I unwrapped it and there was another box inside, also wrapped. And then another and another, like a game of pass the parcel, until finally I was left with a tiny box, and I thought, Oh God he’s bought me a piece of jewellery, I hope it’s not a locket. I started mentally practising my Oh-God-it’s-so-beautiful-I-really-really-love-it face.
I opened it and inside was the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. It was princess cut in white gold – a dainty thing with a claw setting. My breath caught in my throat, and then he was on his knees in front of me proposing.
I started crying; it was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me, and of course I said yes – although it sounded more like this, ‘YEEEEESSSSSSSS!’
The manager of the restaurant popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and we rang our parents to tell them the good news. I can honestly say that, apart from our wedding, it was the happiest moment of my life.
I was distracted from my thoughts by my father joining me.
‘Look at that,’ he said. Panther – my mother’s huge black cat – was lying in the sun while the birds played around him. ‘Damned thing, won’t even try to catch a mouse.’ Dad shook his head.
I knew what he was referring to. Panther had – a while ago – decided that his favourite game was hunting Dad. He would hide in the garden while Dad worked, waiting patiently till he could launch himself from his hiding place onto Dad’s back. The first time it happened – Dad had admitted quite shamefaced – he had peed himself in fright.
I wasn’t the only one ending up with animals from the shelter where Mum worked. She had personally taken on the responsibility of finding happy homes for the pets that had been mistreated by their owners. Unfortunately they were often the ones with the psychological problems. Mum and Dad had Panther and Fluffy – a huge Great Dane that thought it was a lap dog.
Right at that moment Fluffy joined us in the garden, backing up slowly till the very end of his butt rested on Dad’s knee. He lifted his hind legs off the ground and perched there happily.
‘Dog should come with a reversing alarm,’ Dad said gruffly, but he started to scratch him behind his ears. Fluffy groaned in appreciation and nudged further back onto Dad’s knee.
‘How’re you holding up?’ Dad asked.
‘Oh just fine and dandy,’ I replied brightly.
Dad was not fooled by my tone of voice. ‘You’ve got to forgive your Aunt Esme,’ he said.
I looked at him quizzically.
‘She doesn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘Really?’ I said, looking at him with raised eyebrows.
He laughed a little and looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t within hearing range. ‘All right,’ he conceded, ‘she’s a cantankerous, nasty old cow, who gets pleasure out of other people’s misery, but she’s the only relative – apart from Jackie – that your Mum has left.’
He reached out and took my hand. I was fine until he touched me, but then I could feel tears threatening to overflow. I concentrated on containing them.
‘I’m going to be all right Dad,’ I assured him, when I could finally speak again.
‘I know you are sweetheart. I know you are.’
We sat like that for a long time, holding hands and enjoying the uncomplicated silence between us.
* * *
Dinah’s surgery is on Oxford Street in Paddington. There are three working rooms, a sterilising bay, an office, a bathroom and a tearoom. She has another full-time dentist, Mark, and a hygienist, Rana, working for her in the other two surgeries. I organise the running of the practice – the rosters, ordering and chasing up of bad debts, as well as the marketing. I also fill in when someone is sick, and have become a proficient dental nurse. The practice operates from 8am to 8pm. Dinah and Mark take it in turn to work the late shift and alternate Saturdays. Thankfully, I get to go home at 5pm every day.
The best thing about Dinah’s practice is that it is situated above Beethoven’s – a German teacake shop. The lingering smell of the night baking is waiting for us when we open the surgery in the morning, making you want to run straight down there and eat something. I gained a few kilos when I first started working for Dinah and now have to be very careful about how often I visit the shop. Right next door is a lovely little café called Biscuit. They do great take-out salads, so when I am too lazy to take lunch to work I eat there.
The first day back after my birthday weekend was pretty routine. I did the morning banking – being very careful not to inhale too deeply as I walked past Beethoven’s. The shock of the engagement could very easily have turned into a cake feeding frenzy. On my way back from the bank though, I saw it. A life-sized picture of Jake, whizzing past me on the side of a bus with the caption, Vote one, Jake Wellington for Lord Mayor.
‘Good to see Uncle Edward’s money being put to good use,’ I said, as I headed into Beethoven’s.
Dinah was in the tearoom having a cuppa when I returned. She looked at my purchases and raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
‘Just saw Jake on the side of a bus.’
‘Lucky me,’ she said, helping herself to a wedge of bee sting cake. ‘Of course if you do this every time you see a photo of him during the campaign, we’re going to be obese by the election.’
‘I know. It was just such a shock.’ I placed a slice of pear crumble onto a plate and then ladled some into my mouth – moaning as the custard rolled over my tongue. ‘I never get over how good this is. Anyway, it’s still my birthday week.’
My phone gave the little chime it does whenever I receive a text message. I could tell straight away by the terrible spelling and misused words it was from Mum. She hasn’t quite mastered the art of predictive texting.
High Lara. Will bee round tonight with knew pet for you. Do you want to do diner? Love Nun.
I snorted with laughter and showed Dinah.
‘Hey,’ she said, ‘at least your Mum has a mobile phone.’
I responded, resisting the urge to use horrible spelling.
Sure Mum. See you when I get home.
* * *
Mum had let herself in, and was having a glass of wine on the balcony by the time I got home. There was a kitty litter by the balcony door and a bag of cat food on the kitchen bench. Perched on her lap was the prettiest little cat I’d ever seen. It was white with a black patch over the right eye and ear. The front left and back right legs were also black. It had blue, blue eyes and a pink little nose.
‘For me?’ I asked.
Mum nodded. ‘This is Princess. Princess, meet Tara, your new Mum.’
As if on cue Princess stretched, jumped off Mum’s lap, and wandered over to me. She wound herself around my legs purring.
‘She likes me.’ I picked her up and then poured myself a glass of wine before joining Mum on the balcony. Princess turned around and around on my lap before settling down to sleep.
‘Did you want to stay the night?’ I asked.
‘Sure love. I told your father I probably would. I brought down some beef stroganoff for us to eat.’
‘Thanks Mum. I’ve got nothing in the fridge.’
‘Yes, I noticed that,’ she said in a disapproving tone. ‘I took the liberty of getting you some groceries.’
‘Jeez Mum, you didn’t have to.’
‘Think of it as an apology.’
‘What on earth for?’ I asked mystified.
‘For yesterday, I should never have let Esme come to your birthday lunch.’
I sighed. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s about time I get over them anyway.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked kindly.
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘All I’ve done for the last twelve months is talk about them and think about them. To tell you the truth I’m sick of hearing myself go on about it.’
She looked at me for a long moment before nodding her head.
‘So,’ I asked, ‘what’s Princess in for?’
‘To be honest I�
�m not sure. I think maybe she just got lost.’
‘Hmmm,’ I said unconvinced, ‘we’ll see.’
After dinner Mum and I slumped on the couch chatting. She picked up Breaking Dawn, the last Stephanie Meyer’s book in the Twilight series, which was lying on my coffee table.
‘Oooohhhh,’ she said, ‘is it good?’
‘Oh my God, Mum. You have no idea.’
I had been so keen to get the book I had queued – feeling idiotic – at seven in the morning, with the swarms of schoolgirls, the day of its release. Participating in the stampede when the shop had finally opened, I had returned home triumphantly with my copy – taken the phone off the hook – and read all day and night until I had finished. I was currently reading it for the third time.
‘Hey you know that the movie is coming out in November? Do you want to go and see it?’
She nodded her head eagerly, her gaze still fixed on my copy of Breaking Dawn.
‘Take it with you.’ I nodded at the book.
‘Oh no.’ She indicated the bookmark half way through. ‘I couldn’t. You finish it first.’
‘Mum, I’ve already read it two times.’
Faster than the eye could see Mum whipped up the book, greedily clutching it to her chest as she pretended to look at her watch.
‘Oh dear, look at the time.’ She stretched and yawned dramatically. ‘Night love.’ And with that she was gone, off to the spare bedroom and no doubt several hours of uninterrupted reading.
My mother is – if it’s possible – an even bigger Twilight fan than me.
* * *
The next morning I was in my office doing the wages when Susan – the receptionist – brought in an envelope.
‘This one’s addressed to you,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I didn’t want to open it in case it was personal.’
‘Thanks,’ I said smiling at her. ‘I’m sure it’s just marketing brochures.’
God, I’m so stupid, I didn’t see it coming.
Ripping open the top of the A4 envelope, I slid the contents onto my desk and found myself staring at a letter from the law firm Jake worked at.
‘What is it?’ Susan asked.
I was having trouble reading it, the letters swimming in front of my eyes. ‘Oh,’ I finally said breezily, hoping the words wouldn’t get stuck in my throat, ‘just divorce papers.’ My smile now frozen on my face, I stood up and brushed past poor Susan – who was looking mortified – and into the tearoom, where I put on the jug, and got the cake boxes out of the fridge.
‘What are you having?’ asked Dinah when she entered several minutes later.
I hopped up, my mouth too full to talk, and poured her a coffee. Finally I managed to swallow. ‘Well, I started with the crumble, which you know I can never resist, then I had some tea-cake and now I’m onto the bee sting.’
‘Wow,’ said Dinah, ‘did I miss something?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘Just got divorce papers in the mail.’ I nodded at the document, which had some custard smudged on the cover sheet.
‘Have you told Nat yet?’
‘No. I’m going to need a lawyer aren’t I?’
Dinah nodded.
I guess it’s normal when faced with an ending, to find yourself considering the beginning.
It was a perfect sunny day the morning of our wedding. I shared a champagne breakfast with my bridesmaids, sitting in the courtyard at Natalie’s house. Part of me was excited, but the other part, exhausted from the wedding preparations, just wanted to go and lie down somewhere really, really quiet.
(We had had huge dramas the day before when Jess – Jake’s twin brother who lives in India – had rung to say he wasn’t coming. Jake’s Mum – Juliette – had gone into hysterics and then insisted on totally rearranging the table seatings. In the process Mum and Dad had been sentenced to the far corner of the room. I had finally managed to right the wrong and unruffle the ruffled feathers, but it had left me drained and devoid of all emotion.)
As the morning progressed and the champagne flowed, the part of me that was excited gained dominance and brought along with it his old friend Mr Nerves. I was feeling positively ill by 11am when the hairdresser and make-up artist arrived. I was distracted for a while by Tash complaining that she didn’t want her make-up done first or it would be ruined by 3pm, when the wedding began. Then I remembered that it was my wedding, so I told her to stop whingeing and get on with it. Of course Tash being Tash, went into a sulk until Dinah said she’d go first. I could see Nat – who was having a manicure – making rude gestures behind Tash’s back – which made me laugh, and then everything was all right again.
We were in the cars and practically pulling up at the front of the church when we realised we had left the flowers at home. ‘Keep going,’ I screeched at the driver who sped up and whizzed right on by, with the other two cars following in confusion. Everyone’s phones started ringing at once. Nat was trying to ring Dad to let him know what was happening, but he was trying to ring me. I had answered mine to explain to Tash why we had turned around, while Dinah was trying to ring Mum, because we couldn’t get onto Dad.
And then my phone rang, and it was Jake wanting to know if he’d been left at the altar. I was so uptight all I could do was laugh – which pissed him off, so Nat grabbed the phone and explained that we had forgotten the flowers. Finally Dinah’s phone rang and it was Mum in tears assuming I’d changed my mind, and wanting to talk to me about my pre-wedding jitters. Dinah explained that we had forgotten the flowers, and Mum said, ‘But we have them in the car with us.’ So all the cars did a U-turn, and headed back to the church.
Everyone from the church had crowded onto the pavement and when we got back they broke into a round of applause. Dinah jumped out first and was bowing to the audience and laughing. Then she helped me out of the car and there were oooohs and aaaaahs, before everyone realised that they were meant to be in the church when I arrived. There was a mass stampede back inside, during which, I am pleased to say, none of the children or elderly were trampled to death.
Mum and Dad handed out the bouquets and then, it was time. I could hear the organist start up and suddenly we were walking down the aisle. Light was streaming through the stained glass windows, cascading over the congregation and the masses of flowers. It was breathtaking.
Between the camera flashes I could see faces peering at me. As we moved slowly down the aisle I was looking for familiar ones when suddenly I saw Jake up the front in his tuxedo. He looked so handsome I felt like someone had put their hand around my heart and squeezed. We stared into each other’s eyes, and from then on I saw no-one but him.
The rest of the ceremony is a bit of a blur, but all of a sudden we were being pronounced man and wife and he was lifting my veil and kissing me so passionately that my belly did a couple of laps around the rest of my body and my knees went weak. The next half an hour was spent greeting everyone at the church; all the time watching each other across the room disbelieving we were married.
Finally the photographer took over and it was off for copious amounts of photos. I hadn’t wanted professional photos, but Jake had assured me we would be glad to have them later. (I am planning to turn mine into a dart board, so I guess he was right.) By the end, my face ached and my head hurt from all the smiling. I found myself thinking longingly of a quiet room and a big bed.
Then we had dinner and the speeches, which we kept short. I had once been to a wedding where the speeches went for four hours – the only entertaining part of the evening was when one of the Aunts fell asleep with her head on the table and dribbled all over the tablecloth.
There was a bit of excitement after dinner. One of Jake’s mates had brought his sister along as a date. She was a very attractive girl, with a voice a bit like a foghorn. I could see all the other girls at the table getting disgruntled as she flirted wildly with all the men. Eventually she focused on one and started playing footsies under the table with him. Not very
subtly either, as she was staring quite provocatively at him and, I heard later, running her tongue around her lips. They progressed to the dance floor where they started smooching. I lost track of them for a while after that, but apparently he persuaded her to accompany him to the cloakroom, where the real action began. Poor old Aunt Agnes got quite a shock when she went to retrieve her fur coat, only to find it being used as a mattress by the ardent couple.
He must have said something at that point that indicated he had no intention of taking their relationship any further than the cloakroom. She was devastated – probably already imagining them having breakfast in bed the next morning while they planned their week together – and rushed off to the ladies where she proceeded to spend the next two hours crying.
Meanwhile, we cut the cake and did the bridal waltz. Dad and I had a bit of a spin around the floor. I was surprised at how proficient he was. Mum giggled when I mentioned it, confiding that Dad had been quite a stallion in his day; a good athlete and deft on the dance floor, even competing in some ballroom dancing competitions. Apparently all the other young ladies had been heartbroken when she’d snapped him up. She giggled again and fluttered her eyelids at him. I saw him blush and get a shy smile on his face, and I had a feeling that the cloakroom couple would not be the only ones seeing a bit of action that night. I must admit it made me feel a little nauseous.
‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Dinah, disturbing my memory.
‘Just thinking about the wedding, and what a waste of time and money it was.’
Dinah nodded sympathetically.
‘Who would have guessed it would come to this?’ I asked, pointing at the divorce papers.
I noticed Dinah had a look of distaste on her face that spoke volumes. She had never really liked Jake, and I’m guessing she had always been pretty sure it would come to this. ‘He’s an arsehole Tara. Always was and always will be.’
For once I didn’t even try to defend him.
‘Even the way he left you. That says a lot about a person.’
[2012] The Seven Steps to Closure Page 4
