After collecting the rings, he went to the venue in Fulham where the reception was being held. He was under orders from Maggie to tell them to expect the table flowers to be delivered around eight on Saturday morning and also to have one bottle of champagne, one bottle of red and one bottle of white on every table for when the guests arrived. All drinks had to be vegan friendly. Mrs Kasabian was as patronising as the first time she’d met Jack: ‘You can tick me off your little to-do list, Mr Warr. Tell your wife that everything will be perfect.’ Jack was annoyed with her — not for presuming him to be an unreliable, untrustworthy man who needed his wife to give him a list because hadn’t the first clue about planning a wedding... he was annoyed with her for being right.
From Fulham, Jack went to Soho House to extend their stay in the bridal suite to include the Sunday night. He also arranged for champagne and flowers to be in the room when they arrived on the Saturday night.
Then Jack headed to Hazlitt’s, a truly stunning little hotel booked by Maggie’s parents. Maggie had sent them a list of mid-priced B&Bs and guesthouses in the immediate area, but they’d opted for the £250-a-night Hazlitt’s as a wedding gift to themselves. Jack welcomed them to London and asked if they needed anything from him prior to the big day. They were a pleasant enough couple, but talking to her dad, George, was like pulling teeth. As he relayed the details of their train journey, Jack couldn’t help but worry about the length of the ‘Father of the Bride’ speech.
Back home, Penny was moving all of the unopened gifts back into the dining room. Maggie came downstairs with Hannah in her arms and quickly apologised to Penny for making even more work for her. The gifts were meant to be open by now, and a thank-you list should have been made. ‘Simon turned up. I left them to talk on the proviso that today and the whole of the weekend is a work-free zone.’ Penny raised her eyebrows and blew a raspberry. This made Hannah laugh, so she did it again. ‘Daddy can’t forget about work for a whole weekend, can he?’ she said in a baby voice. ‘No, he can’t. Silly Mummy.’ Hannah reached for Penny and Maggie willingly handed her over. ‘Jack and I will open the gifts tonight and make a thank you list. I promise.’
‘OK, darling.’ Penny didn’t sound convinced. She had gone from being uptight and ultra-efficient to being relaxed and fatalistic. All of the big things were now organised — if some of the finer details fell by the wayside, so be it.
By 3 p.m., Jack was sitting on the bed staring at the zipped wedding gown bag hanging on the back of his bedroom door. Beneath it, almost hidden, was his black suit. Jack held the open jeweller’s box containing Maggie’s DNA ring. His ‘very pleasant’ ring was on his finger. He turned it with his thumb, feeling the cold metal glide over his skin. It felt like it was going to fall off. It felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep it safe once he was back in the real world. It felt like he’d never get used to the feel of it and always be distracted from what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t like it. Jack put his ring back into the box alongside Maggie’s, just as she entered the bedroom.
‘Oh, the rings! Has he done a good job of resizing them?’ As Maggie reached for the jewellery box, Jack dropped it onto the bed directly behind him, gently grabbed Maggie’s wrists and stood up. He swept her arms behind her back, forcing her body tight against his. He leant down and kissed her neck, turning her on the spot until she stood with her back to the bed. Jack continued kissing Maggie’s neck as he unbuttoned her blouse.
Maggie sighed. ‘We’re supposed to be opening presents, Jack.’
‘I am.’ They fell back onto the bed, laughing. His amorous mood then subsided and he became almost subdued in her arms. ‘Thank you for sticking with me,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you for not giving up.’
‘I would never give up on you. That would be like giving up on life.’ Maggie ran her fingers through Jack’s thick black hair and gazed deep into his eyes.
Jack breathed the words, ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’
‘I do.’
Jack took his time getting ready for his stag night because he didn’t want to go. Maggie reassured him that whatever Ridley had organised, it would be fun — and if it wasn’t, then at least Jack knew it’d all be over by ten as Ridley was an early-to-bed-early-to-rise kind of man. A message pinged through on Jack’s mobile. ‘Ridley’s texting me the venue.’ Jack read his message. His head dropped. ‘It’s at the bloody pub up the road from the station!’ Maggie wrapped her arms round him, and he let his head fall onto her shoulder. ‘Don’t make me go, Mags. I want to stay here with you.’
Jack entered the main bar of The Red Dragon. The only person in the entire place was Morgan. He beamed and waved his half-empty pint glass in the air. ‘Gerrus another, eh, groomy.’ Jack strode to the bar with a face like thunder. Dave had owned The Red Dragon for around eight years. He was five feet tall, with the physique of a jockey. Not that you’d guess his height from the customer side because he stood on the specially made raised platform that ran all around the inside of the bar. Behind Dave, above the optics, a cheap banner reading STAG PARTY was Blu Tacked to the mirrors along with inflatable antlers at either end.
Jack was stunned into silence. He ordered two pints of lager and a double whisky which he downed whilst the pints were being pulled. ‘There’s nibbles in the back.’ Dave rarely spoke and, when he did, he used very few words. ‘In the pool room. A few sarnies and crisps.’ Dave nodded his head towards Morgan, who was now texting on his mobile. ‘I didn’t let him in, ’cos he’d eat it all before you arrived. But you can go through now. I’ll send others through as they arrive.’
Morgan drank his pint on the move, as he led the way through to the pool room. Drinking and walking at the same time was slow going, but Jack couldn’t overtake him as he filled the narrow corridor that led to the back of the pub. As they got to the door, Morgan turned and waggled his eyebrows. ‘I hope no one else comes. I’m starving.’ He then walked backwards into the room, grinning and drinking as he nudged the door open...
Dozens of hands holding drinks rose into the air and a raucous cheer echoed through the room. Ridley stood square in the middle of the crowd, holding two glasses of whisky and looking very smug. The pool room was unrecognisable. It was now a casino. Gaming tables had been brought in, male and female croupiers wearing red waistcoats and red bowties were at their posts ready to deal, and a small bar had been set up in the corner of the room. The smile on Jack’s face had appeared from nowhere, but now it wouldn’t go. As he made his way across the room towards Ridley, dozens of his fellow officers from every division in the station gave him their best wishes — or their condolences, depending on whether they felt like being sincere or sarcastic.
Ridley handed Jack a double whisky, keeping one for himself. ‘People wanted to pop in as they came off shift. This seemed like the most sensible venue.’ The two men clinked glasses and sipped the well-chosen single malt.
For the next two hours, people drank far too much, ate from the constant supply of pizzas that kept coming out of the kitchen, sang along to a steady stream of nineties music and lost money at the tables.
Foxy spent much of the evening with Anik, trying to ascertain why Laura was the only woman in London who was immune to his charms. Anik draped his arm round Foxy’s shoulders and talked beer fumes into his face. ‘Foxy, Foxy, Foxy. She’s high maintenance mate. Men like me and you need someone for a good time, not a long time.’ Anik then set his sights on the blackjack croupier.