The Winter Wedding

by Abby Clements

  ‘Hi.’ I kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Have you got time for a coffee?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, sure.’ The flowers would wait, and I could gamble on there being some last-minute bargains.

  We got outside seats at a nearby café, ordered drinks and looked out onto the lively throng of hipsters, locals, excitable tourists and seasoned gardeners. ‘I love it here,’ I said, to break the silence.

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma said. Her voice was calm, her tone a little more muted than usual. ‘I needed a breath of fresh air this morning. This place always reminds me that there are such beautiful things in the world if you just take the time to look for them.’

  I waited a moment for her to speak, then, when she didn’t, filled the quiet once more.

  ‘How are things with Eliot. Have you spoken?’

  She nodded. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been wanting to phone, but, well, everything’s been such a muddle I guess it’s easier to explain face to face.’

  I nodded, hoping desperately that the muddle she’d mentioned wasn’t beyond fixing.

  ‘Eliot came and spoke with you, then?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks for telling him to. I just can’t get over how much worse he made things by keeping quiet. You heard me the other day – I was convinced he’d found someone else. So he lost his job? Who cares?’

  My face broke into a smile, instantly.

  ‘He hated the bloody place anyway,’ Gemma said, shaking her head. ‘I mean, yes – we were counting on the money to finance the wedding, but the last thing I want is for him to feel trapped somewhere because of that. I didn’t work this hard for the past decade for nothing – I wanted to have the money and independence for the things that really mattered to me. I wouldn’t care if Eliot was a skint artist, or a bin man, or a barista. He’s Eliot. And I’m totally in love with him.’

  The passion she spoke with filled me with hope and happiness, and I suppose if I’m honest, just a little bit of envy.

  ‘I still want to marry him,’ Gemma said, welling up. ‘Of course I still want to marry him. And now I know that he wants to marry me just as much.’

  A wave of happiness and relief swept over me.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘You sound happy.’

  ‘I’m over the bloody moon, Hazel. I’ve missed him so much.’

  ‘And he’s missed you, too.’

  ‘Oh, and here’s a surprise. Eliot’s not going to look for another job.’

  ‘What?’ My chest tightened.

  She must have sensed my discomfort as she quickly chimed in. ‘Don’t worry. It’s fine. I mean – it’s crazy, but it will be fine. He’s going to train as a pilot. He’s always wanted to do it, and I’ve managed to convince him that now’s the time.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said, surprised. ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘Yes. He got his licence years ago, but it’s stayed as a hobby. Now he wants to see if he can make a living out of it.’

  ‘And you’re behind him on this?’

  ‘One hundred per cent. He’s my Eliot, no matter what, and to see him like this – full of enthusiasm again. It’s amazing, Hazel. He’s like the man I first met.’

  That evening, I picked up Gemma and Eliot’s wedding folder again, and started to plan.

  When I came out of my bedroom at dinnertime, I saw Amber in the kitchen, apron on and her hair in a loose bun on the top of her head. Beside her on the counter were trays of cupcakes, ready to go in the oven.

  ‘You’ve been busy,’ I said. I drank in the sweet cinnamon and ginger scent of them as I walked up to her. ‘Who are all of these for?’

  ‘You, if you want,’ she said, looking up with a smile. It didn’t go quite as far as her eyes, though, which were missing their usual bright glimmer.

  ‘You made all of these, for nobody in particular?’ I asked, confused. Even for a baking aficionado like Amber, this was not usual.

  ‘Mm-hmmm,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘Let’s call it culinary therapy.’

  Amber opened the oven to put them in, letting out a blast of heat that pushed me back a step.

  She took off her oven gloves and sat down at the table, pulling out the chair beside her.

  ‘He’s in love with you,’ she said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘Who?’ I said, flummoxed. This wasn’t a sentence that got said. No one was ever in love with me. I wasn’t one of those women. I don’t know when that got set in stone, but I knew that it just was.

  ‘Sam,’ Amber said. His name – familiar but made curious and surreal by the context, hung in the air between us.

  ‘He told me this evening. I’ve been an idiot, Hazel. I should have known it – and I should never have risked our friendship over it. But it’s great – I mean for you – you, the two of you could be something awesome. You’ve always got along so well.’

  ‘What . . .?’ I said, feeling dizzy and muddled. ‘I absolutely do not understand what’s going on here.’

  ‘Sam. He said he got it all back to front. He thought it was me he liked – but all along it was you. That perhaps it had always been you. He freaked out about losing your friendship but then once he was with me he seemed to lose it anyway, and that was when he saw how much he missed you.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, slowly taking it all in.

  ‘So – in short – it’s you he wants.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Amber. ‘You know I had no idea.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she said. I saw she was upset, and felt bad about it – I’d led her into this situation after all. Sam was my friend.

  ‘OK, cupcakes are great, but really I think it’s too much pressure to put on even your baking to expect them to fix this. I’m going to pour us some gin and tonics,’ I said, getting to my feet and grabbing some ice cubes from the freezer. I sliced into a lemon and lime, and filled two tumblers with the drinks.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it gratefully. ‘Two days, that’s all it’ll take,’ Amber said. ‘I’m definitely not spending longer than that caught up in this.’ She took a sip of the drink and winced slightly at the strength of the alcohol. ‘Actually,’ she said with a smile. ‘Make that two hours.’

  I sipped from my own glass. I felt bad thinking it – it’s not like I would have wished for things not to work out – but the truth was, it was actually kind of nice having Amber back. I’d missed our weekend brunches, and night-time cups of cocoa while working our way through the Breaking Bad box set.

  ‘We talked for a while,’ Amber said. ‘ We were out – just like any other night, and the atmosphere just turned kind of serious. I thought he was going to ask if we could ramp things up a notch, I’ve been waiting for that kind of a discussion. Instead he started reminiscing about school, how you guys used to be so close, and saying that he really missed that. It took a few minutes for the penny to drop.’

  It was awkward – I cared about Amber, yet suddenly she was the only gateway to understanding Sam’s feelings. And I needed to know what they were.

  ‘He was nice about it. As nice as he could be, given what he was actually saying. I guess it just took being with me to make him realise what he really wanted. Which means I should definitely get a mention in your wedding speech.’ Amber forced a smile.

  ‘You know that’s not going to happen,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Not to Sam, not to anyone.’

  Amber looked at me, her smile melting away. ‘Seriously though, Hazel. I know I’ve kind of muddled things, but you shouldn’t let that distract you. I would never want to stand in your way. You stepped back, and now it’s my turn. You should give him a chance.’

  My heart was racing, but my head was foggy. I thought of Sam’s face – his close-cropped light hair, dark eyebrows, blue-grey eyes, the skate clothes he still wore, even though he was a decade older than most of the kids in the park these days. It blurred into Josh’s, and then back. I loved Sam. I’d always loved Sam. I’d never shared my life with any man like I had with him. And Josh – no,
it wasn’t worth going there. I had to draw a line under anything I’d once considered. Josh was getting married. And Josh – he’d probably be as excited as I was starting to feel about the prospect of Sam and me finally getting together.

  ‘I feel terrible that he’s messed you around,’ I said to Amber.

  ‘Oh he was perfectly nice about it,’ Amber said. Her expression had started to soften, though. ‘In so far as he could be, anyway.’

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  ‘He’s not the most mature person I’ve ever met, but then again neither are you.’

  I wrinkled my nose at her, making a face.

  ‘And that’s the reason I like you both.’

  ‘OK, you pulled it back there.’

  Amber continued. ‘You know what. I didn’t know what I wanted when we got together. I still miss Jude badly. I just went with my gut feeling. Because who the hell does know what’s right for them until they give it a go?’

  Her words gave me pause for thought. I’d been ready to take that step with Sam just a few weeks ago, and it was only because of Amber that I’d shut my feelings off. Maybe I could be open to it again.

  ‘I told him he should call you,’ Amber said.

  ‘Right.’ I drew in my breath. It felt as if everything was about to change, and now part of me desperately wanted things to stay the same. I thought of my phone over on the coffee table and felt a powerful urge to switch it off – to avoid the whole situation.

  ‘Put yourself first for once, Hazel,’ Amber said. ‘You deserve something good. Maybe this is it.’

  I went to bed that night, soft tartan pyjamas and bedsocks making things seem a little more familiar and comfortable even now they were starting to change, and I put my mobile on the bedside table. I loved and hated that mobile in equal measure right now.

  I checked it one more time – no calls, no messages. Then eventually slipped into sleep.

  Chapter 29

  On Tuesday evening, I went to meet Lila just outside the studio she rehearsed in. Even though I knew it was only a matter of minutes before she and her fellow dancers would flood out, flushed and excited after their afternoon rehearsing, I checked my phone. No messages, none from Lila, none from Sam. Lila had had an audition earlier in the week, and today was the day she was due to find out whether she’d got the part of Clara in The Nutcracker.

  The door swung open and I saw the familiar faces of a couple of her friends, they came down the stairs chattering animatedly to one another. Then Lila – I saw her and she raised her hand in greeting. I desperately tried to read her expression.

  She walked over to me.

  ‘So?’ I asked eagerly.

  She shrugged, then looked down. She shook her head sadly.

  I felt as if it were happening to me just as much as her. A stab of disappointment in my gut – and disbelief.

  ‘No . . .’ I said.

  She glanced up and there was a twinkle in her green eyes. ‘I had you there, didn’t I?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘You got the part?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, beaming. ‘You’re looking at Clara.’

  I swept her into my arms and hugged her close. We jumped up and down on the spot, both letting out squeals of excitement. We could have been eight years old right then – and everything in the world – everything – was just right.

  When I got back to the flat, my phone buzzed with a call. I took a breath, checked the name on the screen, and answered it.

  ‘Sam, hi,’ I said.

  ‘Hazel.’

  ‘How’s it going?’ I asked, as if I knew nothing, though he must surely have realised that Amber’s words would filter back to me.

  ‘I’ve got tickets for a film this weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’

  My heart beat fast in my chest.

  ‘Rooftop cinema. I thought it might be up your street.’

  I smiled. ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Great,’ he said, with audible relief.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Starts at eight. I’ll pick you up at yours.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  The conversation was drawing to a close and I still didn’t know where we were.

  ‘Sam . . .’ I started.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. I could almost hear him blush. ‘It’s a date. I hope you’re OK with that?’

  ‘Right,’ I said, my heart racing. ‘Yes, I’m OK with that.’

  Amber and I were sitting watching Modern Family with a vat of popcorn, when I decided to fill her in.

  ‘So, I spoke to Sam,’ I told Amber. Whatever happened, we were living together and I didn’t want to keep any secrets from her.

  ‘Yes?’ She looked genuinely interested and excited for me.

  ‘We’re going on a date. This weekend.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sure how it will all pan out,’ I said, honestly. ‘But going feels right. I’m just sorry you got stuck in the middle with this. I was a bit blind to what was really going on, I guess.’

  ‘We all have moments of that,’ Amber said. ‘And don’t worry about me. I’m like a bouncing ball with this stuff. I’ve just signed up with a dating site, as it happens.’

  ‘You have? That was quick.’

  ‘Haven’t finished my profile yet. God, it’s tricky, isn’t it. Making yourself sound interesting but without looking like a total weirdo?’

  ‘Do you want me to give it a look over? I bet you’re underselling yourself.’

  ‘Would you? Thanks. I’m just choosing a photo and then I’ll show you.’

  ‘Cool. No news from Jude?’

  ‘No. Nothing,’ she said. ‘Much easier that way.’

  ‘It must be.’

  ‘Well, not absolutely nothing. My friend Heather bumped into him, and they talked a bit. She said he asked what I was up to . . . but that’s it. I didn’t ask her anything about him. I don’t want to know.’

  Amber seemed keen to change the subject.

  ‘I’ve hurt enough over him,’ she said.

  That week I thought about Sam almost constantly. He was there in my mind when I woke, and as I lay my head back on my pillow at night, I imagined his head next to mine. Those familiar blue-grey eyes. The warm skin of his arms, shoulders that I’d touched before, but on different terms. I wished away the weekdays, and longed for Friday to come.

  When Friday finally arrived, Sam picked me up at mine.

  We went to a rooftop cinema screening. We sat on deckchairs and drank margaritas and laughed through the film. It was Pulp Fiction and we’d both seen it a dozen times before. Between us we could have recited half the scenes, and I was kind of glad, because it meant that we could talk. When Sam passed me another drink, his hand grazed mine. He didn’t move away, and neither did I.

  We didn’t talk about what he’d said on the phone, or about what had happened with Amber. As we sat there on a Hackney roof terrace surrounded by striped deckchairs and with the rattling of guns coming through loud on the speakers around us, it didn’t feel right to talk over whether things were about to change, or if, perhaps, they had changed already. But I wanted to be close to Sam. I didn’t want anyone coming between us, not now, not a stranger, certainly not another of my friends, not even the drunken teenager who was weaving her way to the toilets and pushing between our seats.

  ‘Let’s go for a drink after this,’ Sam said to me as the credits rolled, his voice lower and quieter this time.

  It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer, just nodded. We left the rooftop screening together, and my heart was racing in anticipation of what might come next.

  A quarter of an hour later, Sam and I were sitting next to each other on the vintage leather sofa at the pub near my flat. It dipped a little in the middle, which I’d never really noticed before, but now, with my bare arm almost touching the skin of his, and our denim-clad thighs close, I felt incredibly aware of it. It wouldn’t normally have mattered, we’ve sha
red personal space often enough before, but things felt different now. It had been on the cusp of happening for years, one way or another, but now it had finally happened. We weren’t just friends any more, and both of us knew it. If Amber hadn’t already told me, I think I would have worked it out myself by now.

  ‘So I guess you’re wondering why I wanted to meet,’ Sam said.

  I think I already know. I can’t quite believe it, but I think I already know.

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry everything turned into such a mess,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a shame it didn’t work out with Amber,’ I said hurriedly. ‘She’s great.’

  ‘She is,’ he said, his eyes not even flickering away from me for a moment. It was starting to unnerve me a little. ‘But I should never have asked her out. I only did it because I thought you wanted me to.’

  ‘Why on earth would I want you to?’ I said.

  ‘You seemed to be hinting all the time about how nice she was. And after Christmas, well, you went so quiet. I thought you regretted what happened.’

  ‘I never wanted you to go out with her. Of course I didn’t. And yes – I did regret what happened at Christmas, because you totally went cold on me. Or have you forgotten all that?’

  ‘I’m sorry I pushed you away,’ he said.

  Don’t say it. I don’t know what I’ll do if you say it.

  ‘Because I wanted you then. I just wasn’t ready. I panicked. It was never about anyone else. It was always about you, Hazel.’

  Then he covered my hand with his, and there was a bond between us again. There was a warmth in knowing it was me and Sam, after all the years that had passed, all the times we’d shared, drinking late into the night and talking, going out to the cinema together, skateboarding in the park. I knew him like no one else; he was almost part of me. And I knew, from the way he was looking at me now, that familiar connection sparked up with a new intimacy, and a longing, that he felt it too.

  ‘I’ve been a bit lost lately. You know, back at home . . . But now I know. I know you can sort me out. You’re what I need. I want to be with you, Hazel. I want us—’ his voice caught, and he coughed, the only sign of this being difficult for him. ‘I want us to be together.’