Chapter 26 Ivy
Ivy
“You’re under arrest,” Alex says, then holds my wrists behind my back. I’m embarrassed to say how much I didn’t hate it.
“What is my supposed crime?” I laugh.
“Having hair more beautiful than is allowed by law.”
This made me throw back my head and laugh, running my skull into his collarbone.
“Agh.” He releases my hands. “I knew it was bad, but surely I didn’t deserve that.” He laughs and steps around to my side. “This used to be a jail.”
We are standing in front of a super old structure that has towers and went over the road, and it’s where we are planning to eat an early dinner.
“No joke?”
“No joke.” He holds out his hand, and I take it. “Ready to eat?”
“Yes. My crisps have worn off!”
We step inside and find a mix of old intricate brickwork and modern designs.
It’s truly one of the coolest restaurants I’ve been to, and it makes me want to find an old jail to turn into a restaurant—although it probably wouldn’t have the same effect in North Carolina.
I’m pretty sure our old jails don’t have stone towers.
Alex orders the truffle mushroom ravioli, and since he has no idea it will be my third time, I order the fish and chips.
When our food arrives at the table, I smile at the crispy fish waiting for me. Alex laughs.
“Would you like to try mine?” He asks, holding out a ravioli speared on his fork.
I’m not a huge fan of mushrooms, but I may like them inside pasta.
“Sure.” He seems to want to make a moment of this, so I lean forward, maintaining eye contact, as I slide my mouth around the ravioli.
And then I inhale weirdly, which could have to do with the truly gigantic ravioli I have in my mouth.
What was he thinking? He could have cut it.
I go into a coughing fit, the ravioli ending up in my hand as everyone within ten feet of us watches.
Well, it was like a scene from a movie, just probably not the one he’d intended.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” His face looked a little more devastated than the situation warranted. Did he think I would hate him now that he tried to choke me?
I cleared my throat. “I’m alright.”
“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 care a 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.
“Have you not been here before?”
“I have. I was a child, but still, I’m not sure the awe ever wears off a place as incredible as this.”
Thankfully, it isn’t crowded, and no one seems to notice the uber-popular movie star in their midst. We go about our business, taking it all in. We take a selfie with the high ceiling in the background, which Alex promptly sends to his aunt’s solicitor. He doesn’t respond.
I’m staring around one more time before we leave when I notice Alex on his phone.
“Did the guy respond?”
“Not yet. I’m booking us a float down the River Stour.”
“Oooo! That was on my list.”
“I know.” He grins. “The only ones left today are at sunset. Is that okay? It would begin at half eight. We could head straight back afterwards.”
“Sure. Book it!”
He grins at me before looking back at his phone.
“What should we do until then?”
He looks up briefly. “Find all the fish and chips nearby?” He grins mischievously before looking back down.
“We could,” I concede, like it is truly an option. “Or we could walk around and see what we find.”
“All booked.” He slides his phone back into his pocket. “Sure, Margo. Let’s go see Canterbury.” He extends his arm to me, and I thread mine through it. As we walk, it dawns on me that the scenery isn’t the only thing that makes me feel like I’m in a fairytale.