by B. A. Paris
‘Except Marnie,’ he says.
‘Yes, except Marnie.’
But I can’t tell Nelson, not until I’ve spoken to Adam. For now, it’s enough that Max knows, enough that someone is as appalled as I am. It was depressing to have it confirmed that Rob was actually in Hong Kong with Marnie last December, not in Singapore. I’d hoped I’d been wrong about that, I’d hoped that he hadn’t lied to Jess, to us, about being on a business trip, to start up his affair with Marnie again. Why couldn’t he have left her alone?
Nelson gives my arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
As he moves off, I try to imagine what it would have been like if Marnie hadn’t had a miscarriage, and had gone on to have Rob’s baby. I see now why she didn’t want Josh to know about the miscarriage. She would have been worried that he’d tell Max, and that because Max had seen her and Rob together in Durham, he’d have guessed Rob was the father. He might have had reservations about telling me and Adam about their affair, but if he knew there was a baby, he’d have been more likely to tell us.
Again, I feel a flicker of sympathy for my parents – or rather my father, because maybe Mum would have been alright about me being pregnant if it hadn’t been for him. My pregnancy must have seemed the worst possible thing that could happen, the end of his world as he knew it. The difference is that I’m afraid for those I love, while he was only afraid for himself, how it would look to other people.
‘Livvy?’ I look up and see Mike, his brow crinkled with concern, his tall frame stooped towards me. I love that he came in a jacket and tie tonight, though he’s taken both off now. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Never been better,’ I say, pushing Marnie and Rob to the back of my mind. Jeannie comes over and I put my arms round both of them. ‘Did you know that Mum turned up?’
‘Yes, we heard,’ Jeannie says. ‘We’re so glad for you, Livvy.’
‘I still can’t believe it. It’s the one thing I was really hoping for tonight, that my parents would turn up. If they hadn’t, I was prepared to give up on the dream that we’d be reconciled one day. And now, my dream has come true, and it’s the best feeling ever.’ I reach up and kiss their cheeks, first Jeannie, then Mike. ‘I’m so lucky to have you both. I don’t know what I’d have done without you over the years. You’ve been wonderful parents to me.’
‘We’re always here to help, you know that,’ Mike says.
‘I do, and I love you for it. Did Josh tell you that he’s decided not to go to New York?’
‘Yes, he did. I guess it must have been a bit of a disappointment for Adam. When he phoned this afternoon, I knew he had something on his mind.’
‘It couldn’t have been that because Josh only told him tonight,’ I say, puzzled. ‘Didn’t he say why he was calling?’
‘No, not really. It felt as if he was all at sea about something.’
‘I think this party may be the reason,’ I say ruefully. ‘He’s been more worried about it than I have. He knows how important it is to me, and maybe the pressure got to him. And,’ I lower my voice, ‘I think there’s a bit of a problem with my present. Josh gave me the heads up so that I won’t be disappointed. Not that I would be.’
Mike nods. ‘That’ll be it. You know Adam, he’ll be livid if something has happened which means that today will be less than perfect. Oh, this is my song choice,’ he says, as ‘Uptown Girl’ starts playing. He holds his arm to Jeannie. ‘May I escort you to the dance floor?’
Mike and Jeannie are hugely popular, and as everyone crowds round to watch them dancing together, I take advantage of a few more moments of solitude. I still can’t quite believe Mum turned up. It was so strange to see her standing there because whenever I tried to imagine our reconciliation, I pictured her as I remembered her: her hair drawn back in a bun, her face unsmiling, my father looming over her both physically and – I realise now – mentally. And I hadn’t allowed for her having aged. Bizarrely though, she seems younger, maybe because of the way she has her hair now. She told me she got it cut the day after my father’s funeral because as she watched his coffin disappear into the ground, it dawned on her that she was free, that she could do as she liked without having to refer to him for everything. She said that even though she loved my father, she’d felt a great weight lifting from her shoulders.
Mum isn’t the only one feeling lighter. It’s not just because the need to be reconciled with my parents – a need so raw it hurt – has finally gone. It’s because soon, in a few hours, I’ll be free of something else that’s dominated my life for years, and that’s this party. I might not have thought about it every day of those twenty years, but definitely every week. If I saw a beautiful dress in a shop, I’d wonder if it was the kind of dress I might like for my party. If I tasted a delicious dish, I’d think about having it on the menu. If I came across ideas for decorations in a magazine, I’d wonder if I should have something similar. I couldn’t get away from my party. It was always there, not necessarily in a bad way, but taking up space in my mind. And now that it’s here, now that it’s everything I dreamed of, despite Rob, a part of me can’t wait until tomorrow evening, when the tent is down, when the last of the food has been eaten and when everybody has left. And then it’ll just be me, and Adam.
11 P.M. – 12 A.M.
Adam
I can’t stay in the bathroom forever. I’ve been here too long, standing at the sink, watching the blood seep from the gash across my palm, feeling nothing. The throb of the music outside matches the pounding in my head. I’m so close to the edge that I want to go out to the garden and scream at everyone to get the hell out of our house. To stop myself, I imagine the carnage it would cause – everyone staring at me in alarm, then Livia, my dad, Josh, Nelson trying to calm me, asking me what’s wrong, worried that I’m having some kind of breakdown.
Would I be able to keep it inside me, the news that Marnie might have been on the plane that crashed? Or would I scream out my pain and anger, tell them that I hate them all, because they’re alive and Marnie might be dead? They’d be horrified, devastated. And no-one would understand, not even for a second, why I let the party go on.
I hear feet on the stairs. Josh.
‘Dad? Where are you?’
I clench my hand, feel the warmth of blood. ‘Just patching up a cut!’
His voice comes through the door. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘I’ll be right down.’
‘Two minutes?’
‘Yes, two minutes.’
‘OK. I need you there.’
His footsteps thunder down the stairs. I haven’t given much thought to Josh in all this, I realise, about how losing Marnie will affect him. But I can’t go there now. And there’s still hope. I need to believe that there’s still hope.
I splash some water on my face and make my way down, trying to avoid looking at Marnie’s bedroom door. I’m halfway down when the music cuts out in the middle of the song, leaving behind a sudden silence. There’s a low murmuring of people’s voices, the occasional loud laugh, a shout. The murmurs get louder, as if something is about to happen, Livia’s speech, probably. And then, out of nowhere, I hear, ‘I’m here, Mum!’
The world comes juddering to a halt. I’m hearing things, it must be in my head. Then Livia gives a cry of delight and everyone is laughing and cheering, and I’m running through the kitchen, across the terrace, up the stone steps, to where everyone is standing on the lawn, straining to see over each other’s shoulders to where Livia – I catch a glimpse of her dress through the crowd – is standing. I can hear Marnie talking excitedly about how she arranged this surprise with Josh, and as I push my way through, nobody takes any notice of me, they’re too busy laughing. And at last, at last, I get to the front, elbowing Nelson and Rob aside.
‘Watch it!’ Rob says.
‘Let him through, Rob, he wants to see his daughter,’ Nelson says, and I’m looking for Marnie, I can hear her but I can only see Livia, and she looks so h
appy that I know she’s looking at Marnie. I follow her eyes until I find where they are focused. And the same terrible weakness I felt earlier comes back and I stumble against Nelson. And Nelson, his eyes still fixed on Josh’s computer screen, where Marnie is telling Livia that she can’t wait to be home, throws an arm round my shoulders.
‘Isn’t this brilliant? Look at Livia’s face! This has made the party for her. Doesn’t Marnie look great!’ He turns to me. ‘Did you know about it?’
But I can only stare at the video of Marnie, caught up in the nightmare of being able to see her but not being able to hold her. Of her being here, yet not being here. And Nelson, recognising that I can’t speak, gives my shoulder a squeeze.
‘She’ll soon be home,’ he says. ‘She’ll soon be home.’
‘And Dad, where are you? Ah, there you are!’ Marnie cries, pretending she can see me, and everyone laughs. ‘I can’t wait to see you either. Not long now, only a few weeks. And who knows, maybe we’ll be watching this together,’ she adds, smiling a smile that is just for me. A smile of conspiracy, because I’m the only one who understands the meaning behind her words and everybody is too busy waving goodbye to her as she disappears from the screen to give them any thought.
Livia comes over, her face flushed, her eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘Wasn’t that lovely? Was it you who arranged it?’
‘No, it was me,’ Josh says, coming over to join us, his laptop now closed and tucked under his arm. I can’t stop staring at it. ‘I wanted Marnie to FaceTime tonight but when she said she might not be able to, as she was going away, I asked her to send a back-up video just in case. She said to wait until eleven thirty and if she hadn’t got through by then, to play it. She might still FaceTime, though,’ he adds.
No, she won’t, I realise, pain searing through me as I finally accept what I’ve tried so hard to deny. She’ll never FaceTime again. Marnie only agreed to make the video so that Josh wouldn’t know she was coming home. She didn’t expect it to be played at the party because she’d already be here. Because everything was going to turn out exactly as we’d planned.
The sounds are too loud, the colours – balloons, dresses, lights – too bright. Everything blurs. I can’t move. I can’t speak. Next to me, Livia and Josh hug, and the soft material of her dress brushes my hand. I can see our family, our friends, standing in groups, drinking and laughing. But it’s as if I’m not here.
Livia
With everyone still grouped on the lawn from watching Marnie’s video, I realise it’s a good time to thank everyone for coming. Adam is here, so I’ll be able to give him his present before he does another disappearing act. I’m not sure what’s going on with him but something isn’t right. Earlier, when I had my arms around him, there was a moment when he slumped against me, as if he suddenly had no strength left. First thing on Monday morning, I’m going to make him an appointment with the doctor.
Despite everything she’s done, it was lovely to see Marnie on screen. I’d been talking to Izzy when Josh set it up, so when I heard I’m here, Mum! she sounded so close that I thought was that she was here, that she’d turned up unexpectedly as a surprise. And everything – all the anger I felt towards her – disappeared, and all I wanted was to put my arms around her and hold her close. I would never tell Josh this, but when I realised it was a video and that she wasn’t actually here, some of the tears that sprung to my eyes were tears of disappointment. And I think Adam must have thought the same, because when he came bursting through the crowd, I could feel his bewilderment, and I wished I could have warned him and spared him the same disappointment. But I couldn’t, because I couldn’t take my eyes off Marnie.
When the video came to an end and everyone was clapping and cheering, my eyes happened to fall on Rob and the proprietorial look I saw on his face as Marnie waved goodbye from the screen sent another wave of white-hot anger coursing through me. But then I saw Adam and he looked so bleak, so utterly devastated, that I forgot Rob’s treachery in an instant.
Kirin and Izzy appear in front of me, their arms laden with gifts.
‘Time to open your presents!’ Izzy cries.
Before I’ve had time to work out what’s happening, Izzy manoeuvres me behind one of the tables which has been cleared of plates.
Josh cuts the music and I begin opening my presents. Most of my friends have clubbed together to buy me a beautiful gold necklace, and Adam’s parents have bought me matching earrings. There are also lovely bath oils and essences, chocolates, a cookery book, a canvas bag for the beach, a leather purse and from Josh, an intricate silver bangle which I absolutely love. By the time I’ve thanked everybody individually, I feel so emotional that I don’t know how I’m going to be able to speak, especially as I don’t have anything written down. But I manage to say what I want to say, and when I get to the end, I reach for Adam, the plaster on his hand a reminder not to squeeze it too tightly.
‘The wonderful thing is that, after tonight, this need for a special day, which came about because I never had the wedding I dreamed of, will finally be out of my system. Thanks to everyone here, I’ll have lived my dream. But the person I have to thank most is Adam. He never told me to let go of my dream, or told me that it was unattainable or stupid or selfish or unreasonable, or any of the other things he could have said. He always encouraged me, supported me, championed me.’ I turn to Adam. ‘You’ve given me so much, and now it’s my turn to give something to you.’ I walk over to one of the large plant pots and slide out the large brown envelope I hid under it earlier. ‘This is for you, with my love.’
As Adam takes it, I detect a fleeting panic in his eyes and I feel terrible. I knew he’d hate having to open it in public but I’ve gone ahead anyway because I want all our family and friends gathered here tonight to know I’m not completely selfish, that I’ve thought about Adam too, that this party is also for him. But it’s not, I realise. The fact that I want them to believe it is shows I’m only thinking about myself, about how I will look.
‘You can open it later, when everyone has gone,’ I say, trying to rectify the situation. But it’s too late; above the clapping and cheering, a cry goes up, urging Adam to open the envelope. There are a few suggestions as to what it might be, including a subscription to Playboy magazine from Rob, and a season ticket for Manchester United from Nelson. Adam hides his dismay, smiles good-naturedly and gives me a kiss.
‘Thank you,’ he says.
He takes his time opening the envelope and I’m not sure whether it’s because he wants to keep everyone waiting or if it’s because he’s apprehensive about what it might contain. I’m not worried on that score. I know he’s going to love it.
‘Is it a parachute jump?’ someone asks.
‘A drive in a Ferrari, maybe?’ Mike says.
I watch Adam’s face as he draws out the photo of the Millau Viaduct.
‘Well, what is it?’ Rob asks impatiently.
Adam clears his throat. ‘I think my amazing wife is taking me to see something I’ve always dreamed of seeing,’ he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He holds up the photo. ‘The Millau Viaduct in the south of France.’
The significance is lost on most people so Nelson starts explaining.
‘There’s something else in the envelope,’ I tell Adam, because I want him to know the trip has already been booked, that we’re actually going, that it’s not one of those promises for a vague time in the future which never will materialise because other things will get in the way. With a questioning look, he takes out the wallet containing the tickets and then he just stands there, staring at it and my heart sinks, because there’s something on his face that tells me he doesn’t want to open it, that he’s afraid to, in case he sees something that he doesn’t want to see.
‘Come on, man, when are you going?’ Rob calls. ‘We want to know!’
Realising that he’s not behaving as he should, Adam gives a quick smile.
‘I’m trying to prolong the suspense!’ he sa
ys, but I can see that it cost him a lot to joke about it. And I want to turn around and scream at Rob to leave Adam alone, to tell everyone that the circus is over, because for some reason, this whole present thing has become too hard for Adam to deal with.
He opens the wallet and draws out the tickets. ‘Tuesday.’ Only I detect the waver in Adam’s voice. ‘Tuesday,’ he says again, his voice stronger this time. ‘We’re going on Tuesday!’
‘For how long?’
Adam takes his time doing the maths. ‘Four days! We’re coming back Saturday.’ And everyone begins cheering and whooping.
‘It is alright, isn’t it?’ I say to Adam, as the music comes back on and people begin to melt away.
He puts his arms around me. ‘It’s wonderful,’ he says, holding me tight.
‘Only I thought you seemed – not disappointed exactly but – I don’t know.’
‘It’s perfect,’ he says. ‘I was just amazed that you remembered how much I wanted to see the Millau Viaduct. I never expected you to give me anything. I was a bit overcome, to tell you the truth.’
I move back so that I can see his eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ he insists. ‘Thank you, I can’t wait to go.’
‘Wasn’t it lovely of Josh and Marnie to arrange the video?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘I thought she was there for a minute – when I heard her say “I’m here, Mum!” You did too, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I did.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rob chatting to a couple of my friends from work. It’s hard to put my resentment for him aside but looking at him objectively – something I’ve never really done before – I can see why women find him attractive. What I can’t understand is how Marnie fell for him when she knows how Adam feels about Rob. She’s often teased him that the reason he doesn’t really like Rob is because he’s better looking. She adores Adam – yet she’s gone headlong into a relationship that she must know will break his heart. What will happen if Adam refuses to accept Rob as Marnie’s boyfriend, which he almost certainly will?
