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I look around and spot my new client, and The Royal Oak’s new landlord, with a huddle of equally ripped mates at another table.
Tally subtly readjusts her cleavage and presses her lips together to redistribute her lipstick. ‘I need to get a picture with him,’ she says. ‘But I’ve just seen Mama in Pearls go over and his friends turned her away. They were polite about it but I overheard them saying something about a night off. The Akoni Jones. This is influencer gold.’
‘Who’s Akoni Joes?’ asks Frankie.
‘Can you stop saying his name out loud?’ says Tally, which is a bit rich given that she’s the one going on about him. She leans towards Frankie. ‘Huge international rugby star. He retired from the game in his late twenties and moved over here from Samoa to work as a pundit. He was all over the TV when the rugby world cup was on, right? Apparently he’s moved to the West Country.’
Joe and I exchange looks. I have no intention of letting on that I’ve been working with him because, as keen as I am to get in with the mum group, business comes first and I don’t think he’d thank me for exposing him to yet more fans tonight. However, we’re suddenly plunged into shadow thanks to what I can only imagine is a lunar eclipse.
‘Sophie?’
I turn to see Akoni stood right behind me. The other mums have their mouths hanging open.
‘Hi!’ I say, standing up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. We’ve only had Zoom chats up unto this point. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘It’s nice to meet you in real life. Come join us?’
‘That’s really kind but we’re having a parents’ night out.’
‘Everyone’s welcome,’ he says, and Tally is up and out of her seat faster than you can say ‘follower growth’.
Things are a bit of a blur after that. Tally is so thrilled with me that she keeps throwing a sequinned arm around my shoulder and telling me how great I am. ‘Loving your connections, Sophie!’ I’m embarrassingly pleased. Feeling like a valued member of the mum group is what I’ve wanted for ages after all, even though they are a … unique bunch.
Akoni is being very gallant in posing for a constant stream of photos with our favourite mumfluencer and Tally is so chuffed she’s got one up on Mama in Pearls that she’s ordered a magnum of champagne for the group.
Meanwhile Joe has developed a man crush.
‘I bloody love you, mate,’ he tells Akoni after his third or fourth drink. He seems to be taking Frankie’s vow to ‘get lit’ very seriously tonight.
In any event it seems that the feeling is mutual.
‘Man, you too. And seriously, if you do want to come on a hike with me and the lads …’ Akoni says.
‘Hike,’ Joe guffaws, and at this point I realise he’s quite tipsy. ‘In Ireland we call it a walk.’
Akoni thinks on this, before pulling Joe in for a hug. ‘You handsome bastard,’ he tells him and I’m left wondering, not for the first time, what a strange bunch men are. The boys are entangled in a snuggle and as the bromance continues I turn my attention to Celeste. She isn’t a big fan of places like this. She prefers ‘intimate settings’ where vintage wines and good conversation flow, she says. She’s clutching her Chanel handbag against her body like a disapproving matron.
‘I just don’t know if this is the kind of place I should be seen,’ she frets.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Olivia replies, ‘it’s not like there were photographers on the door. I don’t think anyone was tipped off that we might have a rugby superstar and half the Bath team in our midst.’
‘But Tally’s been filming the entire thing all night,’ Celeste says. ‘Her followers must have seen me in the footage. I can practically see the Daily Mail headlines now – “MP’S WIFE PARTIES WITH RUGBY PLAYERS ON A SCHOOL NIGHT”.’
‘And wozz wrong with that?’ Frankie hiccups.
‘Well, nothing really. Nanny’s there to tuck the children up, of course. It’s just the optics, that’s all, and I swear I saw some sort of drugs deal going on in the toilets earlier.’
‘Really?’ Frankie looks hopefully towards the loos.
‘Douglas won’t be pleased,’ Celeste despairs. ‘I think I’m going to have to go.’
‘But we’re having so much fun,’ protests Joe, who has now ordered a punchbowl for the group, spiked with boozy fruit and colourful straws. He takes a long sip, shudders, and then grabs my hand and pulls us both up to dance. A thrilled Akoni follows suit and soon we’re shimmying around next to the DJ who’s just started playing old-school house music on the terrace.
Joe beams at me. ‘It’s like being in Ibiza!’ he shouts above the din. ‘Not that I’ve been. All of my school friends went to Ayia Napa after A Levels but I decided to do a literary tour of the north of England instead. It was pretty dope.’
‘Pretty dope?’ I snort. ‘I think you’re a bit too thirtysomething to get away with saying that, Joe.’
‘Sophie! No, no, no! We can’t criticise Joe! He’s a legend,’ Akoni says, mid-dance moves.
