“That went all to pot, didn’t it?”
I laugh, because what else am I supposed to do? I look around and find that my near choking has drawn attention, and despite Alex’s less than stellar disguise–his glasses and a fancy hat of some sort—there is more than one phone pointed in our direction.
To be honest, it makes me a little mad.
“Play along,” I whisper before taking my napkin from my lap and standing. I walk several feet from the table before seeming to remember something, I turn back and call, perhaps a little more loudly than necessary, “William.” He looks up at me, just as I’d hoped. “Will you order some water for me while I’m gone?”
“Sure thing, babe,” he says, in an American accent, not missing a beat. He’s a talented actor, after all.
I stand in the bathroom, just long enough to seem reasonable. As I wait, my mind takes me back to my feelings about him being photographed while living his life. I suppose he’s used to it, but he obviously doesn’t love it, and that fact made me so mad on his behalf. Part of me thinks I carea little too much for my liking, but caring is, or should be, a natural human reaction. I would care if I didn’t know him, right?
Wrong. I would assume he chose the life he lives, and if he doesn’t like it, he gets compensated well enough to deal with it. Am I harsh?
I make my way back to the table where a tall glass of water waits by my fish and chips. “Thanks, Will,” I say before I sit down.
He smiles with a slight shake of the head. “I hope you enjoy it, Margo.”
The water tastes like water, but what I do enjoy is the fish and chips. I make it my new goal to find the best fish and chips in all of England. When I tell Alex that, he laughs.
“You’ll be trying fish and chips for quite a long time. I couldn’t even begin to guess how many restaurants here serve the dish.”
“Let’s see,” I pull my phone from my pocket. “What percentage of restaurants here, would you guess, serve fish and chips?”
“I mean, I have absolutely no idea, but I would say at least ninety percent of pubs and traditional English restaurants do.”
“Okay. Google says there are approximately thirty-nine thousand of those.”
Alex only nods, like sure let’s go with it, and absolutely this is something we should pursue.
I use my phone calculator to multiply the total number of restaurants by the percentage Alex guessed. “That’s just over thirty-five thousand fish and chips to try.”
“That will take some time,” Alex deadpans.
I put my phone down. “I quit. This is a journey to Mordor I don’t think my body could withstand.”
“It was a journey, Margo, to watch your dream be born and die in a matter of minutes. Hopefully your next one turns out.”
I grin. “Thanks, Willy.” I pop a fry, excuse me, chip into my mouth, and vow to myself to try to replicate this dish in my restaurant. Although, I’d have to try to make it with a Bowl-able spin. Maybe small pieces of fish on a bed of fries?
“Do you think your aunt wanted a photo of you in a specific place here?”
“I’m guessing not, but we could take multiple photos and see what works. Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it seems your little fake-out scheme worked. I haven’t seen anyone sneaking photos since.”
“Ha. Look at me being a good actress.”
He grinned. “Yes, you really nailed it, Margo.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. “While we were in the car, I made a list of places to see while we’re here.”
“Okay. Where would you like to start?” Alex asks.
“How about the Canterbury Cathedral?”
“Let’s do it.”
I never knew I was an architecture nerd. The Canterbury Cathedral is stunning. Even approaching the entrance, the facade is covered in inlaid statues of people who were important to the cathedral. Archbishops, kings, and queens. Even the iron gate in the center is impressive.
We walk into the main area, which I would call the sanctuary but I don’t know what it’s officially called, and it is breathtaking. The ceilings must be over seventy-five feet tall, and the care taken to craft all the details is mind-boggling. Even Alex looks impressed.
