The Wedding Day

by Catherine Alliott

  Half an hour later, when we’d got another hundred-odd steps under our belts and reached the second set of ramparts – where, happily, the castle shop was conveniently placed – I buckled patheti cally beside Flora on the grass.

  ‘Not sure I can go much further, David,’ I gasped, as Flora emitted a death rattle beside me. ‘Why don’t you go on and we’ll wait for you down here?’ I looked up at him pleadingly, flat on my back in the daisies.

  His face was bright red against the blue sky, and he was panting with exertion and mopping his brow. The next stage was another three hundred steps away and a coronary looked imminent, but I could tell he didn’t want to be beaten.

  ‘I might just have a little look at the turrets,’ he panted, clutching his sides and narrowing his eyes up the hill. ‘Seems crazy not to, while we’re here.’

  ‘Crazy,’ I gasped. ‘But you wait here. Catch your breath.’

  We did just that, arms and legs splayed out like starfish on the grass, whilst David trudged on. I knew I should ask Flora to put more suncream on her face, but I couldn’t be bothered to sit up and fiddle around in my handbag getting it for her.

  ‘Two more minutes,’ I groaned, ‘then I’ll get us some water from the shop. I promise.’

  ‘Now,’ she moaned. ‘Please, Mum, I’m dying.’

  My temples were beginning to throb rather ominously, and I had a nasty suspicion I might be on the brink of a thumping headache. I shut my eyes tentatively. Ah yes, something up there was definitely beginning to bite; a paracetamol was crucial. I sat up slowly, scraping myself gingerly off the grass, knowing any sudden movement was fatal. Pausing only to bully Flora into the shade, I tottered off into the shop.

  Naturally it was heaving, and naturally there was no air conditioning, but I forced my way single-mindedly through the throng. As I was paying for the water and simultaneously popping down a handful of paracetamol from my bag, I spotted Theo’s wife, Helena, just to the left of me by the till. She was fingering National Trust tea towels in a rather desultory fashion, and had a small child in tow, tugging at the hem of her skirt and whinging. I wasn’t in the mood for idle chit-chat and wondered if I could possibly get away without her seeing me, but our eyes collided at the same time.

  ‘Hi,’ I beamed, overcompensating in case she’d seen me hesitate. Taking a second to register, she smiled rather bleakly back.

  ‘Oh, hi, Annie.’

  I pocketed my change and moved across. ‘Not here doing sightseeing duty alone, surely?’

  ‘Oh no, Theo’s around somewhere; he’s got Rollo with him. But I wish he’d hurry up, I’m dying to go home. It’s far too hot for this one.’ She glanced down at her toddler, then around for Theo, despairingly.

  ‘I know, I’ve got Flora complaining like mad outside.’

  ‘Well, at least you got her to come along. I couldn’t persuade the older ones. Not that they ever do much that I ask them, anyway,’ she added bitterly.

  I glanced at her, noticing the fretted lines on her pale forehead and around her mouth. It couldn’t be easy taking on a fractured family and having older step-sons to contend with as well as young children of one’s own, I thought, all with very different demands. She looked worn out with effort.

  ‘I suppose they are rather beyond the sightseeing stage,’ I said consolingly.

  ‘They’re beyond anything, except nicking cigarettes from my bag and helping themselves to beer from the fridge,’ she snapped.

  I followed her eyes pretending to help her look and remembered how pretty she’d been, four or five summers ago when I’d first met her. I recalled Theo, his arm protectively around her shoulders, proudly showing off his new wife with her mane of blonde hair at the Commodore’s drinks party at the sailing club, the older model having been traded in. But the older model was no has-been, and had graced the pages of Vogue in her time; she was a rather lovely arty lady called Tilda, who painted beautiful watercolours, and whom I’d got on well with on the odd occasions we’d met. I wondered what had happened to her and made a mental note to ask Clare.

  I glanced back at wife number two. Petulance had spoiled her face, and I wondered if either, or both, of them regretted it? Regretted getting married. Wished they’d let their affair go by as a quick, lustful bit of nonsense, with Theo going back to his wife and Helena marrying someone younger. Theo could be sitting on his boat now, with Tilda beside him, sipping Pimm’s in the sunshine, whilst their teenage boys, back from boarding school and requiring no parental supervision, windsurfed and water-skied around them, instead of which he was pushing a buggy around a hot castle, and explaining archery skills to a bored and squirming three-year-old.

  ‘Bloody man, where is he? It’s like an oven in here!’

  I couldn’t help remembering how madly, blindly in love with him she’d been that first time I’d met her, when she was still his production assistant; how she’d gazed raptly into the theatrical impresario’s eyes, hanging on to his every word. Now he was a ‘bloody man’.

  ‘At least we’re off to Corsica tomorrow,’ she said with a sigh. ‘No doubt it’ll be baking, but at least we’ll have a pool.’

  ‘You’re off tomorrow?’ I turned to her. ‘I thought you usually did three weeks here?’

  ‘We do normally, but this year I put my foot down. I wanted a hot holiday as well, because as you know, it usually rains here. Little did I know we were in for a sodding heatwave.’

  Suddenly I felt a bit alarmed. God, if they were off tomorrow …

  ‘There he is,’ I said suddenly, spotting Theo’s greying head right over the other side of the shop by the postcards, a changing bag over one shoulder, buggy with sleeping child in the other hand. An idea occurred to me.

  ‘Tell you what, Helena, if you take this bottle of water out to Flora and find some shade, I’ll push across and tell him you’re waiting for him.’

  ‘Oh, would you, Annie? Thanks. I’m folding up in here, and I don’t particularly want to shove through this throng with Millie.’

  She took my water bottle and, picking up her daughter, moved gratefully away towards the door. I put my head down and squirmed through the multitude, all avidly poring over clotted cream, tablecloths, mugs, key rings and assorted pixie memorabilia, and finally made it to Theo, who was flicking wearily through the postcards.

  ‘Hi, Theo.’

  He looked up. ‘Oh, hello, Annie.’ He glanced around warily for his wife, not wanting to be caught talking to another woman. ‘You’ve been press-ganged into this wretched trip too, have you?’

  ‘Well, it was David’s idea, but we’ve rather enjoyed it,’ I lied loyally.

  ‘Ah, the good doctor. Yes, well, it’s all highly educational, according to Helena. She’s been shoving flash-cards under the poor little buggers’ noses as we hustle them around in the heat. Seem to remember we let the last brood grow up rather more casually. Just let them get on with it,’ he said wistfully. ‘Prior to packing them off to boarding school, of course. And apparently I’m not going to get away with that, either. I’ve got the little darlings at home until they’re at least eighteen,’ he finished gloomily.

  ‘You’ll love it,’ I assured him. ‘They’ll brighten up your old age.’

  He grinned. ‘Cheeky. But actually I do like them as teenagers, they’re good fun. It’s this wretched toddler stage that’s such a grind, and anyone who says otherwise is lying.’

  ‘At least you still get your older boys to come on holiday with you,’ I tried to console him.

  ‘Only because I bloody pay,’ he said bitterly. ‘So they’re both coming with you to Corsica? Helena said you were off tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh no, they’d much rather be here, sailing, as I would, but apparently that’s all over for me this year. No, I’ve got to sit around some poncy hotel pool in Corsica and teach Rollo to swim while the boys stay on another week here with the Fields and sail the Laser. My bloody boat,’ he growled. ‘They’ll probably trash it. Anyway, I must go and pay for these. No d
oubt you came over to tell me The Power And The Glory is tapping her foot outside, waiting for me?’ He made to move on.

  ‘Yes, she is, but the thing is, Theo, I wanted to talk to you about the other night.’

  ‘The other night? Oh, you mean with Clare.’ His already ruddy face coloured up quickly. He scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward. ‘Yes, that was badly done. Got it in the neck for ages afterwards, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Yes, but the thing is, Theo, Clare can’t remember –’

  ‘Oh, you’re here!’ Flora barged in between us. ‘I thought you were just getting water, didn’t realize you were buying up half the shop. David’s ready to go.’

  ‘Yes, all right, darling. Here, get these for me, would you?’ I snatched a handful of cards and shoved them at her.

  ‘Oh, Mum, the queue!’

  ‘Go on.’ I gave her a shove. She went off huffily. ‘You see,’ I went on quickly when she was out of earshot, ‘she can’t remember whether or not anything … you know …’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Well – whether or not you did it,’ I said desperately. He blinked. Looked shocked. ‘Well, bugger me. That memorable, am I?’

  ‘So you did? Oh God, Theo, I’d rather hoped –’

  ‘Ah. Chattering. I told you, Helena, if you get Annie to drag anyone away, you’re sunk.’

  David stuck his head between us, grinning. Helena, beside him, looked mutinous.

  ‘You’ve been so long, Millie wants the potty again,’ she seethed.

  ‘Oh, sorry, love,’ said Theo, contrite. ‘Shall I –’

  ‘No, I’ll do it, just give me the sodding wipes.’ She snatched the changing bag from his shoulder and made for the Ladies. ‘Meet me at the car, OK?’

  ‘OK, OK,’ he muttered meekly. ‘Perhaps we should get some postcards,’ mused David, fingering the rack. ‘Send one to Gertrude?’

  ‘Yes, good idea.’ I blithely grabbed another handful and thrust them at him as Theo attempted to push the buggy out through the scrum to the door. ‘You line up.’ I pushed David towards the queue. ‘I just want to show Theo something.’

  ‘Theo!’ I lunged after him and grabbed his arm. ‘Theo, look at this.’ I swung him round and seized the first thing that came to hand.

  He frowned. ‘Must I? A willy-warmer with a Cornish pixie on it? To wear with my incontinence pants perhaps?’

  I dropped it hastily. ‘But, Theo, did you really?’ I hissed. ‘Clare was so pissed she can’t remember!’

  ‘And so was I, if you must know,’ he said huffily. ‘Otherwise I’d never have let that lardy old she-devil –’ He stopped. Cleared his throat. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘No, we didn’t as a matter of fact. We had a bit of a fumble, and then she tried to undo my flies and threw up all over my trousers.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Not the most seductive come-on I’ve ever had, and funnily enough I resisted the temptation to take it any further. I frogmarched her home across the dunes and dumped her in her back garden. Didn’t particularly want to bang on the door and face Michael.’

  ‘Which is where she passed out.’

  ‘Lucky her. I went home to Helena, who’d put the babies to bed but not the sniggering teenagers, who rolled about clutching their sides, having a great laugh at Dad being so pissed he’d been sick down his strides.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Well, I could hardly say it was Clare’s puke, could I? What would she have been doing in such close proximity to my groin? I then spent an attractive ten minutes scraping it off in the garden and washing the trousers at the sink because the bloody washing machine’s on the blink, with Helena standing over me, enjoying every minute of it. So no, I didn’t get my leg over, Annie. And neither would I have tried, actually. She was slaughtered.’

  ‘She doesn’t drink,’ I sighed. ‘Well, now we know why,’ he snapped. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an irate wife pacing the car park, and, as you can see, I’m in enough poo this holiday as it is.’ He stomped off.

  Well, that was something, I reflected, biting my thumb-nail as I pushed my way out of the shop. Clare would be hugely relieved.

  Outside, David was waiting, hands in pockets jingling change, clearly determined not to appear irritated.

  ‘What was so urgent you had to drag Theo away like that?’

  ‘Oh, um, nothing really,’ I muttered. ‘He wanted … some advice. About schools. For his little boy.’

  ‘Ah. And you, as the mother of a twelve-year-old girl, are the perfect person to ask, eh? Come on then. Flora, all set?’

  Flora, looking less than set, moodily clutched her water bottle to her chest and trailed behind us as we trooped back down the steps to the car park. We drove home in silence.

  The house was empty when we got back, although not locked of course, because Matt never bothered. This infuriated David as we walked straight in.

  ‘I mean, anyone could wander in,’ he said incredulously, standing in the middle of the sitting room and holding his arms out in wonder. ‘Anyone!’

  ‘Hardly likely though, is it?’ I said wearily, sinking down exhausted into an armchair in the corner of the cool, darkened room. That was what I loved about this house: the cool mustiness within, contrasting with the glaring brightness without. It would be cosy, too, I imagined, in the winter, with a fire blazing in that huge old inglenook. ‘I mean, let’s face it, it’s pretty remote,’ I went on, ‘and this is the country, for heaven’s sake. Not thieving Notting Hill.’ I leaned my head back and shut my eyes.

  ‘Fine. No need to snap.’

  I opened my eyes, surprised. ‘I wasn’t. I was just saying it’s not exactly very accessible.’

  ‘No, and not ideal either, is it, Annie? Not for six weeks, or however long you plan to be here.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, with that …’ He waved his hand. ‘… character. Matt. I mean, it’s all very well for a few days while you get yourself sorted out, but any longer is absurd. Particularly when this place is stuffed full of pubs and hotels you could go to. I rang the Complete Angler this morning, and they’ve had a cancellation. Got a couple of very reasonable rooms. I booked them for you.’

  ‘What!’ I sat up. ‘Only on the phone, no deposit or anything, but honestly, Annie, what does this arrangement look like? To Matt; to everyone? You staying here?’

  ‘Oh, David, you’re being ridiculous! Completely over-reacting. And I can’t believe you booked rooms without telling me. Why shouldn’t I stay here? I like it, and Flora likes it, and the house is huge, for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘And creepy.’ He shivered. ‘It’s not creepy! I don’t know why you keep saying that. What have you got against this place, David?’

  ‘Oh, never mind.’ He sank gloomily into the armchair opposite me. Rubbed his forehead wearily. A silence ensued.

  ‘Fine break this is turning out to be,’ he muttered.

  I stared at him. Don’t say anything, Annie. Just … don’t speak. At length he leaned forward and picked up a piece of paper by the phone on the low table between us.

  ‘David, ring Hugo,’ he read aloud. He glanced up quickly. ‘Did you take this?’

  ‘No,’ I muttered, still cross. ‘Must have been Matt. Who’s Hugo, anyway? Wasn’t that who you were speaking to this morning?’

  I looked up suddenly. David had got very quickly to his feet. He looked rather pale and drained.

  ‘Darling? Who is this Hugo?’

  ‘Oh, he’s … an old friend,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll just go and ring him back.’

  Ignoring the phone in front of us and digging his mobile out of his pocket, he disappeared into the dining room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  I sighed again and slumped back in my chair, leaning my head against the old leather. I shut my eyes. Well, my headache had abated, that was a relief, but everything else felt – so wrong. So tense, somehow. Not how I’d planned this bit of the holiday at all. I stayed like that
for a few minutes, then, after a while, my eyes flitted to the telephone. I should ring Clare, of course. Give her the good news. Let her know she wasn’t the mother of Theo’s unborn child. I dialled her number but her mobile was turned off, and I didn’t like to ring the farm in case she picked up in the kitchen and Mum was there too. I couldn’t very well go into the no-shagging-but-lots-of-puke details with Mum sitting across the scrubbed pine table, pouring from the old brown teapot and eyeing her eldest beadily over a homemade scone. No, I’d ring later, I thought, putting it down. After the ten o’clock news, when I knew Mum went to bed.

  Instead, I phoned Rosie. I suddenly had an urge to see her and Dan tonight, make a party of it. Have a jolly barbecue here in the garden with all the kids, whatever David had implied about wanting me to himself. I had an idea he’d perk up with a bit of company and a few drinks; we both would. Yes, and I could see Michael, too. Gauge whether he’d calmed down a bit, and hopefully report back positively to Clare when I rang her later.

  ‘God, I’d love to, Annie,’ Rosie said, ‘but the thing is, we’ve said we’d go to Rick Stein’s with the Hamiltons.’

  ‘Lucky you. Who are the Hamiltons?’

  ‘Friends of Michael’s; they live down here. He’s an estate agent, sweet, actually, and she’s nice too. The five of us are going out. Michael’s treat.’

  ‘Golly,’ I boggled. ‘That’s big of him. It’s pricey.’

  ‘I know, but he’s in such a good mood.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Honestly, Annie, I’ve never seen him so chipper, and I can’t tell you what a nice day we’ve had today.’ She giggled guiltily. ‘We all had a lie-in while the children watched telly, then we read the papers in the garden, declared early drinks at eleven-thirty and went off to the pub. You know, that really pretty one at Port Gaverne. Then on the way back, we got fish and chips from the shop and ate it from the newspaper with no napkins ! And, on top of that, we haven’t been to the beach all day. In fact, that’s not quite true, Dan and Michael have just taken the older ones down to Polzeath for a surf, but honestly, it’s been so relaxing. I now get this place, whereas a couple of days ago, I didn’t get it at all.’