Chapter 9

NINE

‘Bride or groom?' I ask a small woman with a silver bob in a bouclé tweed red suit with fascinator and black wrap.

Her withered face looks up at me. ‘I'm the bride obviously. Who am I marrying again? Is he here yet?' I smile, hoping some form of dementia isn't at play here, but she smiles broadly at me. ‘Don't worry, I wouldn't have anyone in here. They wouldn't be able to keep up with me,' she says cackling. I like her energy, the sing-song timbre of her accent. I give her an order of service.

‘Oooh, Regina went with the expensive paper. So fancy,' she says, looking around the church.

Fancy doesn't even begin to cover it, this feels almost regal. The church inside is exquisite: dark wood pews, chequered floor, stone carvings and arches set below windows that let all that winter light filter in. Christmas trees decked in gold and red flank the altar and arrangements of amaryllis and trailing festive foliage, candles in storm lanterns and bright red Chinese lanterns take up every inch of space. I've never pictured my own wedding – it always feels like a long way away – but even then I don't think all this grandeur and attention would sit well with me .

‘Can I offer to show you to a seat?' I ask the elderly lady but a young woman rushes in behind her. ‘Po Po, I told you to walk carefully, it's slippery outside. I paid for the taxi and suddenly you were gone.' I'll assume they're related and watch as she threads an arm through hers. She looks at me and smiles. You see, this girl got it right. She didn't WhatsApp a mate and ask her if she had any red clothes. She's gone for midi length with sleeves and a bit of detail. Quite mortifyingly, Frank is convinced I am wearing exactly the same dress as eight other girls here today, so my coat and scarf stay firmly attached to me. I have no idea what I'm going to do later. I can't wear my coat all day. ‘You're Maggie,' the girl says.

I don't know if that's my cue to tell her about my cat. I look at her face, trying to recall her from the many family photos that Frank showed me. She's sweet, a flower hairclip sweeping her fringe back from her face. ‘I am. I'm sorry. Lots of new faces today. You are…'

‘I'm Norah. I'm a family friend of the bride. There's been a lot of talk about you. It's good to put a face to the name.' I try not to act too shocked as she leans into me. ‘One aunty had a bet going that you didn't exist.'

‘What?' I say, trying to laugh it off.

‘They thought Frank had got your photo off the internet.'

‘Well then, I hope that aunty lost big bucks. Can I offer you an order of service today?' I say, trying to change the subject and not land myself in too much hot water.

‘Yes, please. Where is Frank? I'd like to say hello,' she tells me.

I point towards the front of the church where he's doing as Leo suggested and walking another elderly woman to her seat. It's literally all he's done since coming here. He's put in a buttonhole, met relatives at the door, most of whom still refer to him as Francis and tell him he looks so grown up and tall now. Some even ask for his actual height which I now know is five foot ten. They speak to him in short bursts about what's he up to and why he isn't married yet and that's when I usually step forward to reveal myself and help Frank face all that judgement. Norah turns and looks delighted to see him at the front of the church, and I smile to see her run up to him and hug him. He's Frank so he doesn't quite know what to do with the contact but there's a light in his eyes that makes me think he's happy to see her too.

‘Margaret?' a voice suddenly says behind me. No one calls me that. Mainly because that's not my name. I turn tentatively, clutching on to my orders of service. The woman who stands before me is a vision in cherry red, a bright striking three-quarter length coat with a pillbox hat and matching shoes and purse. She stops for a moment to look me up and down as we stand at the back of the church, next to a charity box and the dim light of a metal frame of half-lit candles. Frank's famous mother, Regina.

‘Mrs San, it's lovely to finally meet you,' I say calmly. However this woman makes me feel anything but. I've never even met her but I feel her eyes piercing into my very soul. It's very humourless, like you don't have time to blink, let alone think. I think I understand a microgram of what Frank has to endure.

‘You may call me Regina,' she says, with a hand to the air like a religious leader.

‘Then please call me Maggie. My name isn't Margaret,' I say, knowing instantly I shouldn't have corrected her. I can sense what she's thinking. It's not your wedding. I'll call you what I want. I feel my mouth going intensely dry. ‘In that my grandmother was Margaret and I'm named after her but my parents kept me as Maggie so people wouldn't get confused.'

‘Oh, is she the Icelandic grandmother?' she asks me.

Shit. ‘No, that's the other one,' whose fake name I can't quite remember. ‘Who lives in Reykjavik.' And that is all I know about Iceland except for Vikings and volcanoes.

Regina nods her head at me. ‘Dear, why are you handing out orders of service? Is Francis shirking his responsibilities?' she says, looking out into the congregation for him. Her eyes fall on him still chatting to his friend, Norah. ‘Where on earth did he get that coat?'

Maybe now's not the time to tell her the kind lady in the café opposite found it in lost property. ‘It's fine. We had a steady flow of guests and I offered to help for a while. Doesn't the coat look nice?' I ask her.

‘It's preferable to what he was wearing before,' she says dismissively. She waves at someone behind me, mouthing out words and offering to catch up with that person later while I stand there in front of her. There is something extremely well-groomed about her from the hair to her complexion. She also smells extraordinary; it's Chanel No 5 for sure, which matches the handbag. ‘Well, it is lovely to meet you. It's a shame Frank thought he had to hide you from us. It would have been nice to have got to know you before today,' she says, chastisement in her tones. Well, that's because I've only officially been Frank's girlfriend for about an hour.

‘I do apologise. I think he didn't want to take the limelight away from Adele's special day. But it's an honour to be here, it really is. The church looks amazing and might I say, you also look lovely. You must be very proud.'

‘Of course. Adele deserves only the very best.'

She may as well have said she has a favourite child. I smile. I don't think I like her very much but with the day as it is, hopefully I won't have to come into contact with her too much.

‘MA!' a voice sounds from behind me and I turn to see Frank scampering towards us, looking quite flustered that he wasn't there to make this introduction .

‘Francis, you have the guests giving out the orders of service? What is this?'

She makes it sound like I'm either not worthy or that I'm doing a rubbish job.

‘I was helping Aunty Suzette to her seat and then I was catching up with Norah…' he explains.

She scowls to hear his explanations. ‘Where did you get that coat?'

‘I…um…' he hesitates, still flustered.

‘It was a gift from me,' I intervene. ‘For Christmas. It's proper wool.'

She gives a slight nod of the head and picks a bit of fluff off the lapels, straightening his buttonhole. I only ever hear about their relationship but even from this brief altercation, I get it. Frank only lived at home until about eighteen months ago but his mother is there a lot of the time, keeping an eye out, cooking his food, holding his hand. Some would say that's born out of love, others would say control. I guess I only worry about whether that makes Frank happy or not.

‘Well, I'm glad your skin looks like it's calmed down at least.'

I smile to myself knowing that was all my make-up skills. He just doesn't need to tell his mother he's wearing Touche éclat.

‘Please make sure people take their seats. I don't want people standing and when Aunty Loretta and Uncle Terry arrive…' she says, talking out of the corners of her mouth. ‘I've reserved them a seat to the back. There's a draught there and a column to block their view.'

I try to pretend I didn't hear that, wondering what that couple have done to deserve as much, but I won't pry.

‘Maggie,' she says turning to me. ‘That's a very popular brand of instant noodle in Singapore, you know?' Frank blushes to hear her derogatory tones, looking me in the eye .

‘You wait until you meet my brother, Milo,' I joke.

‘You have a brother?' Frank asks me.

‘It was me trying to make a joke,' I say sheepishly. I mean I didn't download any cat pictures when we were still in the café, but I did go on the internet and read about Singapore so I'd have something to chat about should I be sat next to some random relatives and want to contribute to their conversation. Singapore is one of three city states in the entire world, it has four official languages, home to the world's first night zoo and they're a little obsessed by a malted chocolate drink called Milo. As soon as he gets said joke, Frank giggles. His mother doesn't. She emits a sound like a very weak cough.

‘Well, I guess I will see you later…I am going to catch up with Uncle Thiam,' she tells us, not quite bidding us farewell but gesturing to people over our shoulders as she walks away. We both exhale deeply and Frank looks at me, almost apologetic.

‘I'm sorry…' he mumbles.

I smile at him broadly. I don't care that he's created this charade of me as his girlfriend now that I've met the reason why he had to lie. ‘Don't apologise for her. Why is she so angry? It's supposed to be a happy day.'

‘Oh, that's her default mode when I'm around,' he says laughing.

I try to laugh with him but feel infinitely sad that she makes him feel like this.

The last of the guests start trickling in and Frank goes to greet them while I cast my eye over the congregation. In the sea of faces and fascinators, I watch as Norah from before turns and seems to be tracking Frank. Her grandmother seems to make some sort of joke with her and she widens her eyes at her, fake slapping her shoulder. Frank returns to stand next to me as we peer out the back door to see a car pull up, filled to the brim with bridesmaids. Frank was right. They are indeed all wearing my dress. I maybe should have thought about that when Gemma told me that's how she wore it, but then, what are the chances? What are the chances indeed that I should even be standing here with my work colleague at this very wedding?

‘Where are you sitting?' I ask Frank.

He reaches into his pocket to obtain his laminated list. ‘The seven ushers and best man will walk down with the eight bridesmaids and then I'll sit up there somewhere. I've been paired with, oh, Andrea.'

‘Do we not like Andrea?'

‘She calls me Manky Frankie.'

‘Remind me to trip her up later,' I joke, looking over his shoulder at the list.

‘But before that I have to make sure the flower girls have their petals and bells.'

‘Bells?'

‘It's Christmas,' he says frantically. There have been other ushers here today but from what I can see they're just standing around, looking pretty, chatting and going out the back for cigarettes. Frank seems to have taken the lead, jogging around the church, chatting to people, organising the choir, distributing buttonholes. I've noticed this at least and, while you sense there's some pressure on his shoulders, you sense he wants to do this right, for his sister.

‘Frank, breathe,' I tell him, smiling. ‘Don't worry about me. I'll station myself at the back and find you later. Maybe at the reception, if not before. I know how crazy it can be with photos. One last thing, though. The girl from before, Norah. What's the deal there?'

He smiles at the mention of her name. ‘Oh, she's an old family friend. I've known her for years. We used to play together in her garden, go on holiday together and go on maths camps.'

‘Maths what?' I say, my eyebrows raised .

‘It was a holiday thing. She's been doing her masters in America and now she's working back in London. It's good to see her.'

‘Is she single?' I ask.

‘Yeah.'

‘Oh,' I say, nodding and hoping he might put two and two together. I mean, he went to maths camps. But it's Frank, maybe not. He's far too preoccupied by his duties today and continues to study his list. God, it even has scheduled toilet breaks. ‘Look, the bridesmaids are milling and getting into formation, you go. Do your bells and petals. I'll deal with the stragglers,' I say, taking his orders of service from him.

He nods, smiling. ‘Thank you again for being here,' he says, grabbing my hand. It's a rare moment of emotion from Frank so I take that hand and squeeze it back.

‘Good luck, Frank. You can do this,' I say giving him a gentle pat to the back.

‘Why do I need luck? It's just walking, right? Is there a special walk I need to do?'

‘No, but…come with me,' I tell him, laughing.

I take him to the back of the church into a sea of identical red dresses and gorgeous little children in white dresses with big red bows, taking my scarf off and loosening the buttons on my coat.

‘One together, two together…' I show him, his arm looped through mine. I watch him walk. It's not a natural movement but it'll get him down the aisle at least.

There's suddenly the sound of clapping and we all turn around to see an angry-looking man with a clipboard, dressed head to toe in black. He glares in my general direction. ‘Why have you still got a coat on?'

I look around. Who? Me?

‘Take it off! Take it off!' he shrieks.

‘Yeah, but…I'm not a…I'm…' I say, hesita ting. Out of nowhere, another person arrives to strip me of my coat, placing a bouquet in my hands. I stare at Frank in absolute panic, other bridesmaids around me looking supremely confused.

‘Seriously, she's just…' Frank says but there's no time. The doors to the church suddenly open and Frank and I see a church full of people, waiting. OK then. I guess I'm doing this. I cling on to Frank extra tightly as we walk down that aisle together, the groom squinting up ahead, wondering who I am. I'm so sorry. But then it's also then I notice a figure at the end of the aisle, in full-on glare mode. Regina San. Oh my days, that is not a good look.