Page 35 of Five Gold Rings

I’m not even sure that term does this place justice. From the high ceilings and ornate décor, the tree laden in bows, lights and gifts, the animatronic Christmas scene, the counters selling truffles and high-end handbags, to the fancy luxurious leather sofas where people sit in sunglasses being charmed by the concierge, phones in hand waiting to hear news of the whereabouts of their private jets. I suspect the clientele of this place did not spend last night running around a giant supermarket filling their trolley with marked down mince pies.

‘Yep. Fancy pants all round,’ I say, not entirely convinced that I belong. We stand back as a man with a large luggage trolley stacked to the rafters with Louis Vuitton shopping bags swings past us. We both look around, silently acknowledging the grandeur but also to take in all the splendour, the man on the grand piano in the corner playing some classy Christmas songs. Hold up, is that a real reindeer? ‘Can you imagine ever getting married in a place like this?’ Joe continues, looking bemused by the excess of the place.

‘Well, you know me… I’m all about the bling,’ I reply. He laughs, as we walk past a counter where a box of truffles would cost you in the region of sixty pounds. ‘This isn’t me at all.’

‘What is you then?’ he enquires.

I’m silent for a moment. Is he talking about weddings or me? Because yes, I imagined marrying Chris. Three years into a relationship you do envisage the future, and I thought about our wedding, just not in a place like this. He’d have hated it for a start. He’s the sort who would have let me plan the wedding, and his main preoccupation would have been the stag do and the free bar. The thought fills me strangely with relief.

‘I’ve never thought about it really. I don’t think it’s this grand – it’s smaller, simpler, more intimate, like the patisserie place we were just in…’

‘With a slightly unhinged old French lady in the corner.’

‘Who most certainly fancied you,’ I joke.

‘Yep, let’s not talk about that or we might get more of what happened on that boat.’

I giggle but seriously, I never need to see that ever again. ‘And what about you? Is this you?’

‘Not in the slightest. I’m a beach wedding man.’

‘In flowing white linen? But the sand!’

‘This is why I always carry talc,’ he jokes. ‘So where is this ring going?’

‘We need to head up to one of the suites to meet the groom and best man and hand over the ring and then we are done,’ I explain, leading us over to the lifts, pressing the buttons as the doors slide open. If we didn’t know this hotel was ultra-fancy before, we know now as there’s also an older man in there with little round spectacles, in a hat, his sole purpose it would seem to push buttons and make sure no one gets stuck in the doors.

‘Which floor?’ he asks us politely.

‘The Fraser Suite, please.’

‘Thanks, Melvin,’ Joe says to him, glancing at his gold name badge.

He stops for a moment, grinning, for someone to have used his name and not barked orders at him. ‘Certainly. You must be here for the wedding.’

‘Kind of,’ I explain. ‘We’re just here to deliver something.’

‘Are you the people with the birds? I hear there are birds?’

‘Uhh… no,’ Joe says, laughing.

‘It’s quite an event downstairs. Giant candy canes, snow machines, five hundred red and white roses got delivered at 7 a.m., I believe they’re serving turkey, too. I did have a peek. I love a wedding,’ he explains. ‘I think she’s coming in on a sleigh.’

‘That may explain the reindeer I saw downstairs then…’ I say.

‘We had someone come in on a horse once. Thing took a wee in the ballroom and we had to replace the floor.’

I look over at Joe and he bites his lip to hold in his laughter.

‘Well, here we are… 28thfloor – the Fraser Suite. Whatever you are delivering, have a lovely Christmas, you two.’

Joe stops to put a hand to his shoulder. ‘Thank you… you t—’

But before he can finish, there is a shriek that rings through the corridor and something that looks like a giant candy cane streaks past us. Joe puts a protective arm in front of me as Melvin pops his head out of the elevator door. ‘Good luck,’ he says, escaping.

‘You want to fight? Let’s fight!’ a balding man screams, half dressed in a morning suit, but with his sleeves rolled up. Oh, he looks ready to fight. Joe and I back into the wall as we see another gentleman stood at the other end of the corridor. He’s wearing his suit, he even has a festive red and white buttonhole, but the man looks scared, petrified. He grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall. A room door opens and a woman stands there in a white silk dressing gown, her hair in rollers and her face damp with tears.

‘Dad, please… NO! You can’t… Just leave it!’ she squeals. Another girl in a matching dressing gown comes out to placate her but this also does not go down well. ‘How could you? I knew you would do this! It always has to be about you! I hate you. Just piss off!’

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