Chapter Nine
When I see Marley walk up the aisle with Dad, my eyes start tearing up. Must be winter allergies, and I’m not the only sufferer. The chapel echoes with sniffles. Even Jez is at it.
Marley hands me her bouquet, takes Jez’s hand and stares at him like she doesn’t even notice that they’re in front of a hundred people. I’m nervous with everyone staring and I don’t even have to say anything. Once the service starts I can melt into the background and think about what just happened.
Skate ambushed me on the way to the chapel. He was so eager to wish Marley luck that he left Berenice behind to wait her turn in the wheelbarrow.
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about you, Carol,’ he said quietly, walking beside me.
Something about the way he said it made me go tingly.
‘I’m so glad I get to see you this weekend.’ He smiled shyly and I was transported back to uni. ‘I feel like we’ve got unfinished business that I need to talk to you about.’
Just then, Mum wheeled up beside us. ‘Skate, you look gorgeous! You’ll dance with me later, won’t you?’
‘I’ve got my special dancing shoes on just for you, Mrs Colbert,’ he said, turning his attention to Mum.
What unfinished business? The question haunts me through the ceremony.
The vicar asks if anyone knows of any unlawful impediments to the marriage, causing the usual discomfort and suppressed urge to cough. Then he asks for the rings. Robert reaches into his trouser pocket. The metallic ping resonates through the chapel as the ring bounces on the flagstone floor. There’s a collective intake of breath.
‘I’m so sorry!’ he says, bending to retrieve it. He looks between his feet, then towards the vicar. He peers around Jez’s shoes, then to me. Finally, he bends and starts duck-walking in front of the altar.
Marley’s smile is frozen on her face. Jez is shaking his head. ‘Seriously, mate?’
‘It’s got to be here somewhere,’ he whispers. ‘Carol, help me!’
Bending over in my dress isn’t really an option, which leaves me no choice but to squat down and duck-walk too. By now everyone is offering their advice. Dad comes to the front to aid in the search. But after long minutes searching, the bloody ring isn’t anywhere.
‘Can we use another ring?’ I ask the vicar. I’m sure it’s not the first time this has happened.
‘I don’t want to use another ring!’ Marley says. ‘I want my ring!’ I don’t blame her for the tears welling up. ‘Find my ring!’ she shouts, stomping her Louboutins.
The ring drops from a gather in her dress.
‘Here you go,’ Robert says, snatching it up before it disappears again. He hands it to the vicar as if the last five minutes haven’t happened.
‘You lucky sod,’ I mouth to him as the vicar begins the vows.
And then Marley and Jez are married. We go round the back of the alter to witness the signing of the register while the organist amuses the crowd out front. ‘Please sign your full name here,’ says the vicar, after Marley and Jez have signed the register.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t read that,’ he says to me. ‘Is that… Horlicks?’
I sigh. ‘Hendrix. Hendrix Carol.’
‘I see.’ He prints my name above my scrawl.
Robert’s snort echoes off the walls. ‘You are not called Hendrix!’
Marley nods. ‘She is. Aren’t you, Hend? Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix are Dad’s favourite musicians. At least they gave us normal middle names to use if we wanted.’
‘So you chose Carol when you could have been Hendrix Colbert?’ Robert asks. Clearly, he’s not ready to let this go. ‘I can’t imagine why.’
Thank you, Mum and Dad.
The huge ballroom is astoundingly beautiful, with evergreen boughs on the mantelpieces and woven into the wall sconces. An enormous Christmas tree dominates one corner near the bar. Even the ice duck fits in with the surroundings. The round tables are laid completely in silver and white, with deep red candles in the candelabra and crimson roses surrounded with delicate green fronds in little vases. Everything is gorgeously tasteful.
Except for the cousins, that is. ‘Those girls look like flippin’ party balloons,’ Granny says when she catches sight of them. They’re dressed in an identical shade of bright purple taffeta. Each dress is slightly different, though. One has puffy short sleeves and a fitted above-the-knee skirt with some kind of train billowing to the ground behind it. Another is tiered in voluminous layers like the loo roll covers in Auntie Lou’s house. Maybe that was the inspiration.
‘What were they thinking?’ I ask.
‘Wheel me over and let’s find out.’
Granny’s never been one to shy away from the awkward question.
She’s in fine form today, dressed in a lovely pale pink lace frock. Even in her chair she manages to cut a regal figure. ‘Hello, girls,’ she says to my cousins, startling them into nervous twitching. ‘I couldn’t help but notice your dresses. Where’d you get them?’
Auntie Lou overhears Granny’s question. ‘Aren’t they wonderful, Mum? Charlotte designed them all herself. She’s so talented, don’t you think? You mark my words. She’ll be designing for the runway soon!’ One of the cousins smiles but it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’s Charlotte.
‘You mean the one at Heathrow?’ Granny says.
The cousins stare at her. ‘She means Heathrow’s Terminal Five, don’t you, Granny?’ I say quickly. ‘There are such wonderful shops there… Dior, Gucci, Prada…’ I wheel Granny away before she can correct me.
Everyone settles down for dinner and speeches, and thankfully Marley hasn’t broken with convention in the seating arrangement. Robert and I are the bread in the head table sandwich, so at least we don’t have to fake pleasantries. I’m seated next to Jez’s Dad with Mum on his other side. She’s talking for England, leaving me to my thoughts. Every time I catch Skate’s eye he grins, reminding me of our unfinished business.
It must be about our break-up. How ironic, as he’s the only ex here who actually gave me an explanation at the time. I should get him to give Robert and Karl a few tips on how to end a relationship properly. Step one: Be a grown-up and tell a girl what’s wrong instead of just running off. Step two: Refer to step one.
I excuse myself to run to the loo before the speeches. With all eyes trained on the head table, that spinach roulade starter won’t do my teeth any favours. I did try to warn Marley away from dentally compromising food groups, but she was determined to recreate the first dinner she cooked for Jez. In the hands of professional caterers, Marley’s hamburgers and spinach salad menu became spinach roulade and fillet mignon.
‘Carol.’
Skate is waiting for me outside the loo.
‘Hi. Having fun?’
He nods. ‘You look absolutely gorgeous. But then you always do. I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I think you outshine the bride. Of course, I’m biased.’
He gave up the right to be biased years ago. ‘Thank you.’ I start back to the ballroom.
‘I do want to talk to you about something. As I mentioned.’ He sounds nervous. ‘I’m dying to talk to you, actually, but it should wait until tomorrow. Today’s for Marley, eh? Is it a date then, tomorrow?’
‘Erm, I suppose so.’
He grabs my hand, stopping me. ‘It’s important, Carol.’ He glances up at the bit of greenery dangling in the wide doorway above our heads. ‘Oh, will you look at that? What do you say, for old times’ sake?’
Before I can say anything, he kisses me under the mistletoe.
‘You’re a wonderful woman, Carol.’ He grabs my hand again and leads me back to the ballroom.
What does he think he’s doing, stirring things up after all these years?! His girlfriend is sitting in the next room! Whether for old times’ sake or not, that was inappropriate. How would he feel if Berenice kissed her ex full on the lips? Exactly.
We are going to talk tomorrow, that’s for certain.
I’m still in the midst of my offended grump when I notice that Marley’s put Karl next to Jemima again. Even from across the room I can see she’s spouting some nonsense. She’s probably warning the table about the dangers of blueberries or something. Karl is nodding and smiling like he doesn’t think she’s ridiculous. You’ve got to admire him for that.
Later, the band leader taps his microphone. ‘Can everyone please make their way to the dance floor, where Jez and Marley will have their first dance.’
I smile as I recognise the first chords of Van Morrison’s ‘These Are the Days’. Of course they’d dance to this –Jez told Marley he loved her at that concert. I feel those winter allergies acting up again.
Robert takes my hand. ‘May I have this dance, Hendrix?’ he says.
‘Very funny. And we can’t cut in on their song.’
‘We have to. I’m under very strict instructions.’
Marley’s looking at us, nodding. He leads me to the floor and we slip easily into the tempo. Suddenly, I’m transported back to the supper clubs we used to go to in London, where they fed us mediocre food and let us pretend we were dancing the night away in the glamorous fifties.
‘You look beautiful,’ Robert says in my ear. ‘You always look perfect but tonight, you’re especially lovely.’
My tummy flips at his words as more memories ambush me. ‘You’ve been at the vodka duck.’
‘The compliment comes from my heart, not the bottle.’
When the song ends we pause, still in each other’s arms. I’m hardly breathing.
Marley neatly slices into the moment. ‘Robert, now dance with Mum, please,’ she suggests, leaving me on my own and at a loss.
I can’t keep standing alone in the middle of the floor wishing Robert would come back. Aside from the fact that I’m sticking out like a sore thumb, he’s on the other side of the floor with Mum. People are cutting in on each other all over the place, so when Jemima and Karl dance close by, I tap her on the shoulder. ‘Time to swap partners?’
She manages to smile as she releases Karl. ‘Oh, but there’s nobody dancing with…’
I shrug as Karl dances me away from the scene of the crime. ‘You’re welcome,’ I say to Karl when she’s out of earshot. ‘You’ve certainly earned your wedding cake tonight. Most of the family isn’t as patient with Jemima as you are, and we’re contractually obliged to put up with her.’
‘I’m enjoying myself.’
‘You’re a terrible liar.’
‘What’s to lie about? A wonderful setting like this. Seeing Marley so happy. And bridesmaids who look absolutely delicious.’
‘If you’re talking about the cousins who all look like boiled sweets, they’re not actually bridesmaids. They just have very poor dress sense.’
‘I’m talking about you.’
I blush, thinking I should wear this dress more often. Despite a few extra Crimbo pounds stretching the mushroom-coloured fabric a bit, it’s like catnip for exes. ‘Ah well, then. Thank you.’ He’s manhandling me around the floor. ‘You don’t have to lead quite so much, you know. I do know how to follow.’
He laughs. ‘You? I doubt that. You’ve never followed anyone in your life.’ Around we go again. ‘Listen. I’d better go back to Jemima. I wouldn’t want to upset a lady.’
‘Then stay and dance with me or you’ll upset this lady.’
But he’s dancing me to the edge of the floor. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’d love to but I’m, erm, otherwise engaged tonight.’
His words hit me in the solar plexus. ‘You’re getting off with Jemima?! I don’t believe it!’
He grins. ‘Technically, the getting off has already gotten off. I guess that makes this our second date.’
‘But you only met her last night!’
He shrugs. ‘What can I say? I work fast. Hey!’ he says when I punch him in the shoulder. ‘That hurt!’
‘Good, it was meant to. How could you get off with my cousin? Doesn’t that seem a bit in bad taste to you?’ As if Nadia the Russian doll wasn’t bad enough.
He seems to consider my question. ‘Why are you surprised that I like her? Look at her. She’s like you, but better – softer.’
Ouch. ‘It’s because we look alike? That’s so shallow. And she’s not like me at all. She’s horrible.’
‘You’re one to talk, Carol. She has nothing but nice things to say about you. You assassinated her last night, remember? She doesn’t seem the type to do that to you.’
‘You know what? I’m really disappointed in you.’ I cringe as I realise I sound like Mum. ‘You’re not the person I thought you were. You’re cold. You’re calculating. And… and you’re mean. Honestly, I don’t know what I ever saw in you.’
He stares at me. ‘Why Carol, sweetheart, you know the answer perfectly well… You saw yourself.’ And with that, he goes off to dance with Miss Low-GI.
I’m shaking when I get to the loo. As I stand in front of the mirror, I examine myself for signs of truth in Karl’s words. Luckily, the cubicles are empty so there’s no one to witness my meltdown. Tears leak from my eyes, threatening my mascara. Of course it’s not waterproof. I don’t need waterproof. I don’t cry. Damn allergies.
I’m not cold and calculating, am I? I’m just restrained. I am English, after all. That’s perfectly normal. So I’m restrained… and maybe a little fastidious. But that doesn’t make me controlling just because I like to make sure things are perfect. I’m a restrained, tasteful, fastidious perfectionist.
Oh God, I am just like him. I wait for the shock of this realisation to hit me, but it doesn’t. Because I’ve been kidding myself. Don’t I already know we’re alike? Of course I do. It’s the very reason I like him. The problem is, now that I see it, I’m not so sure I like me.