‘That’s so cute.’ I kiss him, to pretend that it’s better. I should tell him now. Before we get off the train. I don’t want to be screamed at in front of Chrissy’s wedding guests. But his lips are so warm, and the way he hugs me …
We pull into the suburban station and I feel sorry for everyone who has to live here. Maybe it’s just the rain and greyness, but the town lacks anything that makes anywhere something. There’s just a paved shopping precinct showcasing the most basic selection of high-street stores. Chrissy always told me this part of Surrey was the most sterile place in the universe to grow up, and I’m now inclined to believe her. Joshua and I run to the taxi queue to make sure we’re at the front, both of us ducking under my umbrella, and ask to be taken to St Luke’s.
‘I really don’t know anyone,’ I tell him as we’re pulling into the sodden car park. ‘I hope you don’t get bored.’
‘It’s fine. I love singing hymns. They better have “Jerusalem”. I used to go to church all the time as a kid. That was always my favourite.’
I glance at him as we pay the cab and dash to the door. I didn’t know he grew up going to church. A further part of him is coloured in.
An usher hides under the heavy eaves of the church door, shivering slightly with a stack of papers. ‘Hi, welcome,’ he says, stepping out to greet us. ‘Here’s the order of service.’
‘Thank you.’ I take the tasteful, thick programme emblazoned with Chrissy and Mark’s names in calligraphy. ‘I still can’t believe this weather,’ I say to him.
‘I know.’ He peers out at the heavy sheet of rain from under the brim of his hat. ‘But we’ve organised a coach from the church car park to the reception, so we should all stay dry. And there’s a really lovely conservatory at the venue, too, so we’ll be nice and cosy.’
Joshua and I nod our thank yous and enter the flower-adorned church. Adults wearing fascinators and their best suits congregate at the back, shaking umbrellas, twisting to inspect how wet they are, women getting out compact mirrors to see what ghastly impact the moisture has had on their styled hair. Even with all the flowers strewn everywhere, you can’t quite shake off the smell of wet dog.
‘I didn’t know you were religious.’ I find a space near the back to shake out my own umbrella.
Joshua takes it from me to give it a more vigorous going over. ‘Only Easter and Christmas now,’ he says. ‘It keeps Mum happy. She’s half-Irish, a Catholic.’
‘You’re a Catholic!’ More parts of him are coloured in.
‘Yes, sort of. Not a very serious one though. As I said, Easter and Christmas. I don’t go to confession or anything.’
‘And you’ve definitely had sex before marriage.’
He drops his mouth. ‘I can’t believe you just said the word “sex” in church! I’m telling God.’
‘He already knows, mate. Omnipotent and all that.’ We both giggle.
‘Shall we find a pew near the back?’ I turn to move, but Joshua pulls me into a tight hug. He smells so good – aftershave mingling with dampness. I let myself close my eyes and enjoy the moment.
‘What was that for?’
‘Just because.’
Maybe I can tell him another day …
I mean, nobody really knows me here, and the hens were probably too drunk to remember my name. I certainly don’t remember most of theirs. And Chrissy will be too busy having the happiest day of her life to blow my cover. Maybe we can just have a nice day, a nice memory, a proper farewell to this weird situation I’ve created. Maybe, maybe …
We hold hands in our pew, waiting for everyone to dry off and settle down, ready for Chrissy’s big moment. I recognise a few of the hens and we nod to one another, but thankfully they don’t come over to say hi. People don’t tend to be friendly at weddings until after the ceremony. Mark’s at the front, chatting animatedly to all the people who approach him to pat him on the back and say good luck. He’s relaxed, smiling.
‘Do you know the groom?’ Joshua asks, his hand hot in mine.
‘Not really.’
‘Do you like him?’
I laugh.
‘That’s a no.’
‘No, he’s fine. Mark’s fine. I don’t really know him. He’s better than her ex.’
How many men win the love of women, simply by being better than her ex?