Page 2 of Be More Octopus

‘You’re meant to be in London.’

Lucy had spent a good chunk of yesterday evening excitedly telling Em about her prospective new client.

‘They cancelled the meeting. I got the email while I was waiting for the train at New Street. It looks like another marketing agency poached them, so I’ve been consoling myself with shopping for wedding shoes.’ Lucy waved an expensive-looking bag in front of Em.

Em sighed. Time to say out loud what she'd been mulling over for the last hour. ‘There’s not going to be a wedding - not mine anyway.’

Lucy looked horrified. ‘Since when?’

‘Since I read Connor's WhatsApp conversation with that girl from the cinema.’

‘Not the busty one with the nose ring?’ Lucy sat down next to Em. ‘Why didn't you tell me?’

‘Because I only found out this morning.’

‘Has he actually cheated on you?’

‘Judging by their photos, yes. And from the descriptions of what they are going to do to one another next time they meet, he’s planning to continue cheating on me!’

‘Arseholes!’

‘Those were involved!’ Em shuddered. She tried to get rid of the images of Connor and A’s bedroom gymnastics that insisted on forcing their way back into her mind.

‘What are you going to do?’

Em shrugged.

It started to spit with rain.

‘Time to decamp to my place for a strategy meeting,’ Lucy said.

Lucy’s flat was only a few streets away on the third floor of an old warehouse that had been converted into chic, loft-style apartments.

Em stood looking out of the massive living room window, watching the rainstorm. ‘I would get nothing done living here. I’d spend most of my time looking at the sky and how the light constantly changes over the city. It’s mesmerising.’

Not that she could afford to live here on her call centre advisor’s salary. Connor did well as a recruitment consultant, though. Em had wanted to save for a deposit so they could live in a place like this rather than their rundown rented maisonette in the suburbs. But Connor wanted to get married first, and the cheap registry office ceremony that Em had suggested wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted to put on a show for his friends and family. ‘We’ve got plenty of time to saddle ourselves with a mortgage. Let's have some fun now,’ he’d said.

Em suspected it had more to do with not wanting to be outdone by his younger brother’s lavish nuptials last year. Flynn and Aimee had celebrated with a big country house do, worthy of an upmarket wedding blog. Aimee had been planning it since she was a child. Every part of the venue seemed to be awash with flowers and bunting, a string quartet played throughout the drinks reception, and the five bridesmaids all had Jimmy Choo shoes, as Aimee had delighted in telling anyone who would listen. It was all a bit too extravagant and cliched for Em’s tastes, though she had appreciated the flock of white doves released as the bride and groom emerged from the chapel. Seeing one of the birds taking a dump on the father of the bride’s morning suit had been the most entertaining part of the day.

Lucy passed Em a mug of tea. ‘Come on. Stop changing the subject. What’s the plan?’

‘I’ve just spoken to Dad. He's happy for me to move back home. So I’ll go back to the flat today and pack my things. That won't take long.’ Em took a sip of her tea. ‘I should have time to phone around all the wedding suppliers to give them the news that our wedding is off. Then I'll wait for Connor to come home and tell him it's over. When I’ve done that, I’ll get a taxi to take me to Dad’s.’ It sounded so clinical when she said it out loud.

'Why are you packing up your things? Connor should be the one moving out.'

'The rent would take most of my salary. Plus, his name's on the rental agreement. I moved in with him, remember?' And she didn't want to live where Connor had been shagging his bit on the side. It hadn't taken Sherlock Holmes to work out that the vivid orange and red background on most of Connor and A's soft porn photos was an exact match for the awful wallpaper in Em and Connor's bedroom. Em didn't want to share that part of the sorry tale with Lucy. She felt a big enough fool for not realising what had been going on sooner.

'I'll be able to save up for somewhere permanent to live while I'm at Dad's. And it will be on a quicker bus route to work.' She may as well look on the bright side. It would also be a bonus not having to put up with Connor's snoring. And then there were his smelly gym clothes abandoned in the bathroom, waiting for the laundry fairies to wash them. If she could be bothered, it wouldn't be too difficult to come up with at least twenty benefits to not being the future Mrs Connor Flanigan.

Lucy looked sceptical. 'I couldn't move back home again.'

'Your parents live in Italy.'

'You know what I mean. Look, if you're sure about moving out, I can pick you up this evening.' Lucy looked thoughtful. 'I'll have to Google what a maid of honour is meant to do in this situation. Do you want me to give you a hand notifying the wedding guests? Oh god, I'm going to have to cancel the hen weekend.'

Em hadn't thought about that. She'd been excited about the trip to Cornwall with her besties. 'Can we still go? I was really looking forward to it.'

'I guess. It seems a shame to miss out on all the fun I'd got planned.' Lucy was always up for a celebration. 'We can turn it into a “slag off the stag” party. I'll consult the rest of the hens. Not Connor's sister, though. At least your mother's not around to see all this.'