The Wedding Day

by Catherine Alliott

  I stared at him, horrified. ‘You mean … you think she did it?’

  ‘Made it worse.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I looked down quickly. Felt sick again. ‘Because she was desperate,’ insisted Matt. ‘Don’t judge her so, Annie. She was desperate to get Tod.’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘And she knew I might get him.’

  ‘Why?’ I looked up. ‘I mean, she’s the mother after all, and, as you say, the courts tend to lean in that direction, so –’

  ‘She is the mother, sure, but she was also a patient of mine. A psychiatric patient. That’s how we met.’

  ‘A patient!’

  ‘Yes. Not entirely ethical, but not unusual in psychiatry circles. Although not something, frankly, that the courts would have looked kindly on from either point of view. Particularly hers.’

  ‘Well, obviously! She’s clearly completely unhinged! I would have thought that was your trump card!’

  He gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. ‘Doesn’t say much for my prowess as a doctor, does it?’

  I gazed at him. ‘Mental illness is treatable, Annie,’ he said patiently. ‘Curable, even. If someone had pneumonia, say, but recovered, you wouldn’t say: Oh well, she’s had pneumonia, must be incapable of looking after a child. Would you?’

  ‘No,’ I said slowly. ‘But …’

  ‘But popular perception of mental illness is different, sure, I agree. The majority of people think: Once a nutter always a nutter. I know that. Madeleine knows that too, which is why she went to such elaborate lengths to get Tod.’

  ‘Cut herself.’

  ‘I think so. Know so, almost.’

  I struggled with the idea. Felt out of my depth. ‘And … had she ever done anything like that before? I mean, when she came to see you as a patient?’

  ‘No, never. This was a calculated, and quite clever, deliberate act. One that actually someone with no history of mental illness, someone like you or me, say, might even have done.’

  I stared at him. ‘No way!’

  ‘Really? If Adam was poised to take Flora from you in court on the grounds that you were unstable? Wouldn’t you use any measure available to you, to prove that he was more so?’

  I thought about it. Knew there was a grain of truth in what he said. That I would do anything. Anything. I stared out to the middle of the estuary, a gun-metal grey now, cold and bleak. The surface of the water shivered in the wind.

  ‘What did she have? I mean, what was her illness?’

  ‘Acute paranoiac depression.’

  ‘Oh.’ I swallowed. Out of my depth.

  ‘Eminently treatable, and hugely successfully, in most cases. Including hers.’

  ‘And you fell for her … what, straight away? When she first came to see you?’

  My chest felt absurdly knotted with jealousy. I imagined her in his consulting rooms, slim, petite, with those huge eyes, sitting down hesitantly perhaps, but brave enough to come. And I saw Matt behind his desk, at the peak of his career, commanding, handsome, caring, his broad shoulders encased in a blue Brooks Brothers shirt with a silk tie. I saw him glance up from some papers, ask her to sit down, noticing – professionally – her pallor, a slight tremor in her hand, but also those haunting amber eyes in that heart-shaped face, those fine bones, the mop of chestnut curls.

  ‘Not straight away, no,’ he admitted. ‘I noticed she was beauti ful, naturally. You’d have to be blind not to see that. No, it was later on … when I started treating her on a regular basis. I felt such admiration for her. At how she’d coped with her illness, hidden it. Carried on working. She’s a doctor herself, you know.’

  ‘I know. You said.’

  ‘And she was … so beguiling. Enchanting.’ His eyes swam as he gazed into the distance.

  I swallowed. Cleared my throat. ‘And that’s when you started seeing her? You know, romantically?’

  ‘Oh no, not actually from the consulting couch, that really would have been unethical. Later, when she was better. When I’d discharged her. I asked her out then.’

  My heart felt heavy, like a colossal lead weight inside me. I had an awful, awful feeling he still loved her. ‘Beguiling.’

  ‘Enchanting.’ I curled my legs around and tucked my size seven feet firmly under me. Nothing beguiling about them. I snuck a sideways glance at him in the dusk. He was gazing, almost hypnotized, out to sea. Seemed miles away. With her, no doubt. In the days before it all went wrong. Before she left him. Took his son. Broke his heart. I felt a lump about the size of the one I was sitting on lodge in my throat.

  ‘And, Annie, I apologize for my behaviour the other night,’ he went on in a low voice. ‘I was out of order. Forgive me.’

  He did look at me when he said that, but distractedly. Through me. As if he’d remembered to apologize, but his mind was elsewhere. And why apologize? For what? For that glorious, endless kiss? That heavenly embrace? Surely we were ready to embark on more of the same, and then who knows what of a more permanent nature? But to apologize … My stomach flipped in fear.

  Of course, he was desperately sad about Tod, I reasoned, my heart pounding, but in his heart he’d known Tod would go back to his mother, at least for the foreseeable future, and although now certainly wasn’t the moment to rekindle our love affair – golly, I wasn’t that insensitive – surely some sweet gesture, some squeeze of the hand, some hot, suggestive look to imply more …? But to admit he was sorry it had ever happened … I felt as if I’d been kicked in the teeth. Wondered if I’d ever get over it, actually. But I wasn’t even allowed the luxury of wallowing in my misery, because suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from above.

  Recognizing the summons, I swung around quickly. Back down at the other end of the creek and high above us, at the bottom of the garden behind the treetops, stood Flora. She took her fingers out of the corners of her mouth, cupped it with her hands, and yelled, ‘Matt! Someone called Louise is here!’

  Matt stared at her, then: ‘Coming!’ He got quickly to his feet.

  I watched numbly as he crossed the rocks in his deck shoes, leaping from rock to rock, until he reached the sand. He crossed the flatland at a trot, dodging the pools of water, and headed for the path through the woods. As I saw his back disappearing through the trees, it occurred to me that he was about to disappear from my life as abruptly as he’d entered it. That in a very short while, in a matter of hours perhaps, he’d return to America and I’d never see him again. I stood up slowly and followed at a distance. Suddenly I felt very small. Very stupid. How could I have got it so wrong? How could I have imagined anything could come of us? He lived in America. I lived in England. He was still mourning the loss of a beautiful, tragic woman who’d walked out on him when he still loved her, not to mention a son. Why would I even come close to compensating for that loss? I breathed deeply to stop myself from crying as I reached the sand; then quickened my pace as I followed his path through the wood.

  And so what if he’d advised me against marrying David? So what? There was nothing self-seeking in that, it had been a simple kindness; a concern for my wellbeing, as any friend, seeing a woman about to attach herself to the wrong man, would feel. Nothing more. And I’d been mad to think it was. I’d lost touch with reality. Thought that because I felt a certain way, he was feeling the same way, too.

  You fool, Annie, I thought bitterly, tears stinging my eyes as I climbed through the wood after him. You stupid little fool. It was a holiday romance after all, no more no less, and one that hadn’t even properly got under way, either.

  As I reached the top of the hill, a pretty blonde girl with long, perfect legs coming out of khaki shorts came running from the terrace steps down the garden towards Matt, her hair flying.

  ‘Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.’ Her voice broke. ‘This is all my fault. I’m so sorry!’

  Her hand went to her mouth in a strangled sob as he swooped to embrace her, to reassure her. Again, I felt an unbearable wave of jealousy crash over me as he gave h
er a hug. Why couldn’t I have one of those? Oh, for heaven’s sake, they’re cousins, I told myself sternly. Cousins, that’s all. But why were all these American women so tiny? So resolutely size six? Where the hell were their bottoms? I gazed at her knees. They were the size of my knuckles.

  ‘It’s not your fault, Louise.’

  ‘But it is! I feel dreadful!’ She pulled back. ‘I just hadn’t told Bernie, our help, you see, because I hadn’t seen any need to involve her. But it was so stupid of me. I might have known Madeleine would call and ask for Tod when I wasn’t there, I might have known! Why didn’t I think?’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ he insisted. ‘And, frankly, it doesn’t matter.’ He held her by her shoulders at arm’s length. ‘Listen, Louise, Tod and I had our time together and we had a great time. And I wouldn’t have spirited him back to the States on those tickets.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’ She searched his face, still distraught. ‘No. I wouldn’t. Couldn’t have. So our time would have come to an end at this point anyway. It just … wasn’t quite how I’d figured on saying goodbye to him, that’s all. This is Annie, by the way.’

  ‘Hi.’ She flashed me a lovely smile before turning anxiously back to Matt.

  ‘Hi,’ I muttered, feeling distinctly peripheral. ‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ she went on uncertainly, jangling her car keys nervously in her hand. ‘I just feel such a fool slipping up like that. I left the boys with Bernie and flew right over when I heard.’

  ‘You needn’t have. Listen, I’ll get you a drink. You look like you need one, and I sure as hell do. Come on.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully and she let him lead her, an arm around her shoulders, back up the garden, then up the steps to the terrace. He found her a deckchair and she sank into it. As Matt disappeared inside to get a bottle, she put her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, clearly shaken. I pulled up a chair and perched opposite. She raised her head and looked at me hard.

  ‘Bitch,’ she muttered.

  I started, then realized she must mean Madeleine. ‘Is she?’ I said hopefully. ‘Oh, totally. First class. She had her claws into Matt from day one. No one could understand why he married her. She totally took him in with that vulnerable little-girl-lost bit, and now she’s got her claws into that poor boy.’

  I could tell I was going to like Louise. ‘But he obviously still adores her?’ I ventured, heart in mouth. ‘I mean, she is very beautiful. I met her.’

  She got out a packet of cigarettes. ‘She is also completely barking mad. However much Matt protects her and maintains she isn’t.’

  ‘Oh!’ Splendid. ‘And Walter’s such a creep. How she could ever, ever leave Matt for that man just beats me.’ She shook her head incredulously.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, I thought so.’ She leaned forward conspiratori-ally. ‘He’s one of those arrogant, tweedy, dandruff-ridden English types. No offence …’

  ‘None taken,’ I assured her quickly. ‘So full of himself and his pompous Cambridge ways, forever looking down his nose at anything from across the pond – and to think Matt took him into his house, made him welcome, showed him round Boston. Ooh.’ She shuddered eloquently. ‘Makes my blood boil.’ She put her cigarette in her mouth and dug a lighter out of her shorts pocket. ‘Actually, I shouldn’t have said that,’ she said, removing the unlit cigarette from her mouth. ‘She’s not a bitch, she’s just a rather beautiful nutcase. And you know men when it comes to weak, defenceless women: can’t get enough of them. But I still say she injured herself on purpose. Tom says it was as clear as day from that scar, and he should know, he deals with that kind of thing all the time. I just wish Matt could have brought himself to expose her in court, but he couldn’t, he’s too darned nice. He couldn’t bring himself to tell everyone his wife was a raving lunatic, and he wouldn’t let Tod listen to that, either.’ She paused. ‘And of course he was her psychiatrist as well as her husband, he’d thought he could sort her out, so I guess a certain amount of professional pride was involved.’ She sighed. ‘And he wouldn’t let Tod testify either. Wouldn’t let him get involved.’ She straightened her back. ‘Jeez, I wish someone had asked me. Wish I’d been invited into that box for two minutes. Just two minutes, that’s all it would have taken.’ Finally she lit the cigarette and took a quick drag. She exhaled with feeling.

  ‘So you were all there? In court?’

  ‘Oh sure, we were all there,’ she said bitterly. ‘Sitting on our hands and listening in horror while this lovely, gentle man, his head bowed, a man who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was branded in front of everyone – including his son – as some kind of madman, unfit to look after a child. It made me spit!’ She stubbed the cigarette out fiercely. ‘Damn,’ she muttered with feeling. ‘Gave that filthy habit up months ago.’

  ‘And yet you’d once been friends?’ I ventured. ‘You and Madeleine?’

  She glanced up. ‘Oh sure, once. I accepted her for Matt. And to be fair, Matt kept her on an even keel. She was OK before she met this Walter guy. I just wish –’ She broke off suddenly. Stared beyond me, transfixed. For a moment I thought she was still musing on what might have been, if the past had been played out differently, if Madeleine hadn’t met Walter. Then, as the silence grew, I realized that whatever was gripping her was being played out right behind me.

  I swung around. At the same time, a car door slammed in the drive. It was the old blue Volvo, back in position. And coming around the side of the house was Tod. He was walking, his head held high, way in front of his mother, who, as she felt her way slowly around the car, hands clutching the bonnet, looked very pale. Her hair was mussed over her forehead, which even at this distance I could see was damp with beads of sweat. She looked ill.

  At that moment, Matt stepped out of the back door with a bottle of wine and some glasses. He saw Madeleine, and stopped still on the steps. Their eyes met across the garden and the gravel drive, and in that moment, something unspoken went on. Something that meant a lot to them, and very little to the rest of us.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  She let her hands fall loosely at her sides. I noticed they were red and raw, her nails bitten down to the quick. Her shoulders drooped in her oversized plaid shirt.

  ‘You’ve won,’ she said flatly. ‘It’s not a question of winning,’ said Matt quietly.

  She raised her head. ‘It is to me.’

  She looked terrible. Grey. All in. Matt held out a chair for her. ‘Sit,’ he commanded gently.

  She shook her head, lips taut. Then reached out quickly and held on to the back of it for support. She took deep breaths to steady herself.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Matt.

  She swallowed. ‘We got as far as Launceston. Then Tod got out of the car at some lights. Started walking back. Not running, and he didn’t say a word before he got out, just started walking in the opposite direction. I parked the car and ran after him. He wouldn’t speak to me, but eventually I made him talk. He said he couldn’t live with me any more.’ She caught her breath, her voice shaking. ‘Said he missed you too much and was only really happy when he was with you. Said he wanted to live with you.’ Her face crumpled. ‘I’ve lost him. I went through all that, the court case, the agony of it all, and now I’ve lost him after all.’

  She hung on to the chair with one hand and covered her face with the other as she wept. Her shoulders shook. I waited for Matt to fly to comfort her. He didn’t. He turned to Tod.

  ‘Tod? Is this how you really feel? Or just an overreaction because you’ve had another bust-up with your mom?’

  ‘You know it’s how I feel, Dad,’ Tod said in a low, almost angry voice. ‘You don’t have to ask. Don’t have to test me. It’s just … I’ve never been brave enough to say it before. Just gone along with what everyone says I should do.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with bravery,’ Matt said more gently. He glanced across at Madeleine. ‘More to do with compassion.’

  ‘And it�
��s not you, Mom,’ Tod said in a high voice, looking at her directly. ‘It’s my whole new life, which I don’t want and never asked for and never liked. It’s that creepy dark house in Cambridge; Walter, who looks at me as if I’m some kind of amoeba that’s crept out from under a rock; his sons who call me a Yank and take the piss out of my accent. It’s the school, the stupid uniform; it’s everything. It’s not you, Mom, you know that, don’t you?’ he said urgently. ‘I never wanted to choose. Just wanted to go on living with my mom and dad, together, at home, as a family. You made me choose by getting it to the point where I couldn’t bear it any longer. The thought of another day in that redbrick Victorian pile with Walter playing his opera all day and barking at everyone to be quiet just made me feel ill. When we were driving back just now – I simply had to get out. I can’t explain why. I felt … suffocated. Like I was – I don’t know – driving back to die or something. I love you, Mom. You know that, don’t you? I just can’t live in that house with you.’

  His voice was level now, implausibly rational. Dispassionate, almost. He was stating facts. He looked older, too. Taller, as he looked her in the eye. I saw Flora regard him with admiration and wondered if he noticed. Madeleine seemed to crumple with every blow he calmly delivered. This was what Matt had been waiting for, I thought. One day he knew this would happen. Well, one day had come, earlier than expected.

  Madeleine licked her lips. They were pale and bloodless. She held on tight to the back of the chair. Then, with an effort, she turned to Matt. Gave a strange, twisted smile.

  ‘And, of course, it’s much too late to do what Tod really wants?’

  ‘Which is?’ Matt asked, surprised. ‘For you and me to be together. As a family. So he never has to choose. For me to come home.’

  I caught my breath at the audacity. Saw Matt almost wince. I couldn’t believe she was asking him that question, and in front of me, Louise, Flora … I caught Louise’s eye.