The Men in her Life

at the enormously long limo in disgust.
    ‘Says the woman who swears in the street,’ Colette said, ‘you do love it, don’t you?’
    ‘Yeah!’ Holly laughed. ‘Size does matter... Secretly I’ve always wanted to go in one of these... how did you know?’
    Lounging inside were Holly’s best friends from all stages of her life. Norma, her first boss, who taught her how to walk with a tray full of ice-cream round her neck, Debbie who had worked with her at the rock promoter’s office, and, lying all the way along the back seat sipping champagne from the bottle, there was Robert.
    ‘I’m a token girl for the evening,’ he told her, ‘all your shameless secrets are safe with me.’
    ‘Right,’ said Colette, pulling out an itinerary, ‘I’ve got venues all over town. Thought we’d better make use of this wagon, so I drew up an itinerary. First stop is a vodka bar in South Ken. Drive on!’

    * * *

    Clare pressed the entry phone beside the entrance gate several times. There was no reply from either Holly’s or Simon’s flat. She thought now that it was probably unrealistic to expect Holly to be at home the night before her wedding. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to come. In her imagination she had seen the two of them making up with a great hug, like the closing frames of a film, but real life was not so neat.
    She wandered up the street towards Leicester Square feeling vaguely disappointed and empty, chiding herself for not having come sooner. She did not feel like returning to Philippa’s house straight away. It was the last evening of her old life. Tomorrow she and Tom would fly off to a new beginning, drifting for a while, seeing where the wind blew them. It might just be an extended holiday, or it might turn into something more, but right now she wanted to do something that she would remember, that would bring this stage to a feeling of conclusion, but she did not know what. Outside one of the places where Holly bought her cigarettes there was a spinner of postcards. Red telephone boxes, an aerial view of the Tower of London , Diana’s face, and a teddy bear wearing a policeman’s uniform. Clare stared at each one of them before deciding on the telephone boxes. Then she borrowed a biro from the shopkeeper and wrote.
    ‘Not a very appropriate wedding card, but I wanted to tell you in person how happy I am for you. Congratulations! Haven’t our lives changed since we met! Tom and I are going to America now to see Ella, and I don’t know when we’ll be back, but I hope that we’ll be in touch again. Have a lovely day, and a wonderful life-Clare.’
    Then she ran back down the street and began pushing all the buzzers hoping that someone would buzz her in and enable her to put the card through Holly’s letter box.
    ‘Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing?’ Simon’s voice said.
    Clare spun round.
    He was standing behind her with a brown paper bag in his arms.
    ‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, recognizing her, ‘I was just doing my Neighbourhood Watch impression.’
    ‘Hello,’ said Clare.
    She didn’t know whether or not to kiss him. People in London kissed each other much more than people in Cornwall did. After a moment’s hesitation, they both went to kiss the opposite cheek, ended up kissing nothing and laughing nervously.
    ‘Did Holly know you were coming?’ Simon asked.
    ‘No. No. I didn’t even know until I got here,’ Clare replied, thinking how silly that sounded.
    ‘She’ll be so sorry to have missed you,’ Simon said.
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Very much so... she’s gone out with Colette. Hen party.’
    ‘Oh, of course. What about you? Stag night?’
    ‘No. No, I was just about to celebrate my last evening as a bachelor by doing bachelor things. I’ve got four cans of Stella, an individual curry from the chilled cabinet and a video of Independence Day — well, the title seemed appropriate!’
    Clare laughed. ‘Do you think the curry’s such a good idea?’ she suggested nervously.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, you know, it kind of lingers on your breath, on Your wedding day...’
    ‘Oh my God! That hadn’t even occurred to me...’
    ‘Holly would kill you,’ Clare giggled.
    ‘You’ve just saved my life then,’ Simon smiled at her. ‘Have you eaten? Would you like to have dinner?’
    ‘This evening? No... well...’
    Clare hesitated, sensing somehow that Holly would not approve, but not knowing why she thought that. There was no rational reason