Girls Night Out 3 E-Book Bundle

‘I scaled the outside of the house using the barbeque cover rope to help me,’ JimmyJames tells us, tearing into a pain au raisin. ‘I knocked on all the shutters, till I fell off and lacerated my arm – see? Look,’ he rolls up his sleeve to show off a very mildly grazed elbow.

The girls all make sympathetic noises. I splutter into my coffee with laughter, catch Dave looking at me in mock-alarm and blush. Darn it, I thought I had this self-conscious thing under control.

‘I shouted for a bit, till your neighbour yelled at me.’ Sophie and I exchange a grimace. ‘And after about an hour, I decided my priority was survival.’

Luke laughs so hard at this he starts to gag and has to leave the table and lean over, hands on knees, gulping deep breaths till he feels better.

JimmyJames carries on.

‘Temperatures can get down to six or seven degrees celsius in France at this time of year. And, as we all know, it’s imperative to keep your head warm. So I fashioned a sockturban, thusly, wrapped myself in the waterproof cover, using leaves and the rope as a pillow.’ He smiles proudly at us all.

‘Very, uh, impressive,’ says Robert.

‘So, what have I missed?’ JimmyJames says. ‘I’m glad to see Lady Bella is smiling again.’

Bella grins and blows JimmyJames a kiss. ‘Oliver has, sadly, left us,’ says Dave solemnly. ‘Rest in peace, Oliver.’

Sophie, Vix and I all immediately glance at Bella, anticipating fireworks, but she just grins and lights a cigarette.

‘What an exciting weekend it’s been,’ says JimmyJames, reaching for another croissant. I catch Dave’s eye and can’t help but grin helplessly. Blushes be damned. ‘Right. Who was bad with whom? And why do you look like the cat that’s got the cream, Abigail?’

The last activity of the weekend is a boules tournament in a nearby town. Personally, I think we could do without it, but Luke is set on us all bonding as a wedding party.

Boules, in case you’ve never seen it, is a French version of bowls, and the specific game they play in our area is known as pétanque. The Béziers boules tournament is taking place on the long gravel pedestrian area in the centre of town, and there’s a carnival atmosphere. It’s a much bigger town than Autignac, and all the cafes and restaurants lining the street have installed outside seats and heaters so people can witness the game while they eat.

Dave and JimmyJames immediately decide to have a glass of wine ‘for sustenance’.

‘I need it,’ says JimmyJames earnestly. ‘I think my platelets are down.’

‘I just really like wine,’ says Dave. He leans over to me. ‘Can I get you some wine, hot stuff?’

I grin, shaking my head. Out of the corner of my eye I can feel Bella staring at me, but when I turn, she looks away.

The tournament has three different levels: the professionals, who take it so seriously that they’re barely speaking to each other; the middle league, who seem to be mostly couples and friends pretending not to take it seriously; and the bottom league, which is a shambles of fights and laughter. Just our style.

‘I think I should probably concentrate on staying alive, given my last 24 hours,’ says JimmyJames in a slightly martyred voice. ‘I’ll just have a nice sit down here and drink wine,’ he pauses. ‘I’d feel a lot better if Victoria would stay with me.’

‘Get used to disappointment,’ she replies.

‘I speak disappointment fluently,’ says JimmyJames. ‘Please?’

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘If you get me a chair and table, I will sit.’

‘Fine. We’ll register the six of us, then,’ says Luke. ‘We can play triples. Robert, Dave and I against Sophie, Bella and Abigail.’

‘Aces,’ says Bella, lighting her eighth cigarette of the day.

‘I notice you still smoke like a Russian peasant,’ comments Dave.

She blows a smoke ring at him and he grins. She’s extremely cool. So much cooler than I am. I bet she never needed a singledom coach.

‘What are the rules?’ says Bella. ‘How does it work?’

‘Toss a coin, draw a circle, throw the ball, person nearest the jack wins,’ says Robert shortly. He’s kept his sunglasses on since breakfast. A sign of remorse, or else just his usual hangover grumpiness. Poor Vix. It’s a shame she didn’t kiss JimmyJames.

‘This is so heavy!’ exclaims Sophie, picking up one of the boules. ‘Right. I’m ready.’

‘I’m going to beat you lot like a Christmas puppy,’ says Dave with an evil grin.

‘I’m going to beat you like a foster child,’ says Bella, squaring off against him.

‘I’m going to beat you like a Mormon wife,’ retorts Dave.

‘Ha! You’re such an idiot,’ she replies.

‘You can’t resist me, Bells,’ says Dave, reaching out to pull her hair as she walks away.

My hackles are raised. What the devil is this? Last night it looked like they couldn’t stand each other. Now they’re flirting. ‘OK,’ says Robert, interrupting them. ‘Let’s toss the coin and find out who’s doing the circle.’

Boules is a gentle, slow game, or at least it is the way we play it. There’s just the occasional cry of ‘oops!’ and ‘sorry!’ from the girls, and ‘fuck!’ and ‘you distracted me, you penis’ from the boys.

After we’ve played a few rounds, the teams are neck to neck. Bella – having clearly decided to behave – is being very chatty and playful, and she and Sophie and I have forged a surprisingly strong camaraderie. I’m glad that they’re getting on, but I wish my sister wasn’t quite such a pushover. I want to be a little cold to Bella, to show that even if Sophie has forgiven her, I haven’t, but it’s hard in the face of her charm offensive.

Luke’s his usual jovial self, and Robert’s granite face is barely moving, while Dave is keeping up a hilarious and irritating running commentary. However – and this is not just because I shagged him all night, I swear – he’s so charismatic that even when being deliberately annoying, he’s irresistible.

‘Right. Bella, Bella. Beautiful girl, ugly underhand bowl. It lands next to Robert’s last throw, which I understand he aimed for Paris . . . And here’s Robert again, he takes his shot, now he’s leaving the grounds, I’d say he’s probably going for a pee, are you going for a pee, Robert? And he’s ignoring me. Right. So and now we have Luke, who lives up to his nickname “The Fluke” and oh, lands just inches away from the jack, sadly a good inch and a half behind my last throw which is by far the best of the round so far.’

‘Wanker,’ says Luke to Dave. The rest of us are in fits of giggles.

‘Penny in the swear jar for you. Right! Next up is Abigail, approaching with the delicate baby foal wobble she’s perfected over the last few rounds, and oh dear, she lifted a foot. Disqualified.’

‘What?’ I gasp. ‘I didn’t!’

‘You did,’ says Dave patronisingly. ‘Left foot came up and off the ground.’

‘It did fucking not!’ I exclaim, annoyed now.

‘Vote!’ says Dave.

‘Safe,’ says Sophie loyally.

‘Out,’ says Bella. Typical.

‘Safe,’ says Luke.

‘Out,’ says JimmyJames. ‘I didn’t see it, but fuck it, let’s create another drama.’

‘Safe,’ says Vix, raising her glass of wine to me.