by Kate Field
‘I see Daisy Flood has had a busy summer,’ Marissa, the PTA chair, said as soon as Daisy and Owen had left at the end of the meeting. I’d stayed to tidy up – too capable and efficient for my own good sometimes. ‘Fancy her walking off with Mr Ferguson! I always thought him such a steady man, although I suppose he is an art teacher.’ She said this with a significant lift of her eyebrows, as if for ‘art teacher’ I should mentally substitute ‘sexually amoral hippy’. ‘And you and Daisy used to be such good friends!’
‘We still are.’ I carried a rattling tray of mugs over to the staff room sink. ‘I think they make a lovely couple.’
‘And what about you? Seeing anyone at the moment? We’d be happy to have Ava for a sleepover if you need a night alone.’
‘Thanks.’ Ava would murder me if I ever suggested that. ‘But she spends every other weekend with Leo so I have plenty of time alone.’
‘Once a fortnight is enough, is it?’ She tilted her head and patted my arm, apparently sympathising over my sexual inadequacies. ‘That was an impressive piece about Leo in The Times at the weekend, wasn’t it? What a coup for him! And what rotten luck for you that he made the discovery after you’d divorced. I imagine it will be a lucrative find.’
I’d been busy scrubbing tea stains off mugs, with only half an ear on Marissa’s conversation, but this made me turn round.
‘Leo was in The Times?’
‘Didn’t you see it?’ Marissa’s glossy red smile was so wide that her lips almost met round the back of her head. ‘Oh, you must read it, Mary. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. He said it was the high point of his career. Don’t you do that little bit of work for him anymore? You must come and join our spa and yoga days if you’re at a loose end now.’
My end could never be loose enough for that to be an option, but I forced a polite smile, rushed through the rest of the washing up, and hurried home, desperate to check the computer. How could Leo have appeared in the newspaper without me knowing? I dealt with all the publicity side of things for him. And yet there it was. I used Leo’s password to sign in to The Times online, and soon found the piece that Marissa had been talking about.
I read it three times before I could believe what I was seeing. Leo had given an interview about the discovery of Alice Hornby’s lost manuscript, and how, having read it, he had no doubt that it was genuine. It was a lively, well-written piece, and Leo’s enthusiasm and excitement rose off the page as if the article was presented in 3D. But he didn’t mention me, or my part in this discovery, and however hard I tried, I couldn’t blame journalistic inaccuracy or misreporting. Leo had claimed the discovery as his – he had cut out my role entirely. And though I didn’t care about the fame, the disloyalty carved a hole right through my heart.
But there was worse even that that. Leo had spoken of the passion and the sexual tension at the core of the story. The journalist had run with the idea and reached another galaxy: the phrases ‘bodice ripper’ and ‘sexed up’ were used, and Alice was described as a ‘frustrated spinster satisfying her sexual fantasies on the page’. It was horrendous, and exactly what Mrs Archer had feared would happen. If the Archers saw this article, they would never trust us to publish the book.
I tried to telephone Leo but he was on voicemail, which was probably for the best, because what would I have said? He was a master of words, but none that he could conjure would undo the damage he had done here. And I was far too worked up to consider my words as carefully as I should. I sent him an email, simply saying, ‘Can we talk?’ and waited for a response.
A knock on the window interrupted my brooding. Mum mee-mawed at me to let her in.
‘The door was locked!’ she said, with totally misplaced outrage.
‘It was meant to keep out unwanted visitors.’
‘Is this a bad time, Mary?’
‘Whatever gives you that idea?’
‘You look like you’ve just lost a brutal wrestling match. Twice.’
Well, that told me – but it wasn’t a bad summary of how I was feeling. I sighed. It wasn’t Mum’s fault. I had spent my life blaming her for most things, but I couldn’t hold her responsible this time. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘No, I’m not stopping.’ Mum clutched her hands in front of her chest, as if she were praying. ‘I wondered if you could pop round tonight.’
‘What for? Is something wrong?’
‘No. Only I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my …’ She stumbled over her words, and twisted her hands. ‘My friend. Meet him in private, before Saturday.’
‘Saturday?’
‘Leo’s wedding.’
I’d forgotten. Oh, I’d known it was coming, but in all the anguish of the last hours, cursing and hating and crying over Leo, it had slipped my mind that on Saturday I would have to stand at his side and be his main supporter, smile and wish him happiness in his new life without me. How was I supposed to do that after this second betrayal, now I knew he was cutting me out of his working life too?
‘Oh love, I’d no idea you were still hurting over him.’ Mum pulled a tissue from up her sleeve and dabbed at my cheeks. And there it was again – the flash of a mum I had known, but who had vanished along with my dad. ‘You need to be strong, Mary. However bad the pain is, you mustn’t let the children see it. They are all that matters.’
I nodded, because she was right. However cross I was with Leo, I couldn’t let Jonas and Ava pick up on it, or make them think he was anything less than perfect. I would bottle up gallons of pain to protect them. For their sakes, I would have to deal with this further rejection from Leo as I had done the first: by hiding my own feelings and trying to keep everyone else happy. What choice did I have, with the wedding only a few days away?
‘Forget about tonight,’ Mum said. ‘It’s not the right time. Do you want me to stay, or would you rather be on your own?’
‘On my own,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’
But it wasn’t true. There was one person I wanted to be with; someone who could support me by holding my hand; who could laugh me out of the thickest gloom. But he was away in London, and I couldn’t have him even if I wanted him.
It was twenty-four hours before Leo called back.
‘Sorry, Mary,’ he said, his voice pitched high with excitement. ‘I missed your message. We were caught up in an eleventh-hour flower crisis, but disaster has been averted, and we will have our table centrepiece after all.’ He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t credit the extent of the minutiae.’
I could hear noise in the background, domestic sounds – the clink of glass and the bang of pans, and I imagined Clark in their luxury kitchen, preparing their evening meal. My house was quiet: Jonas and Ava were both out with friends, and the only sound came from Dotty as her collar clanked against her water bowl.
‘I have done the whole wedding thing,’ I said, hating myself for being jealous, and hating myself more for not being able to disguise it. Leo didn’t notice.
‘Not like this,’ he replied, and he muffled the phone as he presumably spoke to Clark. ‘I hope you’re not about to confront us with another problem. Do tell me that you have something red to wear?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I had the dress. Now I just needed the courage to wear it. The shop assistant in Selfridges had sussed me as a naive shopper as soon as I stepped off the escalator, and had taken me perhaps too literally when I had tentatively told her that I wanted something fabulous. It had turned out that her definition of fabulous involved expanses of bare flesh and figure-hugging scarlet fabric. She and two of her colleagues had assured me that I would turn every head, and I had a horrible fear that they might be right.
‘It’s not about the wedding,’ I continued. ‘It’s about the article in The Times.’
‘Did you see it? What did you think? I thought it was an excellent piece. I’ve received numerous calls about it. This has caused a stir, exactly as we hoped.’
‘But Leo,’ I protested. He sounded delighted – not
a hint of guilt or apology. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to the press.’
‘There was no time. I heard a whisper about a new biography of Anne Brontë. There’s a move afoot to raise her profile, and elevate her to the same level of fame as her sisters. I had to strike with the Alice news first, you must see that.’
I could see only one thing, and I wondered how I had been blind to it for so long. When I latched on to Leo as a lonely thirteen-year-old, I must have placed voluntary blinkers over my eyes. How else had I missed this selfish streak in Leo? Despite my good intentions not to stir trouble before the wedding, I couldn’t let this go by unchallenged. It hurt too much.
‘You didn’t mention my involvement in the article. You made it sound as though you’d discovered the manuscript. Why did you do that? Are you planning to work on it without me?’
‘Good Lord, no.’ Leo laughed, seemingly oblivious to the pain in my voice. ‘I can’t do it without you, Mary. You are the wheels that keep this whole operation moving. Nothing has changed.’
Not for him, maybe. My feelings weren’t so straightforward. I should have been reassured: we would carry on working together, which was what I wanted, wasn’t it? So why wasn’t I happy? And there was still one huge problem Leo was overlooking.
‘We don’t have permission from the Archers to publish the book yet,’ I pointed out. ‘And if they’ve seen it described as a sexy romp, they’re unlikely to give permission.’
‘You’ll persuade them to do the right thing. I have the utmost faith in you, Mary. Love to the children, and we’ll see you all on Saturday!’
Leo and I married on a sunny July afternoon, not long after I had completed my degree. Leo’s father gave me away, in the absence of my own dad. Bill and I walked to the church in the village on our own; then after the ceremony, Leo and I led a procession back to what would from then on be our house. The fence panels were lifted from between the back gardens, and the guests, mostly villagers and Leo’s academic friends, milled around the lawn, enjoying a cold buffet that Mum and Audrey had prepared. It had all been over by seven o’clock, and Leo and I had spent the evening helping tidy up.
Leo and Clark had chosen a very different affair for their big day. Their wedding was taking place in a country house hotel in Cheshire: a nuisance for us Lancastrians to reach, but convenient for Clark’s family, their mainly Manchester-based friends, and for access to the airport the next morning. After their ceremony, the guests would enjoy the traditional sit-down wedding breakfast, followed by dancing until midnight. Close family were staying the night – just as well, because there was no way I would be able to see the day through sober.
Ethan collected Audrey first thing in the morning; his laughter filtered into my house even through the double glazing as they chatted outside. I’d expected that Mum’s gentleman friend would drive her, but when I arrived back from dropping Dotty off at the dog minder’s, Mum was busy loading her own car, and for once the blue car was nowhere to be seen.
‘I’m going to follow you,’ Mum called over. ‘I don’t know Cheshire.’ She made it sound as if we were venturing into the Amazon jungle. ‘Mind you drive slowly.’
‘Okay.’ As if I ever did anything else. ‘Why are you driving? I thought your friend would have offered.’
‘He’s not coming.’ Mum didn’t look at me. ‘He’s not well.’
‘That’s a shame.’ I assumed they’d fallen out, given Mum’s shrewish expression, but had no intention of asking. ‘I was hoping to meet him at last. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to come round the other evening.’
‘He’s keen to meet you too.’
So perhaps they hadn’t fallen out, and he really was ill.
‘Are you sure you should still come? Do you need to stay and look after him?’
‘No. We agreed that I need to go and look after you.’ Mum slammed down her boot, emphatically ending the conversation. ‘Knock when you’re ready.’
It was late morning when we drove through elaborate wrought-iron gates and along a twisting drive to the hotel. I pulled up on the crest of a bridge so that we could have a proper look, as it was a stunning setting: the hotel was situated on a large meander in a river, and with an artificial lake at the front, it gave the impression that the house and gardens were floating on their own island.
Jonas peered through the windscreen and whistled.
‘Are we posh enough to go in there?’
I smoothed the hair back from his face.
‘You’re the son of a professor. You can go anywhere. I don’t mean now!’ I yelled as Ava hopped out of the car. She took a selfie, posing and pouting with the hotel in the background, and returned to the car. ‘You’re not going to do that all day, are you?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, shaking her head – a mixed message that I translated as ‘stop asking such inane questions’. ‘Everyone wants to see the photos. It’s cool. No one else at school has been to their dad’s gay wedding.’
‘You won’t take any of me, will you?’
‘No one’s interested in you, Mum.’
The hotel was equally magnificent inside, all thick carpets, chandeliers, and wood panelling. Leo was waiting for us in the entrance hall.
‘Perfect timing,’ he said, kissing me and Mum. It still felt odd to have been downgraded to the same level of relationship as my mother. ‘There’s an early lunch in the drawing room if you’re hungry.’
‘Oh! I brought sandwiches,’ I said, indicating the cool bag hanging from my shoulder.
‘It’s up to you,’ Leo replied. ‘If you need more time to get ready I’ll have someone show you to your room.’
‘No need! I’m sure there’ll be more than enough time after lunch.’ I glanced at my watch, inwardly flinching, and wondering which bit of my preparations I could miss out. ‘Is Clark joining us?’
‘No, we’re being traditional and not seeing each other until the ceremony.’
‘Lovely!’ I smiled, but it was a woefully inadequate effort next to Leo’s excited beam. Something else to squeeze in to my preparations: I would have to practise a better smile, so I didn’t look like a jealous old witch. Feeling like one was quite bad enough.
‘Isn’t it marvellous to have all the family together again?’ Audrey cried, as we followed Leo into the drawing room. She kissed us all enthusiastically, even managing to catch Ava. ‘I love weddings!’
‘Very kind of your boys to give you so many, then,’ Mum said. Thankfully Audrey laughed.
‘They are good boys, aren’t they? But I won’t be happy until this one finally settles down.’ Audrey linked her arm with Ethan’s, and squeezed it. ‘And you too, Mary. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t try again.’
‘Urgh, gross.’ Ava pulled a horrified face. ‘Don’t encourage her, Gran. We don’t want her hunting around school for more teachers to flirt with.’
‘Did it not work out with the teacher you were seeing, Mary?’ Leo asked, taking a vol-au-vent.
‘No.’
‘Daisy nicked him,’ Ava explained.
‘Let me have a word with Clark later. I can think of two or three single men coming to the wedding who might be suitable.’
‘Not gay ones,’ Mum said. ‘She’s been there, done that.’
How was I supposed to survive a day of this? I wished the carpet pile were even thicker so I could sink down and let it close over my head. But an even better solution arrived. Ethan nudged my arm, smiled down at me, and held out a wine glass. Perhaps the day would be bearable after all.
I was ready to go downstairs, and wishing I’d had the foresight to arrange to meet Audrey, so I didn’t have to emerge alone, when there was a knock on my bedroom door. I smiled in relief, and hurried over to answer it as fast as I could in my ridiculously ambitious heels. It must be Leo. I should have known that he would think of me. Of course we should arrive together – I was his best woman, wasn’t I? In fact, I should probably have collected him, but it was such a topsy-turvy day that I s
upposed I could be forgiven.
I opened the door and Ethan was standing on the other side – but no ordinary Ethan. Ordinary Ethan was outrageously handsome. This Ethan was dressed in full black tie with a scarlet cummerbund, smelt like an intoxicating summer garden, smiled at me with a smile that stopped my heart, and was quite simply the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I grabbed the door handle. That second glass of wine at lunchtime had been a terrible mistake.
We stood and stared at each other for so long that we might have missed the wedding before either of us noticed. But eventually Ethan whispered, ‘Mary,’ and I stepped back to let him in.
‘Crikey,’ Ethan said, looking around the messy room. ‘Is this what the real Mary Black is like behind closed doors?’
I could have kissed him for the normal remark, and for breaking the strange atmosphere – if kissing wasn’t exactly the sort of thought I was trying to avoid.
‘Well, you know what they say about ducks.’ He looked at me blankly. ‘Serene on top, frantic paddling below the surface.’ I laughed, verging on the hysterical. I had no idea what I was babbling about.
‘Serene isn’t the word I’d have chosen.’
‘Go on then.’ I just about resisted putting my hands on my hips. I was feeling more myself by the second. ‘Spit it out. But it had better not be anything about mutton and lamb …’
Ethan smiled.
‘You are breathtaking, Mary.’
I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t expected this surge of warmth that spread through me either, that probably flushed my skin the same shade as my dress. Far from taking anyone else’s breath, I seemed to have lost all my own.
‘Are you sure it’s okay? I have to stand up in front of everyone, at Leo’s side, with Clark on his other side. I couldn’t bear people to look at us and think it’s no wonder he changed …’ I was babbling again, but couldn’t stop. ‘And I haven’t even had time to do my hair. I was going to put it up, try something elegant …’
My hair was in its normal style, hanging straight and loose on my bare shoulders. Ethan reached out and stroked down its length, twisting the end round his finger. I froze. What was he doing? And why was he looking at me like that – not like I was the childhood friend he had teased for years, but as if … I hardly knew what. No one had ever looked at me that way before.
