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I don’t think I’m even that merry. The seven-course dinner seemed to absorb all the alcohol and the bitter night air of this rooftop terrace also seems to take the edge off. Whereas before the cold seemed to be felt in my very bones, I am now filled to the brim with scallops, lobster noodles and the crispiest roast pork – I may continue to dream about it all forever. It sits in my soul as happiness. The cold can no longer take me. I mean, it can’t because I am also wearing two coats. Frank has gone back to his reliable and much warmer puffer jacket so I am in both wool coats.
‘Yam fucking seng,’ Frank whispers with quiet satisfaction, and we sit there taking in the wonderfully festive ambience of this rooftop, the fairy lights, the London skyline sketchedagainst the night sky, the thrum of a heavy disco beat in the background.
‘You were an excellent bridesmaid and a very good fake girlfriend. Thank you,’ he says as we sit on this bench dissecting events.
I pretend to bow dramatically. ‘I walked in an incredibly straight line. Did you also see how I chatted to that aunty of yours and pretended I was interested in her sciatica?’ I ask him. ‘I recommended acupuncture, you know. I may have very well cured her.’ He nods, laughing. ‘I have a question, are they seriously all your aunties?’
‘Oh no, it’s used as a term of respect to anyone a bit older. You treat everyone like family to the point that you lose track of who you’re actually related to.’
I smile to think of the similarities with Gemma and her kids.
‘I’m sorry I was not a great fake boyfriend. I was running around a lot today. I hope you didn’t feel abandoned.’
I shake my head at him, grinning. That was not the point of today. I didn’t need to be looked after and I certainly didn’t want to give Frank the wrong impression either. I care for him deeply as a human and friend and I think he’s great, but just not like that.
‘Supposing the shoe was on the other foot and you had to create a back story for me. What would you have said?’ he asks, jokingly.
‘Oooh, I like this game,’ I say sitting up. ‘I’d have said, this is Frank. He got a first from Imperial, because that’s true. He’s a grand chess master, can identify every world flag, speaks Hungarian, Dutch and Gaelic and is a huge fan of David Attenborough.’
‘Attenborough?’
‘Yes, you’re a big supporter of conservation, and the gravitas in his voice helps you relax.’
He laughs. ‘Bravo, I like that. But seriously, thank you for all you did today.’
‘Frank, I had like a Michelin-star style meal. I’m good,’ I tell him patting my belly, happily.
‘Was some of it a bit weird?’ he asks.
‘Not at all, it was all bloody delicious. I was expecting soup, roast dinner and some sort of tart.’
‘That’s a terrible way to refer to my sister,’ he says.
I laugh, my breath misting the air before turning back to him. ‘You always spoke about your family but I never thought they were that bad. I’m sorry.’
He shrugs his shoulders. ‘I guess I’m almost used to it.’
‘And you never mentioned you’re loaded like this either.’
‘It’s not my money. I don’t really buy into it. I’m happy with my lot in life. I don’t need to be dripping in Gucci to show my worth.’
It’s such a wholesome statement that I smile and nudge him playfully on that bench.
‘I do wish they understood that worth. I don’t like how you’re the butt of their jokes.’
He looks down at the floor, dolefully. ‘Oh, there is love there, somewhere. I think at times it’s well-meaning but at the end of the day, you can’t choose your family.’ I put an arm around him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he leans his head against mine. ‘Actually, no. You can. You, Leo and Jasper are the next best thing I have to it. I guess that balances it all out on the bad days,’ he jokes.
He just said that, didn’t he? He used the f-word to describe our work unit and once again, a tiny crack forms on the surface of my conscience. I hate the fact that I’ve been asked to break up our wonderful gang, and for a moment a wave of pure rage at HR fills my stomach with bilious anger.
‘Just promise me that you know how great you are, yeah?’ I say.
He nods, smiling.
‘You know who also thinks you’re kinda great?’ I mention.
‘My aunty Suzette? She keeps my graduation photo on her wall.’
‘Norah,’ I tell him, still confused why he hasn’t twigged that much yet.
