The Accidental Honeymoon. Portia MacIntosh
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in Jack Wills,’ I inform him. ‘There is no denying they’re cool. Ditch the blazer if you don’t like it. You look good in shorts and even you can’t take issue with a white shirt.’
‘Why don’t I just put that navy jumper on that you bought me?’ he suggests. ‘Oh yeah, because it’s summer and boiling outside and I’d literally die.’
‘It’s not for wearing, it’s for draping,’ I tell him patronisingly, although it does occur to me that someone not so into fashion won’t appreciate that.
Jack stares at me blankly for a second.
‘I have no idea what that means,’ he tells me.
‘Here, put these on,’ I instruct, throwing him a pair of navy-blue chinos. ‘These with that shirt will look good.’
I walk over to him and gently pull the piece of tissue from his chin before placing my hands lightly on the sides of his head to smooth his hair down.
‘Could I almost pass for a gentleman?’ he asks.
‘Did you just quote Titanic to me?’ I reply in disbelief.
‘You think I haven’t seen Titanic? It’s a classic,’ he insists. ‘So, could I almost pass for a gentleman?’
I smile.
‘Almost.’
He laughs as he heads into the cubicle with his trousers.
He’s no sooner closed the door when the next surge of travellers pours in. The first few do a double-take, the sight of a woman tricking them into thinking they’re in the wrong place.
‘This is the men’s toilets,’ one man points out to me.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I reply, making no attempt to move.
The man frowns at me so I tap on the cubicle door.
‘Jack, let me in,’ I beg. ‘I’m not getting the warmest welcome out here.’
‘Just let me put my pants on,’ he replies.
‘Just until the crowd clears out, then I’ll sneak out,’ I plead.
A few seconds later the door opens.
‘Wow, you look great,’ I tell him, a little taken aback. I can’t help but notice he hasn’t zipped up his trousers yet – probably because he rushed to let me in – so I keep almost uncomfortable eye contact with him. He’s right – the pinstripes were a bit much.
‘I feel less uncomfortable in this,’ he replies. ‘Kept the boat shoes on, though. I’m assuming your royal family lives on a boat?’
‘Far from it,’ I laugh. ‘It’s a semi.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s cold in here,’ he jokes as he does up his trousers.
‘Hilarious,’ I reply sarcastically, although I have to admit he is pretty funny.
‘Look, can we head back into the clothes store and find something we can both live with me wearing? Marriage is all about compromise, you told me that.’
I can’t help but laugh again.
‘OK, sure.’
The buzz of the travellers dies down again. Now is my time to sneak out without a scene.
I’m just about to open the door when I hear a single set of footsteps approach the cubicle door. Seconds after the steps stop there’s a knock on the door.
‘Sir, is everything all right in there?’ a deep male voice asks.
‘Yeah, fine,’ Jack calls back calmly.
Silence for a few seconds.
‘We’ve received reports you’ve got a woman in there with you,’ the man eventually says.
Jack and I just stare at each other, as though the other might have a plan to get us out of this situation.
‘Time to face the music,’ Jack whispers.
I walk out first, sheepishly.
‘I was helping him with his trousers,’ I tell the big, burly security guard staring down at me.
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