not to mention Uber. My dad’ll go spare.’
Dad may not drive a cab anymore but a lot of his friends do. You want to start an argument, try telling one of them you’ve got an Uber account.
He’s about to push open the door when he hesitates. ‘Should we get a bite to eat first?’
‘There’ll be seafood later,’ I tell him. ‘Go on, don’t be a coward.’
I run into the back of him, though, when he stops dead in the doorway. Everyone in the packed pub is staring at us. ‘Erm, welcome to my side of the wedding,’ I whisper, giving him a gentle shove.
‘Hi Daniel!’ they all chorus over and over as they fall about the place laughing.
Shyly he raises his hand in greeting.
Mum waves us over to their table, where Daniel kisses her cheek and shakes my dad’s hand.
‘Mum, this is cruel!’ I say. ‘The Inquisition ended in the Middle Ages, you know.’
‘Don’t blame me. Everyone wants to meet Daniel.’
Mrs and Mr Ishtiaque are sitting opposite my parents. They have smiles plastered to their faces. I can’t remember the last time I saw them in a pub. Don’t blame Mum, my arse. ‘I suppose you just fancied a pint tonight, Mrs Ishtiaque?’ I tease. She’s never drunk anything stronger than prune juice. ‘Mrs Ishtiaque, Mr Ishtiaque, this is my fiancé, Daniel. Daniel, the Ishitaques are our next-door neighbours.’
Mrs Ishtiaque clasps Daniel’s hand in her tiny ones. ‘We’ve known Emma since she was coming home from the maternity ward,’ she says in her sing-songy Bangladeshi accent. ‘She is like our daughter.’
‘How d’you do?’ he says. ‘Emma’s told me all about you. I gather you make the best curries in East London, Mrs Ishtiaque.’
Mrs Ishtiaque blushes at the compliment.
‘The best,’ Mr Ishtiaque confirms. He’s a man of few words.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ I tell Daniel when he’s finished trading smiles with the Ishtiaques.
‘Yah, now I know how you felt at Mummy’s drinks,’ he murmurs as we make our way to the bar.
Uncle Colin is pretending not to notice us. If he was in one of those old-timey westerns, he’d be polishing a glass and whistling.
He does a comedy double take as we approach. He’s destined for the stage, honestly.
Hands are shaken across the bar. ‘Barbara’ll be down in a minute,’ Uncle Colin says as he spritzes the shandies. ‘You’re very welcome here, Daniel.’
When Daniel visibly relaxes I feel like kissing my uncle. But he’d only get embarrassed if I did.
The ladies at Auntie Rose’s table aren’t backwards in coming forwards when we join them with our drinks. They’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. June’s even traded her tracksuit for trousers and one of those silky printed tops with a pussy bow that office workers liked to wear in the eighties.
‘Do you like East London?’ Doreen asks, doing her trademark cleavage cross-twiddling.
‘Yah,’ he answers politely.
‘What do you like about it?’
‘Oh gosh, yah, I like that Emma was born and raised here amongst so many people she loves. And once I’ve spent more time here, I know I’ll love it as much as she does.’
‘Lor’ love a duck, ’e ain’t half charming!’ says June.
‘She likes you,’ I tell Daniel.
He flashes them all his killer smile. I happen to know that those teeth took two and a half years to straighten out. I never had braces, so my own overlap a tiny bit. ‘Thank you. I was just telling Em that it’s not my natural milieu, but I hope I don’t put my foot in it too badly!’
I cringe. Must get him to stop saying milieu. ‘It’s not his usual part of town.’
My family and friends don’t seem to know what to make of Daniel. His poshness would normally set their teeth on edge, but their curiosity at this exotic specimen overcomes any ingrained mistrust. Before long they’re showing Daniel how to play cribbage, firing questions and answers back and forth, and even though I’m sure they don’t completely understand each other, they’re laughing like old friends.
Doreen meets me at the bar. ‘Your Daniel seems nice.’ She doesn’t bother keeping her voice down, so half the bar can hear her. ‘Can’t play cards worth a damn, though.’
‘He’s probably just letting you win,’ I say.
‘You and your auntie, both too cheeky by ’alf.’
‘How is she? With you all, I mean?’
Doreen puts a leathery hand on my arm. ‘She’s all right, my love, not much more forgetful than the rest of us. She’s been all right at home?’
‘Usually. She’s wandering more lately, though.’
‘She’s safe here.’
Most of the time you wouldn’t think there was a thing wrong with Auntie Rose. She never gets muddled up and she doesn’t forget words. She just gets into her head sometimes that she’s got to be somewhere else. If someone’s around when she grabs her coat or handbag and announces ‘Right, I’m off’, then we can go with her. But every so often she makes her announcement to nobody, and we have to send out a search party.
So far she hasn’t left the neighbourhood, but you can’t turn her around once she gets going, either. It might be the laundromat or the café or a specific shop. No amount of coaxing will get her to turn back. It doesn’t matter that she never has laundry to do or a shopping list to tick off. She’s going wherever she’s decided to go, and that’s all there is to it.
She doesn’t seem distressed or frustrated that she can’t tell you why she wanted to go in the first place. Whenever we ask her she just shrugs and says, ‘One of life’s mysteries.’
But what if she decides one day to go to Heathrow, or Downing Street via a rough estate? That’s what I worry about.
I hear Barbara behind me as I’m carrying the drinks back to the table. ‘So where is this young man I keep hearing about? Hello, my love!’
‘Uncle Barbara!’ I throw myself into his waiting arms. ‘Come and meet Daniel. He’s heard all about you.’
Of course I’ve told Daniel about Uncle Barbara, but nothing prepares him for meeting my uncle in the flesh. First of all, he’s Uncle Colin’s identical twin. All six foot three hairy inches of him. Secondly, he’s built like a railway siding. And thirdly, he’s wearing a swingy red and white dress and shiny black knee-high boots.
He claps Daniel on the back with more force than someone in a frock should have. As everyone shifts round to make room for him I catch Daniel’s eye. He’s grinning like he can’t imagine
