by Susan Lewis
‘Of course not. Will you tell her we’re already married?’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. It’s probably best to let her think it’s all happening tomorrow, that way she won’t feel as though I’ve gone behind her back, which I have, of course, but hopefully by the time she finds out it won’t matter any more.’
Tony’s text came just before midnight, which was probably around nine or ten in the morning, Beijing time, Lisa calculated – she couldn’t quite remember whether they were eight or nine hours ahead.
It wasn’t a long message, nor was it at all what she’d expected. Hey Babe, just to say I’ll be thinking of you on your big day. My loss is his gain, but you know what they say, may the best man win. Please don’t worry about me trying to mess things up for you (I bet that’s what you’re thinking). I’ve been a fool and now I’m paying the price. Be happy, my sweetheart. You’ll always mean the world to me. Tx
Though her heart swelled with feeling, she told herself that most of it was relief, because now she could be confident that he really wouldn’t do something stupid, like sky-diving in at the crucial moment to try and whisk her away.
Her phone bleeped with another incoming text.
PS: It’s not too late yet. You don’t have to go through with it.
Smiling, she started to tap in a reply telling him she already had, but in the end she decided not to send it.
Rosalind knew she should have said no. When her father asked if he could stay the night before his wedding she should have come straight out and said that she was sorry, but it wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she’d thought to use it as a last-minute opportunity to persuade him to change his mind.
It hadn’t worked, of course, not because she’d tried and failed, but because Jerry had barely left them alone all evening, and even when he wasn’t in the room Dee had been there with her son Wills and his girlfriend Daisy. Now it was Saturday morning and the three people closest to her, her father, her husband and her son, were all upstairs getting ready for an event – a farce, she’d rather call it – that couldn’t possibly include her.
She was in her study going through the company accounts that her father had promised to check, but still hadn’t. She could hear them moving about upstairs, the sound of voices, footsteps, showers going on and off, the news coming from a TV in one of the bedrooms. Beneath it all, as she was, felt like being in her own private hell.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs she reached for a tissue, and quickly blew her nose. Jerry would only become impatient if he saw she was upset, and she wasn’t feeling strong enough to argue with him this morning. The fact that he was going to support her father, not only because of Lawrence, but to act as one of the ushers, was another betrayal on top of his affair. Lawrence, in his non-expressive, insular way, was proud of the special role the most special person in his world had asked him to play, and no doubt ecstatic that the dog was going to be there too. What more joy could her son wish for, apart from a properly functioning mind that would allow him to have friends and maybe a sense of loyalty towards his mother? She wouldn’t dream of spoiling this for him though, she loved him too much for that.
‘Doesn’t your father fall into the same category?’ Jerry had asked last night. ‘Don’t you love him too much to spoil it for him too?’
‘Lawrence isn’t old enough to understand what this is really all about,’ she’d replied.
‘And you think being older and who he is makes your father immune to the way you’re behaving?’
She hadn’t answered the question, because even if she’d tried to explain he wouldn’t understand how devastating all this was for her – or how afraid she was that her father would wake up one day to realise that Lisa Martin had betrayed him the same way Jerry had betrayed her. She felt sure it was going to happen, and couldn’t bear to think of her father going through something so shattering – losing his wife had been shattering enough.
Dee would be coming over later to keep her company while Wills and his girlfriend went to the wedding. She hadn’t yet decided whether to tell Dee about the letter Lisa Martin had sent, but suspected she wouldn’t. It had turned up in the mail at the beginning of the week, with the sender’s name and address printed in grey ink on the back. When she’d seen it she’d felt sick, and had hardly been able to touch it. It was like an invasion, a rude and calculating attempt to break through her defences to … what? Persuade her to go today? Maybe it was to thank her for staying away.
It had been taken by the dustmen now, in shreds, unread and unable to be pieced back together or to contaminate her world any further.
‘Ah, here you are,’ Jerry said, putting his head round the door. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What do you think?’ she replied, not bothering to look up. She could tell by his shoes and trouser bottoms that he was in his wedding attire now, and she didn’t want to see him looking smart and dapper for an occasion that was nothing short of a travesty in her eyes.
‘Have you had breakfast?’ he asked.
‘I’m not hungry.’
With a sigh he said, ‘Rosalind, it doesn’t have to be like this. If you’d just …’
‘Please leave me alone.’
He stood looking at her, clearly torn, and she could almost feel his exasperation. In the end he left and though she’d told him to, it still hurt.
Reaching for her mobile phone, she opened a screen to send a text. For a long time she only stared at it, listening to the sound of Lawrence thundering down the stairs, and her father laughing as he came after him. They were in their own world, happy in a place where she couldn’t go, because she didn’t belong. Hearing them, imagining them going to join Jerry in the kitchen, was making her feel like a ghost in her own home. Neither her existence nor her feelings counted for anyone today, they were too caught up in the whirlwind of her father’s ludicrous and disastrous romance.
It was only minutes before he was due to leave that her father came to find her. If he hadn’t she didn’t think she could have borne it, but when he swept her up into his arms she wasn’t sure she could bear that either.
‘I wish you’d come,’ he whispered into her hair.
She clung to him as she sobbed, not caring that she might be staining his waistcoat, in fact hoping she was. ‘Don’t go,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t go.’
‘Oh darling,’ he murmured, tightening his embrace. ‘You’re making this so hard for yourself.’
‘No, it’s you who’s making it hard,’ she told him, pulling back to look up at him. He was immaculately shaven, his thick silver hair neatly brushed back from his face. His eyes were what she loved most about him, smoky blue and always showing tenderness and humour when he was looking at her. This morning they were troubled, and she wondered again if he was really as certain about what he was doing as he was making out.
‘Try to be happy for me,’ he said, smoothing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
‘How can I when I know you’re making a mistake?’
As a flash of irritation showed in his eyes, she felt her anguish deepen. It was rare he ever got angry with her, so what else could this be but yet more evidence of how they were drifting apart? She was braced for him to be short with her, but then seeing how heavily emotions seemed to be weighing on him she stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. ‘I’ll always love you,’ she whispered, ‘and I’ll always be here for you.’
‘I know,’ he said gruffly, ‘and the same goes for me.’ He was looking at his watch.
She started to turn away, but he pulled her back. ‘What are you doing today?’ he asked.
Wishing he wasn’t sounding quite so curt, she said, ‘Dee’s coming over, we’ll probably have our usual Saturday lunch, and then …’ As her voice was strangled by a sob he drew her back into his arms and wrapped her up tight.
‘David,’ Lawrence said, coming into the room, ‘Dad’s brought the car round. We’re ready to go.’
When she saw her son Rosalind fel
t her heart breaking apart. He looked so handsome and important in his grey tailcoat and paisley waistcoat. His cravat was leaf green, the same as his father’s, and the pristine whiteness of his shirt made his glossy curls look darker than ever. She could imagine how impressed people would be when they saw him, and hoped they knew not to fuss him. Would she have warned them? Had her father thought to tell her? What was a child like Lawrence going to mean to someone like her, who probably only had time for herself?
‘Say goodbye to your mother,’ David said as Lawrence started to leave.
‘Goodbye Mum,’ he said obediently. ‘I’m seeing Lucy today.’
Her father rolled his eyes, and because it was expected she attempted a smile. ‘Bye then,’ she whispered.
‘Bye,’ he said, and after giving her one last regretful look he left.
Turning back to her desk, she picked up her mobile to read the text she’d composed before he came in. She hadn’t sent it yet, but now she would and with a flick of her thumb it went.
‘Can I come in?’ Amy demanded, sailing straight into Lisa’s bedroom where her sister was seated in front of a wall-to-wall dressing table, with two sets of giant double mirrors at each end and a plasma TV screen in the middle. ‘Oh look at you,’ she cried emotionally, ‘your hair’s so gorgeous. You’ve done a fabulous job,’ she told Melvina, the stylist. ‘I’m so used to seeing it in a plait, but this is absolutely heavenly.’
Lisa was turning her head from side to side, her eyes glowing with pleasure as she admired the loose French roll that was curling in a seemingly effortless sweep over the back of her head, with random coils dropping around her face and neck. It was the casually elegant look that Melvina had spent four sessions perfecting these past few weeks. Now, as she tweaked and backcombed her finishing touches, and Amy stood watching, looking extremely chic in a bright fuchsia-pink dress with lavender swirls and a magnificent fuchsia hat, Lisa felt a fluttering of nerves wafting through her like a bunch of ribbons taking flight. She couldn’t imagine why it was all feeling so enormous and unnerving today, but for some reason she was as skittish and queasy as a teenager, and the way her insides kept reeling every time her iPhone signalled an incoming text was wreaking havoc on her attempts at inner calm.
‘I need to find my mobile,’ she said to Amy. ‘I can hear it, but God knows where it is amongst all this.’
‘Let me track it down,’ Amy offered, and as she started to plough through all the packing cases and other paraphernalia that was part move-in and part wedding, she said, ‘Mum’s arrived, by the way. She’s with Roxy, whose dress looks absolutely divine. It made me want to weep when I saw her. She’s almost like a bride herself.’
‘Hold still!’ Melvina ordered, as Lisa started to get up. ‘We haven’t put the crystals in yet.’
Tightening the towel she was wrapped in, Lisa obediently returned to her position, wondering what David was doing now, and if he was feeling as uptight as she was. But why was she feeling like this? She didn’t understand it when they were actually already married. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with Tony, who was probably getting drunk with old friends by now, or losing himself in the arms of another woman, but she really wished that he’d stop staging unwelcome appearances in her mind.
Quickly switching her thoughts back to David she started to feel more agitated than ever, until she found herself recalling the conversation they’d had early this morning. He’d rung to say good morning and to remind her that it was too late to change her mind now. She didn’t want to, but for some reason she wished he hadn’t said it. Still, it had been a relief to hear him sounding upbeat and teasing after the way he’d snapped at her last night, when she’d rung to ask how he was getting on with his lines.
He hadn’t mentioned them this morning, so she was going to assume he’d now memorised them, nor had he said anything about the letter she’d sent Rosalind, so she’d decided not to bring it up either. If Rosalind had trashed it, or returned it to sender, it would be likely to cause added tension between her and her father, which they could both do without today. She wondered what Rosalind was doing now and how she was feeling. She hated to think of her alone and unhappy, but at the same time, knowing how opposed she was to her father getting married again was starting to feel like a curse.
‘Ah, here is it,’ Amy declared, pulling the phone out from under a pile of lingerie boxes and tissue paper. ‘My God, you’ve got fourteen texts and fifty-eight emails. Haven’t you read any this morning?’
‘I haven’t had time,’ Lisa reminded her, tilting her head from side to side to catch the glitter of Melvina’s crowning handiwork, while Melvina held up a mirror to present the full effect. ‘Perfect,’ she murmured, loving the way the crystals sparkled in the sunlight that was streaming in through the open windows.
‘Did you decide on a veil in the end?’ Amy asked, opening up the first of the texts.
‘No veil,’ Lisa replied, kissing Melvina on both cheeks as she got up from the stool again. ‘You’ve been an angel,’ she told her. ‘I can manage from here.’
‘What about your make-up?’
‘Honestly, I can do it. It’s only the lip shimmer that needs to go on now, and you’ve shown me often enough how to do that.’
‘OK, but don’t forget to step into the dress. No pulling it over your head or God only knows what sort of mess you’ll end up in.’
After assuring her she’d never dream of making such a mistake, Lisa waited for the door to close, then let her towel drop to the floor. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ she sighed, loving the sensation of cooler air on her skin. ‘I was so hot in that thing I was afraid I might start sweating off my fake tan. Is it OK? No runs or blotches?’
‘Perfect,’ Amy informed her as she gave a twirl. Then, returning to the phone, ‘OK, so here goes with the texts: “Thinking of you today, don’t forget to email photos, love Andrea.”’
‘Andrea Vavasour,’ Lisa supplied. ‘She’s a journalist friend who lives in Rome.’
Moving on to the next, Amy read out, ‘“You’ve made the longest journey to what can only be the happiest destination. You deserve this, Lisa darling. Love to you both. Paulo and Jeremy.”’
‘You met them when you and Theo flew out to join Tony and me in Thailand.’
‘Of course. How lovely that they’re in touch today. You can read all these later yourself, but I’ll carry on for now, shall I?’
‘Yes, do,’ Lisa said, starting to rummage through the lingerie boxes in search of the white silk body-shaper specially designed to blend invisibly under her dress, while helping to hold her up and in.
‘“You’re a lucky lady to have found someone so perfect,”’ Amy read out, ‘“but he’s an even luckier man. Enjoy your day and come see us soon, Evie and Joshua.” Aren’t they the couple who own that gorgeous hotel in Sicily?’
‘Correct. Ah, here it is,’ and sweeping up the body-shaper she sat down on the edge of the bed to start pulling it on.
‘Is that all you’re wearing underneath?’ Amy asked, eyeing the flimsy-looking garment dubiously.
‘It’s all there’s room for. I can’t even wear stockings which is why my tan was so vital, but if I look at all lumpy I’ve got some passion-killing knicks with legs down to the knees to help smooth me out. Anyway, go on, who else has been in touch? I’m starting to enjoy this.’
‘Am I likely to find one from Tony?’ Amy asked darkly.
Lisa’s heart gave a jolt. ‘No,’ she replied, as though amazed at such a suggestion.
Amy scowled at her knowingly.
Rolling her eyes, Lisa said, ‘OK, he sent one last night wishing me well. Satisfied?’
Amy didn’t look pleased.
‘I didn’t ask him to send it,’ Lisa cried. ‘Anyway, he’s in China, and he has a new woman now, Mrs Overall …’
‘Mrs Who?’
‘Let’s drop it,’ Lisa said irritably. ‘This is my wedding day, I’m marrying David and why you have to bring up Tony o
nly you can know.’
Amy eyed her suspiciously, then getting back to the messages she scrolled to the next and started to laugh. ‘“RESULT! Nikki Freemason.”’
Laughing too, Lisa said, ‘A single friend from San Francisco.’
‘“Divine justice for a divine spinster. Can’t wait to meet the lucky man. Alfie and Jane.”’
‘They run a yacht-chartering company on Tortola,’ Lisa said, wriggling the body up to her waist.
Amy was about to continue when the door burst open and Roxy bounced in, closely followed by Matilda. ‘Wow, Lis!’ Roxy exclaimed, coming to a rapid halt. ‘That’s a bit sexy, isn’t it?’
‘Just look at you,’ Matilda clucked, almost colliding with her granddaughter as she regarded her daughter with mock disapproval. ‘Hair all done to the nines and kinky undies, anyone would think you’re about to get married.’
‘She did that yesterday,’ Amy reminded her. ‘Roxy, darling, give us another twirl. You look heavenly.’
Obediently, Roxy held out her arms and rotated on her three-inch bronze heels to show off her strapless champagne-coloured silk dress with its softly ruched bodice shot through with sparkling thread, and filmy georgette skirts that swished and swayed wispily around her knees. One side of her copious blonde hair was held up by a glittering amber pin which perfectly matched the stones in the cream velvet choker around her neck.
‘Has Daddy seen you yet?’ Amy asked.
‘No. He’ll weep, just like you. They’re a pair of wusses, my parents. I don’t know where they get it from, oh silly me, it must be you, Granny. Have you seen her gloves?’ she said to Lisa. ‘Look at them, they’re wicked.’
Lisa’s eyes shone with laughter as her mother held out two purple-lace-clad hands, with a fake diamond on the third finger of one winking away like a risqué joke. The rest of her outfit was a taffeta short-sleeved suit in a more discreet version of the same colour, with a lavender pillbox hat, brushed-silver shoes and a matching over-the-arm bag.
‘You look wonderful, Mum,’ Lisa told her, going to kiss her. ‘The gloves might be a bit OTT, but if you love them, then I do too.’
