Reluctantly Home(22)
‘Brave choice,’ whispered the man with the toffee-coloured eyes. ‘I like it.’
Evelyn smiled and nodded back. She wished he would stop talking to her. It wasn’t appropriate, but she was too polite to just ignore him.
Brenda looked lovely, dressed in a halter-neck jumpsuit in a delicate primrose yellow. Again, it lacked that weddingy feel that Evelyn might have preferred, but Brenda, whose smile was enough to light up the room on its own, was clearly delighted. Evelyn was thrilled for her. Jim looked as if all his Christmases had come at once as he watched his bride make her procession towards him, a bounce in her step as if she were actually crossing a dance floor. The man next to her was tapping along to the song with his feet, a hand beating out the offbeat on his brown stripy trouser leg. The wedding was starting to have a positive party vibe about it and Evelyn could see that the registrar looked anxious, as if the ceremony was running out of his control.
After Brenda finally reached Jim, the tape was turned off, and the older guests visibly relaxed as the service then followed more traditional lines until the final vows were taken and the deed was done. Evelyn stood and applauded the happy couple as they made their way out of the room. The man next to her pushed his fingers between his lips and gave an ear-splitting wolf whistle that almost deafened her. Automatically she put her hands to her ears to protect them.
‘Sorry. Bit loud,’ he said with a sheepish grin. ‘Name’s Ted, by the way. Ted Bannister.’
He held a slightly grubby hand out for her to shake. Evelyn took it, hoping that her reluctance wasn’t written all over her face.
‘Evelyn Mountcastle,’ she said.
‘Are you going to the bash at the pub?’ he asked her.
She nodded and he looked around with extravagant enthusiasm, his head turning comically from left to right.
‘No Mr Mountcastle?’ he asked. ‘No beau waiting to take your arm?’
He had what Evelyn considered to be a real London accent, all ‘born within the sound of Bow Bells’-ish.
She shook her head. ‘No. Just me, I’m afraid,’ she said in her best RP. She had managed to lose her East Anglian burr and was now proud to be unplaceable, by her voice at least.
‘Then would you allow me to accompany you?’ he asked.
He was starting to remind her a little of Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins . She wasn’t sure it was entirely proper to pick up an escort for a wedding at the ceremony itself, but arriving with a total stranger had to be better than arriving alone.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would be lovely.’
Ted held out his arm for her to loop hers through. This felt horribly intimate, but he was grinning as if the whole thing was one jolly jape, so Evelyn decided to go with the flow. She gave a little curtsey, bowed her head and accepted his arm. Then the pair of them followed the other guests out on to the street to head to the George and Dragon, where there was to be a finger buffet and dancing until closing time.
The pub wasn’t far from the register office. Evelyn had tried to memorise the route from her A to Z so she wouldn’t have to ask anyone, but as it turned out there was no need. Ted had it covered.
‘Come on,’ he said as he led her along, their arms still linked. ‘I can get us there.’ He pointed down an alley that was stacked with wooden packing cases and empty apple boxes. ‘There’s a shortcut down here.’
Evelyn eyed the narrow alley with suspicion, but Ted added, ‘Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. I know this part of town like the back of my hand. I have to do deliveries round here for my boss.’
‘What do you deliver?’ asked Evelyn, curious to learn something of her new companion.
‘Oh, this and that,’ he replied non-committally. ‘Trust me. Sneaking down this way cuts a good five minutes off the walk.’
Without waiting for her to object, he pulled her down the alleyway and for the first time Evelyn began to feel uncomfortable. She could hear her sister Joan’s voice in her head, warning against going off down dark alleyways with strange men, and for once she knew Joan would be right. It was madness to follow him. She should say something, refuse to go that way and insist on sticking to the main roads, but it felt rude to object when he was being so kind as to escort her. And anyway, Ted felt like someone she could trust, and she considered herself to be a good judge of character. Then, before she could get too cocksure about her own perspicacity, her tricksy mind pulled her back to the Hilton Hotel. She had been wrong then, totally wrong.
There was nothing she could do about it now, however, so she allowed herself to be led along, all the while trying to make a mental map of where she was in case she had to retrace her steps at speed. But there was no need. Soon enough they emerged back on to a bustling main road and found themselves right outside the George and Dragon.
‘There you go,’ Ted said, grinning like the cat that got the cream. ‘Told you. Like the back of my hand.’
He opened the wooden swing door and held it for her so that she could go in first. She shuffled inside, pausing after a few feet whilst her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The pub was full of men, all nursing pints and cigarettes. The stench of stale beer, stale tobacco and grime wafted up out of the semi-darkness, making her feel queasy. She thought she might just retreat outside for some air, but Ted was at her back and guiding her steadily towards the bar.