

      ‘Are you alright there, child?’ A red-faced Eileen was there almost immediately, hovering at Bea’s elbow. She’d always mothered her far more than her real mum; Bea only pretended to mind. ‘Sure, you should go on home, if you’re tired. I’ll be off myself before too long now.’ The sherry must be finished, thought Bea with a smile.

      ‘I’m fine,’ Bea assured her godmother. ‘I’m just resting.’ She gestured at her well-danced-upon feet.

      ‘Ah, yes now, I’m the same. The dogs are barking.’ And with that Eileen lowered her stiff frame into the chair next to Bea’s and placed her cool hand over hers. ‘It’s a shame Hannah couldn’t make it tonight.’ Bea sighed in agreement. Her mother was currently living the ex-pat lifestyle in Portugal and seemed to have washed her hands of all motherly – and godmotherly – responsibilities as a result. Bea had only seen her twice in the last five years. With no dad ever in the picture, and no siblings, it had definitely left her a little adrift. And Eileen knew it. ‘Now, Nora tells me nothing these days, my girl. Has your special someone made an appearance, now? There’s nobody you thought to bring tonight?’

      Bea’s mind flitted to Nice Guy Rob and to the three text messages he’d sent her before taking the hint. ‘Nobody special, no, not yet.’ Eileen had drummed the idea that there was one perfect someone in the world for each of the girls. Granted, it was to get them to consider no sex before marriage, but still, the concept had stuck.

      ‘Ah, he’ll be along. He’s a man, my girl, and they are all inconvenience, so it will be when you least expect it,’ Eileen informed her authoritatively, settling back in the chair. Bea braced herself for an indeterminable onslaught of unwarranted love-life advice from her widowed godmother.

      ‘Mammy, I’m going outside for a fag, do you want one?’ Nora’s brother Cillian called out as he made his way past the table, beautiful new girlfriend in tow. He winked at Bea; she shot him a grateful look.

      ‘Cillian, that’s a filthy habit,’ Eileen intoned mildly, as she got up to follow her son out into the darkened beer garden and indulge in said habit. Bea exhaled, left in peace as both her head and her feet pounded in time with the bass of the music.

      ‘Here.’ Eli thunked a dripping pint glass of tap water down on the table in front of her. Bea squeezed his forearm in thanks and drank deeply. Eli, holding his own glass, joined her at the little round table. ‘I don’t think Baz got enough drink in. Everyone’s been very much enjoying the open bar.’

      ‘That’s because an open bar is a thing of beauty,’ Bea pointed out.

      ‘It’s going to be one drunken wedding if the engagement party is anything to go by. It’s nice, isn’t it, how there’s no big bride/groom split, really? Harry and Nora have shared friends for so long, everybody knows everybody. It’s nice. It’s—’

      ‘Incestuous?’ Bea supplied, sullenly.

      Eli just laughed, used to her occasional darkness. ‘Come on. I know you of old, Beatrice Milton, and you are no way near as prickly as you pretend to be.’ He glanced over wistfully to where Nora was chatting and dancing with Cleo, both holding over-full glasses of wine aloft, shining in the lights. ‘You wouldn’t like what they have? To fall in love with your best friend? You can’t tell me that Harry’s speech didn’t touch you deep in that hedgehog heart of yours.’

      ‘You’re drunk,’ Bea laughed.

      ‘Well, you’re a hedgehog,’ Eli repeated, matter-of-fact. ‘Let’s dance.’

      * * *

      There was a soft touch to the small of her back, a voice in her ear, pitched low to sound under the music. ‘There you are.’