of his new suit he put the ring in and he’s muttering ‘shit’. The Registrar’s displeasure turns to an understanding smile. Got it! – right-hand pocket of his new trousers, same place he keeps his locker key while he’s beating me at badminton, yeah.
They’re exchanging rings. Prue moves to Florence’s left side. The Registrar is adding her very personal well-wishes. She adds them twenty times a day. Jingle bells are ringing out the glad news of their joining. A second door opens before us. We’re done.
A corridor to our left, another to our right. We are descending the stairwell to the third floor, everyone at a gallop except Florence who is hanging back. Has she changed her mind? The chartered accountants’ receptionist grins at our approach.
‘I looked it up,’ she says proudly. ‘It’s got red roofs. Tallinn has.’
‘It has indeed, and Mr Bailey assured me we were welcome to use the footbridge any time,’ I tell her.
‘No problem,’ she sings, and presses a yellow button at her side. The electric doors judder and swing slowly apart, and as slowly close behind us.
‘Where are we going?’ Ed asks.
‘Short-cut, dear,’ says Prue as we scamper across the Venice-style footbridge with Prue leading and cars passing beneath us.
I’m jogging ahead down the lighthouse stairwell, two steps at a time. Ed and Florence are level behind me, Prue is bringing up the tail. But what I still don’t know as we enter the underground car park is whether Percy’s people are coming after us, or is it just the clatter of our footsteps following us down? The hire car is a black hybrid VW Golf. Prue parked it here an hour ago. She has unlocked it and is sitting in the driver’s seat. I am holding the back door open for the bride and groom.
‘Come on, Ed dear. Surprise,’ says Prue smartly.
Ed is uncertain, looks at Florence. Florence skips past me on to the back seat and slaps the empty place beside her.
‘Come on, husband. Don’t spoil it. We’re off.’
Ed clambers in beside her, I into the front passenger seat. Ed is sitting sideways with his long legs. Prue touches the central locking, drives us as far as the exit and feeds her parking ticket into the machine. The boom shudders upwards. The wing mirrors are so far clear: no car, no motorbike. But none of that means much if Percy’s people have marked Ed’s shoes, or his new suit, or whatever else they mark.
Prue has pre-entered London City Airport into the satnav and it’s showing as our destination. Damn. Should have thought of it. Didn’t. Florence and Ed are busy necking, but it’s not long before Ed cranes forward and stares at the satnav, then back at Florence:
‘What goes on?’ he asks. And when nobody answers: ‘What’s up, Flo? Tell me. Don’t muck me about. I don’t want you to.’
‘We’re going abroad,’ she says.
‘We can’t. We haven’t got any luggage. What about all the people we’ve asked to the pub? We haven’t got our bloody passports. It’s crazy.’
‘I’ve got our passports. We’ll get luggage later. Buy some.’
‘What with?’
‘Nat and Prue have given us some money.’
‘Why?’
Then each with his own silence: Prue beside me, Ed and Florence in the mirror, sitting wide apart and staring at each other.
‘Because they know, Ed,’ Florence replies at last.
‘Know what?’ Ed demands.
And again we’re just driving along.
‘They know you did what your conscience told you to do,’ she says. ‘They caught you at it and they’re pissed off.’
‘They who?’ Ed demands.
‘Your own Service. And Nat’s.’
‘Nat’s Service? Nat hasn’t got a Service. He’s Nat.’
‘Your sister Service. He’s one of them. It’s not his fault. So you and me are going abroad for a bit with Nat and Prue’s help. Otherwise it’s jail for both of us.’
‘Is that true about you, Nat?’ Ed asks.
‘I’m afraid it is, Ed,’ I reply.
*
After that, everything went like a dream. Operationally, about as sweet an exfiltration as you could wish for. I’d done a few in my time, just never from my own country. No ructions when Prue bought last-minute Club Class tickets to Vienna using her own credit card. No calling of names over loudspeakers at check-in. No come-this-way-please as Prue and I wave the happy couple through the departure gate into Security. True, they didn’t wave back, but then they’d only been married a couple of hours.
True, from the moment Florence blew my cover, Ed didn’t speak to me, even to say goodbye. He was fine with Prue, muttered ‘Cheers, Prue’ and even managed to plant a peck on her cheek. But when my turn came round, he just peered at me through his big spectacles, then looked away as if he’d seen more than he could take. I had wanted to tell him I was a decent man, but it was too late.