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‘There is a queue. Given how drunk the groom is, I anticipate a half-hour waiting time for that. Don’t worry, I will pass on your good wishes,’ she tells me.
‘Well then, thank you for having me here and this whole day, it’s been such a wonderful experience.’
‘You are very welcome. Maybe one day Frank can invite you round for some lunch.’
‘Is Frank cooking?’
‘Obviously not,’ she laughs. ‘It would be good to get to know his friend more though.’
I smile. I hope she cooks Singaporean food like the stuff I’ve sampled today. Then I’ll be there with bellson. I don’t quite know what this is, whether we’ve bonded or made a silent pact of respect for each other but I think she gets me at least. I know this as she beckons me to stand and puts her arms out for a hug. It’s not a natural position for her and her arms are not quite wrapped around me, but it’s a start.
‘Maggie,’ she says, still in hold. ‘Are you wearing two coats? Isn’t that the coat you bought for Frank? I like it. It’s very smart,’ she tells me.
I nod. I hope she doesn’t ask to look in the pockets because I found three used tissues, a train ticket and a condom (in its wrapper, thank god). The plan is to dry-clean it and return it to that café opposite the church. ‘It’s very warm.’
‘Where did you buy it?’
I smile, one more lie can’t hurt. ‘John Lewis.’
TWELVE
I don’t know what to do when I leave the hotel that night. As it’s Christmas and a Saturday, it’s murder getting an Uber or flagging down a black cab so I leave the hotel and start walking. I can always jump on the Tube or a bus and make it up as I go along. I’m resourceful like that and even though I look broader than usual, having two coats is a good thing; I can take on the Arctic like this. There is something lovely about weaving through the Strand and parts of Covent Garden this time of night though, and at this time of year. Throngs of theatregoers are pouring out of buildings, partygoers are headed merrily to the next pub, restaurants are full and thriving. Everyone accessorises for the season with either antlers, sequins or Santa hats, the faint melodies of Christmas music tripping down the streets and across the river. And as always, the glow of this wonderful city beams from every lamppost, fairy light and window. We’re all too merry, too joyful to feel the cold now. Christmas is just around the corner and we can’t bloody wait. I look down at my phone again to see if I can get any more luck with an Uber and notice a message sitting there, unread.
How’s it all going? Please tell Frank I’m sorry about the eyebrow thing again.
I smile and dial the sender.
‘Hello? Maggie?’ a bleary voice replies.
‘Oh dear, Leo. I hope you’re happy with yourself.’
‘What’s happened?’ I say, hearing him shuffling in the background. ‘Is Frank OK?’
‘Banned from all the family photos for his carpaccio eyebrows. One waiter was so shocked to see him, he dropped a whole tray of champagne. He had to sit on a table on his own as no one could bear to look at him.’ I love how I can play these things so straight.
‘You’re not funny,’ he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
I come to a crossing and wait for the lights to change, standing outside a confection shop calledLe Manger, with its frosted windows and white boxes tied with gold ribbons.
‘I am. None of you lads have truly realised my comic genius yet, that’s all. It’s been a lovely day. I put concealer on Frank to hide the eyebrow disaster. His family are just as horrific as we’d guessed though.’
‘Did you help him with that?’ he asks.
‘To a point. Frank lied to them and told him I was his girlfriend so I played along.’
‘How did that pan out? Did you have to snog Frank?’ he asks uncertainly.
‘Urgh, no. I linked arms with him occasionally and…bigged him up, shall we say?’ I smile to myself without giving too much away, skipping across the street as the lights change colour. It’s a clear night, my toes may not forgive me this, but I need to get to somewhere on the Central Line so I can attempt to get closer to home. I notice a taxi whizz past with its light on and put my arm out. The driver shakes his head at me. ‘Damn.’
‘Damn because you wanted to snog Frank?’ Leo says on the other end of the phone.
‘No, damn because it’s murder trying to get a taxi tonight,’ I tell him.
‘You’ve left the wedding?’ he asks me. ‘Are you on your own? You OK?’
‘I’m good. It was time to leave,’ I tell him, grateful for the concern. ‘But I’m going to have a stroll through London, hopefully jump on a Tube. Take it all in.’
I hear him laughing under his breath. ‘I used to do that when I first came to London.’
