‘What film was it?’ he asked.
‘Ghostbusters. The groom picked all the films from when they’d been dating but he did too good a job.’
‘I’d give my right arm to sit in the dark and watch Ghostbusters right now,’ he said, sighing. His skin was quite pale and his eyes were quite dark and he really was awfully tall. At least a foot and a half taller than me. Teetering around too tall territory. Just the right height if you wanted something down from the loft, but a nightmare to sit next to if you were flying economy.
‘They had ice cream and beer as well,’ I added, trying not to look at his visible ankles.
‘I might never have left.’ He paused for a moment and then smiled.
He was nice looking when he smiled, a bit less gawky and angular, a realization that only made me feel all the more uncomfortable. I felt myself breathe in slightly and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.
‘Maybe my fiancée will let me have one at my wedding.’
Stray strands of hair be damned and belly be bloated.
‘And these bloody penguin suits,’ he said, ignoring me and pulling at his stiff collar. ‘If I took my tie off, I’d look like one of you.’
‘One of you?’ I asked. What the cocking cock was that supposed to mean?
‘Oh. Oh!’ he said, hands stuck midair as though he were showing me he had caught a fish thiiiiis big. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that, you know, I’m dressed like a waiter.’
As soon as he’d said it, I could tell he wanted to take it back. Unfortunately for him, I was not in the mood to let anyone off with anything.
‘And what’s wrong with being a waiter?’ I asked.
He looked even paler than he had two minutes before. ‘Nothing. But I’m a lawyer.’
He couldn’t have been anything else in the world, could he? He had to be a lawyer.
‘And you think being a lawyer is better than being a waiter?’
‘I was just trying to say how funny it is that we’re both wearing black and white, when I’m at the wedding and you’re just a waitress,’ he said.
And there it was. The shovel hit the soil and suddenly he was tit-deep in a hole he couldn’t possibly dig himself out of. Just a waitress? Just a waitress?
‘Not that I think being a lawyer is better than being a waitress,’ he said, the panic setting in. ‘I think it’s brilliant that you’re a waitress.’
I was so angry, I was very nearly ready to be slightly rude.
‘Is it?’
No one had ever made those two syllables sound like such a threat.
He was flustered. I was angry. It was a perfect British combination. I think we both knew it was time for him to give up and walk away, but I knew he wasn’t going to: lawyers never could.
‘Absolutely. I look like a penguin.’ The usher pressed his arms against his side and kicked his legs out. He looked so ridiculous that I almost softened. ‘I think you’re more of a panda.’
And then I stopped almost smiling.
‘How come you’re a penguin and I’m a panda?’ I asked, breathing in again. Had he just called me fat? ‘Because I’m a woman?’
‘Pandas are good!’ he replied, exasperated. ‘Pandas are better than penguins!’
‘Maddie?’ Shona’s voice cut through the darkness.
‘Christ.’ I pulled my cigarette back out, broke off the filter and ground it against the wall before Shona could bust me. ‘Whatever.’
‘Pandas are better than penguins,’ he said in a sulky voice. ‘So much better. Everyone knows that.’
I shook my head and turned on my heel, striding back towards the kitchen as quickly as my ugly practical shoes would carry me.
Wanker.
‘MADDIE!’
‘I’m here!’ I picked up pace and ran into the kitchen, to find my boss waiting for me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. She was sitting on a stool, leaning her elbows on the big stainless-steel island in the middle of the kitchen. ‘Everything’s fine. Do you want a drink?’
Sometimes this happens. Sometimes my boss Shona forgets she’s a she-beast who would be better occupied guarding the gates of hell and likes to pretend we’re friends. This is how you know she’s a properly evil mental case. The truly psychotic are not consistent.
‘Go on, then,’ I said. I didn’t know if it was a trap or not, but I am not above taking a free drink when it’s offered.
She poured two glasses of champagne into water glasses and pushed one towards with me something resembling a smile. I took it, peeking at the phone in my pocket while she chugged. Shona might tolerate drinking and smoking on the job, but carrying your phone while you were waitressing? She’d replace my champagne with lighter fluid, spark it up and still make me drink it. There was a message from Sarah but it was going to have to wait two minutes until I could escape.
Looking up at my boss, I saw that she was already three-quarters of the way through her Veuve Clicquot. Shona was tall and thin with white-blonde hair that sometimes looked fantastic and sometimes looked as though she needed to shave it off and start again. Today fell somewhere between the two.
‘I don’t think we’re going to need you to serve for the late shift,’ she said, refilling her glass and not refilling mine. ‘I was going to send a couple of the girls home, but why don’t you just knock off early instead.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, utterly relieved.
‘I don’t mean leave,’ she expanded. ‘I just mean you don’t have to waitress. I still need you here to make sure everything runs OK. I’m probably going to go home after this.’
Oh, Shona, you card. It was only ten and I knew full well that we had the venue booked until two a.m.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ I asked through gritted teeth.
‘Maddie, I’m exhausted,’ she announced, rubbing both of her hands over her face. ‘Ever since that slacker Victoria quit, I’ve been doing two people’s jobs. I need a bath, another seven drinks and an early night. You can handle this − I trust you.’
Fighting the urge to charge her with the carving knife resting on the butcher’s block to my left, I pasted on a smile. She was my boss, she was allowed to leave early. Even if I had arrived two hours before her, done all the prep and spent three hours serving at the reception while she sat on her arse in the kitchen drinking herself stupid.
‘Speaking of Victoria—’
‘The slacker.’ Shona nodded.
‘Such a slacker,’ I replied with far too much enthusiasm. ‘Can’t believe she just left like that.’
‘Standard,’ she replied. ‘She was crap anyway.’
For the record, Victoria is neither crap nor a slacker, she’s a very nice lady who happened to marry a man who used to work with us who Shona fancied. Probably best that they’ve both left now, for their own safety.
‘Actually, I meant to ask, is her job still going? Have we hired anyone yet?’