Five French Hens. Judy Leigh

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      4

      It was almost eight o’clock. It was dark outside and a wind was buffeting a branch against the panes. The taxi would be here soon. Jen squinted in the mirror, fidgeted with her hair and glanced at the clock again. She wondered what everyone else would be wearing and whether the pretty blue dress she’d chosen would be too formal. Pam would be in jeans; Della would look glorious whatever she was wearing and Rose would have picked something sombre, preferring plain colours.

      Jen couldn’t guess what Tess would wear: for a woman whose marriage was so dull, she always seemed full of surprises and was guaranteed to be colourful and bubbly. She’d probably wear something stunning. Jen wanted to shine tonight, as bright as the three diamonds on her finger. It was only going to be a simple meal in a restaurant, cocktails first in some trendy bar, but the girls had organised it for her to celebrate her engagement. They were becoming closer as friends – this was their first real night out together, if she didn’t count the drink in the Olive Grove on Christmas Eve, and she wanted it to go well. It was as if a good girls’ night out would lead to a good engagement between her and Eddie, a great wedding and then a successful marriage. She had to admit she felt nervous. The doorbell rang. Jen grabbed her handbag and plastered a smile on her face. No pressure, then.

      Pam, Tess and Della were already in the taxi, which was filled with the heady aroma of too much perfume. Jen took her seat next to Della and fastened the safety belt. The taxi driver mumbled something about going to Jubilee Road next then they’d head for Exeter. The women paid little attention to him, the back of his head a dark silhouette of bristly hair. Tess was already outlining the cocktails available at the Havana Bar from the menu on her phone. She cackled. ‘I don’t care what’s in it – I’m definitely up for a Drunken Sailor or two tonight.’

      Della chortled. ‘Dances with Wenches… I wonder what that is…’

      ‘I’m going to have a couple of Cement Mixers.’ Pam waved her hands to show how the alcoholic drink might be whirled around in the glass. The taxi slowed down to a stop and the door was pulled open. An anxious looking Rose climbed in, wearing a heavy coat.

      Tess waved the phone and called out, ‘Hello, Rose. We’re just contemplating our orders for the night. How do you fancy a Screaming Orgasm or two?’

      Rose’s face froze in horror. Pam helped her to her seat and patted her hand. ‘It’s Irish cream, vodka and amaretto. A really sweet cocktail. I might have to try one.’

      Tess burst into peals of laughter. ‘It’s going to be a fabulous night, girls. And it’s all down to Jen, our awesome bride-to-be. Congratulations to Jen and Eddie.’

      Five voices whooped and screamed. There was a round of applause and someone started singing Queen’s ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’, almost in tune. The taxi driver, a man in his forties with designer stubble, glanced in his rear view mirror at five women in their seventies, mostly dressed to the nines, hooting with laughter, and he shook his head and glanced back to the road.

      The Havana wasn’t full; there were one or two couples at tables and a group of several young people who were possibly students in the corner, but the place seemed quiet. Pam led the way to the bar and grinned at the barman, a tall young man whose name badge proclaimed that he was called Sam. ‘We’re celebrating tonight, Sam.’ Pam rummaged in her purse and handed over a twenty pound note and a ten. ‘Will that get us five cocktails?’

      Sam seemed a little perplexed. ‘It’s happy hour until nine. So, if you order two each, buy one get one free, that’s twenty-five pounds.’

      ‘Righto.’ Pam flourished the notes. ‘Five Drunken Sailors and five Dances with Wenches, please.’

      Tess screwed up her face. ‘And six Screaming Orgasms…’

      ‘Six?’ Jen shook her head. ‘There are five of us.’

      Tess giggled. ‘Happy hour – three plus three free ones – if no one can drink the spare one, I’ll have it.’

      Pam shook her head. ‘I think we should just stick with two each, Tess – we’ll need some space left for a glass of wine over at the restaurant.’

      ‘You can have mine, Tess,’ Rose wailed. ‘I’ll never drink a whole one.’

      ‘I only want one,’ Jen insisted.

      ‘They don’t put much alcohol in them.’ Tess patted her arm. ‘But you’re right, Pam – let’s pace ourselves.’

      Sam shrugged. ‘I’ll bring them over – where are you sitting?’

      Pam pointed to the quiet corner. The bar had dark wooden floors and tables, red strip lights on low ceilings and brick walls. Rose felt a new determination to enjoy herself as she followed Tess to the table with six seats, but she was anxious. It was not an environment she was accustomed to. Music was blaring from speakers overhead – a woman with a husky voice was singing a song about not wanting to go to rehab. Rose thought it didn’t bode well. She would just sip her first drink slowly. She took her place next to Jen, who she was sure would be the most moderate. Della gazed around her. ‘Nice place. Good choice, Pam.’

      ‘Someone told me about it – apparently it gets really busy here later, but we’ll be eating by then.’

      ‘Where are we having food?’ Jen wrinkled her nose. ‘I hope it’s not too far to walk.’

      Pam shook her head. ‘Across the road – the little Italian place. Felipiano’s. It’s supposed to be lovely. Our table is booked for half nine.’

      ‘That’s very late to eat.’ Rose gazed at Sam as he arrived with a tray of drinks. Her eyebrows shot up – the cocktail glasses were much bigger than she’d expected and they were filled with colourful liquid that reflected the bright light. She watched Sam place them skilfully on the table. Tess was giggling and flirting with the waiter, telling him he had huge biceps and it must be a by-product of his job, carrying so many full glasses. Rose felt her cheeks tingle and she glanced away. She was wondering where she fitted in with the abandon of a girls’ night out and she determined to try harder.

      Music began to play. It was Dexy’s Midnight Runners, ‘Come On Eileen’, and Tess jigged around in her seat, waving her arms and leaning over, selecting a glass, taking a huge sip. She made an audible sound of pleasure. ‘I love this song.’

      ‘Rolling Stones for me,’ Della lifted her glass. ‘I always thought Mick Jagger was gorgeous.’ She took a sip of cocktail. ‘He still is.’

      ‘Too dangerous.’ Jen was staring at the glasses, selecting one. ‘Mick Jagger, I mean. I liked the Beatles. СКАЧАТЬ