Mimi bristled but decided to allow Anna her foolishness. She had to be under some kind of hypnosis. Actually, could that be it? Was he a hypnotist of some kind? Was that why she had had that disturbing urge to look into his eyes which, thank God, she had been able to resist?
“Can’t I be a fierce big sister, rather than an aunt?” she chided.
Anna tossed her a conciliatory smile. “You know when it’s right. You just do. You’ll see one day.”
Mimi was quite sure she couldn’t stomach much more of Anna’s beatific, cliché-strewn relationship advice, so she changed the subject.
“What about his ozone layer project? Does he speak to you about that?”
“Oh, no,” Anna said vaguely. “I know he’s working on some top secret thing that’s supposed to save the environment. I wouldn’t have a clue about any of it though, so we don’t really talk about it.”
“Perhaps you should. It’s a big part of his life, and you’re about to share his life. Why would you have whole areas that are shut off to you?”
“Mimi, you just want information. You want a scoop. Does the journalist in you ever go off duty?”
Mimi sighed. “No. And neither does the friend. Remember that. Okay, here’s the food. Let’s eat.”
Over the course of the succeeding fortnight, Mimi tried, in various subtle ways, to convey her deep misgivings about Anna’s engagement, but it was as if Anna was living in a separate sealed-off quarter of oblivion. Nothing got through to her; she was love-drunk.
“Either he’s a master of mind control, or a fucking genius in the sack,” she moaned to Liam the day before Anna’s select hen night. “Possibly both.”
“He’s a fast worker.” Liam nodded sagely. “I wish I had whatever he’s got.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, Liam, you don’t. You’re much better just the way you are.” Mimi leaned over and kissed the side of his neck, making him shiver.
The hen night was demure—no garish themed costumes or drunken revelry. Anna and four friends spent the afternoon before the wedding at a spa, having facials and massages before eating a light supper and going home early.
“What about going on to a club?” Mimi suggested in the cab back to London.
“Mimi! I’m getting married in the morning. I’m not walking down the aisle with a hangover.”
“Anna.” Mimi took her hands, her voice suddenly low and urgent. “Please don’t do it. Please don’t marry him.”
“Mimi, stop. I’m going to marry John. I love him.”
“You don’t know him!”
“Oh, and you do, I suppose.”
“He’s so hard to pin down. I’ve spent these three weeks trying to find out about him, but there is so little meaningful information out there about his work or his plans. It’s as if he’s pulled some kind of magic trick—nobody questions him. Nobody! It’s weird. It’s frightening. I’m worried for you, Anna.”
Anna tried to laugh, but she was obviously both angry and upset.
“Mimi, I really want us to stay friends, but I have to say that if you carry on like this, I don’t think it’s possible. I never want to choose between you and John, but if I’m forced to, John will win. I mean it.”
“Right.” Mimi turned her face away, hiding the agony. “Okay. Well, this is us. You’re still staying the night with me? You still want me as your witness?”
“If it’s what you want, Mimi, of course I do. You’re my best friend. Please don’t spoil the happiest day of my life. Please.”
“Let’s forget it, eh? Come on. We need sleep. Can’t have you making your vows with whacking great bags under your eyes, can we?”
She looked beautiful, everybody agreed. When Anna walked up the aisle, radiant in rich scarlet silk, carrying a posy of red and white roses, her hair full of tiny sparkling diamonds, every eye in the room was glued to the vision that had come among them. Nobody looked at John, but if they had, they would have seen a broad smile that would have been interpreted as bursting pride in his beautiful bride. When the vows were spoken, John’s voice filled the room with its confident ring, while Anna spoke more quietly but no less sincerely, her trusting gaze held by John’s throughout the ceremony. The rings were gleaming and the sealing kiss passionate, eliciting applause, and indulgent clucks from the matrons in the room. John’s arm remained around Anna’s waist for the remainder of the register office business—the signing of the register, the taking of photographs and a short burst of song from an operatic tenor before the procession through the banks of guests and out to the grounds.
“He looks like the cat that got the cream,” Mimi murmured through a rictus grin to Liam, her “plus one” who stood at her side being immortalised on camera with the rest of the guests.
“Well, he has, hasn’t he?” Liam answered, similarly constrained by the need to look deliriously happy. “He’s got what he wants. For whatever reason.”