I hold my breath, waiting for Tig to announce they’re not doing a church wedding. Oh, it’s going to be carnage …
‘Don’t worry,Yiayia,’ says Tig patiently. ‘Theo has spoken to Father Michalis. The church is already booked. We even have a possible venue for the reception.’
Gran nods once, like she’s giving her royal assent.
That’sit? A church and her favourite priest, and Gran’s all in?
This is madness. Why isn’t anyone else objecting?
Mum certainly isn’t. ‘To Tig and Theo,’ she says, raising her glass and cutting off her mother-in-law from asking further questions. ‘Na zisete.Congratulations.’
Everyone rushes over to hug them, but I stay put, not quite believing what’s just happened.
It’s bad enough that they got engaged so fast, but I’d assumed they’d have a long engagement to make sure they weren’t rushing into things.
But they’re getting married inthree weeks? How the hell do they think they can pull it off? It took Tig a month to buy an air fryer. She dragged me to John Lewis three times before deciding.
This can’t end well.
My plan is to sneak back to my room while everyone’s crowded around the happy couple, but I’m foiled by a tap on the shoulder before I’ve made it to the door.
It’s Tig, smiling sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry if tonight has been tough for you. My timing couldn’t have been worse, what with the Rich situation.’
Her apology surprises me – empathy is not Tig’s natural state. She managed to make my twenty-first birthday aboutherby having a huge row with our folks about whether she was allowedto drink, seeing as she was the grand old age of seventeen. They said no. She ignored them. She threw up all over the bathroom floor at 2 a.m. and then ropedmeinto cleaning it up. Hopefully, she can hold her alcohol better these days. But if not, it’ll be Theo’s job to do the vom-mopping.
‘I’m fine,’ I assure her, even though I’m not sure I am. ‘It’s just …’ I search to find the right words. ‘You barely know each other. Marriage is a big step.’
‘I know. But Theo’s the one. I feel it in my bones.’
‘I thought that way about Rich.’ My throat tightens, and I can’t say more.
‘I really need you on board with this. You’re my big sister.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘If you knew Theo better, you’d see why I feel so sure. Come round for dinner?’ she suddenly asks. ‘Tomorrow night?’
Tig suggesting a dinner date? That’s a first. Our usual hang-out activity is sale shopping. She’s a ninja at a Selfridges event.
She looks so hopeful, I can’t refuse. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘But only if you promise you’re not the one cooking. You’re a hazard in the kitchen.’
‘I had one chip-pan fire.’
‘And a blender that exploded.’
‘Relax,’ she says, grinning. ‘I’ve got Theo to do all that now.’
Chapter 7
Rich and I met under the Eiffel Tower.
We were in Paris for an OCD conference along with two hundred other mental health professionals, and we’d both skipped the final afternoon’s lectures to see something of Paris other than the inside of a conference centre.
It was teeth-chatteringly cold and the wind was so strong they’d closed the viewing platform.
I approached him and asked in faltering French when the lifts would reopen.
‘Wow, that is some of the worst French I’ve ever heard,’ he replied in a perfect Home Counties accent. He was grinning, so somehow, it didn’t sound like an insult.
‘Oh, you’re a fellow Brit.’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
