That night as he lay in bed, Mitchell didn’t feel like a bag of bricks was weighing down on him. He felt hopeful, even excited about the future.
When he reached under his bed, he found there was only one sheet of paper left in his Basildon Bond pad, and he wanted to use it wisely.
He opened his drawer and looked at all the letters he’d written to Anita. It was time to empty them out and add them to his recycling pile. She wouldn’t ever be able to read them, and he wasn’t the same person who wrote them any longer.
His ritual of writing to Anita was finally at an end.
The sense of loss he felt was tangible, and it was with both a heavy heart and a lightness in his fingers that he took up his fountain pen.
It felt both scary and exciting to start a letter to someone new. He wrote down his first words.
Dear Liza,
31
Wedding Day
Mitchell took his blue wool suit, which he last wore to Anita’s funeral, to be dry-cleaned. When he got it back, he peeled off the cover and hung it on the back of his bedroom door. He felt odd about wearing it to Graham’s wedding, a celebration after loss. However, it was a good suit. He felt Anita would encourage him to get use out of it. He was glad the fabric was more vivid than he remembered, a bright cobalt rather than a sombre navy.
Mitchell placed Anita’s last letter to him in the inside pocket so he could feel her close to him during the ceremony. He put the one he’d written to Liza in there, too, for safekeeping.
Poppy sidled into his bedroom and inspected the jacket on its hanger. She lifted up one of its sleeves. ‘Do you think it will still fit you?’ she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘What are you inferring?’
‘Nothing. You’ll just look silly if it’s shrunk.’
He smoothed down his shirt over the torso that was much slimmer than it had been three years ago. ‘I think it’s more likely that I’ve shrunk.’
Mitchell carried the suit into the bathroom and changed into it. In the mirror above the sink, he stroked its lapels. From what he could see, the jacket looked surprisingly okay on him. It was a bit baggy around the chest, and the trousers were an inch too loose on the waist, but not totally disastrous.
‘Is it a bit too big?’ Poppy asked as she plucked at the back of his jacket.
‘It’s the fashion,’ Mitchell said. ‘Or so I’ll tell people.’
They smiled at each other in the mirror. ‘I think Mum would say you look handsome,’ she said.
On the day of the wedding, Graham sported a grey three-piece suit, a red cravat and top hat. Apart from his broken front tooth, he looked every inch the dapper groom. He stood in the doorway of Brock’s baronial ballroom and nervously greeted people as they filed in.
Mitchell stood proudly beside him. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he assured him.
‘I know, Mitchy Boy. It’ll be marvellous, but I still feel jittery inside. I’ve even brought along one of Mum’s hankies for my top pocket, so she’s kind of here with me.’
Mitchell smiled. ‘I’ve brought a letter from Anita, too.’
‘Well, aren’t we big softies?’ Graham said.
As the wedding party guests filed past, Mitchell saw they fitted into two distinct groups. Graham’s friends and family could be identified by the men’s tailored suits and mirror-shiny black shoes. The women wore feathered fascinators, floral-print dresses and court shoes. Rosie’s guests donned lots of velvet and embroidery. Mitchell had never seen so many tattooed shoulders and primary-coloured hairstyles at a wedding before.
The ballroom was a fitting venue. It had long stained-glass windows that cast prisms of light across the red carpet. The seating consisted of vintage turquoise velvet cinema seats, set out in rows. At the end of the wedding aisle stood a metal arch, the kind of garden trellis that flowers and leaves wove around. But this one featured something sturdier as its decoration.
Covering every inch of it, padlocks hung, bunched together so tightly that, from a distance, they resembled barnacles on a ship’s anchor.
‘What do you think of our centrepiece, Mitchy Boy?’ Graham nodded towards it. ‘I said I wanted to do something special for Rosie.’
‘It looks amazing, totally unique, like the two of you,’ Mitchell said. He stroked his chin. ‘Hmm, I wonder where you managed to find so many locks.’
‘I have my connections.’ Graham winked. ‘I looked through all the locks and saved the ones with loving messages. Then I fastened them to the arch. We’re going to get married under something that truly represents love. Do you think Rosie will like it?’
‘I think she’ll absolutely love it.’
‘Good, I hope so. And Brock will keep it to use for future weddings.’
At the mention of his name, Brock appeared. He was dressed in smart jeans and a black T-shirt. He gave Graham a slap on the back and clasped Mitchell’s hand in a bone-crushing shake. ‘PlayStation or Xbox?’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Mitchell isn’t a gamer,’ Graham said. ‘He’s my best man.’
‘I’m going to try to be,’ Mitchell said.
The three men walked down the aisle together and stood in front of the arch. Poppy sat on one of the front seats and stood up to greet them. She looked pretty in her new clothes and shoes. Mitchell fished out her necklace from under her dress so her pug dog pendant was on display.
Brock turned and faced the room, and Mitchell and Graham shared nervy smiles as music started up. It sounded more like an Irish jig than a wedding march, all panpipes and flutes.
‘Not my choice,’ Graham whispered to Mitchell.
When Rosie appeared, she wore a purple satin dress with a lace-up bodice, down to her bump, and a flowing skirt beyond that. Fluted sleeves hung down to her knees and she carried a small bunch of white roses and freesias. She smiled hello to guests on each side of the aisle as she slowly walked along it towards Graham. As she got closer, Mitchell saw some of the blooms in her bouquet were made out of Lego bricks.
Graham laughed when he spotted them. ‘I thought some of my pieces were missing,’ he said.
Poppy beamed. ‘She looks like a pregnant fairy princess.’
Brock waited until people’s chatter died down.
Graham and Rosie had written their own marriage vows, and they faced each other to read them out.
‘I know you’re like a unicorn and I’m only a donkey,’ Graham started. ‘You’re a rainbow and you bring all the colour into my life. You’ve made me a better person.’
As he continued, Mitchell felt a lump rising in his throat, so large it might choke him. He swallowed a few times and stared down at his shoelaces to try to will it away.
His discomfort was broken by the sound of Poppy giggling at Rosie’s speech, in which she promised to cherish Graham’s Lego Death Star, forever and ever.
After Brock pronounced them man and wife, Rosie flipped Graham back in her arms and they conducted a minute-long, full-throttle kiss in front of everyone.
Mitchell reached out and covered Poppy’s eyes with his hand, and she laughingly batted it away. She spread her fingers out behind her head in a crown. ‘They’ll be sweet together forever, just like pineapples,’ she said.
The wedding dinner was a meat-free affair, and when Mitchell read the menu card he groaned inside. The words vegetarian buffet ranked only one lower on his wince list after campfire jamboree.
However, when he and Poppy got closer to the long buffet table, there was a riot of delicious food. Roasted butternut squash, beetroot couscous, grilled vegetable skewers and a nut roast. Poppy attempted to coax two vegan enchiladas onto her plate and Mitchell made her put one back.
They sat at the top table with Graham, Rosie and a few close family members, drinking fizzy elderflower cordial from purple plastic goblets with bendy straws. The knives and forks were crafted from copper and had the initials G and R printed on them.
Rosie stood up and revealed her wedding gift to Graham,
an elaborate tapestry featuring an embroidered unicorn and a donkey. ‘It’s our new family crest,’ she said and Graham beamed with joy.
When most of the guests had finished eating, Graham leaned in towards Mitchell and nudged him. ‘It’s the time you’ve been waiting for.’
‘Um, the wedding cake?’ Mitchell said hopefully.
‘Nice try. I think we’re ready for your speech. On your feet, Mitchy. Try not to embarrass either of us too much. Feel free to keep it short and snappy.’
As he stood up, Mitchell couldn’t feel his knees. The chattering in the room died down and someone started to clap. Others followed suit until applause rippled around the room.
‘Go on, Dad,’ Poppy said eagerly. ‘You did okay around the campfire.’
He paused to tug gently on her plait and brushed the tip of her nose with it. ‘Love you,’ he said.
‘Love you, treble that.’
Mitchell’s hands shook as he took his speech from his jacket pocket. ‘Thanks for coming, everyone,’ he said with a quivery voice. ‘I’m delighted we’re all here to celebrate the wedding of Graham and Rosie.’ He lifted his purple goblet in a toast and stared at the sleeve of his blue jacket.
As he felt lots of expectant eyes upon him, a frost seemed to creep over him, stiffening his bones and cooling his skin, until he felt like his body might shatter if he moved. ‘I, um—’ His words halted and wouldn’t come through.
He set his goblet back down on the table and hung his head for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.
When he raised his head, he imagined Anita walking down the aisle towards him. She wore her red coat and her smile radiated through him, as she walked to his side and then stood behind him.
He could swear he felt her hand circling around his chest and her fingertips pressing lightly against his ribs. Her breath was hot and sweet on his neck, and he was so sure she must be here with him, helping him find a rhythm to his breathing again. He reached his hand to his chest to feel hers, but his fingertips found only the buttons on his jacket.
‘Are you okay, Dad?’ Poppy asked.
Mitchell opened his eyes and, instead of Anita, his daughter stood by his side, instead. He felt such a tug of love for her, it overwhelmed him with its ferocity. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said.
Graham and Rosie watched him, their eyes full of concern. Mitchell nodded apologetically at them.
‘It’s fine,’ Graham whispered.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ Rosie asked.
Mitchell shook his head. He wanted to do this.
Anita would always live on through Poppy. She had both lots of their blood running through her veins. And Mitchell had to find the strength to start celebrating that, not to keep memorializing it. No matter how painful it was, he had to try to move on.
After taking a deep breath, he held it in his chest. He folded up the paper with his speech on it and left it on the table. He didn’t think of any strategies or plan what to say. All the letters he’d read from strangers helped him find his own words and he spoke straight from his heart.
‘Even though Graham’s sweaters were too big as a kid, his heart was even bigger,’ Mitchell said. ‘We’ve known each other for many years, and have dipped in and out of each other’s lives, but he’s always been there in the background, like a bad guy in a slasher movie.’
A collective laugh rang around the room, with Rosie’s the loudest. Graham rolled his eyes and guffawed.
Mitchell waited for quietness to descend. He licked his lips before he spoke again.
‘Some of you will know that I lost someone close to me – my partner, Anita. We didn’t have the perfect relationship, and I’ve always felt guilty about that. However, I’ve read many love letters recently, and I now believe there’s no such thing as perfection, just two people trying to make the most of their time together.’ He gestured towards the padlocks on the arch. ‘Love can be showy, or it can be quiet. It can be long-lasting, or it can burn brightly and fizzle out. It can bring families together and tear them apart. It can be welcomed or unrequited. I’ve tried to think of its definition and I think that true love is simply your way of being together, in a way that makes you both happy. And Graham and Rosie are just made for each other in their own unique way, and that’s what makes them special.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Graham and Rosie.’
‘To Graham and Rosie,’ everyone repeated.
Poppy raised a glass of lemonade and stared at the tapestry of the family crest. ‘I love that unicorn,’ she murmured.
Graham patted Mitchell’s shoulder, in thanks and some relief. Rosie stood up and cradled her bouquet to her bump. She walked towards the buffet table at the other end of the room. Once there, she turned her back to her guests and raised the flowers to her chest. ‘Hup,’ she shouted and flung them with force over her head.
The bouquet soared through the air on a flight pattern directly back towards the top table. Mitchell saw it was about to collide with the goblets and tableware and, without thinking, he lunged forwards.
Poppy’s eyes opened wide with excitement that he was about to catch it.
Mitchell held his arms open and the bouquet crashed into his hands, then bounced out of them and tumbled to the floor. Petals scattered and Lego bricks exploded.
His jaw slackened as he stared down at the broken flowers, and a moment of silence in the room deafened him. But then a cheer rang around at his valiant effort. He picked up the smashed blooms and held them aloft like a trophy, with petals dropping down around him. ‘I tried,’ he said.
Poppy shook her head at him very slowly. ‘You are so embarrassing,’ she said.
‘That’s what dads are for,’ he said as he plucked out a white rose and handed it to her.
She took it from him and smelled it, and when she glanced back up at him, he could see Anita shining through in her smile.
32
Last Dance
For their wedding reception, Graham and Rosie had hired a Word Up tribute band, whose members were at least ten years older than the actual group. They played a few of the group’s hits, then due to popular demand, launched into tracks by the Rolling Stones and Kings of Leon instead.
A group of children had transformed a long table into a den. They sat in a line underneath it with a tablecloth hung over chairs as an entrance canopy.
‘Why don’t you go and play with them?’ Mitchell said.
Poppy tutted. ‘They’re just kids. Can we go outside instead?’
The evening was filled with the promise of the hot weather returning and Rosie threw open all the windows and doors. Outside, Graham had laid picnic blankets and rugs on the grass. Candles were dotted around and shone like fireflies.
Mitchell and Poppy sat down next to each other on a tartan blanket.
‘This is the best wedding ever,’ Poppy said.
‘I think it’s only the second one you’ve been to.’
‘It’s still the best.’
Mitchell thought for a while. ‘It’s my best one, too,’ he said. ‘I’ve enjoyed it, despite having to do a speech.’
‘You did okay.’ Poppy picked up a daisy and twirled it between her thumb and finger as she thought for a while. ‘Why didn’t you and Mum ever get married?’ she asked.
Mitchell considered her question. ‘We’d only been together for three months when your mum found out she was pregnant.’
‘What?’ Poppy’s mouth fell open, aghast. ‘You never told me that before.’
‘You never really asked.’
‘I wish I hadn’t.’ She pushed the daisy behind her ear.
‘Your mum and I knew we loved each other, and we loved you. And we felt we didn’t need to stand in front of a room full of friends and family to express that. The two of us knowing it was enough.’
‘The three of us,’ Poppy corrected.
Mitchell wrapped his arm around her. ‘Yes, the three of us.’
They sat like this for a while, huddled together, and with Pop
py staring up at the stars. ‘Do you think Mum is up there?’
Mitchell knew it wasn’t true. How could it be? But for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to believe it was. ‘Yes,’ he said firmly.
‘Which one? Which star is she?’ She shuffled closer to him.
‘The brightest one, of course.’
‘I think so, too.’ Poppy slipped her hand inside his jacket and roughly rubbed his chest. Then she wriggled her fingers. ‘You have something in your pocket.’
‘I know.’
‘Is it your speech?’
Mitchell reached into his jacket and undid the tiny button on his inside pocket. ‘I brought a letter from your mum, and I started one to Liza last night. I wanted to say sorry.’
‘Just sorry?’
He thought about this. ‘I should say more, but it’s not that easy.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I’m not really sure why I’m carrying it around with me, and it’s probably all too late anyway. I messed up.’
He tried to think of Yvette now on the bridge in her yellow dress, the person who had sparked his outlook, but he could only see Liza. She wore aviator sunglasses, toadstool earrings and had a gingery dog at her feet. He saw a friendly smile and banana milkshakes and they came with a Madonna soundtrack. ‘Open Your Heart’ started up in his head.
He thought about the feel of Liza’s hand in his own in the forest, and the strange tension in the kitchen between them as they made the chilli together, and the brush of their foreheads as they collected broken glass.
‘You wrote to all those strangers, but Liza’s our friend,’ Poppy said.
He liked how the words our friend sounded. It was a solid and warm phrase full of potential.
‘You could write it now.’ She shrugged.
Mitchell gave a small laugh, but her face was serious. He looked up at Anita’s shining star and it appeared to wink down at him. His laugh faded and everything suddenly felt so clear.
Liza wasn’t a figment of his imagination, or a wish or a twinkling star.
He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, or the day after that, and then stick a stamp to an envelope and walk to a postbox. He wanted to tell her tonight how he felt about her, and to ask if she’d give him a chance.
The Secrets of Sunshine Page 25
