Charlie's Web (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 5

The big night was merely hours away now and the excitement was ramping up. 

Charlie's wet hair was trapped inside a towel as she rushed about the flat in her bra and pyjama bottoms. Thea's face was concealed by a rapidly-cracking green face mask that forced her to speak without moving her mouth. Neither of them were remotely ready. But it wasn't stopping them in indulging in a couple of glasses of cava.

Nothing could stop them from doing that, frankly.

"When are the others getting here?" Charlie asked Thea, plonking herself on the floor and curling her legs into her body so she could reach her toes to paint them. Their carefully selected hen party had been invited to their flat beforehand for a "boozing & briefing session".

"In about an hour," Thea replied carefully, and Charlie had to struggle to work out what she said.

"Seriously, dude, wash that mask off already."

"I will in a minute." Thea's fingers worked nimbly and efficiently as she stuck little bits of sequins onto the white veil she had nestled in her lap. "Done!" she sang, throwing it to one side and nipping off to the loo. "Do you know what you're wearing yet?" she called back into the living room over the sound of running water.

Charlie grimaced. She seriously did not have a clue what she was going to wear. That morning, she had stood in front of her wardrobe for about 20 minutes, scanning the the railing of clothes back and forth and hoping that some little forgotten gem of an outfit would appear. But no. Apparently she'd worn everything to death. Which was ridiculous, because she bought an average of two new items of clothing every week. Yet, nothing in there appeared to be new.

That old chestnut. How often have you rued your lack of clothes when your wardrobe is in fact packed full to the rafters with sartorial goodness? We've all done it, so we can hardly blame Charlie for doing the same thing.

Luckily, Charlie had Thea to come to her rescue. Or, in other words, to go back to the wardrobe where Charlie had earlier denounced every item of clothing as either "old", "crap" or "my granny wouldn't be seen dead in that", and within twenty seconds, pulled out a black strapless tulip dress with a silver pattern on it. Charlie hadn't noticed it earlier. She'd in fact forgotten she owned it.

"Black. Slimming. Glam." Thea summed up, spinning the hanger in her hands and snatching up the price label which was still attached to it. "And you've clearly never worn it before. Do you even remember buying this?"

"Er . . . no. Not really." Some people have alcohol related blackouts. Charlie had the occasional retail therapy blackout, where she would get home with bags full of items and couldn't remember buying them . . . to the point that only retrieval of the receipts would convince her that she hadn't actually stolen them. Oh, and the credit card bill that would arrive shortly after such a binge.

Luckily, Charlie seemed to get taken over by the shopping fairy of good taste during those blackouts and the outfits she bought then always seemed far better choices that the ones she bought when lucid.

This dress was a prime example of exquisite taste.

"So you're not making me wear something ridiculous?"Charlie asked with trepidation, clutching the beautiful dress to her chest hopefully.

"Nope. I'm saving that for your real hen night." Thea grinned. "This time around, the point is to make you look as attractive as possible. You'll wear the veil, and some sort of sparkly "I'm the Hen" type thing - Sheena is taking control of that - but you get to wear the pretty dress too."

"You're such a good friend!" Charlie threw her arms around Thea's narrow shoulders and squeezed tight.

Thea, not big on too much personal contact or displays of affection, let the hug continue for five seconds or so then shook herself gently free. "I'm off to find myself an outfit now," she stated, leaving the room.

"Please try and look as ugly as possible," Charlie called. "Can't have you upstaging me, after all."

Her tone was light and joking. But she meant every word. Tonight was her Night. Nothing was going to interrupt that.

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"This is so exciting! I've never been to a fake hen night before."

Charlie's friend Kate actually was acting like she had never even been on any sort of night out before. Charlie wondered why she had invited her. She was sooo not cool.

Mind you, that was why she liked her.

"Please don't say anything like that in public," Thea said sharply to Kate as she poured her some wine. "Remember, everyone else needs to think it's for real. Otherwise the whole night is just going to be a waste."

Kate looked a little shamefaced. "Okay, message received," she muttered, downing half her glass in one go.

"Okay." Thea, very much in charge and acting very much like the six other girls in the room were her pupils, clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "So here's the information you all need to know. Charlie - and her fiance, Paul - are getting married next month. 24th June. In Cuba, just the two of them. They've been together for two years. He proposed at New Year in Paris. Top of the Eiffel Tower."

"What a cliche," Thea's uber-glamorous older sister Keri yawned as she examined her fingernails. She was quickly silenced by a dirty look from Thea.

"And how did they get together?" Sarah, an old uni friend of Charlie's asked.

Thea hadn't thought of that one. "Drunken snog in the pub one night, they ended up dating," she decided on the spot. "Not too many details. I doubt any of us will be asked that anyway, but that'll do."

Charlie wondered what it would be like to meet a stranger in the pub, drunkenly snog him and start dating him. With a proposal 18 months later and an upcoming marriage. It all seemed so straight-forward, so easy, so normal. The complete opposite of her love life. Why did nothing fall into place so easily for the real her?

Grimly, she sipped her drink and tried to put the "What ifs?" to the back of her mind. Tonight was all about having fun . . . oh, and pulling a guy purely because she shouldn't. It was not about self-reflection. The analysis could wait until tomorrow morning.

"Right." Determinedly, Thea produced a bottle of Aftershock and doled out the shot glasses. "One shot for the road and then let's get going."

Charlie threw her drink back, choked, staggered, and realised she was perhaps a bit drunk already. Oh well, that would only help her case surely . . .