The Wedding Day

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘Yes. That’s it,’ I muttered.

  ‘Great. I’ll have her that weekend then, shall I? That’s what I came to say, that I may need to juggle my dates a bit. This new play’s taking up more time than I thought.’ He pulled a diary from his pocket and flicked through it. ‘At the moment I think I’ve got her every other weekend until then, but we’re going to Cornwall soon so I need to change all that.’

  ‘Cornwall?’ My heart stopped. ‘Why?’

  He looked up in surprise. ‘For a holiday. Why not?’

  I nodded, my throat inexplicably dry. ‘Right. Whereabouts?’

  ‘Oh, usual place,’ he said airily. ‘North coast, somewhere. Near Polzeath, I think. Where we went last year, remember? Cozzy’s parents have a bungalow down there.’

  So Cozzy had lasted a whole year. Unlike Francine. Or Sandra, who’d fallen at the final flourish of the Tour de France flag, the stale stench of urine no doubt too much for Adam as he took her in his arms for a celebratory hug. And I did remember him motoring off from this very house not much more than a year ago, after an illicit night with me, in the days when, to my shame, I still let him into my bed even though he didn’t live here. Yes, off he’d gone to frolic in the surf with Cozzy, as I shut my eyes tight and tried not to cry into my pillow.

  ‘Right.’ I swallowed. ‘It’s just – well, we’re going to Cornwall too. For six weeks.’

  His beer froze at his lips. ‘Six weeks? Stroll on down.’ He blinked his bright blue eyes and took his cap off. Ran a hand through his dark curls. ‘Without consulting me? A whole summer, without me seeing my daughter?’

  ‘Well, I would have consulted you, naturally, Adam,’ I said hastily. ‘But it’s only just been decided. And since you’re going to be down there too, it’s actually quite convenient. I could drive her over to you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed as he weighed it up, considering. ‘Or I could come and get her.’ He struck a nonchalant pose. ‘We were going to go for the whole summer too, actually,’ he said blithely. ‘But we changed our plans.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t have seen her anyway then, would you?’ put in Rosie acidly.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ he went on, deliberately ignoring her.

  ‘David’s aunt’s got a place on the Camel estuary.’

  ‘Cool. Big pad?’ Adam thought it took years off him to talk like a hippie.

  ‘Um, I’m – not sure.’

  ‘Oh, huge,’ said Rosie, reading his mind. ‘With a pool, and a billiard table, and a tennis court. You’ll have to come over, Adam, use the facilities. Raid the fridge.’

  ‘Might take you up on that.’ He winked at her, unruffled. ‘Unless you’re there already, Rosie, which I have a shrewd suspicion you might be, in which case there may be a conflict of interest. Dan and I could hang out quite happily together by the pool – sink a few tinnies, tell a few jokes – but I suspect you’d get on my tits after a while. How is dear old Redundant Man, anyway?’

  ‘He flourishes, thank you, and is probably more active than you are, Adam,’ she snapped. ‘At least he actually tries to get work and doesn’t just pose about in back-to-front baseball caps pretending he’s a teenager.’

  ‘All right, you two,’ I said wearily. ‘Can we get back to the real reason you’re here, Adam? Obviously you want to see Flora over the summer and since we’re both in Cornwall it makes things logistically easier, if not …’

  ‘Emotionally easier?’ he pounced, delighted. ‘Surely you weren’t thinking what a blessed relief it would have been not to see Adam for six weeks? To get over him properly, this time? To get out of the mind-set of lusting after a wayward, improverished actor and into the mind-set of marrying handsome, successful, sensible Dr Kildare? Surely you weren’t thinking that, Annie? Oops, hush my mouth, you were!’ His eyes danced with hilarity as Rosie rose furiously from the table.

  ‘Get out, Adam,’ she seethed. ‘Go on, piss off. If she won’t tell you, I will. Don’t flatter yourself that you even impinge on her consciousness any more. You’re an amoeba, pond-life, you’re not even the lovable rogue you think you are – poor romantic devil, led by his heart, can’t help himself – no! You’re just a sad old fart who can’t say no to his testosterone surges!’

  ‘Nicely said, Mrs Howard’ – Adam inclined his head graciously – ‘and with lots of righteous indignation on behalf of your friend, but you’ve overlooked one technicality. You’ve overlooked the fact that I can’t, indeed, help myself, and that despite everything I may still feel very strongly, and very deeply, for Annie here. I might even be prepared to admit that I was a bounder and a cad and all the other unspeakable things you accuse me of and, given a second chance and a fair wind, be ready to mend my ways for the sake of my marriage and my child.’ His mouth was twitching merrily, but there was something oddly fixed about his eyes. It brought us both up short.

  ‘Bullshit,’ said Rosie at length. ‘You’re half the man David is and you know it. You’re just scared witless she’s going to end up with someone loyal and honest and devoted.’

  ‘All of which are excellent canine attributes, I grant you, but are they entirely the spice of life? Entirely what sets the world on fire? Does loyalty make the party go with a zing, say, or does – Ah! The man himself. Or hound dog, should I say. Let him speak for himself. David, welcome!’

  David appeared in a shaft of light down the hall as the front door opened. He closed it behind him and advanced warily down the passageway in his pin-stripe suit, carrying his briefcase.

  ‘Welcome to this small kitchen party,’ went on Adam, beaming and spreading his arms wide. ‘Rosemary I believe you know, and of course my ex-wife, Annabel, and I am merely a wallflower. Here to secure visitation rights on my beloved only child, soon to be your step-daughter. How cosy is that. Stella?’ He reached in the fridge. ‘Or would you prefer something stronger?’

  ‘No thanks, Adam, and whilst Flora may be your daughter, those are my beers. I don’t necessarily begrudge you one, but I’ll thank you not to help yourself to another, because on the one hand I’ve got things to do here and on the other, there’s a disgruntled-looking blonde outside in an ancient MG that I seem to recall belongs to you. She’s picking her nail varnish and looking mutinous. I wouldn’t leave her kicking her stilettos while you’re quaffing in here, or she may shift into gear and leave you stranded.’

  ‘Shit! Cozzy!’ Adam clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Forgot she was out there. I was going to tip her the wink at some point and bring her in and introduce her to you, Annie, but I suspect now is not the moment?’ He took in my flushed face and the two icy ones flanking me. ‘Ah. No. Thought not. Oh well, at some stage it might be a good idea to get to know each other. Flora thinks she’s terrific, and now you’ve got yourself a man, there’ll be less angst all round, eh? No more hard feelings. Less hell hath no fury. Yes. Well.’ Even Adam seemed to sense the atmosphere was against him. ‘I’ll be on my way. Rosie, David.’ He nodded at them. ‘Thanks for the beer, mate, and, Annie, we’ll swap holiday addresses and phone numbers soon, eh? Might even all get together for a barbie on the beach!’

  Grinning at David’s horrified face, he slid out of the kitchen and slunk down to the front door, whistling merrily again.

  Rosie, gathering up her by now sleeping child, her old suede bag and her other belongings, was, after a swift goodbye, gone pretty much in his wake. Muttering darkly about my erstwhile disastrous taste in men she followed Adam out, but made a point of turning pointedly in the opposite direction once she’d reached the pavement.

  When the door had shut behind them, David turned to me, appalled.

  ‘He’s coming to Cornwall?’

  ‘Er, yes.’ I bit my lip. ‘Always does, I’m afraid. Well, since last year. Once is often, twice is always in Adam’s book. Cozzy’s got a place down there, you see.’ I avoided his eye.

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ he said despairingly, scratching his head. ‘You didn’t mention it, Annie.’

  ‘I
forgot,’ I said simply. ‘And anyway’ – I went across and put my arms around him. Hugged him hard – ‘he won’t spoil our fun.’ I reached up and kissed him softly on the mouth. ‘No one can spoil our fun, can they?’

  Later, an hour or so later, when our heads were on the same pillow but our legs pointing in opposite directions – mine, absurdly, going straight up the wall to ensure the sperm had the best chance of meeting the egg and not falling out of my cervix – David took my hand. It was tricky, but he took it.

  ‘Does he still upset you?’ he asked, looking straight up my nose.

  I smiled and looked up his. ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘Because I would understand. I mean, personally I think the man’s a complete dick, but I do appreciate that you were once married to him and might still harbour certain eccentric allegiances.’

  I turned my head sideways and kissed him. ‘David, I don’t give Adam a moment’s thought.’

  He smiled. ‘Good.’ He stroked my hand for a moment. ‘And when the houses are sold …?’

  ‘When the houses are sold and we buy one together he’ll need to send a calling card and book weeks in advance if he so much as wants to set foot in my doorway.’

  He smiled. ‘Splendid.’

  I sighed. ‘David, how long have I got to stay like this?’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Oh, only about half an hour.’

  ‘Half an hour!’

  ‘You’ll be fine, relax.’

  ‘Relax!’

  ‘I’ll get you a book if you like.’

  ‘And a cup of tea?’

  ‘Done.’

  He flung aside the duvet and got up. I watched as he crossed the room naked and went to reach for his dressing gown on the back of the door. He paused. Turned. ‘What are you smiling at?’

  I grinned. ‘Nothing.’

  He padded back to the bed, leaned over and kissed me. ‘Call that nothing? Any more cheek and I’ll cancel my Miss Monroe appointment at two-fifteen and book you in for a rematch.’

  ‘Miss Monroe?’

  ‘My new patient. She has unsightly hives in unlikely places.’

  ‘Ah. Attractive?’

  ‘The hives most certainly are not, and Miss Monroe might have been once, but is now a desiccated seventy-nine.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And no, Annie, I do not get my rocks off when female patients strip for me, which I know is your next question.’

  ‘It was not!’ I snorted as he pulled on his dressing gown. He gave me an arch look. Then he disappeared downstairs to get the tea, leaving me contemplating the wallpaper between my feet, and smiling like the cat who’s got the cream.

  ‘But I don’t believe you!’ I yelled.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Come on, Flora!’

  I crammed the suitcase into the boot and slammed it shut, glancing back through the open front door to where she stood in the hall talking to David, his fair head bent over her dark one. I paused for a moment, watching, as David, clean and pressed in his attire of Oxford cotton shirt, pale khaki trousers and a cashmere sweater slung artfully around his neck, got some batteries from his briefcase and gave them to her. Fumbling a bit, she slotted them into her personal stereo.

  I smiled. It was typical of the man that he should check her batteries before a long journey, but then get her to fit the new ones herself. Just as he helped her with her homework, but only when asked, and came to watch her in lacrosse matches only when invited – something Adam never quite managed, invited or not. He was supportive, but not too step-fatherly. Not too over the top. He was alive to the delicacy of the situation, just as Flora was alive to it too, but in a different way. She knew he was good for me.

  A year ago, when Adam had first heard about David, when he’d returned from his Cornish holiday with Cozzy and the grapevine had filtered down to him, he’d rung us, distraught. Flora had answered.

  ‘It’s Dad,’ she whispered. ‘He’s heard you’ve met someone. He wants to come back. For good.’

  My heart, and I know it shouldn’t have, leaped. But her dark eyes had filled with tears. She shook her head. ‘No, Mum,’ she whispered.

  I’d stared at her for a long moment. Then I swallowed hard and took the mouthpiece from her.

  ‘Sorry, Adam, we don’t want you back. No. No dice.’ And that was that. But the awful thing was, if it hadn’t been for my eleven-year-old daughter saving me from myself, I’m not sure I would have got off the roundabout. Not sure I wouldn’t still be spinning around now, sharing a niche with his harem of women, scanning the cast list when Adam brought it home, looking to see who his leading lady was, wondering if she was his type or if he’d slept with her before – in which case it was an odds-on certainty he’d sleep with her again. But Flora, who loved her daddy more than anyone, knew better. She knew that even though he made us laugh like no one else did, took life by the scruff of the neck and made every day a holiday, he wasn’t good for me. And actually, when David came along I realized that there was more to life than clutching one’s sides. That life wasn’t necessarily one long party. He’d been so good for us, David, so completely what we needed.

  ‘And take some spares,’ he was saying as he popped a couple in her denim shoulder bag, ‘in case you want to listen to it on the beach.’

  ‘Ready, love?’ I walked up the path, smiling at them. At my two.

  ‘Ready. But, David, please don’t forget my fish. They hate slimy water and it only takes a second, I promise.’

  ‘It takes precisely twelve minutes because I did it for you last weekend, and no, I won’t forget them. Or your plants,’ he added to me. ‘Although someone should really tell your mother, Flora, that those spider things with trailing babies went out with hostess trolleys and Arctic Rolls. I’ve half a mind to replace them with winter-flowering jasmine while you’re away.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ I warned. ‘Those spiders have been with me through thick and thin, and I know precisely how many offspring they’ve got, so don’t go getting scissor happy either. Now, Flora, map?’

  ‘Got it.’ She tapped her bag. ‘Come on, Mum, let’s go. Bye, David.’ She reached up and gave him a kiss.

  ‘Bye, hon. Take care and look after your mum.’ He took me in his arms and kissed my nose. ‘I’ll be down in a couple of weeks to check up on the pair of you.’

  ‘A couple of weeks?’ I stepped back from him. ‘Can’t you come sooner? Can’t you come this weekend?’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he said, walking us to the car, ‘but I’m up to here with paperwork at the moment and it is a hell of a long way, Annie. I mean for the weekend.’

  My heart lurched. ‘I know, but you said you didn’t mind. We went through this,’ I said anxiously.

  ‘I don’t.’ He opened the car door for me. ‘And I’ll do my best, I promise. Now, for God’s sake drive carefully, and stop for lunch, and don’t drive if you’re tired. Go for a walk or something. It’s always the last bit of the journey when people plough on because they’re nearly there that something disastrous happens.’

  ‘I will,’ I promised, glowing slightly under his protection. When had Adam ever exhorted me to drive carefully?

  He kissed me again and we both saw Flora, despite her protestations, turn her head away. We parted quickly.

  He waved us off and, as my ancient Fiat pulled out into the sunny Fulham street, the dusty plane trees spreading their mottled shade over the baked tarmac, I gave a hoot and a backward wave to him, standing watching on the pavement.

  ‘Lovely man,’ I said, admittedly a trifle smugly, as I eyed him in the rear-view mirror. ‘Can’t quite believe he’s marrying me.’

  ‘Neither can anyone else,’ murmured Flora distractedly, fiddling with her CD player. ‘Damn. This thing’s really crappy. I knew I should have borrowed Rachel’s.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ I said sharply. ‘“Neither can anyone else”?’

  ‘Only joking,’ she grinned, snapping the case shut. ‘No, I jus
t meant he is quite cool. I mean, for us,’ she added, generously offering herself into the equation. ‘Let’s face it, we are a bit scruffy, Mum.’

  I negotiated the sunny streets out towards the A4 and regarded my daughter beside me in her cropped jeans, immaculate white T-shirt and freshly washed hair caught back in a pony-tail. She looked, as ever, with her beautiful heart-shaped face, like a Ralph Lauren advert.

  ‘Well you’re not,’ I said shortly. ‘So you must mean me.’ ‘Well, you must admit,’ she said, regarding my filthy old espadrilles and faded man’s shirt which was hanging over the top of my trousers because the zip had gone at the side, ‘you’re not exactly Coco Chanel.’

  ‘David doesn’t mind about that,’ I retorted, hastily adjusting my shirt over the gaping zip. ‘He’s not marrying me for my sartorial style.’

  ‘Just as well, with your wardrobe. But honestly, Mum, you might try. I saw your pants in the bathroom the other day, and they’re outrageous. Full of holes, and all that crumbling grey elastic – anyone would think you were trying to put him off.’

  ‘I just haven’t made it to M&S recently,’ I said heatedly. ‘And anyway, I have got some nice ones. I only use those in an emergency.’

  ‘You should throw them away. It’s embarrassing.’

  I looked at her. The colour was high in her cheeks.

  ‘Right,’ I said shortly. ‘I will. Anything else destined for the rubbish bin?’

  ‘Well those trousers you’re wearing now, and those horrid stained espadrilles and your nasty grey jumper with the moth holes, and your dressing gown. With that huge great coffee stain on the back that looks like you’ve pooed or something, and that you wander around in from nine o’clock onwards every evening. Honestly, Mum, it puts men off.’

  ‘Men? You mean David?’ ‘Well –’ ‘What? And Daddy?’ ‘I don’t know, do I? I’m not a man. All I’m saying is … don’t let yourself go.’

  She stared out of the window fixedly, her face and neck pink. I got the impression she’d been meaning to tell me this for some time. Clearly she felt it might be my fault her father had strayed, had wandered from the pack. This was news to me.