He had heard me repeat the line about my waist about four times, in four different moods, and he had never once said anything comforting about it, which is why I kept telling him things.
So one afternoon in the April, by a kettle, with about four people in the room and the radio on, I asked him.
"Would you come to my ex-husband's wedding and pretend to be my boyfriend?"
He looked at me for about four seconds.
And then he said one word.
"Sure."
No questions. No are you sure. No what would I actually have to do. Inside about four seconds, from a man who thinks about everything.
On the day we went in together, arm in arm, at about four o'clock, forty minutes after the ceremony.
And about twenty people turned round, which I had wanted and which I had pictured in a car park beforehand for approximately four minutes.
