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I try to act shocked but know I probably would have done the same.
He frowns. ‘Your nose needs hair, you know. It’s the body’s natural filter to catch dirt and help with your senses. I can’t smell anything now. London could be on fucking fire and I wouldn’t be able to smell a thing,’ he says.
I wince to hear him swearing because he rarely does. ‘So the eyebrows…?’ I ask him.
‘By the time they got to the eyebrows, I was beginning to show resistance and the big Turkish man started shouting at me, telling me I was scaring the customers and that I was weak, so Leo had to come and hold me down.’
‘Oh, Frank,’ I say, trying to be sympathetic but underneath it all, imagining that situation and trying not to cackle with laughter.
‘And basically, I think my skin is still angry about it all. Does it look awful? My mother hasn’t stopped going on about it. She’s already asked the photographer if he can Photoshop my face.’
I don’t know what the word is for the situation between Frank’s eyebrows but the best description is raw, raw like sashimi. I look at it closely, wincing on his behalf. ‘Good date night, then?’
‘We ended up eating our pizza in silence. I say silence, Jasper joined us and then pointed and laughed. Leo did redeem himself though. He went to Boots and bought me some balm stuff. It has calendula in it,’ he tells me, pulling the tube out of his pocket to show me.
‘Nappy rash cream,’ I tell him. ‘That also helps.’
‘Is that a joke?’ he asks me, putting his teaspoon into the big pile of chocolate flakes and whipped cream in front of him.
‘No, it isn’t.’ I put a reassuring hand to his back and thenstart to rifle through my handbag. ‘Look, maybe I can help you save it too. I have some good concealer and powder in here, I could try and cover the irritation.’
‘You want me to wear make-up? I don’t see how that will help.’ Frank looks horrified.
‘It’s not lipstick and mascara, it’ll blend in your skin tones, no one will notice it,’ I tell him, rubbing a bit of concealer on to the back of my hand to show him. ‘I mean, we have some time before the wedding, yes? What else do you need to do? Can I help with anything? Are you the only one here?’
He nods, retrieving a laminated list out of his pocket. ‘They sent me ahead. We had to rent some space heaters last minute so I had to accept the delivery. Orders of service are in my backpack, I have sweets to give out to kids and I need to also put out tissues because apparently, people may cry today.’
Not Frank though, obviously. Only when he has to have body hair removed.
‘Also…’ he says, looking thoughtfully out of the window. ‘And don’t hate me because of this.’
I side-eye him when he says this. These are the words Frank uses to preface something bad happening at work. Like the time he blew up a monitor trying to pimp it out with LEDs.
‘I should have said something before. But I may have told my family a few white lies about you.’
‘Lies?’ I say, cocking my head to one side, trying to quell the panic.
‘So I told them the bare facts. You went to Cambridge and got a first in computer science.’
‘Information I always lead with when introducing myself, but yes, go on,’ I say sarcastically.
He cringes nervously. ‘I may have said we’re going out, that you’re my girlfriend.’
‘FRANK!’ I shriek, hoping he’s not too offended by my response. ‘I’m not a good liar or actor, I’m not sure this is a good idea.’ I say, a little too much horror showing in my face.
‘God no, please don’t do that. Just do stuff that girlfriends do,’ he says, moving his hands around.
‘Like what? Kiss you?’ I ask him. He recoils in horror. I try not to take offence. ‘What’s our back story? I can’t believe you’ve given me an hour and a half to prepare for this.’
‘I told everyone we work in the same office. We’ve been going out for about three months. You can speak four different languages, like playing tennis and are an excellent cook. Do you have a cat?’
‘No! Tennis and cooking? Seriously? I can just about boil pasta!’
‘Well, my mother likes people with cats so I told her you have a cat. His name is Archimedes.’
I sit there open-mouthed in shock, taking in the details of my fake personality. ‘What if they ask about this cat?’
‘Then say he’s tabby and fluffy and likes tuna. Download a random cat picture off the internet? It’s fine, it’s not like you’ll have to whip up a cake or show off your backhand at the wedding,’ Frank says, trying to placate me.
