‘No, I don’t think so.’ She looked around vaguely. ‘Just look after Gabriel. He’s on your table, by the way, under the name Captain Hornblower.’
Jerry leaned forward and shook Gabriel’s hand.
‘So this is the famous Gabriel Frost,’ he said. ‘We meet at last!’
Oh, great.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ It was Mum, standing with her most inquisitive look on her face. ‘Is this the chap India was telling me about?’
Mum, don’t …
‘She’s been almost unbearable because of you. She thinks I don’t know but I can tell. I hope you’re going to bring a smile to her face?’
Mum, shut up …
‘I hope so too. This is a beautiful wedding,’ Gabriel said. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
‘Oh, it’s always nice to meet Alexa’s friends.’ Mum gave him a slightly hard look. ‘We’ll have a really good chat later.’
‘I’d like that, thank you,’ Gabriel said, and mercifully Mum was dragged off to have some more photos taken.
Jerry was watching Gabriel with a rather penetrating gaze that I bet he’d perfected in court.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ Gabriel said, shaking Jerry’s hand.
‘Our pleasure,’ Jerry said, thankfully distracted by one of his fellow barristers who was bringing him a present that was beautifully wrapped but very obviously a wheelbarrow. Why would they need that? They lived in a second-floor apartment without so much as a window box.
‘Sebby! You old git! Just what we need,’ Jerry said, obviously delighted.
‘So tell me what you’ve been doing?’ Gabriel asked, leaning closer to me than was actually necessary, but it was deliriously nice.
We had gone out of the main room into the conservatory where it was quieter and there was even more champagne.
I tried to think what I had been doing for the last few weeks. Could I make up something exciting? Bungee jumping? Being able to fold a towel into a pterodactyl?
‘Well, there’s been the wedding to organise of course. That’s taken up most of my time. There was a problem with the hydrangeas at the florist’s being pink instead of blue, which had to be sorted; bridesmaid’s dress to be bought.’
I swept a hand down my dress to indicate how successful we had been.
‘You look wonderful.’
‘I do?’ He’d already said it, but I felt like I needed the confirmation.
Gabriel nodded.
A waitress came towards us with a tray of canapés. Mushroom something. I picked one up and wondered if I could manage to eat it without dropping it down the front of my dress. Of course the only way not to do this was to eat it in one go.
‘So apart from the shopping and wedding, how are you?’ Gabriel asked again. ‘Done any Spring-Cleaning?’ He grinned down at me.
I made sort of hmm-hmming noises as I chewed frantically. I swallowed and took a gulp of champagne rather too quickly so I spluttered a bit. My word, I was excelling myself in the cool and sensible behaviour stakes.
‘Catching up on work – I’ve not really had time to do much else.’
A flake of pastry had stuck in my throat and my voice was high and squeaky.
Actually I had mislaid my seagull-decorated notebook. I thought it might still be in my suitcase along with more sugar sachets, nicked biros and free shampoo from the cabin bathroom.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lola and Georgia edging towards us. I turned and looked at them and they stopped. Only to start moving again when I looked away. It was like a sort of Grandma’s Footsteps game for grown-ups. Outside the rain was hammering down; there was no way I could escape out there.
‘That’s a pity,’ he said. ‘I thought you might have a lot to write about.’
‘You did?’
‘You’re certainly very imaginative as I recall.’
I looked up at him and his grey eyes twinkled. I bet we were both remembering the same thing. I’d found a blindfold by the side of his bed and some … well, never mind; now that had been fun.
I stifled a giggle.
Just as Lola reached us there was the sound of a gong being struck and we were saved from her because we were all called in for the wedding breakfast. The December afternoon was dark outside now and the fairy lights on each table were sparkling. It looked wonderful.
I found my seat and gave a little excited jump inside when Gabriel took the seat next to me.
A few minutes later, at the front of the room, my father banged on the table with a spoon, calling for silence before he introduced India and Jerry and the two of them swept triumphantly into the room to loud cheers.
It was a lovely meal. India and Jerry had haggled over it for weeks. We were sharing the table with two couples from Jerry’s work who India always referred to as the Smug Marrieds. They all kept up a loud, cheerful stream of chatter, helped by the steady flow of wine.
At last I began to relax but of course the Smug Marrieds weren’t called that for nothing and, sensing some easy prey on the table, they started to tell us how they had met (Internet for one couple and blind date for the other so hardly ground-breaking), then one of them – a Very Smug Married in a tight purple satin dress that showed just how bony her chest was – turned her gimlet gaze on me.
‘So how did you two meet?’
Deadly question. Luckily Gabriel took up the challenge.
‘Drawn together by a love of literature,’ he said.
‘Rahlly? How fascinating! Do tell!’ Mrs VSM said, leaning her chin on her hand and fluttering her eyelash extensions at Gabriel.
‘I was in a high-security jail and Alexa was a prison visitor.’
Mrs VSM backed away a bit, her eyes like saucers. ‘Rahlly?’
Gabriel took pity on her. ‘No, we met on the Reine de France.’
‘The transatlantic liner,’ I added.
‘Oh yes, I always think that must be the most tedious of holidays. I had a nanny once who went on them with her boyfriend. Tattoos, wife-beater vests. It sounded ghastly.’
Mr and Mrs VSM turned to each other with knowing looks.
‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ said the man sitting next to me, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Buzz Aldrin.’
He couldn’t be. I’d seen Buzz Aldrin on TV only recently advertising porridge and he was about eighty.
‘Basil actually,’ said his wife, sensing my confusion, ‘but everyone calls him Buzz. I’m Angie. Doesn’t India look a picture?’
‘Gorgeous, so happy too.’
‘And married so young! What is she, twenty-four? Twenty-five?’
‘Twenty-six,’ I said.
‘You’ll be next then,’ Mrs VSM put in, with a knowing look.
‘You married, Gabriel?’ her husband said.
‘I’m divorced. Still looking for the right girl.’
‘Me too.’ Mr VSM guffawed, earning himself a poisonous look from his wife.
I almost stopped breathing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Last Word
Dry Gin, Green Chartreuse, Maraschino Liqueur, Lime Juice
I took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. I had almost been over him anyway. Hadn’t I? I didn’t care that he had turned up again with his smooth lies, throwing me into a hormonal spin like this. Did I? No. I could deal with this in a sensible and adult way. Who cared if he was gorgeous and sexy and at that moment touching my hand with his to attract my attention?
‘What do you think?’ he said.
I had no idea what he had been talking about so I took a sip of my water and shrugged.
‘So?’ He looked confused.
‘Sorry, what did you say? I wasn’t really listening,’ I said.
He laughed and my heart did a funny little flip at the way his eyes sparkled.
‘No, I didn’t think you were. I asked if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow.’
‘Oh well, yes, no, yes, actually I’m not – you know how it is after a we
dding. There’s always a lot to do. Things to clear up and stuff.’
I was feeling rather hot and bothered by this point and growing intensely aware of his hand on mine. He’d left it there and was now very gently stroking the backs of my fingers with his. I gave a tiny whimper and pulled my hand away, pretending I needed to top up my full water glass.
A waiter took my plate away. I think it was a smoked salmon thing for the starter and a moment later he brought me a lamb thing. It really did look rather splendid, with all sorts of jus spots and tiny gel cubes on the plate. It reminded me of the meals we had enjoyed on the Reine de France and I felt suddenly very nostalgic for those few days when I had been so confused and yet so happy at the same time. I don’t think I had slept properly or felt quite normal since.
‘So, what do you do, Gabriel?’ Angie said.
‘I’m a lawyer.’
‘Goodness, how thrilling. Do you do trials and send people to prison?’
‘Well, not often. I specialise in divorce.’
‘I say, I couldn’t have your card, could I?’ Mr VSM said smoothly. ‘Ow!’
I think his wife kicked him under the table at this point.
‘And have you done any famous people’s divorces?’ Angie asked.
‘No, not really. Most of them are pretty run of the mill. Anyway, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you about them, client confidentiality being what it is,’ Gabriel said, winking at them. ‘But tell me about you, Angie. What do you do?’
‘She pretends she’s my PA,’ Buzz said, ‘but in fact she’s a personal shopper with one client. Herself.’
‘Oooh, someone’s grumpy,’ Angie said, not at all offended. ‘I do have the house to look after and the children. Three of them,’ she said, reaching for her phone and flicking to her photos. ‘There, aren’t they absolutely divine? Mila is ten, Winifred is eight and Ena is four. My girls are so amazing.’
I looked at a photograph of three fairly ordinary-looking girls covered in chocolate, pulling faces at the camera.
‘Wonderful,’ I said, ‘and unusual names.’
Angie smiled while Buzz rolled his eyes and said Ena, honest to God … why not just call her Old Lady and be done with it? under his breath.
They then proceeded to have a tense and very quiet argument about their children’s names, which resulted in Angie stalking off to the ladies’ loo, her mouth in a grim line of fury.
Mrs VSM threw her napkin down on the table.
‘Honest to God, Buzz, can’t you let it drop?’
She went off after Angie with a martyred expression, wobbling slightly on her stilettos.
‘You’re right not to rush into getting remarried, Gabriel,’ Mr VSM said, watching her go. ‘They promise you the earth to get you to marry them and then they turn into their mothers. Women are a frigging nightmare.’
‘Not all women,’ I said, indignant.
‘Oh, present company excepted,’ Mr VSM said with a vague wave of his hand.
‘Some men can be a nightmare too, especially the ones who lie.’
There was a moment’s silence around the table.
‘That was mistaken identity,’ Mr VSM said rather heatedly. ‘I explained that at the time. That woman was absolutely barking. It wasn’t me and it couldn’t have been because I was away in Nottingham at the time. For fuck’s sake, is she still banging on about that?’
He got up and stamped out of the reception, fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes. That just left the three of us and after a moment Buzz went off to the loo.
Gabriel and I looked at each other.
‘What was all that about?’ he asked.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I said. ‘Evidently I touched a nerve.’
‘Evidently! More wine? We seem to have plenty between us.’ He topped up my glass. It was jolly nice wine too, very cold and dry Pinot Grigio; I took a sip, enjoying the iciness.
‘But you knew he’d been cheating?’ Gabriel said.
‘I had no idea!’
‘So the comment about men lying?’
‘I meant you,’ I said, draining my glass and reaching for the bottle. If we were going to have an argument I might as well do it pissed.
‘Me?’
‘All that never met the right girl business. It’s not true, is it? I know about Elsa and the nasty divorce.’
I looked at him, waiting for him to explain, crumble, or at least look a bit guilty. He did none of those things.
‘Sorry?’
‘Yes, all that pretence, all that smooth talking so you could get me into bed. I know all about the divorce and how you’re never going to get over her.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The nasty divorce. And the children having to go into therapy.’
‘Children? Therapy?’
‘Will you please stop repeating everything I say? It’s very annoying,’ I snapped.
The waiter was back and he cleared our plates away. When he left Gabriel leaned towards me.
‘I have absolutely no idea where you’ve got these ideas from,’ he whispered.
‘No, well, you would say that.’
The waiter brought us bowls of profiteroles and at the same time the four others returned to the table looking rather shamefaced.
‘Sorry about that,’ Buzz said with a hearty chuckle. ‘Mmm, this looks scrummy. My favourite.’
‘I think you and I need to talk,’ Gabriel said quietly, but in a tone that I didn’t think meant I had an option.
‘Yes,’ I said, pushing my profiteroles around the plate with a careless spoon. There was no way I could eat them. Inside I was all sort of clenched and excited in a really odd way. What emotions was this reawakening in me? What had I started?
Then of course there were speeches. Dad, very brusque and a bit weepy, describing India and how she had been a joy and delight all her life.
At this India snorted with laughter. ‘You’re thinking of someone else, Dad.’
And everyone chuckled in that sort of good-natured way they do when they’re happy and slightly drunk.
Then Jerry, overexcited and emotional. Introducing ‘my wife and I’ and grinning at the huge cheer from everyone. Proposing a toast to the bridesmaid and flower girls. By now two of the flower girls were making a den under a table, their silk dresses crushed and grubby. The youngest – clutching a blue rabbit in one hand and a bread roll in the other – was asleep in a buggy next to her mother. Which of course meant everyone turned and stared at me. I could feel myself blushing.
India’s sister.
Who is that with her?
Very nice – why isn’t she married yet?
I could feel my cheeks burning. I wished I could have slid under the table with Poppy and Scarlett. Next to me, Gabriel was joining in the applause with a broad grin on his face as though he could imagine my embarrassment, our tense exchange seemingly on hold for now.
Then it was the turn of Jerry’s best man, Mark – tall, dapper and excruciatingly funny. Everyone turned in their seats to watch him as he asked for the lights to be dimmed, brought out a laptop and proceeded to give a very professional PowerPoint presentation on Jerry’s character, behaviour in chambers and stag weekend in Wolverhampton. I still couldn’t understand why they had chosen to go there when they could have gone to Vegas or Monaco or anywhere for that matter.
I felt Gabriel reach for my hand. I turned to see him watching me. His eyes were bright in the shadowy light.
Mark’s speech went down brilliantly. I think he must have been really funny because everyone was laughing. Angie was wiping away tears of laughter at one point and Buzz Aldrin was slapping his palm down on to the table and rocking back and forth.
Then there was the cake cutting and bouquet throwing to be done, and then there was a blessed pause when Jerry and India went to their room in the hotel, apparently to get ready for the evening party, but there seemed to be a lot of giggling going on.
*
; With a sigh of relief I went to my room, kicked off my shoes and lay down on the bed. I just wasn’t in the mood to finish that conversation yet. Too much champagne and wine – I couldn’t be trusted to say things clearly. I needed time to think.
I think I stayed there for about half an hour until I could hear people rushing about in the corridor outside my room like a load of kids playing tag.
The party was due to start at seven-thirty; maybe there was time for a shower?
There was a thump on the door and when I opened it India was there, still wearing her wedding dress, a glass of champagne in one hand and a slice of wedding cake in the other.
‘This is for you,’ she said, putting it on the dressing table. ‘It’s really scrummy.’ She flopped down on my bed and gave a happy sigh. ‘I’m looking forward to the party, aren’t you? Are you going to be long?’
‘No, just going to freshen up, and then I’ll come down. Had a good day?’
‘The absolute bestest day ever,’ she said. She stood up, came over and gave me a hug, rocking slightly. ‘I’m a bit pissed but who cares? I’d better get back to my husband.’ She giggled. ‘How weird is that? My husband. This is my husband, Jerry. This is Jeremy St John Cholmondley Sinclair, my husband.’
I laughed. ‘Did you know his name was Cholmondley?’
‘I had no idea before we started organising the wedding. He told me about the St John bit but Cholmondley? I mean really! I think there was an uncle somewhere. I’m going to put some flatter shoes on. These stilettos are killing me, and this dress is so heavy – that doesn’t help.’
She tottered out and I closed the door behind her.
I freshened up my make-up and went back downstairs. The rooms that so recently had been filled with chattering people were nearly deserted and eerily quiet after the excitement. There were just a couple of people sitting at a table in the corner finishing their drinks. Then a couple of young men came in through the doors from the car park, wheeling heavy disco equipment on a couple of trolleys. They started to set up their kit ready for the evening party and some of the hotel staff came in to move the tables off the dance floor area.
I walked out of the room and into the deserted conservatory nearby where there was a large table filled with lovely-looking presents for India and Jerry.
Come Away With Me Page 28
