THE HUSBAND HUNTERS (37 page)

‘
So, we won’t be taking out the advert in The Times then?’ I said to her as we walked back to the car. She’d managed to prise herself away from Adam, long enough for us to carry on to Karen Millen and try the dress on that I’d seen. I’d bought it, but Kaz had been no help at all. She was so loved up, that she’d have told me I’d have looked nice in a bin bag.

‘What
do you think – does it make me look fat around the middle?’ I’d said to her, craning my neck in the long mirrors to see it from all angles.

‘Bee, you look wonderful,’ said Kaz, but her eyes weren’t focusing on me. ‘Like an angel, in fact,’ she added happily. I sighed and gave up. I could always bring the blasted dress back next weekend. Kaz was still grinning like an idiot as we drove home.

‘What on earth made you change your mind?’ I asked her, amazed.

For months Kaz had been banging on about Adam and his money – now she was promising to live in a tent with him.

‘Well, the tent might be pushing it,’ agreed Kaz, when I mentioned it, ‘but I have been so miserable without him. I’ve realized over the past few weeks, that money doesn’t actually make you happy. When I saw him with his sister I flipped. The thought of him with someone else made me want to curl up and die.’ She paused. ‘Do you fancy stopping at McDonald’s? I could murder a cheeseburger.’

***

A couple of days later, Kaz came round to see me.

‘I have massive news,’ she said. Oooh! I loved gossip.

‘Come upstairs and tell all,’ I said, ushering her into the lounge. She sat down on the arm of my sofa.

‘Guess what?’ she said. ‘Adam wasn’t being quite truthful with me all along.’

My eyes widened. Was Kaz going to tell me he was a cross-dresser and that she’d discovered him prancing around in her underwear?

‘Adam is wealthy after all,’ she announced. ‘He was keeping it from me, after Tash told him at the start about my hang-ups.’

‘Noooo,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe it. What did she do that for? It could have wrecked everything.’

‘Adam wanted me to like him, for who he was, not what he could provide,’ said Kaz simply.

‘What about the council flat he was supposed to live in with his mum?’ I asked. ‘He even drove you past it one day.’

‘That wasn’t his house,’ said Kaz. ‘He actually lives in a lovely barn conversion that he did up himself. He wanted to test me to the limit, and thought that it had all backfired, when I said I didn’t want to be with him anymore.’

‘So he really is wealthy after all?’ I asked. ‘He’s not winding you up? What about the Ford Fiesta?’

‘It belongs to a mate of his,’ Kaz said, with a laugh. ‘He drives a convertible BMW. It’s so ironic. I’d resigned myself to a future living in a council flat with him – and do you know, the funny thing was, I suddenly didn’t mind at all. Now it’s all changed, and it seems a bit surreal now, but I’m not complaining. It will be nice to live in a converted barn.’

‘You jammy sod,’ I said, laughing and chucking a cushion at her. ‘You don’t have to live in a tent after all, and he’ll be whisking you off to all sorts of romantic places – perhaps even on honeymoon!’

‘It can be Butlins for all I care,’ Kaz said dramatically, ‘as long as I’m with him. Well, perhaps not Butlins,’ she added after a few seconds thought. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Caribbean. I might suggest it.’

‘
I can’t believe you were in on all this,’ I said to Tash on the phone, when Kaz had gone home. ‘How on earth did you keep it all to yourself?’

‘I nearly let the cat out of the bag though,’ she admitted, ‘when I told you that Kaz shouldn’t judge people on their first appearances,’

I laughed. ‘You are a dark horse; I can’t believe you planned all this.’

‘That’s what friends are for,’ said Tash, ‘especially ones who are in the HHC. I knew that Kaz and Adam would be great together – and he’s always been worried about girls in the past, whether they wanted him, or his money. Some of his previous girlfriends were only interested in the WAG type lifestyle, and he never really felt a connection with any of them.

When he met Kaz he was attracted to her straight away, but when I told him about her wanting to find a rich man, he decided to pretend he was a poor as a church mouse, to make sure it was true love and not Kaz falling in love with his wallet. It was difficult when Kaz was so devastated about breaking up with him,’ she added. ‘I almost went round to see her one night to tell her everything, but I’m glad I didn’t – it has all worked out better than planned, in the end.’

I had to hand it to Tash – she was the perfect husband hunter. What a victory for the club.

**************************************

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was Soph’s hen night. We had hired a minibus to take us all to Blackpool and as we piled on, I had an awful flashback of the Fanny Wagon, back in Italy.

Soph had insisted that we all wear nurse’s outfits, so I had squeezed myself into an extremely short, tight, white dress, which wasn’t the most flattering. Tash had managed to find a white PVC dress, which clung to her every curve. She looked like the stuff men’s fantasies were made of. I was almost tempted to take a picture of her on my mobile phone and send it to Nick – it would blow his mind.

Soph was on a high, giggling as she handed around paper cups of champagne for the hour-long journey to Blackpool. She fished in her bag and produced a pair of gold tassels, which she swung seductively in the air. I groaned inwardly. They were the dreaded nipple tassels.

‘I know I had drawn the line at nipple tassels, but I changed my mind. Everyone has to pin them on to their nurses’ dresses,’ she shouted.

For some insane reason, Soph had insisted on her hen night being the night before the wedding. I’d said I didn’t think it was a good idea, as it was likely that Soph would have a thumping hangover, but she had insisted.

‘I want to be as traditional as I can,’ she said. ‘I want to go and have my last night of fun the night before the wedding.’

Heather the hairdresser’s daughter had also been dragged along for the night. She sat there looking as if she’d rather be at home watching Friday night telly, than sitting on the bus with all of us. Soph had insisted that Heather wear a nurse’s dress too, to get into the spirit of things.

The poor girl seemed shell-shocked. The nearest she got to going out was the occasional bingo night with her mum and a crowd of OAP’s. She hadn’t been able to find a nurse’s uniform big enough, so her mum had made her one out of a white sheet. You couldn’t tell she was meant to be a nurse and ever since she’d got on to the bus she hadn’t said a word. Instead she’d stared round, as if we were from another planet.

I felt a bit sorry for her. Kaz had dragged her along to test out the ‘Unattractive Friend’ theory, but looking at Heather, I didn’t think there was any theory to be tested. No man was going to look twice at Heather, whether we were there or not.

‘Do you want some more champagne, Heather?’ I asked kindly, holding out the champagne bottle. She nodded, almost fearfully, and I poured a generous glug into her cup. She needed loosening up.

Two bottles of champagne later and the bus was driving down the front of Blackpool promenade. The lights were twinkling on the tower and the minibus pulled in outside one of the bars.

The music was thumping and we all piled in through the door. It was like being back in Italy I thought, as groups of teenage girls who looked young enough to still be in school, teetered past old men who were openly leering at them. We turned a few heads, when we walked through the crowded bar, in our nurses’ uniforms.

‘Ere, love, I need my temperature taking,’ leered one lad, who pulled out his trousers, gesturing for me to put my hand inside.

I gave him my best snooty look and headed for the bar. These nurses’ uniforms hadn’t been the greatest idea. We may as well be walking around with ‘Shag Me’ emblazoned on our foreheads. We found ourselves a table and sat down. Heather had chosen to stand up. I think she was so large that she was worried that the small wooden chairs wouldn’t take her weight. She stood awkwardly by a pillar, watching us all.

‘Which one of you is getting married?’ asked a lad, who introduced himself as Matt.

‘It’s me,’ slurred Soph, waving both her arms in the air. She twirled her nipple tassels at Matt, who nearly choked on his drink. She started to sing drunkenly. ‘I’m getting married in the morning.’

Luckily the wedding didn’t start until 3 p.m., but it looked like Soph was going to still have a thumping great hangover, if she wasn’t careful.

‘Let’s move on to another club for a dance,’ shouted Soph. She started swinging her hips and sashayed over to Matt, who grabbed at her waist and started grinding his pelvis against hers. I grabbed Soph’s hand.

‘C'mon, then,’ I said, glaring at Matt. I was beginning to feel like Soph’s matronly chaperone. Even though I was wearing a nurse’s dress, I had suddenly never felt less sexy in my life. I propelled Soph out of the bar and the others followed me, with Tash turning heads every step she took.

I had to admit that the girl oozed sex appeal out of every pore. Even in her jodhpurs and smelly sweatshirt mucking out the horses down at the yard she was sexy, but in that PVC dress, she looked like dynamite. She’d already had at least ten men drooling for her phone number.

It was past midnight and Soph wasn’t even attempting to dance any more. I kept nipping to the bar to get her glasses of water.

She was sitting in a booth with her head resting against the wall, and she kept slightly swaying. Her eyes were closing and I nudged her awake to have some water.

‘Have you seen Heather on the dance floor?’ said Kaz, coming up to the table and taking a slug of wine. ‘She’s going for it.’

I looked round the corner of the booth and sure enough, there was Heather gyrating on the dance floor. I had to admit. She was the size of a baby elephant, but she certainly could dance. I watched her in fascination, her hips moving to the beat and she kept swishing her hair back over her shoulder.

‘A few drinks loosened her up,’ said Kaz, squeezing into the booth next to me. A few minutes later, Heather came bouncing up to the table.

‘I love dancing,’ she said, plonking herself in the booth.

‘I didn’t think you danced much,’ I said carefully. Kaz had said Heather went out once in a blue moon to the bingo hall. She hadn’t said that Heather could give a lap dancer a run for her money, with her sexy moves.

‘I dance in my bedroom to music all the time,’ said Heather. ‘And....’ she leaned forward conspiratorially, her huge bosom almost spilling out of the sheet that her mum had made into a dress, ‘men love watching me dance. I have a webcam in my bedroom linked to a website, which specializes in large women, and men pay to watch me. Can you believe that?’ she said, giggling and slurring her words a bit.

‘
I would never dare do it in public, but in my bedroom, well – it doesn’t seem to matter. I rake in £40,000 a year from it. It’s brilliant. I might even jack in my job at the call centre, if it carries on.’

I heard a whoosh from my left side and turned to see a torrent of wine spurt forth from Kaz’s open mouth. Heather didn’t seem to notice as Kaz quickly mopped it up. Whoever would have thought it? Heather, who hadn’t been able to say boo to a goose and looked as though she needed to drop at least ten stone – yet, there were men paying to watch her dance. Heather got up and swayed over to the ladies.

‘It shows how you can completely underestimate people,’ I said to Kaz in amazement.

‘I can’t believe it either. Do you think she dances naked?’ asked Kaz. ‘I wonder if her mum knows. She might do that squashing thing too, where men get their kicks from being sat on and squashed by really fat women.’

‘Men are so gross,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Women aren’t like that at all. Can you imagine if I said I wanted Rach’s dad to sit naked on me – you’d all cart me off to a loony bin.’ Rach’s dad weighed about thirty stone and the thought of it made me want to have an asthma attack. It was hardly sexy.

‘Shhhhh, she’s coming back,’ said Kaz as Heather heaved her massive bulk back into the booth.

A dark-haired man approached the table. He was looking at me and Kaz. Now he was all right, I thought, sizing him up. He was about six foot and had dark cropped hair. He was a little bit weighty around the middle, but you could forgive him for that. He stopped at our table, and I gave him my best sultry smile.

‘I hope you girls don’t mind,’ he said, ‘but can I steal your friend away for a while?’ I looked at Soph, whose head was lolling against the wall. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and she was dribbling a little. Surely he couldn’t mean her? I was about to tell the man no chance, that she was getting married in the morning – but he was looking straight at Heather.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asked, holding out his hand. She took it and winked at us.

‘Of course, you can,’ she purred, as she heaved herself out of the booth.

Kaz and I were speechless. We looked in disbelief at each other.