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‘Well, I’m glad your skin looks like it’s calmed down at least.’
I smile to myself knowing that was all my make-up skills. He just doesn’t need to tell his mother he’s wearing Touche Éclat.
‘Please make sure people take their seats. I don’t want people standing and when Aunty Loretta and Uncle Terry arrive…’ she says, talking out of the corners of her mouth. ‘I’ve reserved them a seat to the back. There’s a draught there and a column to block their view.’
I try to pretend I didn’t hear that, wondering what that couple have done to deserve as much, but I won’t pry.
‘Maggie,’ she says turning to me. ‘That’s a very popular brand of instant noodle in Singapore, you know?’ Frank blushes to hear her derogatory tones, looking me in the eye.
‘You wait until you meet my brother, Milo,’ I joke.
‘You have a brother?’ Frank asks me.
‘It was me trying to make a joke,’ I say sheepishly. I mean I didn’t download any cat pictures when we were still in the café, but I did go on the internet and read about Singapore so I’d have something to chat about should I be sat next to some random relatives and want to contribute to their conversation. Singapore is one of three city states in the entire world, it has four official languages, home to the world’s first night zoo and they’re a little obsessed by a malted chocolate drink called Milo. As soon as he gets said joke, Frank giggles. His mother doesn’t. She emits a sound like a very weak cough.
‘Well, I guess I will see you later…I am going to catch up with Uncle Thiam,’ she tells us, not quite bidding us farewell but gesturing to people over our shoulders as she walks away. We both exhale deeply and Frank looks at me, almost apologetic.
‘I’m sorry…’ he mumbles.
I smile at him broadly. I don’t care that he’s created this charade of me as his girlfriend now that I’ve met the reason why he had to lie. ‘Don’t apologise for her. Why is she so angry? It’s supposed to be a happy day.’
‘Oh, that’s her default mode when I’m around,’ he says laughing.
I try to laugh with him but feel infinitely sad that she makes him feel like this.
The last of the guests start trickling in and Frank goes to greet them while I cast my eye over the congregation. In the sea of faces and fascinators, I watch as Norah from before turns and seems to be tracking Frank. Her grandmother seems to make some sort of joke with her and she widens her eyes at her, fake slapping her shoulder. Frank returns to stand next to me as we peer out the back door to see a car pull up, filled to the brim with bridesmaids. Frank was right. They are indeed all wearingmy dress. I maybe should have thought about that when Gemma told me that’s how she wore it, but then, what are the chances? What are the chances indeed that I should even be standing here with my work colleague at this very wedding?
‘Where are you sitting?’ I ask Frank.
He reaches into his pocket to obtain his laminated list. ‘The seven ushers and best man will walk down with the eight bridesmaids and then I’ll sit up there somewhere. I’ve been paired with, oh, Andrea.’
‘Do we not like Andrea?’
‘She calls me Manky Frankie.’
‘Remind me to trip her up later,’ I joke, looking over his shoulder at the list.
‘But before that I have to make sure the flower girls have their petals and bells.’
‘Bells?’
‘It’s Christmas,’ he says frantically. There have been other ushers here today but from what I can see they’re just standing around, looking pretty, chatting and going out the back for cigarettes. Frank seems to have taken the lead, jogging around the church, chatting to people, organising the choir, distributing buttonholes. I’ve noticed this at least and, while you sense there’s some pressure on his shoulders, you sense he wants to do this right, for his sister.
‘Frank, breathe,’ I tell him, smiling. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll station myself at the back and find you later. Maybe at the reception, if not before. I know how crazy it can be with photos. One last thing, though. The girl from before, Norah. What’s the deal there?’
He smiles at the mention of her name. ‘Oh, she’s an old family friend. I’ve known her for years. We used to play together in her garden, go on holiday together and go on maths camps.’
‘Maths what?’ I say, my eyebrows raised.
‘It was a holiday thing. She’s been doing her masters in America and now she’s working back in London. It’s good to see her.’
‘Is she single?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh,’ I say, nodding and hoping he might put two and two together. I mean, he went to maths camps. But it’s Frank, maybe not. He’s far too preoccupied by his duties today and continues to study his list. God, it even has scheduled toilet breaks. ‘Look, the bridesmaids are milling and getting into formation, you go. Do your bells and petals. I’ll deal with the stragglers,’ I say, taking his orders of service from him.
He nods, smiling. ‘Thank you again for being here,’ he says, grabbing my hand. It’s a rare moment of emotion from Frank so I take that hand and squeeze it back.
