I nudged Cole. ‘What do you think, am I getting the hang of it?’
‘Of what?’
‘Well, parenting.’ I smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not getting baby fever again. But it does no harm to start practising stern-mum mode.’
Cole didn’t answer, just gazed into the distance towards the moors. He’d seemed distracted all day.
‘Cole?’
‘Hmm? Oh.’ He shook himself. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘Come on, love. Switch off work brain and try to be in the moment. Your painting’ll still be there when we get home.’
‘I’m sorry. Just worrying. It’s starting to feel lately like it might never happen.’
I blinked. ‘What, the wedding?’
‘My career,’ he said. ‘I’ll be thirty-six in three months. I like lecturing, but I did hope that by now I’d be in a position to paint full-time.’
I squeezed his hand. ‘It’ll happen. You’re making a name for yourself now, aren’t you? It’s a slow burn, I know, but –’
‘Oi! Finnster!’
I looked over Cole’s shoulder and spotted Marcus approaching. He was hand in hand with Pip’s friend Harry, and a pretty, dark-haired woman was holding the boy’s other hand.
‘Fancy meeting you two here,’ he said when he reached us. ‘This is Livvy. Livvy, Becky and Cole. Becky’s in the panto with me.’
‘Hiya,’ I said, shaking the woman’s hand. I smiled at Harry. ‘And I think there’s someone on the slide who’ll be pleased to see you.’
But Pip had already spotted him. She bounced off the end of the slide and came running over, making a noise that sounded like ‘Squeeeeeeee!’, until she hurtled into her best friend and nearly knocked him to the ground.
There were some fragments of 100-mile-an-hour kid conversation that sounded like gibberish to us but obviously made perfect sense to them.
‘– Moana stickers swap you –’
‘– crocodile tig no den –’
‘– trolls –’
Once they’d jabbered out all their incomprehensible six-year-old news, Pip commandeered Harry’s hand and dragged him off to play.
‘Are you Harry’s mum?’ I asked Marcus’s friend.
‘Childminder. Marcus offered to keep us company on a trip to the park.’ Livvy flashed him a smile, and I wondered what their story was. Marc hadn’t mentioned anything about a new girlfriend.
Pip came bounding back, panting.
‘Need pushes,’ she gasped. ‘Swings.’
‘And we also say…?’ I reminded her.
‘Please, Aunty Becky. We want to go higher than the most highest ever. Higher’n Uncle Stew.’
I nudged Cole. ‘What do you reckon? Think you could beat Stew’s record as champion swing-pusher?’
Pip looked up at Marcus. ‘We want you to do it. I mean, please may you do it.’
‘Ok, I think I could give Uncle Stew a run for his money.’ Marcus glanced at Cole. ‘If I’m not treading on toes?’
‘Oh no, please. Be my guest.’
It was an innocent enough comment, but there was definitely a sarcastic note. And I could tell by the way Marc’s eyebrow lifted that I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
‘Er, right,’ he said. ‘Come on, Livvy, we’ll take one each.’
‘What was that for?’ I asked Cole when they’d gone.
‘What?’
‘You sounded dead snarky then. I think you might’ve offended him.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’
I glanced over to Marcus and Livvy pushing the kids, all four laughing as they tried to see who could get the highest. Grabbing Cole’s arm, I led him to a bench where we’d be safely out of earshot.
‘Seriously, what’s up with you today?’ I demanded. ‘You’re being a right mardy bugger.’
‘Overtired, that’s all.’
‘Cole, come on. Don’t make me play the Honesty Card.’
We’d devised the Honesty Card after we’d nearly fallen out over him not showing up to our anniversary dinner. When played, it meant we had to admit exactly what was bothering us before it festered and caused a row.
‘Honestly, Becky, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean to snap at Marcus. I suppose I just can’t help thinking about what you told me.’
‘Not jealous, are you?’
‘A little. Is that so surprising?’
‘We’re just good friends, Cole. That’s all.’ I pressed his hand to my lips. ‘You and me have been together four years. I’ve promised to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. There’s no need to be jealous, of Marcus or anyone else. Ok?’
‘Ok.’ He sighed. ‘I’m being silly, aren’t I? I need sleep, I think.’
I patted his knee. ‘You’ve been overdoing it. Let’s go join Marcus and Livvy and play with the kids for a bit, that’ll get you out of yourself. Then we’ll drop Pip off, I’ll do steak for tea and we can have an early night.’
‘You go. I’ll watch from here.’
‘You sure? I wanted you to come so you could spend some time with Pip.’
He looked sheepish. ‘It’s just… I never really know how to talk to her. And I feel so ridiculous, playing make-believe at my age.’
‘But Pip’s not your age,’ I said. ‘You need to remember how you saw the world at six.’
‘When I was six I tended to have my nose in a book. I didn’t have many friends as a child.’
‘Well, then it’s high time you lightened up and learned how to play,’ I said, smiling. ‘Come on, you’ll enjoy it.’
‘No, Becky, I’d feel foolish with the other adults there. You go. Perhaps if I watch you, I can learn how to do it.’
This had been worrying me ever since the way he’d reacted to Pip making a mess at the dinner party. Cole was a grown-up, and in some ways it felt like he’d almost been born a grown-up. Perhaps it was because he was super-intelligent, perhaps it was being sent away from home so young, perhaps it was just the way he was. But I was starting to realise there was more to his awkwardness around kids than just a lack of experience. He actually seemed not to like them.
I couldn’t help thinking about the miscarriage I’d suffered in the early days of our relationship. If things had worked out differently, we could have a three-year-old by now. How would Cole cope with a toddler in the house? Would his paternal instinct have kicked in when he’d become a father, or would he be hiding away in his attic, leaving me to parent on my own?
I wondered, sometimes, whether I should tell him about the pregnancy that never was, but something always held me back. I think my biggest fear was what I might read in his face if I did. There was one emotion I particularly dreaded seeing.
Relief.
‘Ok, I’m playing the Honesty Card,’ I said.
‘What is it, Becky?’
‘Cole, do you like kids? Because you seem to hate spending time with them.’
‘I don’t hate it. I just find them… incomprehensible. I’m not used to them, I expect.’
Which was exactly what I’d been telling myself. But he didn’t seem in any hurry to rectify that.
‘You do want one though?’
‘I told you, darling. I want you to be happy.’
‘That’s not what I asked, Cole.’
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Cole’s ringtone went off and he fumbled for his phone.
‘Ryder,’ he said, scanning the screen.
Only half listening to Cole’s one-sided conversation with my favourite person, I went back to watching the children.
Marcus was a natural with them. He and Livvy looked like they were having the time of their lives bouncing about on the trampoline hand in hand with the two kids, and I felt a pang of envy. I’d got so used to us being panto buddies, it actu
ally hurt a bit seeing him having a laugh with someone else. I longed to join in the fun, but I didn’t want to go without Cole.
‘…no, but there’s a Waitrose half an hour’s drive away so it’s not completely barbaric,’ Cole was saying. ‘How’s the gallery?’
He paused as Ryder jabbered in his ear.
‘Gosh, really? Well, I’d love to, of course. Very generous of you to schedule it out of term-time just for my benefit. Yes, I’m sure I – oh no, week of the 24th?’ He glanced at me. ‘I’m supposed to be going to a wedding.’
He was silent a moment.
‘Can you hold a second, Ryd?’ he said. ‘I need a quick word with Becky.’
He hit the button for mute and turned to me.
‘What is it? Another exhibition?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Much bigger than the last two he invited me to,’ Cole said. ‘It sounds as though the gallery is really gaining a reputation. He’s just been listing the artists he’s lured in and there are some real up-and-comers.’
‘Sounds like a great opportunity.’ I patted his arm. ‘Well, go on, love. I’ll make your excuses to Yolanda and Billy, I’m sure they’ll understand.’
‘But I promised to start doing more with your friends, getting to know them better.’
‘I think this counts as extenuating circumstances,’ I said, smiling. ‘You know you have to do it. I’d hate myself forever if you gave it up just to be my date for a wedding.’
‘I can’t leave you to go alone though.’
‘Don’t worry about that. My family’s going, and loads of people I know.’
To be honest, a short break from each other might be just what we needed. I could feel the weight of the question he still hadn’t answered, hanging in the air between us.
‘Will Marcus be there?’ he asked.
‘Guess so. Him and Deano are bound to have been invited.’ I smiled. ‘You’re not going to start being jealous again, are you?’
‘No. No, of course not. Sorry.’
I leaned over to kiss his cheek. ‘Go on, tell Ryder you’re in. I’ll be fine.’
He hesitated another moment before he unmuted the phone. ‘Hello, Ryd? Yes, I’d love to take part.’
Chapter 34
‘So, how was the wedding?’ Deano asked.
‘Pink,’ I said. ‘Really, really pink.’
Yolanda and Billy had booked a country house for their reception, Monkton Hall, and those of us who’d been invited to the ceremony had the not-small job of trying to get across to those who hadn’t – which included Marcus and Deano, on the basis there wasn’t enough room in the church, or even York Minster, for all Yo-yo’s former lovers and their families – just how bloody pink the whole thing had been.
‘What, the dress?’ Marcus said.
‘The dress. The hair. Billy’s suit. Even the vicar had a colour-coordinated sash.’
‘How was the dress?’
‘Pink,’ Lana said.
‘I think we got that much, Lanasaurus,’ Deano said. ‘Anything else?’
‘Tight. So, so tight.’ She nodded to the door. ‘Take a look. Here come the happy couple.’
Marcus squinted at the door as the very, very pink Yolanda and Billy made their entrance, clinging to each other while those nearest showered them with rose petals.
‘Ha! Really loves that Wicked Stepmother frock, doesn’t she?’
‘Yep,’ Stew said. ‘She had that specially made in the same style.’
The bride was wearing a figure-hugging dress with a little ruff at the feet, the model of her panto costume but in hot-pink velvet. It was very Yolanda.
‘Nice ceremony?’ Marcus asked.
Lana grimaced. ‘Yes and no. They wrote their own vows.’
He winced in solidarity. ‘Shit, really?’
‘Well, no, technically Wet Wet Wet wrote the vows,’ I said. ‘They used the lyrics from that song.’
‘Oh God. What, so, I feel it in my fingers…’
‘…I feel it in my toes. Yeah. Pretty rough trying to keep a straight face while they stood there soberly reciting it at each other.’
‘Still, it was cute,’ Lana said. ‘Billy started crying at one point.’
‘Tears of joy?’ Marcus asked.
‘Yeah. I’m sure they were tears of joy. Come on, Stew, we’d better hand over our present.’ She nudged Deano. ‘Want to come with us, give Billy a few tips on how to do that thing she likes for the wedding night?’
‘Yeah, go on. There is a trick to it.’
‘I’ll hang on while the queue goes down,’ Marcus said. ‘I’ve not known them as long as you lot. Better let close friends and family get congratulations in first.’
‘I’ll keep you company,’ I said. ‘I’ve got her wedding present to Billy in my bag. Don’t really want to hand it over in front of an audience.’
‘Is that the sexy photos?’ Stew asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Eesh. Good thing we got them champagne. Sounds like Billy’ll need a stiff drink.’ He shot me a thumbs-up as Lana took his hand to guide him away. ‘Oh, er, thanks for the suspenders, Becks.’
I smiled. ‘Glad you enjoyed them.’
When they’d gone, Marcus nodded to Gerry, who was whispering to Sue in a corner with one hand on her backside. ‘What’s going on with the tacheless wonder over there?’
I laughed. ‘Think I accidentally triggered a second honeymoon for them at Yolanda’s photoshoot. Basques were involved.’
‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘On which one? You can never tell with him these days.’
‘Sue. Lana’s traumatised. Still, good for them, I say.’
He turned back to me. ‘Did you wear anything sexy?’
‘Just a fancy frock.’
‘This one?’ he asked, scanning my floral cocktail dress. ‘It’s very pretty.’
‘No, an evening gown.’ I nodded to what he was wearing. ‘Speaking of which, nice to see you dressed like a proper magician for once.’
‘Thanks. Although to shatter the illusion, this tie’s a clip-on.’
The invitations had said black tie and Marc had gone the full James Bond. It suited him.
‘So do you fancy doing the tour of this crumbly old place before we get a drink?’ I asked.
‘You like a stately home, do you?’
I shrugged. ‘Yeah. Must be getting to that National Trust membership age.’
‘Heh, me too. Rock and roll, eh?’
He linked my arm and guided me into an adjoining room laid out like a study.
‘I think I’ve still got that Famous Five mentality from when I was a kid,’ I said. ‘You know, where there might be a smuggler in every suit of armour and a secret passage behind every bookshelf.’
‘It’s more Scooby Doo for me. That haunted-house feeling the paintings’ eyes are following you round the room.’ He nodded to a portrait of a formidable old gent with God-like facial hair over the fireplace. ‘Like that terrifying bastard.’
I shuddered. ‘He is a bit scary. Wonder who he was.’
‘Thaddeus Monkton, local mill owner. He was an illiterate woolcomber who worked his way to the top. New money, darling.’
‘Oh, how terribly vulgar,’ I said, turning up my nose. ‘How’d you know that?’
‘I know a lot of things. Come on.’
We toured the plush, elegant rooms, examining the old furniture and paintings. I loved the portraits particularly. Perhaps it was my photography background, but I couldn’t help being fascinated by every face, every untold story. The painters always took such pains with the eyes.
Marcus really did know a lot of things, especially about the paintings. He seemed to have an endless supply of trivia – not technical stuff to do with technique or blend, like Cole, but little facts about what the colours meant or
why someone was dressed a certain way. If the magic didn’t work out, he’d make a great tour guide.
‘Wonder what her story was,’ I said, gazing dreamily at a painting of a young girl.
‘Well, she was married. This is probably her bridal portrait. And when it was painted, her husband loved her very much.’
I shook my head. ‘You can’t know that.’
‘Course I can. Magician, remember?’
I cocked an eyebrow and he grinned. ‘Ok, if you promise not to tell I’ll let you in on the secret.’ He nodded to the girl’s colourful gemstone necklace. ‘It’s all in the jewellery.’
‘What is?’
‘Her story.’ He pointed to the gems. ‘The deep red’s a jasper. Purple, that’s amethyst. Then a diamond, the jet black one’s an onyx, ruby and emerald. It’s an acrostic necklace. There was a fad in Victorian times for people to give them as wedding gifts, with the first letter of each stone spelling out a secret message.’
I followed the stones with my eyes. ‘Jasper, that’s J. J-A-D-O-R-E… Jadore. Was that her name?’
‘J’adore, you plum. They didn’t have a gem beginning with V easily available at the time. If you wanted to tell your wife you loved her, it was easiest to do it in another language.’
‘Aww.’ I looked at the woman’s expressive green eyes. ‘I’m glad she was happy. How did you know all that?’
He shrugged. ‘Geology graduate, aren’t I? I know rocks.’
‘But how did you know about it being a bridal gift?’
‘Promise you won’t tell anyone? Because it could seriously damage my street cred.’
‘I promise.’
‘I’m a bit of a history buff,’ he said, with the faintest trace of a blush.
‘Not really?’
‘Yeah. It’s fascinating, entering another time. I like to read up on it between card tricks.’
‘You’re a surprising man, Marcus Teasdale.’ I tugged his arm. ‘I think we’ve seen everything. Let’s go congratulate the new Mr and Mrs Yo-yo. I need to hand over these sexy pics before they burn a hole in my handbag.’
The queue of well-wishers had gone down now, and we discovered Yolanda and Billy sipping champagne by the bar with Gerry and Sue.
The Perfect Fit Page 24