My Fake Wedding(71)

Of course, he doesn’t actually want me to marry both of them, he explains later after they’ve rammed a plate of angel hair squid-ink pasta, rocket and Parmesan salad, cappuccino and marscapone ice cream and a bottle of fizz laced with a generous dash of Smirnoff down me to butter me up. He did mean that bit metaphorically. Well, sort of. It’s just that, despite the tonsil-tickling-in-vodka-bar incident, David doesn’t actually feel he knows me well enough to ask me something so ginormously huge, and he’s a teensy bit scared. So George said he’d do the actual asking part. After all, he knows me well enough to understand that it’s completely necessary to soften the blow with alcohol and lard.

The crux of the matter is that David’s visa runs out in a few weeks’ time.

Which is where, normal circumstances prevailing, he buggers off back to the land of Kylie, koalas and kangaroos. But, of course, there’s no way George is having that. Not with a regular bunk up on tap. So a secret marriage has been arranged. David is due to marry Jemima, George’s cousin, an eminent Edinburgh doctor. But she’s inconveniently found someone to fall in love with at the very last minute and, quite understandably, wants to marry him instead.

‘Selfish bitch,’ George mutters, glugging back more wine.

‘It’s not really her fault though, is it?’ David says kindly. ‘But you see, Katie, it does leave us up fanny alley rather.’

I can quite see that it does, but playing for time to cover my surprise, I suggest that we shouldn’t do anything rash. Perhaps George could go back to Oz with David? After all, he hates English weather. He’s Britain’s number one sun wor-shipper. He’d love Australia, wouldn’t he?

All that sea and sunshine. All those glorious beaches.

‘All those queer-bashers?’ he points out. ‘All those open spaces? Miles and miles of nothing? Nowhere to shop, darling? And nowhere to get one’s hair done to one’s satisfaction?’

‘He has a point.’ David shrugs. ‘It can all get rather heterosexual over there. All brawn and no brain, as it were. And we had rather planned to stay in London for now.’

‘Yes, we sodding well had,’ George says bitterly. ‘We’ve just spent a fortune on a new love seat for the garden. It’s symbloodybolic, darling. We can hardly cart that halfway across the world, now can we? So what do you think? I mean it’s not as though you’re going to want to go marrying anyone else a few years down the line, is it? You’ve said so yourself.’

‘Absolutely,’ David agrees, putting one hand on George’s knee and downing an Amaretto with ice in one. ‘I wouldn’t even be asking you if I thought it’d mean you giving up your freedom. And there’s the small matter of fringe benefits.’

‘What?’

‘You tell her,’ he urges George.

‘Fifty grand,’ George bursts out. ‘I come into some money from the trust when I hit thirty. You can have fifty grand if you’ll marry David so we can stay together. Say you’ll think about it. You can even come and live in my house if you want. Rent free.’

‘And we’ll let you bring your shags back,’ David adds.

‘Yes.’ George nods vigorously. ‘Can’t say fairer than that, now can we? Not many husbands let their wives fornicate with total strangers under their own roof.’

I light one of George’s fags while I think about it for a moment. Fifty grand would mean I could have another go at the catering. Properly .Budgets, cash flow projections, hedging, fencing, whatever they are. And George and David are right. I don’t want to get married. Not in the true sense of the word, anyway. And if I’m already married, I can’t be tempted any time in the future, can I?

But I love these guys to bits. Both of them. Even if David won’t sleep with me. I can’t take their money.

Can I?

Can I buffalo.

‘I’m sorry,’ I tell them. ‘I can’t accept.’

‘Oh?’ David looks disappointed.

‘I mean, I can’t accept the money.’ I hesitate. ‘But I would like to come and live with you. It would help me out no end.’

OK, so I’ve refused charity from Sam. But this is different. With George and David, I’m actually doing something in return. Without rent to pay it’ll be much easier to fund my existing venture. And, knowing George and David, they won’t be down my throat about book-keeping and doing the right thing all the time. Hopefully, they’ll actively encourage me to be as irresponsible as I damn well like.

‘And the wedding thing?’ George asks.