‘You’re actually suggesting that Sasha should take laxatives three days before her wedding? Strong enough ones to make her lose actual noticeable amounts of weight?’ Evie said. ‘What if they work too well? What if they keep on working? What if they’re still working on Saturday?During her wedding? Also, I’m pretty sure it’s not, like, medically advisable to use laxatives for weight-loss purposes? If anything, maybe just a strict diet for three days. But wouldn’t it be alotbetter to just let it out a bitnow?’
Tiff shook her head again. ‘Laxatives,’ she said.
‘Let’s go.’ Sasha pulled on Evie’s sleeve.
‘Could we maybe reconvene on Friday morning, Tiff, and if necessary let the seams out a tiny bit?’ Evie said.
‘There won’t be time then.’
‘Well, let’s start now then,’ Evie said.
‘Laxatives,’ Tiff said.
‘Let’s go,’ Sasha said again.
‘I’m going to get laxatives,’ Sasha said the second they’d closed the boutique door behind them.
‘No, Sash, you can’t,’ Evie said. ‘Honestly, I do think Tiff’s lovely—’ she wasn’t; she was a dragon in fluffy-wedding-boutique-owner clothing ‘—but I also think she’s gone mad in this instance. It’s like she’s promoting eating disorders. It’s a ridiculous suggestion. Andwhat ifyou’re stillgoing, post-laxatives,on Saturday? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘I can and I’m going to.’ Normally, Sasha was one of the most reasonable people Evie had ever met, just one of the reasons that Evie loved her. ‘Oh myGod, Evie, this is adisaster.’
Evie pulled her into a hug. ‘Listen. It’s going to be okay.’
‘My dress is too small. My beautiful, perfect wedding dress is too small. And the wedding is in two days and twenty-two hours’ time.How is that going to be okay? I’m getting laxatives.’
‘I think we should go back in and insist that Tiff take it out slightly,’ Evie said.
‘No. She clearly doesn’t want to.’ Several tears rolled down Sasha’s cheeks. ‘Let’s go to the pharmacy.’
‘There must be someone else we can talk to about this,’ Evie said.
‘Youcan’ttell Angus. Or Mum. Or anyone.’ A lot of tears were pouring down Sasha’s cheeks now. ‘But maybe we should call Dan. He’s a doctor. He’ll know the best laxative to take.’
‘Will he?’
‘Yes, think about it,’ Sasha sobbed. ‘You probably get severely constipated people in A&E all the time. Let’s call him. Could you maybe ask him for me?’
Evie really didn’t want to speak to Dan because of their argument after the quiz night but she obviously couldn’t let her best friend down in her hour of need. And, also, this was a crisis, and Dan was good in crises, and hopefully he’d talk Sasha out of the laxative idea and into the getting-extremely-firm-with-Tiff-and-letting-the-dress-out idea.
She took her phone out. He didn’t pick up. Which felt like a bit of a relief, even though she could do with some anti-laxative backup.
‘Hi, Dan,’ she said into the phone. ‘It’s Evie. Sasha has a wedding dress emergency and she wanted to ask your advice about laxatives.’
They were in a queue in Boots five minutes later, waiting to talk to the pharmacist about laxatives, when Dan called back. Evie stared at the phone for a few moments, feeling her shoulders tense, and then picked up.
‘Evie. Hi. Sorry I couldn’t take your call immediately; I’m at work. What’s the emergency?’ Evie relaxed a little. There was something very comforting – as well as sexy, no, ignore that – about Dan’s voice, and clearly they didn’t need to mention anything personal.
‘Basically, Sasha’s wedding dress is a little tighter than expected…’
‘Because I’m too fat,’ Sasha said.
‘Sasha looks gorgeous as always,’ Evie said, ‘but the dress is a bit small, and the seamstress is suggesting that Sasha take laxatives so that she can get into it, and Sasha thought that you might have some useful advice, being a doctor.’
‘What?’ Dan said.
‘I’m not joking.’
‘That’s insane. No-one should be taking laxatives for dieting purposes. She could easily ruin her wedding day and her honeymoon. It’s a ridiculous suggestion.’ Hooray. ‘Can’t they change the dress?’
