Page 61 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘Do you like surprises?’

‘I like good surprises.’

‘Then stop asking questions. Captain Charlie has got your back.’

‘Can I at least ask where we’re going?’

Charlie rubs the back of his hand across his lips, removing remnants of his pastry. ‘First, we are going to Downing Street to see if we can catch you a glimpse of the prime minister and the infamous number ten door, which you’re almost guaranteed to see on the news on a weekly basis, even in the States, because that’s how often we change prime minister.’

I catch the reference, amused. I am aware of the political turmoil associated with the United Kingdom at the moment and I am no stranger to the same in the US.

‘You can’t actually walk along Downing Street these days because it’s heavily guarded by police but I have a little spidey inside who tells me that if we walk a bit faster, we’ll catch a glimpse of the PM leaving this morning.’

‘Oh cool. Who is the Prime Minister this week?’

‘Fuck knows,’ Charlie says, and we titter together.

But despite his playfulness, very soon after arriving at the heavily guarded gates on Whitehall, Charlie's source is proved correct. From our position alongside a couple of tourists and a few press cameras, we see a man wearing very shiny Prada shoes and a pinstripe suit leaving number ten Downing Street. Just at the right moment, Charlie whips out his phone and snaps a selfie of us with the prime minister standing equidistant between our top hats.

Next, he tells me we’re going to Friary Court to see the beginning of the changing of the guard, which is another thing on my to do list.

‘I thought the changing of the guard happens at Buckingham Palace,’ I say, which is what I had found out from googling after Izzy and Becky told me I should witness it.

‘Ah well, technically, the changing over does happen in the forecourt of Buckingham Palace but you told me that you walked the Mall and went to Buckingham Palace yesterday, so I thought I’d get you a better view somewhere with a few less tourists around and show you somewhere you haven’t yet seen.’

I am impressed he was actually listening last night and not just scoffing macarons and drinking more hot chocolate than I’d expect from the residents of the small village of Lansquenet.

We arrive at Friary Court at St James’s Palace and while there are a couple of walking tours nearby, within minutes Charlie has got us in a great spot. At precisely ten twenty-five by my watch, soldiers come together in the Court and a band starts to play.

‘That’s the St James’s Palace Detachment of The King’s Guard,’ Charlie tells me, raising his voice to be heard above the sound of drums being beaten and brass instruments being blown. ‘They’re having their uniform inspected now and in…’ He checks his watch. ‘Seventeen minutes, they’ll march off toward Buckingham Palace and the band will follow them the whole way.’

I have to admit, it’s pretty awesome. The whole thing feels steeped in British history and looks like the kind of thing one might see in the movie Paddington.

‘I love the fluffy hats,’ I say, leaning into Charlie’s ear in a quieter moment of the band’s routine.

Charlie looks aghast. ‘Did you just emasculate every single soldier in the history of The King’s Guard?’

I chuckle. ‘What? They’re cute.’

He shakes his head. ‘Those are bearskin hats. They’re more hunter gatherer than fairy princess.’

We watch the soldiers begin to march. Next thing I know, Charlie has grabbed hold of my hand and is hurrying me through the walking tour groups and telling me something about Birdcage Walk. We walk across a bridge, through the park, and see another group of soldiers, who Charlie tells me are the New Guard, marching off in the direction of Buckingham Palace.

‘So, it’s up to you, we can run on down to Buckingham Palace and watch the actual change over, or we can head across to Westminster and Big Ben,’ Charlie says.

‘You mean to say I have a choice in how to spend my holiday?’

Charlie twists his mouth as if thinking, almost caricature-like in his expression, then says, ‘You’re right, this is Captain Charlie’s tour; let’s head on to Big Ben and Westminster. You’ve seen your fluffy-hat men now.’

We head to Westminster Abbey first and I recognize it as soon as I see it from the coverage of royal weddings. Charlie asks me which such wedding has been my favorite and I tell him Will and Kate’s. If asked a few months ago, I might have said Harry and Meghan’s because I had loved the rags to riches story of Meghan Markle but today, I’m not feeling contentious, and so I go with the much less controversial option. Charlie agrees and we share an easy conversation about the royals, real life events and, of course, Netflix’s The Crown. I gather that he is dubious about the factual content of the show and that he is very definitely a royalist.

Charlie seems to know something about everything, in a completely unpretentious and non-boastful way. It leads me to ask, ‘Where did you learn all this stuff, Charlie?’

‘You mean other than streaming services?’ he jokes, but I sense some hesitation or even embarrassment and I don’t know why. It’s almost as if being smart is a negative character trait. Admittedly, before today, Charlie hadn’t struck me as overly intelligent but like many of my initial opinions about him, I’m changing that one, too.

I decide not to let him off the hook with his usual way of avoiding questions, which is to make a joke of everything, and I wait for his truth.

‘If you can believe it,’ he begins, as we exit the beautiful Abbey, ‘I went right through the education system by hook or by crook. I studied history at university for a couple of years, then I dropped out to do comedy full-time. Something my mother is very proud of.’

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