The Perfect Escape: Romantic short stories to relax with

She was crying too.

‘You couldn’t?’ Diana paused and blew her nose, not very attractively. She hoped Philip didn’t choose that particular moment to look for her.

‘Of course not,’ said Josie, sobbing nearly as loud as Di was, ‘you’re always going to be my best friend. What would I do without you?’

‘But it’s not going to be the sa-aa-me,’ hiccoughed Diana.

‘It will, it will,’ said Josie, ‘pinkie promise.’

She linked her little finger in Diana’s, setting off a fresh round of wailing, ‘Oh

that’s so lovely,’ she wept, ‘I love you so much.’

‘And I love you too,’ howled Josie, hugging her tightly.

‘But you love Harry more,’ said Diana.

‘I do,’ said Josie her eyes shining through her tears, ‘I really do.’

Diana looked around her, suddenly surprised that they were sitting on the floor.

‘Then what are we doing sitting here?’ she said. ‘You’re getting married. That is so fantastic. C’me on, let’s dance!’

She staggered up, dragging Josie after her, and went to find Harry who was sitting looking slightly dazed in the corner, ‘Woohoo, you two getting married, that is so brilliant! Listen up, everyone, Harry and Josie have just got engaged!’

‘This calls for champagne!’ someone shouted.

‘We don’t have any,’ laughed Josie, ‘we’ll have to do make do with vodka.’

‘Vodka it is!’ said Diana. She busied herself filling people’s glasses, and then declared a toast, ‘To Harry and Josie!’ she said. ‘Harry and Josie!’ everyone said, raising their glasses and cheering, and the next half hour disappeared in a flurry of congratulations and back slapping. It was only as the party began to die to down that Diana remembered Philip. She looked round for him and couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky bastard. A bleep from her phone confirmed it. Sorry, had to dash. Catch you soon? This year, next year, sometime, never. She looked over at Josie caught in a romantic clinch with her future husband, and tried not to feel that she was getting left behind.

In a bar in Australia, Antony Lambert, known to his friends as Ant, opened his laptop and checked his emails. He’d sent a rude message to his best friend, Harry, the previous day in response to the dire (in Ant’s mind at least) news that he was settling down and moving in with his girlfriend, Josie, after a ridiculously whirlwind romance lasting a few short months. Ant had been horrified, not least because at twenty-eight the notion of settling down seemed as far removed as it had when he’d first met Harry at uni ten years ago, but also because Harry had already dated Josie back then, and they’d lost touch. If she was so great, why hadn’t they stuck together before? Hmm? Ant’s motto was always look forward, never look back. He felt sure that Harry was making a big mistake, and had told him so in so many words. Well. Very few words actually. It had been more along the lines of What are you doing you stupid bastard? I thought Josie was all in the past?

It seemed Harry had been remarkably swift in his reply. Their correspondence while Ant had been away had been in the main, short and sweet, and they’d often been known to go weeks without hearing from one another. It was only the imperative need to tell his best friend not make a complete dickhead of himself which had impelled Ant to write yesterday.

From: Harry@gmail.com

To: Antonhistravels@gmail.com

Hi mate,

1I hope you’re sitting down …

2 And I hope you are in a bar …

3 And I also hope you have a drink in your hand …

What the …? Ant had a sip of his beer, and scrolled down to the bottom of the email where he read words which caused him to nearly spill his drink. He had to reread in case he’d got it wrong, but no, there it was in black and white.

I know you’re not going to like this, mate, but it’s my life.

So … the big news is Josie and I are getting married. Next year, September, we think.

I know, I know. It’s sudden. And I’m going to have to put off travelling for a bit. But … I let her get away once. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Try to be happy for us.

Harry.

P.S. We’d like you to be best man.

Best man. Harry wanted him to be best man? Could it get any worse?

‘Fuck me sideways,’ said Ant out loud. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’

Part One

‘Four days will quickly steep themselves in night

Four nights will quickly dream away the time …’

A Midsummer Night’s Dream; Act II, Scene i

‘Magic tricks are all about dissembling. Distract the punter with your voice, or a bit of stage business, and they miss the actual trick itself. It’s easy when you know how.’

Freddie Puck; The Art of Illusion

Chapter One

‘Is that the lot?’ said Harry as he paused to take a breather. Though early in the morning, the June sun was already hot and he was already working up a sweat. He looked on in horror as Josie, still somehow looking cool and collected in a strappy summer dress and sandals, came down the flat steps, with the second large holdall she had apparently packed for a simple weekend away. ‘How long are we planning to be away again?’

‘This one isn’t mine, it’s Di’s,’ said Josie. Di had come to stay the night before, terrified of oversleeping on her own. ‘And before you start bitching about how Diana always takes advantage of me, she’s bringing her bigger one.’

‘She’s got a bigger bag than this?’ Harry said as he took the bag from Josie, and tried to squeeze a space for it in the not-too-huge boot of his Honda Civic. A car that, not unnaturally, Ant had sneered at very loudly, as being ‘a girl’s car.’ Sometimes Harry wished Ant would keep his opinions to himself. But there was no chance of that. Ant, back from his travels, was louder and more opinionated than ever since his time away. It hadn’t taken him long to be employed by a flash advertising company (‘Recession, what recession?’ he’d queried) with more cash than sense and was driving down alone in his brand new top of the range Merc. He was planning to meet them at a motorway service station en route, as hilariously for Ant who was always overconfident, he appeared to have had an attack of nerves at the thought of arriving before them and meeting Josie’s parents on his own.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit this all in,’ said Harry, looking despairing as Diana, her ginger curls escaping from a straggly bun, tottered down the steps in high wedges, skinny jeans which accentuated every curve and a skimpy top which left nothing to the imagination, dragging an even bigger and more cumbersome bag behind her.

‘Di, you’re going to have to have your bag in the back with you,’ said Josie when she realised that there really was no more room in the boot. ‘Either that, or we’ll ring Ant up to see if he can take you in his car.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ said Diana as she squashed herself into the back, complete with the offending bag. ‘Ant’s an unusual name.’

‘It’s short for Anthony,’ said Harry, ‘though sometimes he goes by the name of Tony.’

‘I knew a Tony once, he was a total wanker. What’s yours like?’

‘A total wanker,’ said Josie, and Harry dug her in the ribs. ‘Well, he is,’ she protested, ‘as far as women are concerned. He’s charming and witty and funny of course, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.’

‘He’s not that bad,’ protested Harry half-heartedly as he started up the car.

‘He so is,’ said Josie, ‘Don’t you remember Suzie at uni? Poor cow was so in love with Ant, and I lost count of the number of girls he cheated on her with. And still she came back for more.’