We all snigger, like we’re thirteen again in science class with the biology teacher drawing pictures on the whiteboard.
‘Ooh, we could help you find a wedding dress, Soph.’ I’m imagining a montage of us, movie-style, all sitting around in the changing room of a wedding shop while she pops in and out with various different flouncy meringues on before she appears, radiant, in The Perfect Dress.
Sophie wrinkles her nose and looks a bit pink in the face. ‘I’ve actually chosen one already.’
‘No way.’ My vision evaporates.
‘Oh my God! I didn’t know it was official!’ Gen shrieks with excitement.
‘It’s not. But it’s so gorgeous I decided it had to be The One.’
‘Oh my God, this is so exciting,’ says Gen, clapping her hands together. ‘Have you got a photo of it on your phone?’
‘I thought marriage was a tool created by the patriarchy to suppress women?’ Sophie raises an eyebrow, keeping her phone curled tightly in her palm.
‘Yes, yes, it is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a bit of dressing up, and that’s basically what a wedding is, isn’t it?’
Sophie opens her phone and scrolls down to show us a photo of the most perfect, understated, gorgeous dress. It’s absolutely her, and I can see why she’s fallen for it.
‘Let’s hope Rich doesn’t have other plans,’ Gen teased.
‘Yeah, he might have run off with the girl in the flat next door while I’ve been away,’ Sophie jokes, but we all knew there was no way that would happen. Rich and Sophie were the poster couple – the ones that were solid as a rock, the ones you could always rely on. Gen called them Mum and Dad sometimes, and I think Sophie secretly liked it. She’s always wanted to be settled down, ever since we were little and playing together at primary school. Rich is the perfect match for her, and it was always a matter of when, not if, they’d get married. She met him at university and they’ve been smug (not) marrieds ever since. I reach over and give her arm a little squeeze.
‘I’m so pleased for you, Soph. And I can’t wait to be on Aunty Jess duty.’
Gen pulls a face, but we both know she’s only teasing. She’s happy for Soph even though she wouldn’t like to be in her shoes. Her passion has always been acting, ever since the first time she stood on stage and played the starring role in Bugsy Malone in our primary school production. She’s worked her backside off to get where she is – she may not be famous, but she’s had a few decent roles in theatre productions off the West End, and it’s just a matter of time before she gets her big break. Gen believes in herself, that’s half the battle, I think.
‘And what about you, Jess?’ Sophie looks at me thoughtfully.
‘You’re not still in mourning after Neil-gate, are you?’
‘Gen,’ says Sophie, ‘if she was, she’s hardly going to tell us now, is she?’
I shake my head. ‘No, I am one hundred per cent definitely not in mourning over the end of my relationship with Neil.’
‘Even though your mum thought he was the perfect catch?’ Gen looks at me.
I shudder. ‘Especially not because of that.’
I hadn’t even been that upset when I found out he was cheating on me with someone else from the office – just slightly miffed that it was going to make work pretty awkward. After the initial shock of finding them together, I’d realised that I didn’t really feel anything. That was a pretty good sign that it had run its course.
‘Your mum just wants you settled down and happy,’ Sophie says, kindly.
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘and she thinks because Neil dumped me for whatshername from accounts that I’m a complete failure as a human being.’
‘That’s not strictly true,’ says Sophie, trying to make me feel better.
‘Yes it is,’ says Gen, who knows my mother as well as I do. ‘She’s weirdly fixated on the idea of Jess getting married and buying a nice house and having two-point-four children and a dog. Probably because she did the opposite.’
When I split up with Neil Mum had been absolutely horrified that I’d ‘let him slip through my fingers’. I never knew my dad – she’s never talked about him, and there’s just a blank space on my birth certificate where his name should be – and she’s absolutely determined that my life will be far more conventional than hers. It’s weird.
‘What’s she saying about you moving to London?’ Gen says.
‘She’s hoping I might meet a nice man and settle down.’
‘Ironic,’ Gen snorts, ‘that your mother never did it but she wants it for you.’
‘It’s called transference,’ Sophie says, thoughtfully. ‘Or something like that. It’s about wanting to live her life through yours, vicariously.’
‘It’s called being a total nightmare,’ I say, scooping off some of the whipped cream on my drink with a spoon, and licking it.
‘Oh she’s not that bad,’ says Gen, who has a soft spot for my mother because she’s a fellow thespian. My mother’s an actress too, but she’s never made it to London. Instead she travels a bit, and she tries various schemes to keep money coming in, in between jobs working as a voice-over artist or being an extra on film sets. She’s never really been the maternal type. It’s lucky I’ve got my Nanna Beth to make up for it.
‘No,’ I concede. ‘I think it’ll be a lot easier to have a relationship with her when I’m ninety miles away in London than when she’s breathing down my neck the whole time wanting to know what I’m doing with my life.’
The strange thing about Mum is that despite being unconventional herself, she’s completely hooked on the idea of me doing a Soph and getting married, popping out a couple of grandchildren, and finding a nice house in the suburbs. It’s weird. It also means she was Not Happy when Neil and I split up, and she thinks my plans for a new life in London are impractical and faintly ridiculous. I quote. Not that I’m still chuntering to myself over her saying it, of course.
‘She’ll be wanting regular relationship updates,’ Gen says.
‘There won’t be any,’ Sophie points out, shooting a quick look at Gen, ‘because Becky has decreed that there’s to be no relationships in the house.’
‘She can’t do that.’
‘She can do whatever she bloody well wants if she’s renting Jess a room in Notting Hill for £400 a month. I’d take a vow of chastity for that.’ Gen takes a sip of her drink.
‘Yeah but even so—’ I watch Sophie giving Gen a fleeting look.
Sophie and Gen have met Becky a few times. They get on okay, in that way that friends do when you try and combine one part of your life with another part. I’m hoping that now we’re all going to be in the same place they’ll get to know each other a bit more, and even get on a bit.
‘She isn’t banning me from having sex with anyone,’ I say. ‘Just that there’s to be no inter-house relationship stuff.’
‘Just as well. You’ve got the whole of London at your disposal. You downloaded Tinder yet?’ Gen asks. She curls one of her ginger ringlets around her finger, then lets it go so it springs back into place. Gen’s never had a bad hair day in her life.