“Oh darling!” insisted Harriet. “Don’t spoil the moment!”
“It’s not a moment,” Dan said in a shrinking voice and he was absolutely right; it wasn’t “a” moment, it was “the” moment. It was the moment his mother had been waiting for ever since she’d met Geraldine. And the moment his father had hoped for ever since they’d packed him off to Oxford. And the moment Geraldine had dreamed of ever since she first saw Dan. Everyone was having the moment of their lives, and there he was, not realizing it was one at all. How wrong could you be?
Albert ordered champagne, and in the meantime poured more wine for everyone.
“A toast!” He announced. “To the happy couple.”
Dan downed his wine in one and when he glanced at his father found himself basking in his proud beam. He felt a fork of lightning momentarily light up his insides, and then, when his father looked away, all was dark again. The next ten minutes passed in a blur, but by the end of the hors d’oeuvres he was sure of one thing. It was official.
And by the end of the main course, he was sure of another thing. Geraldine had eaten a dodgy moule.
Chapter 19
DAN HAD NOT NOTICED HIS WIFE-TO-BE DISAPPEAR TO THE LADIES because he was in a bit of a daze, but after his parents had finished their main course, and hers still lay untouched, he began to suspect. This had happened once before at a May ball. She hadn’t been able to resist eating the oysters and then her body hadn’t been able to resist bringing them up again. Her ball dress, which had impressed 250 drunk Oxford students, had then made an impressive £7.50 for Cancer Research. He excused himself and found the Ladies. He waited outside for a while until he was fairly sure no one else was in there and crept surreptitiously inside.
He could hear very feeble sobbing.
“Gerry?” he whispered.
One of the cubicle doors moaned.
“Dodgy moule?” he asked it.
Another moan.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get to the car?”
Silence. Then a large sniff.
“I can’t bear it.”
“Hey hey,” he coaxed gently. “We’ll get you home in no time.”
“No!” she cried. “I mean why me? This was not how I pictured celebrating the news about my engagement.”
Dan couldn’t agree more. “Come on,” he said, “you’ll laugh about this one day.” Geraldine responded by being violently sick and Dan took her point: He didn’t believe it either. In the silence that followed, he found he had absolutely no idea what to say to make it all better. Then, after the briefest pause, some slightly different noises from behind the cubicle door began all too vividly to convey that the moule was not only affecting his chosen one’s upper digestive tract and he decided he had to get out of there before they were both sick. He told Geraldine to come out as soon as she could and they’d go straight home. She groaned an agreement.
He joined his parents and told them what had happened, trying very hard not to remember the noises. Harriet was devastated. She’d had the moules too, but hers had been fine. Albert pointed out that it usually only took one. But if only they’d swapped bowls, Harriet explained. It was just too bad. It was more than too bad, it was very upsetting. Very upsetting. She was devastated. Poor Geraldine, was she very bad? Albert snapped at her not to get so upset which upset her. This upset his equilibrium, so he started demanding to talk to the maître d’. Dan hoped that Geraldine would come out of the toilets before the maître d’ came out of the kitchen. He’d rather see her projectile vomit across the restaurant than see his father lose his temper.
To his relief Geraldine appeared. He jumped to his feet and collected their coats as she approached. Her face was gray and her hair hung in damp, limp strands. She couldn’t even speak to his parents but just gave a pathetic wave goodbye and followed Dan out. She was sick twice on the journey home and from the way she ran upstairs Dan suspected that more was going on than she’d let on. He didn’t know legs could do that.
She rushed straight to the bathroom while he got undressed and lay in bed waiting for her to join him.
Two hours later, he woke up and looked at his clock. It was midnight. He looked over to Geraldine, but the bed was empty. Oh no, she hadn’t been sick again, had she? He would go and make her a hot drink, or just be with her…
Four hours later, he woke up and looked at his clock, then looked over to Geraldine, but the bed was empty. Not again? Blimey, that was one bad moule. It had probably been a druggie and alcoholic. He chuckled to himself and then stopped. Poor Geraldine. She was going to feel awful at the wedding. He wondered if Katie would be staying at the same hotel as them. His eyes opened wide. Was Katie actually going “with” Hugh? He heard a sort of low bellowing noise from the bathroom. Ah, Geraldine must be feeling better now. He’d check that she was OK when she came back. He turned over and plumped his pillows.
Four hours later, he woke up and looked at his clock. Eight A.M. Bloody hell. Time to get up. He wondered if Geraldine would be up to it or if she’d rather have a little lie in. He looked over to her, but the bed was empty. Poor thing. She must have been sick again. He got up and took a shower. He’d make her a nice strong cup of coffee. He checked his post while waiting for the kettle to boil. Then he pulled down Geraldine’s favorite mug, made her a pot of coffee, made her some plain toast as well—good for the stomach—and went to find her.
He opened the bathroom door and stopped. Geraldine was sitting on the floor, still in last night’s clothes, her back curved against the bath, eyes staring at the floor. Her dress was damp with sweat; her lips were white; her face was green. It was an ugly sight and Dan was suddenly very afraid.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered. She gave a flicker of recognition. “II brought you some breakfast,” he tried. Another flicker. “Come on,” he knelt down beside her. “It’ll do you good.”
She whispered something inaudible.
“What’s that?”
“Go,” she breathed hard, “away.”
“Why?” he asked. “What have I done?”
She bent her head down and started crying. When he put his arm round her she shrugged it off.
“I have been sick—” she managed.
“I know—”
“All,” she whispered, “night.”
“Oh my God! I had no idea—”
“No. You were too busy sleeping.” She took a breath. “Bastard.”
“You should have woken me.”
“I couldn’t stand up!”
“Oh my God.”
Neither spoke for a while.
“Shall I call a doctor?”
She shook her head.
“Good way to lose weight for Sandy’s wedding, eh?” he whispered. “You’ll be thinner than the bride.”
She moaned. “I can’t go to the wedding.”
“Why not?”
She looked at him. He inched away and looked back at her.
“Do I look ready for a wedding?” she asked.
“Not at the moment, but you’ve got make-up, haven’t you?”
She dry-retched and immediately shuffled down into a fetal position, moaning. She let him stroke her hair, then he helped her sit back up again.
“God,” he said, “I’m really sorry, I had no idea.”
She managed a weak nod.
“I won’t go,” he said suddenly.
She looked up at him with sudden focus. “Oh no,” she said. She took a piece of toast and gave it a tiny bite. “You are going to that wedding,” she breathed, after the toast had gone down. “And you will explain exactly how bad I look and you will take the present I spent four hours hunting down and wrapping.”
“But I can look after you,” he implored.
“Hah!” even without any bile left of her own, she could still fill the word with enough of it to unnerve him. “I needed you last night. Not now.”
Dan scrunched his eyes shut, waiting for the feeling of wretchedness to go. “I’ll never
leave you alone again,” he said. They both started at the sound of the phone. He jumped up. “Back in a mo.”
When he came back, she had finished the toast and started the coffee.
“Great news,” he said. “That was my mum. She’s coming right round. She said it’s only what your mum would have done if she lived in the country and she’s going to be your mum too now.”
Geraldine started really crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m so happy,” she replied.
When Dan appeared in the café kitchen later that morning, Katie was so surprised to see him that she asked what the hell he was doing there. The weather was so good today that the café was exceptionally quiet. They were overstaffed as it was, so even with Sukie at an audition, Katie could easily have taken the day off without Dan being here. She’d been feeling more and more frustrated as the weather had got more and more glorious and the café more and more empty. So seeing Dan unexpectedly—now making the ratio of staff to customers an impressive five to one—was the icing on a cake made of spleen.
Even so, she hadn’t intended to sound quite as aggressive as she did, and would have happily apologized if Dan hadn’t answered her back quite so sharply. Her only possible response to that was to up the aggression and add knobs, and before she knew it they were rowing. The row took a turn for the better when she found out that Geraldine had been ill all night while he had slept, and was now laid low at home. Now she really had something to stick her teeth into. She was appalled on behalf of women everywhere. Poor Geraldine. How would he have felt if Geraldine had slept through an entire night of him being sick? (But if she’d woken him—) She shouldn’t have had to wake him (But he wasn’t bloody psychic—) And why on earth was his poor mother having to travel across London to look after his girlfriend? (Because she had volunteered to—) Would Geraldine’s father do the same for him? Dan was momentarily bamboozled. Hah.
“My mother and Geraldine are very close,” he said, “especially now.”
“‘Especially now?’” repeated Katie. “What, now that Geraldine’s vomiting from both ends? Your mother sounds fascinating.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said.
“Well, I am only a waitress.”
“Talking of which, don’t you have work to do?”
“Ah yes,” said Katie, looking round the near-empty café. “I’m here instead of being driven down a winding country lane in a convertible to a gastro pub.”
Dan slapped his forehead. “I forgot!” he cried. “You had a date with Hugh! But you’re covering Sukie because I wasn’t going to be here. I thought we’d be understaffed! And now I’m here anyway!” He scrunched his eyes shut, to stop the feeling of wretchedness that was beginning to feel a part of him. He opened them again and looked at Katie. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Katie drew herself up short, wondering how Geraldine ever kept sane.
“It was not a date,” she said primly, “and you can’t make it up to me.”
“There must be something, oh Always-Right-One.”
Katie gave him a wry grin. “Ah, but if I let you make it up to me I shall lose all my power.”
Dan stopped suddenly and Katie chose this moment to walk past him and out of the kitchen. When she came back five minutes later, she had Hugh with her. She was hoping she might get away early. Hugh was wearing his weekend outfit—pleated-front chinos, a stripy shirt under a round-necked sweater. On his feet, Hush Puppies.
“Look who I found!” said Katie. “Dressed to party! Lock up your daughters!” She took an appreciative look at Hugh, before turning back to Dan. “And your wildlife,” she added.
He was looking pensive and barely acknowledged Hugh.
“I was just wondering,” started Katie, “as most of Porter’s Green seems to be at a park instead of here, could I go now?”
“I think I’m going to go back and look after Geraldine,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” said Katie.
There was a pause as she realized this meant she couldn’t go early.
“Oh,” said Hugh, “that’s a shame. We were going to ask you if you wanted a lift to the wedding.”
Dan blinked. “Were you?” He gave Katie a surprised look. She gave one to Hugh. Hugh gave it straight back to Dan.
“Well,” Hugh shrugged, “seems mad for us all to go up separately. If we collect your stuff on the way we’d be there in a jiffy.”
Dan looked at his watch. “Hmm,” he said. “I have definitely overstaffed. And the weekend staff do know what they’re doing.” He looked outside. “And the weather is lovely,” he sort of muffled to himself. He stood for a while, seemingly weighing something up in his mind; something that was tricky to get on the scales.
“Well,” said Katie, “we’ll let you think—”
“No,” cut in Dan. “Let me just call Gerry.” He nipped out the back.
Katie turned to Hugh. “What did you say that for?” she whispered.
“I was only being polite,” he whispered back. “I thought he’d say no and let you go. How did I know he might say yes?”
When Dan came back into the kitchen he was grinning broadly. He laughed and clapped his hands.
“Gerry’s managed some porridge and my mum’s going to make her boiled eggs with soldiers for lunch. She told me to have a fab time and report back on everything.” He didn’t add that Geraldine had especially wanted notes on Hugh and Katie’s “dalliance.” Or that she was thinking of making an appointment with that amazing local wedding dress shop while his mother was with her, if she was up to it later this afternoon. He knew that Geraldine was far happier being looked after by her future mother-in-law than going to the wedding of her former flatmate.
And so they set off. Dan and Hugh wanted to do the boy thing and take the front seats, but Katie pulled rank. She was, after all, the only one in the car with a uterus.
“What’s that got to do with the price of fish?” asked Hugh.
“What’s him having testicles got to do with it?” she spluttered.
“What has anyone’s testicles got to do with the price of fish?” asked Dan.
“It’s nothing to do with his testicles—” said Hugh patiently.
“Oh good—” said Dan.
“—it’s because his legs are longer because he’s a man,” finished Hugh.
“That’s an absolutely ridiculous argument,” cried Katie. “If I’m in the front, I’ll have the seat forward so he’ll have loads of leg room. We’re the same two people, so it doesn’t make any difference which one of us sits in the front or back. Except that I’m shorter so if I’m in the back, I get to see much less because he’ll be blocking my view and I’ll be all squashed up.”
Hugh thought about this. Katie hadn’t been a champion debater at Oxford for nothing. “So why did my mother always sit in the back when we went on family holidays?” he asked.
Katie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Because your father drove like a maniac?”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, I think you’re right. I was always car sick in the front.”
Dan started laughing and Katie and Hugh turned to him. He crossed his arms and gave them both a big grin. “Oh boy,” he said, shaking his head, “this journey is going to be such fun.”
The journey was a lot of fun, although only in retrospect. Living through it was hell. After they had picked up Dan’s bag then Katie’s bag, struggled to open the roof of Hugh’s car, packed their bags in his boot and draped the creasable outfits beside Dan in the back, they were all sweating. Katie waited eagerly for the car to pick up enough speed so that the wind could blow through her hair and into Hugh’s face, making it impossible for him to talk. But he didn’t drive that fast, partly because he had a lot to get off his chest and partly because he firmly believed that speed limits were there for a reason. Hugh needed to talk about the builders. This Katie understood. Dan joined in too. They all had their share of builder
anecdotes to last them to the motorway. Then Hugh decided to regale his passengers with hilarious tales from his and Katie’s past. This she could not understand, but she could enjoy. To her surprise she found it a nice trip down memory lane and before long was giggling with Hugh at shared reminiscences. Yes, that had been funny when she’d gone to a lecture after an all-nighter and only realized it was the wrong one when it slowly dawned on her that everyone was speaking French.
“I just thought they were talking fast. Anyway,” she said, “this must be very boring for Dan.” But he insisted it was fascinating. “Always good to know the truth about your staff,” he said, which riled her from so many angles she didn’t know where to start. So she just sat back and reminisced with Hugh until his driving rendered her no longer able to talk.
“Have you ever had to go on a journey with her?” Hugh asked Dan, and before Dan had a chance to answer or Katie to shut him up, he went on, “Un-bloody-believable.” He was already starting to laugh. “She couldn’t find her way out of her own toilet. She needs wallpaper that’s a map with “You Are Here” on it.”
“Do you mind?” tried Katie.
“We had more rows about that than anything else.” Hugh turned to her. “Do you remember when I was waiting in that café for four hours?”
“The map was out of date.”
“It was two streets away from your flat!”
“But—”
“And have you ever asked her to make a decision about something important?” he asked Dan. He could hardly talk for laughing now. “It’s like watching a cow with CJD.”
“Right,” cut in Katie. “Stop the car. I’m getting out. On behalf of cows everywhere.”
Hugh finally shut up and the three of them sat in silence for a while, Hugh to enjoy the drive, Katie and Dan to focus on not being sick. It had turned out that Hugh thought the way to drive was to exert minuscule pumping movement after minuscule pumping movement on the gas pedal. After half an hour she wondered if she could convince Dan to sit in the front. After an hour she wondered if she could convince Hugh that travelling in reverse used less petrol. After an hour and a half, she wondered if she’d ever feel normal again. She’d never before been glad to hear twelve songs from Celine Dion in a row, but at least it meant she could moan without anyone being able to hear, often in tune.
The Waitress Page 25
