Wedding in the Family

by Susan Alexander

  'I think you father is coming round, don't you, love?' her mother asked anxiously.

  'Mm, maybe.' Davina wasn't so sure.

  Mrs Richards sighed. 'I hope so. And now,' she said more cheerfully, 'tell me what you're going to wear tonight.'

  Twenty minutes later Davina looked at herself in the mirror and decided that the silk chiffon dress was well worth the time and money she had spent on it. Soft folds fell from narrow shoulder straps showing her creamy skin, to a tightly belted waistband. The pale lilac brought out the chestnut tints in her freshly washed hair, and she liked the feel of the full skirt billowing round her, the pale pink underskirt revealed through side slits as she walked.

  Her make-up was heavier than usual, but she hoped no one would notice in the subdued lights of the hotel restaurant. Her lips she had rouged heavily and glossed to hide the bruises, and her blusher had needed much more application than she would normally use.

  The doorbell rang downstairs, and she picked up her black fur jacket, her purse and, with a last glance in the mirror, made her way downstairs.

  Jake was chatting to her mother in the hall and she had a good look at him on her way down. She had never seen him in evening dress, and recognised how well it suited his dark looks. Black dinner jacket and the gleam of frilled white shirt with bow tie emphasised the breadth of his shoulders and the darkness of his hair and skin. As she approached them, she noticed he looked even more remote and cool than he had done when he left her earlier in the evening.

  'Darling you look lovely!' It was her mother's voice, and Jake turned to acknowledge her with a slight nod and a smile which did not reach his eyes.

  'Thank you, Mum.' Davina leaned forward and kissed her mother gently on the cheek.

  'There, you mustn't spoil your make-up,' said Mrs Richards, giving her daughter a little hug. 'I think we must be going,' said Jake. 'We're rather late.'

  He turned to her mother and bowed slightly. Davina recognised the gesture as one he adopted when he was bored or anxious to be gone. She looked round the hall, but there was no sign of her father. With a quick nervous look at her mother, she followed Jake out.

  It was a dark clear night and neighbouring houses were shuttered in for the evening. The silence lasted till they were seated in the car and Jake turned it towards St Ives.

  Davina started, 'I think…'

  'Save it, Davina,' he interrupted her coolly. 'If you're going to go on about obligations at me tonight I might hit you and regret it. Just don't talk.'

  She bit her lip and sat stiffly at his side, her eyes fixed on the movement of the headlights flickering on the road ahead. After a while she felt a little silly. Easing herself into a more comfortable position, she watched him from under her lashes. In the light from the dashboard she could see his hands clearly, holding the wheel lightly, but with power held in reserve. They were broad and strong— how strong she had discovered that afternoon. The nails were spatulate and beautifully kept, and faint dark hairs grew lightly towards the wrist where his gold watch gleamed in the half dark.

  She could smell his aftershave lotion and also that tang that was solely him and very masculine. Her eyes travelled to his face where the mouth was now lightly set, showing the firm moulding of the lips, the lower slightly fuller, revealing in repose the latent sensuality of the mouth. He did not move under her scrutiny, his eyes intent on the road.

  Something moved and twisted painfully inside her. Her throat constricted, and she had a slight premonition of danger; that something quite dreadful was going to happen to her world.

  It was Saturday night and the hotel restaurant was crowded for the popular weekly dinner-dance. Jake and Davina made a handsome couple, standing side by side in the entrance looking for their party, and more than one -head turned as they made their way across the room to the wedding table.

  'Darlings!' It was Monica hailing them. 'You're late.' She gestured to the place beside her on the plush sofa. 'Come and sit here next to me, brother-in-law to be. Davina, love, you sit next to Harry. I promised him,' she said vaguely.

  Jake bowed to Monica, carrying her hand to his lips and complimenting her on her looks.

  Sitting down, Davina recognised her table partner as the usher at the church, and gave him a dazzling smile. 'Hello,' she said.

  'A drink?' he asked her, slightly bemused.

  'Thank you,' she said. 'A dry Martini, please.'

  It was the first time Davina had dined at the Cornish Castle and she looked round with interest. High-ceilinged as the room she had seen earlier in the day, it was lit by huge crystal chandeliers that tinkled in the breeze generated by old-fashioned fans rotating slowly. The tables, covered with pale pink damask, reflected the dusky pink of heavy velvet curtains at the high windows, and the deep rose of the thick carpet underfoot. All round she noted elegantly gowned and jewelled diners, faces gleaming in the light of tall pink candles set on every table in huge glass bowls. The orchestra in evening dress was playing on a raised platform above the dance floor, which was already crowded.

  'Dance, Davina?' Jake's voice was a question, but he expected no refusal, as he pulled back her chair. On the dance floor she moved quite naturally into his arms. In her high heels she reached almost to his chin and she could feel his breath against her hair, and the hardness of his legs against hers as they moved and he held her tightly to him. He took her hand and placed the palm down inside his open jacket. She could feel the crisp dark hair through the thin material, and curled her fingers, rubbing them gently against him. He pulled her closer and put his lips to her temple, caressing her skin.

  Davina was bemused, trembling slightly at his nearness, but feeling strangely safe and protected in his arms. Her own pulses were hammering and she was responding to his touch as she had done earlier in the day.

  She tipped her head back and surprised a look of some strong emotion in his eyes, keeping his face still and intent as he searched her eyes rather blindly for a moment, before he pulled her head back against him and looked away.

  She was shaken by that look and the effect it had on her. What was this yearning for closeness, this wanting she didn't recognise? Was it some kind of infatuation? She hoped not. A man like Jake was out of her class. She hadn't the experience or the expertise to cope with him. Having an affair with Jake could only spell disaster, because there was just one way it would end. He always moved on, whatever the lady in question might feel or want. Oh, dear, no!

  'May I?' It was Philip cutting in on them.

  Davina said nothing, but waited for the men to sort it out.

  'Sorry,' Jake's voice was cold and cutting, 'we were just going for something to eat.'

  'I won't keep her for long.' Philip was coaxing, looking down at her. 'Just once around the floor.' He turned to Jake. 'You won't object, will you? After all, old man,' he gave a short rather strident laugh, 'you'll have her for the rest of her life, won't you? You can't grudge me one dance?'

  'Davina?' Jake's eyes were on her face.

  'I'll follow you in a moment, Jake,' she said lightly, not looking at him.

  Jake took his arms away immediately and left them. Davina shivered suddenly at his going, and Philip pulled her into his arms and they began to dance.

  'I thought I'd never get a single word with you today. He's been guarding you like a bloodhound.' He pulled her closer. 'Have you missed me?' he breathed, his mouth against her face.

  'Please, Philip! You're married now. Do stop flirting with me.' She pulled herself slightly away from him, wondering why she didn't feel weak at the knees as she usually did when he held her.

  'Flirting? Is that what you think I'm doing?' Philip's voice was hurt.

  'I'm sorry, Philip, but I really don't want this kind of conversation with you any more. You're married to my sister now, and as far as I'm concerned, that means you're my brother-in-law. Nothing more.'

  'My, my, you do sound prudish all of a sudden! That's not how you reacted last night on the beach, is it, my lo
ve? Do you honestly think I don't know how you feel about me? I know you still love me as much as you always did. I can feel it—I felt it last night when you kissed me.'

  'No, Philip, you're wrong.' She was getting impatient with him. 'Last night I suppose I was surprised to see you, a bit nostalgic, I expect. But that's all.'

  'I don't believe you.' He sounded almost smug. 'Oh, I know you're supposed to be engaged, but that won't last long.'

  'What do you mean?' she demanded.

  'Well, it's obvious he's not your style—he's much too old for you and too sophisticated. He'll be forever globetrotting and amusing himself while you stay at home having babies. I imagine you turned to him on the rebound, especially as you work for him. They do say all secretaries fall in love with their bosses. But they don't marry them. Once he's on to the next lovely, you'll wake up and find out what he's really like.'

  Davina was furious, not least because she had been thinking much the same things herself only moments earlier. But that didn't give Philip the right to say them.

  'How dare you talk like that about Jake? I'm sorry, Philip, but I won't listen to that kind of talk about my… er… fiancé.' Her voice was quiet and curiously firm, and he looked down at her in surprise.

  'You really have a crush on him, then?' he said. 'That explains the ring. Well, dear, you can take it from me, you're out of your depth. Forget it and forget him. I daresay he finds you a novelty, but it won't last.'

  Davina was speechless as a strange pain hit her at his words. Philip did know her pretty well, after all. Perhaps he could see the situation more clearly than she could. And perhaps he was right.

  She sighed. It really made no difference to anything. She had known it herself anyway; it just hurt her pride to have it put into words by someone else.

  'No, my darling,' Philip was saying, whispering to her intimately, 'you stick with me. We can meet in London and see each other. I'll teach you what real love is like, because I adore you. For me there's no one else and there never will be.'

  'Philip, you're being ridiculous! You don't seriously imagine you and I will be meeting secretly when you're married to my sister? What do you take me for?' She was angry now. 'Please take me back to the table.'

  'Darling, I didn't mean to…'

  'Now, Philip,' she said, adamant, and stopped still on the dance floor, stepping out of his arms.

  He looked furious for a moment and then took her hand and walked off the floor with her. Davina removed her hand firmly from his and went ahead.

  As they sat down, the men at the table rose politely and she looked up to find Jake's eyes on her, his face set in anger. Her face paled and she clenched her hands to compose herself.

  'Your soup will be cold.' Jake's voice reached her, cool and distant. 'Shall I order some more?'

  'No, thank you,' she said politely, looking away from him.

  'Ina love,' it was Monica, 'come and freshen up with me in the powder room, will you?'

  They wended their way through the tables, admiring glances following. They made a stunningly contrasting pair. In the ladies' room Monica turned to her sister. 'I wanted to talk to you, and this evening seems to be the only time left.' She spoke quietly.

  She was wearing a low-necked blue satin dress, tight-waisted with a full, stiff skirt, and it showed up the dark hair and the pale skin of arms and shoulders. Davina thought she had never seen Monica look so lovely, so blooming.

  'That's a lovely dress, Monica. It suits you beautifully,' she said, wondering apprehensively what her sister wanted to discuss.

  'Thank you.' Monica seemed nervous too as she sought to find the right words. 'I want to tell you how sorry I am about today… the things I said. I was… er… frightened, terrified, that well, that you and Philip might… that he might persuade you to run away with him at the last moment.' She stopped awkwardly, and Davina wanted to give her some kind reassurance, but couldn't think of the right way to do it. 'I know, of course, that he has a thing about you,' Monica went on, 'but I've felt for a time now that he really does love me, although he wouldn't admit it, of course. If I thought he didn't love me I wouldn't have married him today and I certainly wouldn't be having his child.' She paused, but didn't look at her sister. 'You see, he's weak in some ways… about money, about other women. He's easily flattered because he's vain.' She looked rather anxiously across at Davina, who didn't move or respond. She sighed and went on tentatively.

  'Well, I understand about these things and he knows I don't take them too seriously. I love him and I'm weak in other things… where I need him. But he has this dream about you. You're the golden girl he never had, but thinks he always wants, always loves. Only it's not real. It's a dream he can retreat into when he feels a failure or he's getting older or when something goes wrong. Do you understand what I'm getting at?'

  Davina didn't say anything.

  'Davina, please, I don't want to go on if I'm hurting you… please help me! I'm fighting—not for Philip, I've got him now. I'm fighting for us. I… I want us to be sisters again, somehow.'

  Davina found tears pricking her eyelids and kept her eyes closed. 'Go on,' she whispered, 'please. I'm listening.'

  'When you came yesterday and you and Philip saw each other last night, secretly, alone…'

  'Quite unexpectedly,' Davina interrupted. 'It wasn't planned.'

  'Maybe not. I think Philip did plan it. Anyway, when you came and looked so radiantly beautiful, I was suddenly not sure—not sure of Philip, not sure if I was right about his feelings about you. And I felt Jake wasn't quite for real. Oh, I know it sounds silly, but I almost felt it was all arranged, that you'd become engaged on the rebound or just because of the wedding. I didn't feel you two were in love at all. It felt almost as though you were strangers to each other. It was all a bit confused. But I was scared, and that's why I said those awful things this morning… about you and Jake.'

  She stopped, and still Davina said nothing.

  'Will you forgive me?' Monica was close to tears. 'I realise now how wrong I was. Watching you at the reception and again tonight, I can't imagine how I ever thought you weren't in love. It's written all over you both. He can't keep his eyes off you, and you obviously adore him. And I feel very silly and stupid, and so guilty still about… that other hurt, two years ago. I can't ever forget… it still haunts me.'

  'I'm glad you mentioned that,' at last Davina spoke. 'I've often thought I lost two people that day, not just Philip, but you. It would be nice if somehow we could find a way back to each other.'

  And suddenly Monica had her arms round her younger sister and was hugging her tightly. 'You are happy, aren't you, Davina!' her voice was anxious.

  Davina smiled, eyes veiled. 'What do you think?' she said, and turned away to the mirror, using a tissue on her eyes. She knew they would never return to the easy, confident closeness of childhood, but she was glad that something could be rescued of their relationship, that they would not continue as enemies.

  But there were things now she would have to hide from her sister. There was no way Monica must be allowed to guess how close she had been to the truth about Jake and herself, about their engagement.

  'Do you remember,' Monica said dreamily, 'how we used to have long talks about love and marriage? How we would wait for the real thing, never compromise, never give ourselves out of curiosity?' She wiped her eyes regarding her face in the mirror, not looking at her sister. 'How long ago that seems, doesn't it?'

  Davina straightened. 'The men are going to wonder how long ago it seems since they saw us if we don't get back to the table,' she said brightly. 'They'll probably think we've been kidnapped!'

  It was the last dance and Davina was exhausted. She had danced gaily with everyone all evening, everyone except Jake, who had not asked her again. He had taken each girl in rotation on to the dance floor, smiling, joking and charming them, until she had followed him several times with her eyes, wondering at her own sense of depression at his neglect. And now he was
at her side.

  'Come along,' he said almost curtly, and she got up. On the dance floor he pulled her close into his arms, pushing her head against his shoulder and placing her arms round his waist under his open jacket. The lights dimmed till only the flicker of guttering candles lit the remote corners of the room. They moved slowly to the dreamy waltz, their arms round each other. Couples were kissing unashamedly all round them.

  Davina felt Jake's lips against her cheek, moving to her mouth, and she lifted her head for his kiss. He kissed her deeply and the heat spread through her as desire for him raced through her body. She kissed him back, her arms tightening round him, and his mouth hardened possessively, passionate and demanding. They stood still, bodies locked together, lost to their surroundings, until suddenly the music stopped and the lights went up. Jake took his lips away unhurriedly and held her head against him for a moment, giving her time to recover. Then, holding her closely to his side, he took her back to the table, relinquishing her hand reluctantly as she sat down.

  The clock on the dashboard showed nearly two o'clock as he drove her home. Neither spoke. Davina leaned back, eyes closed. She felt drained. Too much had happened in one day. She couldn't feel any more.

  The streets were empty and the powerful car took only minutes to cover the distance. As Jake stopped the car outside her house, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He did not switch off the lights nor the engine. She didn't move, half expecting him to reach for her, to kiss her again, and she knew she wanted him to do just that.

  'Do you mind if I don't see you to the door?' he said indifferently. 'I'd like to turn straight round.'

  'Of course not.' She had the door open and was out in one movement, failing to notice his hands clenching on the wheel till his knuckles whitened. 'I'll pick you up in the morning about eleven-thirty,' he said, '… this morning.'

  'Fine,' she said quietly, and sped through the gate to the front door.

  Before she had the key in the door, he had turned the car, the beam of headlights travelling across her briefly before he disappeared round the corner.