She’d only been standing there for a second when she turned to the sound of squeals and saw Jess and Tom from the publicity and marketing team at Peacock’s bounding up to her. The huffed laugh she let out was part relief at seeing people she knew. They looked exactly as she remembered them from last year—Jess, slightly on the short and plump side, was beaming, her round face a little pink already, and Tom was still as skinny as he always had been, despite starting up a protein-shake endeavor just before she’d left. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she returned the hugs and the Oh my God it’s been forevers. She’d sat opposite Jess for two years, and even if her face had mostly been obscured by the computer screen during that time, they’d dealt with the same mood swings in the office, sat through the same meetings, had the same small talk every Monday morning. Strange that you went from seeing someone almost every day to them just dropping out of your life like that—a bit like a relationship, but one where it was expected to be transient.
A waiter, dressed smartly in a tux, came into the room and rang a gold bell, which caused Jess and Tom to smirk. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner will be served shortly, if you wouldn’t mind taking your seats.”
“Don’t think we’d mind, would we?” said Tom, pulling out his seat next to Jess, leaving Josie sitting awkwardly between two empty chairs as they waited for the other three people to join their table of six. It was all about the even numbers at weddings, wasn’t it?
“So, where are you staying, Josie?” Jess asked, leaning across the table to be heard over the chatter of the room.
Josie eyed up the breadbasket that a waiter brought out and wondered if it was too soon to help herself to a roll, given the table wasn’t full yet. “In Buttercup.” Then, when Jess looked blank, “In the castle.”
Jess gave a little wistful sigh, while Tom pouted. “We’re in a hotel,” Jess explained.
“Yeah, and we’re sharing a twin room,” Tom added. “The height of glamour.”
“It was cheaper,” Jess said primly, “so I don’t know what you’re—”
“There,” hissed Tom, nudging Jess sharply in the ribs and jerking his head. “That’s the guy. He’s a plus one, I swear it, he didn’t seem to know either John or Laura when I asked him about it.”
Jess sighed. “You’re being ridiculous. Stop.” She pushed her head back, then rolled her eyes at Josie. “He’s sulking because he wasn’t allowed to add his plus one last-minute, even though we are lucky”—she put emphasis on the word and added a stern look at Tom for good measure—“to be invited to the pre-dinner at all. Besides,” she added, fluffing up her hair, “you only started seeing the guy two weeks ago, what did you expect Laura to say?” Josie felt a smile pulling at her lips, hours of office banter coming back to her.
Tom shook his head, helping himself to the bottle of sparkling water on the table. “When you know, you know.”
“Are you also seeing someone, Jess?” Josie asked.
“Yes, but I decided not to bring him—it’s only been two months, would have been a bit intense.” She gave Tom a meaningful look, but he only shrugged.
“Josie’s with me, right, Jose?”
Josie decided that her safest option, at that moment, was to say nothing and the argument was effectively cut off by the presence of a rather fat man, in his fifties at a guess, looming over their table, then doing a slow lap, apparently unbothered by the fact Josie, Jess, and Tom were all watching him do so. He stopped at the empty space on Josie’s left, peered down at it, then nodded and pulled out the chair.
Jess and Josie exchanged a slight frown as he sat in the seat between them, forcing them both to move their chairs sideways a little to accommodate his bulk. He wiped his shining brow—apparently the effort of sitting down was all too much—and then turned his beady eyes, which looked smaller because of the rolls of fat on his face, on Jess then Josie in turn, without acknowledging Tom. “So,” he said with an incredibly heavy Scottish accent, “ye girls are my dinner companions then, are ye?”
Josie cleared her throat. “Yes, I suppose so.” She became acutely aware of how posh her accent sounded. “I’m—”
He frowned and leaned toward her, his chair audibly creaking with the movement. “What’s tha’？ I cannae hear you, lassie, ye’ll have to speak up, I’ve a bit of an ear infection.”