Page 82 of Too Busy for Love

‘Have you got enough time after the breakfast service to prep?’

‘Relax. We prepped as much as we could yesterday, so hopefully there isn’t that much to do.’

‘You sound so calm. Aren’t you nervous at all?’

‘Of course I’m nervous! I want it to go well just as much as you do.’

‘It’s funny,’ I muse as I sit up and take a sip of my tea. ‘Do you remember talking about our dreams when we were in London? Who’d have thought that we’d end up here?’

‘Here is better than my dreams,’ he says.

‘You sound very sure.’

‘I am.’ He leans forward and kisses me. ‘My original dream didn’t have you in it. What about you? Still hankering after that country-house hotel?’

‘Nah. This is better.’

‘Because it has me in it?’ he prompts.

‘You’re incidental,’ I tell him with a laugh. ‘It’s Margate I’ve fallen in love with.’

‘Ouch,’ he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

‘Of course it’s better because you’re in it,’ I tell him. ‘I love you. You know that.’

‘It never hurts to hear it again.’

When the guests start to file into the lobby a little after half-past three, my nerves dissipate instantly as I swing into action, issuing room keys, relieving people of their luggage and supervising the distribution of drinks and canapés. Ella and Noah are the last to arrive; she looks absolutely radiant in a simple but elegant wedding dress that flatters her figure beautifully, although I can’t help wondering with a smile whether she’s wearing her steel-toe-capped builder’s boots underneath it. Seeing Noah in a suit is also a surprise, although not as much as seeing John in one. He doesn’t look entirely comfortable in it and keeps tugging at the collar of his white shirt. The reason quickly becomes obvious; the way his neck is spilling over the top of it means it must be at least one size too small.

‘Is it a bit tight?’ I murmur as I hand over their room key.

‘Fucking strangling me, Flops,’ he murmurs back.

‘I reckon, now that the service and photos are done, you could undo the top button of your shirt,’ I tell him. ‘You’d be a lot more comfortable.’

‘That might be true, but that doesn’t solve the problem with the ones over my stomach,’ he complains. ‘I thought they were going to ping off when I was sitting down in the church earlier. I must have put a bit of weight on since the last time I wore this shirt. How I’m going to make it through the wedding breakfast without accidentally exposing myself is anyone’s guess.’

‘I said you should have tried it on before today, didn’t I?’ his wife scolds mildly. ‘I could have got you another one.’

‘Yeah, well,’ he replies. ‘There’s nothing that can be done about it now.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ I offer.

‘Are you going to tell me you’ve got a stash of white shirts hidden away somewhere?’ he asks.

‘No. But part of my job is knowing how to solve problems like this. Come with me.’

I lead him into the office behind the reception desk and, after a quick internet search and a couple of calls, a fresh shirt in a larger size is making its way in a taxi from one of the menswear shops in town. When it arrives, a few minutes later, I leave him in peace to get changed and I’m relieved when he reappears with a smile on his face.

‘Better?’ I ask.

‘Much. I tell you what. You’re quite good at this hospitality gig, Flops.’

‘Praise indeed.’ I laugh. ‘Now, go and have fun.’

After a while, the guests are called into the dining room to take their places and await the bride and groom. The lobby empties swiftly and soon it’s just Ella, Noah and me left in there.

‘Thank you again for this,’ Ella says. ‘I can’t believe Atkinsons are picking up the tab either.’

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