by Carmen Reid
He pulled a little train engine out of his suit pocket and gave it to Robbie.
'Thank you, Daddy Jofus.'
'Oh God,' Joseph groaned. 'That name makes me feel about a hundred and I can't get him to stop using it.'
'Poor Daddy Jofus,' Eve managed to smile.
'Oh, what a lovely couple.' One of Deepa's old aunties sailed up to them now. 'Look, your outfits even match, and is this your little boy?' Oh God, she meant them.
'Yes,' they answered together. Their outfits matched? She looked at his cream suit and supposed they did. He had admired her dress already, but now he took another long look at it.
'Oh, he must bring you so much happiness. How old is he?'
'Three,' Eve replied.
'Is he your first?'
'Ah!' Eve smiled, unsure what to say. The whole saga of how she was the groom's mother, but she and the groom's dad had long parted, and she had two children with Joseph but they'd split up before Robbie was born... it all seemed too long and too complicated.
'No, we've a daughter as well,' Joseph said.
'Oh that's lovely. One of each. How lucky. Are you going to have more?' This asked with the cheekiness only ageing aunties can get away with.
'Oh well. . . we'll see.' Joseph again, sparing everyone's blushes.
'I think Deepa wants a boy,' Eve said, hoping to steer the auntie off their case.
'Oh yes. And look at the shape of her. It's a boy all right,' the auntie smiled at them both and then sailed off to accost more innocent victims.
'Is Nils here today?' Joseph asked.
'No ... he couldn't come, unfortunately,' Eve lied. But this was easier to tell him than the truth and anyway, she wasn't sure she wanted Joseph to know that her most significant relationship since him had broken up so quickly.
'We need to have a chat . . . probably not today,' he added, taking in the sea of guests she had to go and mingle with. 'But I'm moving back to London.'
'Really?'
'Yes ... the environmentally friendly business projects,' he smiled. 'I'll tell you all about that... but what I want you to think about is letting me have the kids two or three nights a week. Shared care.'
'Right.' Oh God, massive step. Two or three nights a week! She wondered if she could do it – and at the same time felt so happy that he wanted to.
'Eve, there you are!' An arm went round her waist and she turned to see Janie. 'Oh Joseph, hello... it's been ages.' Janie looked very pleased to see him. 'How are you?'
And was it Eve's imagination or did he squirm slightly at her: 'So you're getting married?'
When Joseph took Robbie off in search of juice, Janie couldn't stop herself from telling her sister: 'He's absolutely lovely. Far better looking than I remember.'
'I know,' Eve said. 'He gets better with age. It's not fair.'
'And he's so good with the kids.'
'Janie!' Eve warned. If Janie was warming up for a 'why did you let that man get away?' lecture, she'd picked the wrong day. 'Tell me all about your amazing holiday.'
The meal whizzed past, the speeches... she had a million people to speak to. Deepa's entire family, not to mention charming Uncle Rani, carefully name-placed beside her for the meal because the bridal couple hadn't been able to help themselves from a bit of optimistic matchmaking. A psychologist by profession, Rani had wheedled her whole life story out of her – well, that was how it felt – between Robbie distractions.
Now it was time for dancing and Jen was by her side, with a glass of fizz – no non-alcoholic-it's-my-turn-to-drive fruit punch nonsense for her – still wearing her hat, boobs spilling out of something black, silver and tight.
'Your children all look beautiful,' Jen told her. 'And so do you, you skinny cow.'
'Look at you! You're gorgeous, I love you,' Eve smiled, full-on emotional mess now.
The music had begun at sunset and Jen's youngest boy, John, was jiggling alongside Anna on the dance floor. Robbie was copying them from a safe distance.
'Are you all tearful and mother of the groom-y?' Jen put an arm round her.
'Of course. Don't get me started.'
"They're a lovely, lovely couple. I'm sure they're going to be fine.'
'I hope so.'
'That's all we can do, darling, keep hoping.' Jen took a slug from her glass. Terry's going to be OK now, I think.'
Terry, 21 now, had been a terrifying teenager, but did seem to finally be calming down.
Jen gave a subtle point in the direction of her smartly turned out older son. 'He's decided to become a plumber,' Jen told her.
'A plumber! Fantastic . . . He'll make more money than a rock star,' Eve laughed.
Lizzie from work came up to them now: 'Your ex-husband, by the way,' she told Eve. 'Total tosser. Your ex-boyfriend – bit of a different story.'
'Yup,' Jen agreed.
Eve was only half listening, she thought she'd heard something about a bamboo roof and a bamboo floor float over from the sound system. She tuned in to it now... yup, a song she hadn't heard for years was being played. A silly, silly song Joseph had been obsessed with one summer. She'd never even heard it anywhere else, 'The House of Bamboo': she'd assumed he had some obscure, one-off recording. And now, here he was, smiling at her, taking the glass out of her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor: 'For old times' sake.' For old times' sake? What was that supposed to mean? 'Did you bring this record?' she asked him.
'No. Nothing to do with me.' This was true. He'd been just as surprised to hear the song as she had.
It was the verse which rhymed 'magazine, oh' with 'cappuccino'. She'd forgotten how silly it was, hadn't thought about it for years but now found she knew all the words, including all the 'dum dum di dum' bits.
Anna and Robbie were already dancing, and Deepa and Tom. Even Denny and a girl she didn't know were headed for the floor.
She, Joseph and her children couldn't help singing along and doing all the stupid moves they'd made up that summer. Other dancers held back for a moment, aware this was a family thing, but they were waved to join in.
In the end, the DJ played the song three times in a row. Later, he would give the record back to Anna, who would pack it away in her rucksack without mentioning anything to anyone.
During the song, Eve kept her eyes on Anna and Robbie and laughed with them – anything not to think about the hand on hers, on her shoulder, round her waist. Joseph pulled her in, pushed her away again in a sort of jivey thing... do do dee do. Whenever she dared to meet his eyes, they were fixed on hers.
She couldn't know that at some point during the dinner Joseph had looked for her and seen her talking and laughing with Deepa's uncle, as she spooned food into Robbie's mouth. Joseph had watched her hands, small but strong, short gardener's nails, one gripped round the thigh of their son as she held him on her lap, the other balancing the spoon expertly. He'd looked long and hard at those hands and had a feeling of calm, of coming to his senses as he'd realized with total clarity that Eve, Anna and Robbie were the loves of his life. Everything else was just bollocks. Now all he had to do was make her see it that way.
'All warmed up?' the DJ's voice boomed from the speakers. "Then it's time to salsa.'
Eve and Joseph had slowed to a stop. She thought she should probably stop dancing with him now because she was feeling so ridiculously flustered.
'Shall we?' he asked. He hadn't let go of her yet.
'I only salsa with Jen.' This sounded so breathless, she was starting to blush.
'Why?'
'I always lead.'
The music was pumping up, warm and irresistible. Only a strip of gold and pink sunlight remained on the edge of the velvet blue sky so the dance floor was growing darker, more secretive, lit only by a row of flaming torches.
He pulled her closer and together they stepped back down into the throng. 'So, lead me,' was all he said, but the words so close to her ear, his body so close to hers, his neck almost touching her face ... What was he trying to do t
o her?
'I'm sorry, Joe.' She broke out of his hold. 'I really need a drink... to cool down.' She turned and walked away as quickly as she could, hoped he wasn't following.
From the safety of the bar, she watched the dancers. Deepa was really going for it, positively bouncing. Eve wondered for a moment if she should go and tell her to calm down. But then thought she was being too much of a clucky mother hen. Deepa was a medical student who knew her own body. It was her wedding, let her dance if she was up for it. Tom was laughing with her, twirling her round.
And then Eve's father was by her side, insisting she sit down and have another drink with him. 'Something a little stronger this time, surely?' He eyed her orange juice suspiciously.
'So... Martha seems very nice,' she challenged him.
He spoke about his new friend and the wedding ... Tom ... her other children, but the only words she really heard, really registered, were said in the serious, hand on arm moment when he told her: 'It's never too late, Eve. When you get to my age, you don't regret the things you've done, just the things you haven't done.'
'What are you talking about, Dad!?' She shied away with a smile.
'Your dancing partner.'
'Ha... right.' Deep swallow of the champagne he'd pressed into her hand.
'Robbie needs a poo.' Her two youngest children were in front of her now. Robbie white with exhaustion because it was hours past his bedtime, both of them damp-haired with sweat from the evening of dancing.
'Duty calls,' she told her father and carried the toddler off to the Portakabins at the back of the marquee.
'Eve,' Jen crossed her path: 'There's something I've got to tell you ...'
'Can it wait a moment? We're on our way to the loos.'
'Joseph's socks... It's a sign,' Jen said and just walked off. What ? Eve put it down to too many glasses of champagne.
Squeezed into the tiny cubicle, with Robbie asleep, head in her lap, she listened with horror to the goings-on in the cubicle beside hers.
Dennis's daughters, Sarah and Louisa, were in there sniffing coke, making hyper-giggle jokes about getting the drugs free from the DJ, 'but you know that means he'll want something later' – more hilarious, drugged-up laughter.
Eve couldn't bear it. These two beautiful girls – one of them could have been hers, she couldn't shake this illogical thought – with everything ahead of them.
But she couldn't face them herself, didn't feel it was her place.
So when they'd finally left, she bundled Robbie up in her arms and marched out to find Dennis. He was on his own at one of the smaller tables, looking round the room with a big tumbler of gin and tonic in front of him.
'Hello, Dennis.' She managed a smile and pulled up a chair so she could sit beside him, Robbie asleep in her lap, dead weight on one arm.
After their polite chitchat about the wedding, she worked up the courage to tell him about his daughters.
'I see,' was his reply. He picked up his drink, drained the glass dry and then pulled at his cufflinks. Weirdly, she remembered this habit of his and it seemed so odd not to know someone at all any more and yet remember their nervous tics.
'They're "in the loos",' he said finally. 'That's very Evelyn of you, isn't it? Shouldn't hip and groovy Eve say "crapper" or "shithouse" or something a bit more with-it?'
'That's hardly a very grown-up response, is it?'
'Well, what the hell do you expect me to do, Eve?' He said her name with a sneer.
'Can't you stop them? Can't you at least talk to them?' she asked. 'They're your children.'
'If £15,000 worth of rehab can't help them, what the hell am I supposed to do?' He waved the barman over and gestured to his glass. I'm just their father. The guy with the deep pockets who goes on paying – for clothes, for schools, for horses, for holidays. And I'm so looking forward to paying for cars, abortions and nose jobs. That's all they want, my money, and then they throw this crap back in my face.' He was speaking too loudly now.
'Oh for God's sake,' she hissed at him hoping to quieten him down.
'Well, what do you expect me to do?'
'Jesus, Dennis.' She felt furious with him, out of all proportion to the situation. A floodgate was loosening and any moment now ...
'Maybe they want you to love them, to pay attention ... to be a parent, for God's sake,' she heard herself spitting out. 'To parent, Dennis, it's a verb. It's about putting in the hours: wiping bottoms and noses, helping with homework, teaching your children to walk, to talk, to read, to swim. You watch wet and cold football matches every week, you patch grazed knees, read long and repetitive bedtime stories, listen to long, complicated girlfriend woes. You make breakfast, lunch and supper, day after day, week in, week out and persuade them to eat it... And your reward for this, d'you know what it is?' Her voice was starting to crack with effort. 'Your reward is happy, well-adjusted children who love you to bits, but grow up, move out, move away and start lives and families of their own.'
He took a mouthful from his glass, swallowed, then told her: 'Well you always were the perfect parent. No-one can fault you there. But a lousy wife,' he added. 'The kids always came first. And you know what? It doesn't surprise me that you're on your own with even more children. There was never going to be room in your life for anyone else. How could there be, when you're so busy being the perfect mother?' She felt as if he'd slapped her in the face. Tears were springing up in her eyes. How dare he?
'Just shut up, Dennis,' she said furiously. 'You have no idea. You have no bloody idea. I've had to do it all on my own. Don't you think I wanted to get close to someone else? But what you did made it too hard.'
She was aware that someone had stepped up behind her chair, but she was too upset to stop.
'The boys don't need you now, Dennis, they don't need your money, or to be impressed by you, or to admire your job . . . They needed you when they were small. And you let them down.'
Dennis's wife Susan had come up to the table and both Tom and Denny had materialized. There were hands on her shoulders, rubbing her neck.
'It's OK, Mum,' Tom was saying, crouching down at the table, trying to be the peacemaker.
'If you and the boys want to get to know each other now, fine,' she said, much more calmly. 'But I'll never understand what you did and I'll never forgive you for it.'
Dennis picked up his glass and drained it down, then set it carefully back on the table. When he looked up at her, it caused her a stab of pain to see tears in his eyes. 'I'm sorry, Eve. I'm sorry to you all,' he said. 'There doesn't seem to be much else I can do.'
'Well . . . sorry is a start.' This was Joseph's voice. It took her a moment to register that it was Joseph standing right behind her, that his hands were on her shoulders once again.
'I think we should go now,' Susan told Dennis. 'Do you know where the girls are?' He gave a bitter laugh in response to this and stood up.
'Good night, everyone. Enjoy the rest of the evening,' was all he said. Then he took Susan's arm in his and together they walked out of the tent.
Denny let out a gasp of air and a: 'So that's that then.'
Eve was wiping tears away with Joseph kneeling down at her side: 'It's fine. You're going to be fine,' he said. 'He deserved everything you said, OK? Every word.' They looked at each other and Eve was aware that something important had happened, some final hold Dennis had still had over her was falling away.
