The Winter Wedding

by Abby Clements

  He reached out to touch my face. I motioned with my hand for him to stop.

  ‘I know you’ve thought about it,’ he said. His voice was low and husky and it almost disarmed me totally.

  ‘Of course I have,’ I whispered. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Well how will we know, if we never even try?’

  It felt good being with him. Talking with him. Laughing. His touch was always warm, tender, and I couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel – taking it further, being together in the only way that we’d never tried.

  And then – before I’d really thought about what was right or what was wrong – before I’d done anything more than just feel the attraction – we were kissing.

  Chapter 30

  The next morning, Amber and I had breakfast together. I still had the kiss with Sam on my mind. I’d felt swept up in it – swept up in him – but at the same time there was something about my lips on his that made me feel I’d been there before. When we’d moved away from each other he was still the same Sam, and I was still the same me, and yet everything had changed. We’d stayed up that night talking – and found our way back to being close again.

  Amber told me she had her dating profile ready for me to look at.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ She passed me her iPad, with her profile open. She’d chosen a photo of her at a festival – straw hat on and her hair loose, the skin of her shoulders lightly tanned.

  ‘Nice photo.’ I said. ‘You look . . .’

  ‘More relaxed?’ she said, voicing my thoughts.

  ‘I guess, yes. Happy.’

  ‘I was. Isle of Wight festival. I was there with Jude, but that doesn’t matter, I cropped him out.’

  ‘Cinema-loving fan of gin and tonics and late-night baking . . .’ I read. ‘Sums you up pretty well.’

  ‘Could be either of us, now I think about it,’ Amber laughed. ‘What do you think about the longer blurb?’

  I scanned over it. ‘It’s good,’ I said, hesitantly.

  ‘What?’ Amber said. ‘Come on, be honest with me, Haze. That’s why I asked you.’

  ‘You just seem to be holding your cards quite close to your chest, that’s all,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to go for this, maybe you need to really go for it.’

  She breathed out slowly. ‘Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Urgh it all feels like such a minefield. I sometimes wish . . .’

  ‘You can only go forward,’ I said.

  ‘I know. Give me that, I’m going to rewrite it.’

  When Amber left, I rode my bike over to the park. There were no bluebirds accompanying me on my ride through the green space, there was no dizzy high or irrepressible smile. None of the things I’d been led to expect of love. Instead, well, it just felt OK, safe. Perhaps there was only so much one single kiss could bring.

  Sam called me on the Tuesday, my second week of self-employment after working out my notice. We met up in a bar on the South Bank, close to the train station he’d come from, and alive that night with the buzz of friendship and new romance. We ordered wine and tapas at a bar overlooking the river, and it felt then as if we might be part of that buzz. Could we acknowledge it or would saying it out loud make the whole thing disappear?

  ‘So how’s it going with the P.E teaching?’ I asked.

  ‘Good,’ he said, nodding. Silence fell between us for what must have been a minute but felt longer. ‘You? How’s your work?’

  ‘Oh, it’s coming together, yes.’

  ‘What was it again . . . wedding planning?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ve got two weddings on at the moment – both for Christmas. It’s busy, but the money’s good and I really enjoy it.’

  ‘Nice,’ Sam said, vaguely. ‘Still seems a bit strange to me. You. Weddings. You were never very girly like that, were you?’

  I felt instinctively protective of my new career, and of the people whose wedding days I’d started to care about. ‘It’s an honour, really. To be asked to help with one of the most important days in these people’s lives.’

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I guess I see what you mean.’

  We should shift away from work, I thought. It’s totally unimaginative. Far more interesting to discuss the many other things that we have in common.

  ‘So the cinema was fun the other night,’ I said.

  ‘Oh brilliant. Knew it would be. Sound wasn’t that great up there though, was it? – and they must have shown an edited version, as it was missing a scene at the end.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ I didn’t want to confess that I’d been kind of distracted that evening, not entirely focused on the film as I tried to figure out which direction our first date together might take.

  ‘You noticed, right?’ Sam said.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Not that it matters,’ Sam said quickly. ‘Not really. I mean I enjoyed the night. It was fun.’

  I smiled.

  ‘It feels good, doesn’t it?’ he continued. He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. ‘You and me.’ The touch of his hand sent a tingle through me.

  I nodded. ‘Yes. Yes it does.’

  ‘I guess I couldn’t see it before but—’

  My phone, out on the table beside me, rang. I turned to see Sarah’s name. I ignored it, and turned back to Sam, his blue-grey eyes on me.

  I could do this. The talking about us. God, I’d waited long enough to do this.

  ‘You can get that,’ Sam said.

  The phone rang off. Then the ringing started again, Sarah once more.

  ‘It’s a client,’ I explained.

  ‘Get it,’ Sam said, sitting back in his chair. ‘Honestly. It’s fine.’

  ‘Hey Sarah,’ I said, picking up.

  ‘I – have you got time to chat?’ Sarah said, breathless on the phone. ‘I’ve only got a little while, Josh is in the shower. But I had to talk to you.’

  ‘Yes. Of course, Sarah. What is it? What can I help you with?’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t really be calling you, but I needed to talk to someone. Josh’s family are being mental about this whole getting married abroad thing.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, getting to my feet and giving Sam an apologetic look. I walked a few steps away from the table towards the river, where it was quieter. ‘What exactly is going on?’

  ‘I mean, they’ve always been massively uptight. I couldn’t say that when we met – but seriously. They really are. There’s a side of him that’s a bit like that too, but I like to think I’m slowly working it out of him. Anyway, this week things have really gone wrong. His grandmother always has to be the centre of things, and God help us, she’s decided this whole wedding has to revolve around her. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, family are pretty important on a day like this,’ I said, as diplomatically as I could.

  ‘Not ours,’ Sarah said. ‘And it doesn’t matter to Josh, either – I know him better than he knows himself sometimes. He’s just a natural people pleaser and finds it hard to say no. But there’s absolutely no way I’m letting his family dictate how and when we get married. It’s as simple as that.’

  I heard a door open in the background.

  ‘That’s him,’ Sarah whispered. ‘I better go. I’ll call you another time.’

  I put the phone down and returned to the table. Our mains had arrived, and Sam was waiting for me.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  He picked up his food and started to eat. ‘It’s OK,’ he said.

  I twirled the linguine I’d ordered around my fork, and tried to get back to being where we had been. But I got the feeling it wasn’t as OK as Sam was making out.

  Chapter 31

  Later that evening, I came home to the flat on my own, and poured myself some peppermint tea. I’d said goodbye to Sam at the station and we’d arranged to see each other again that weekend. Somewhere quieter this time, where we could chat without any interruptions. It was still such early days and with other things going on it was hard to g
et a sense of if and how we might work in this new way.

  I didn’t feel ready for bed yet, and I was pleased when I heard the downstairs front door open. Ours opened a moment later, and Amber walked in.

  I tried to read her expression.

  ‘Disaster,’ she said, slumping down on the sofa.

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘Worse,’ she said, starting to laugh. ‘He was totally self-obsessed. And seemed to think I was there just to smile and nod . . . I don’t know. It just all felt a bit icky. And yet boring at the same time. God – have I been out of the game too long? Maybe I should be more patient, Haze. He didn’t ask me a single question about myself. Not a single thing. I mean how rubbish is that?’

  ‘Pretty rubbish,’ I said. ‘He sounds like a loser.’

  ‘Ah well,’ she said. ‘Onward and upward.’ She got out her mobile phone and swiped the screen. ‘Courcheval78 just direct messaged me. What do you think?’

  She showed me the guy on her screen, a smiling guy in his thirties with tanned skin, close-cropped mouse-brown hair and ski goggles on his head. ‘Cute,’ I said.

  ‘He’s asked if I’ll meet him next weekend. I’m going to say yes.’

  ‘Go for it.’ It was inspiring to see how Amber never let life drag her down. She seemed to take each challenge or knock-back and build herself up better and stronger in response to it.

  Right now she was smiling to herself as she tapped out a message. ‘Done,’ she said. ‘God–’ she looked at me. ‘Listen to me, banging on about that dude being self-obsessed and I haven’t even asked you about your evening. How did it go with Sam?’

  ‘Oh good, thanks,’ I replied.

  ‘Good good? Amazing good? OK good?’

  ‘I don’t know. I feel like we didn’t really have a chance to get started this evening. We were having some drinks by the river, I mean that was nice. But then I got this call from Sarah, you know, Josh’s Sarah – she needed advice on something . . . it kind of knocked the romance out of the evening. There’s nothing like someone’s wedding stress to dampen that, I guess.’

  ‘Oh no – that sucks. Did you have to answer? I mean I know your clients pay well, and Josh is a friend – but that doesn’t mean you have to be at their beck and call twenty-four seven, surely. I mean, you did that with Emma, and I thought that was what you were walking away from.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. And when it comes to the stage when we’re talking through details of table decorations, I’ll make sure I keep my phone off in the evenings. But these are big decisions, and I want to make sure that the person carrying any stress is me, not the couple who are getting married.’

  ‘I see what you mean, and it’s admirable,’ Amber said. ‘But it seems a lot to take on.’

  ‘I can do it,’ I said. ‘I want to do it. Which is why I’m meeting with Josh tomorrow, to get this thing sorted out.’

  Josh sat down, and ran a hand through his hair. ‘God, it’s complicated this wedding stuff, isn’t it?’

  ‘What’s up?’ I said, feigning ignorance.

  ‘Family. My grandmother, to be precise. To be honest, none of my family are that keen on the idea of the wedding – nothing to do with your plans – they were just expecting something a lot more traditional. Anyway, the thing is that Granny is really upset about it all. She says she’s been looking forward to this day for years, and how can she be there when it involves getting on a flight . . . She’s too old. I really should have talked to her about it earlier. She seemed OK – I mean, she went on holiday abroad a year ago but it seems like things have got worse for her. Obviously my family are with her on it; they think I’m being really selfish opting for a wedding abroad. Perhaps I am.’

  ‘Oh dear, it sounds like you’ve been having an awful time of it,’ I said. ‘Your poor granny. But you’re not being selfish.’

  ‘Aren’t I? I’m doing all this to make Sarah happy without really thinking about what was right for my family.’

  ‘That isn’t selfish,’ I said.

  ‘I guess I see what you mean,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that.’

  ‘Have you talked to Sarah about it?’

  ‘Yes. I think that’s what’s getting to me the most. I talked to her about it last night, told her we needed to find a compromise, work out a plan that everyone would be happy with.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She doesn’t understand at all. She says it’s our day and we need to do what’s right for us. She says if I loved her I’d find a way to talk my family round. She’s not willing to adjust things at all. She doesn’t want to compromise.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Hazel. I’m really torn – I feel like I could hurt my family a lot over this.’

  ‘It won’t come to that, I promise,’ I said. ‘We’ll find a way to make this work.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Come up to mine?’ Sam said. ‘We can watch movies. It’ll be like old times.’

  It was somewhere quiet, like we’d agreed. It just wasn’t exactly what I’d expected him to suggest.

  ‘Your parents’ house?’

  ‘They’re away. It’ll be perfect,’ he said, as if he was suggesting a night out at an exclusive club rather than free rein of a semi-detached house in the village where we grew up.

  And now, a day on, here I was, back in Bidcombe, walking down his street, about to see him. I wasn’t quite sure as what – his friend? His girlfriend? I’d stood in front of my wardrobe for half an hour working out what to wear, and had settled in the end for loose-cut jeans and a tight, dark green top with jewel buttons, my hair in a ponytail. I knew Sam too well to pretend to be anyone but myself, after all.

  He answered the door with a smile and welcomed me inside. He held out his arms for a hug. My face pressed close into his chest and I caught that smell of vintage band t-shirt – as if it’s absorbed the beer and smoke of a dozen nights out and then been washed clean with laundry powder, but never quite lost its history. He held me tightly, and kissed my head, letting his face rest there close to me for a while.

  It all felt quite, erm, meaningful. And then we pulled away from each other.

  ‘Beer?’ Sam said.

  I nodded. ‘Yes please.’

  We sat quietly together in his living room, drinking from bottles of Corona.

  I was the one who broke the silence. ‘So you’re here for the time being, right?’ I asked, looking around the living room. ‘Nice that your parents don’t mind.’

  ‘Don’t mind?’ Sam said with a smile. ‘My mum’s over the moon.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘Yep. I don’t think she ever really got used to the empty house after me and my brother left. Dad’s not thrilled about it, but she rules the roost.’

  ‘So you’re not planning on moving out?’

  ‘Not any time soon,’ he said. ‘Why would I? Better food here, anyway.’ He gave me a smile. ‘Anyway, have you seen what rents are like? This works for me. It works for all of us.’

  ‘Come on, Sam, you’re nearly thirty, though.’

  ‘OK, so I’m not where I thought I’d be,’ Sam said. ‘But I’ve got you now. You’ll sort me out, Haze. I think you’re already starting to.’ He smiled his winsome, slightly lopsided smile.

  I took a sip of my drink. I wasn’t sure how I felt about what he was saying.

  ‘Fancy watching a movie?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Sure.’ The suggestion came as relief. ‘Let’s do that.’

  That night we curled up on the sofa and watched Sin City. Then Spiderman. Then The Dark Knight. We’d seen them all before, but it didn’t matter. This time we weren’t sitting apart on the sofa, just our feet touching – we were together, my body pressed against his, and I could feel his chest rise and fall as I rested on it. I was with him. We were together, a couple. When my eyelids started to lower, I fell asleep right there.

  The next morning, I was woken by the thud of letters hitting the doormat. I lay there
on the sofa for a moment, careful not to move in case I woke Sam, who was snoring gently. It felt kind of nice, lying there with him. Waking up next to him in the morning. It wasn’t something I’d done with anyone for a very long time.

  After a moment or two of calm, he woke with a start, and I had to grab hold of the sofa to prevent myself getting dislodged.

  ‘Sorry, Haze,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘I was having a weird dream.’

  I got up to seated, and straightened out my rumpled top. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, being here in Sam’s parents’ house. We hadn’t even made it upstairs to his bedroom. Sam raised his body up from where he was lying and we both sat there for a moment, side by side on the sofa.

  ‘Tea?’ I suggested.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, quickly.

  An hour later I was at the door, ready to leave.

  ‘See you this weekend?’ Sam said, as if everything was still on course, just how he would have wanted it to be.

  ‘OK,’ I said. I walked back to the train station. There were no bluebirds. And it didn’t matter – or maybe it did. Just a little bit.

  Chapter 33

  Amber was getting ready to go to work as I came in the flat after spending the night at Sam’s.

  She was eating toast at the table, with a card open in front of her.

  ‘So, bit of a mystery,’ she said. ‘Look at this.’

  She passed me the card. There was a gift voucher inside. ‘A day’s training with Rosanna Delgare . . .’ I cast my mind back to a recent TV series on baking. ‘Isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes,’ Amber nodded. ‘One of – if not the best pastry chef in Europe. She’s over in the UK on a tour for her new book and running a couple of cake-designing workshops. Mum and I were talking about them – but as the stuff of dreams. The prices are astronomical.’

  ‘So . . . where did this come from?’

  ‘I don’t know – it’s anonymous. Arrived yesterday at work,’ she said. ‘Came with the regular post.’

  ‘No handwriting?’