by Sue Roberts
When I’ve had my shower, I lie down on the bed for a few minutes and find myself scrolling through some holiday pictures on my phone. I was snapping away at almost every turn and a whole load of memories come flooding back as I look through them. There are pictures of the four of us sitting in restaurants, sipping cocktails, and lounging around on the beach watching the Love Island lot. I smile at the snaps in Santorini sightseeing – one of them in particular, which shows us jokingly poking our heads around corners, sticking out our tongues, taken for us by another tourist.
Presently I come across the photos of the wonderful day out on the jeep safari. There’s a photo of the group in a huddle before we set off, and Vangelis is on the edge of the photo, grinning. He looks so relaxed and I remember him telling me he is the outdoor type who can’t bear to be cooped up, working inside. I think of the artist in the mountain village, painting sunsets and selling beautiful art pieces in the small gallery, and reflect that it’s all a world away from my working life in the shop and selling my paintings over the Internet. I don’t dislike my job in the shop, but it isn’t what I’d hoped to be doing when I was in my thirties, and I’m not looking forward to returning to work tomorrow. I feel in the mood to spend the rest of the week painting. But for now, at least, it seems I have little choice.
More pictures show the extraordinary colours of the cave and the cradle of Zeus, and I’m immediately transported to the magic of the place. I view the steps of Santorini and the meal in the restaurant where I got up and did some Greek dancing. It’s hard to believe we packed so many things into five wonderful days.
I decide to have a bit of a tidy of my painting room and spend the morning tossing away rags and empty paint pots and small, crumpled sketches, which I discard into a bin liner before checking my online shop, where I’m delighted to find an order for a canvas of a bird in a forest. The background is painted in shades of teal and orange, which I think would look striking against a plain white wall.
Stopping to make a pot of coffee and give my mum a call to tell her about the holiday around midday, I’m just thinking about what to wear for my evening out with Max when the doorbell rings. I’m not expecting visitors, so when I open the door I’m surprised to find Molly standing there.
‘Molly, hi. I thought you were back in work today?’
‘I am, I just nipped out for an early lunch.’ Molly works from home, which is about a five-minute drive away, so she occasionally calls in to have a catch-up with Max and me. They’ve grown closer to each other since their parents retired to Spain a few years ago.
Molly follows me into the kitchen and I offer her a coffee, anxiously wondering what it is she wants to talk about.
‘No, thanks. I’m not stopping. I’m afraid I’ve just called in to tell you some bad news about the wedding.’ She bites her lip nervously.
‘The wedding. Oh my goodness, what’s wrong?’
I’m standing with my mouth open and the coffee pot hovering over my cup.
‘It’s the caterers. They’ve had to pull out.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The wedding is only a matter of weeks away.
‘The company has gone into liquidation,’ she continues. ‘Apparently they poisoned half of their guests at a wedding and they’ve just settled the lawsuit. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t aware of any of this when we booked them. We’re going to be hard pushed to get another caterer at this late stage, but don’t worry, I’m onto it. Although, to be honest, it would probably be easier if there weren’t so many guests,’ she says with a grimace.
‘Oh no! This is a complete disaster,’ I say, my stress levels going through the roof. ‘We’re up to eighty-four guests, at least that was the number at the last count. Caterers have to be booked months, sometimes years in advance, don’t they? What the hell are we going to do?’ I can’t help thinking it wouldn’t be such a mess if we’d kept with the original small gathering.
As I process what Molly has just told me, I wish again that I’d been stronger and insisted on a local registry-office wedding, with a party back here in our garden. But Max wouldn’t hear of it, complaining that the garden would be far too small. Yet, if we’d chosen the small, intimate affair that I wanted, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now. However, in fairness to Max, I know that I haven’t exactly been vocal in telling him how I feel.
‘Don’t panic. I’ve told you I’m sure I can sort it,’ Molly reassures me. ‘This is exactly the sort of thing new businesses are looking for to make a name for themselves. They’d put their all into the food. Which is exactly the call I’m waiting for. I have a friend at the gym whose brother and sister-in-law have recently set up an outside catering service. They have a café during the day, with brilliant customer reviews so far. Although, admittedly, they haven’t done a wedding as large as this… They’re meant to be fantastic, though. Both of them have worked in five-star hotel kitchens. I’m sure they can deliver.’
I’m wondering if it’s a sign. Maybe we should have carried on as we were, perfectly happy, as I recall. Perhaps Kerry’s boyfriend Hal is right. What’s so important about a piece of paper if two people are happy together? My brain is spiralling with panic, but I am so thankful that Molly is here and has a plan.
‘I haven’t told Max, so maybe don’t say anything just yet. And don’t worry, Alice, I’m waiting on that call from the couple, plus another couple of return calls this afternoon, so I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’ She stands up to leave.
‘Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you. And thanks, Molly.’
That evening, sitting in the cosy ambience of the Indian lounge in the village, where the red and gold décor has remained the same since the late 1990s, I can’t stop thinking about Molly’s visit today. When I saw her standing at the front door, I was certain she had called round to discuss the evening I spent in Vangelis’s hotel room and, though her news wasn’t brilliant, now that I’ve had time to process it and calm down a little, I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
‘I haven’t had an Indian meal for ages. I’d forgotten how good this place is,’ Max says, tucking into a lamb pasanda, the aroma from the fragrant spices filling the air as I enjoy a tasty chicken biryani.
‘So, go on then, tell me what you got up to on holiday? Did the girls all enjoy it?’ Max asks as he takes a sip of his cold beer.
‘Yes.’ I pause a little as I consider getting it over with and telling him about Vangelis, but I lose the courage. ‘We all did. It was really lovely us all being on holiday together. We did all the usual beach stuff and nights out, and the trip to Santorini was just amazing. I’ll show you all the photographs later.’ I can just imagine his face when he sees the one of me kicking my legs in the air alongside the Greek dancers, which Ria snapped without my knowledge.
‘It might be nice to get some canvases printed, although I bet your paintings could beat any photos. Anyway, as you enjoyed it so much, maybe you should make getting together with the girls more of a regular thing. It’s good to see friends – I realised that on the race night. It’s healthy to see other people outside your relationship.’
‘And here’s me thinking we were exclusive?’ I say in mock astonishment.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong but you know what I mean. It’s good to have separate friends and interests sometimes. It gives us something to chat about outside our own relationship.’
I’m wondering whether Max is suggesting our relationship has become a little insular. Maybe even boring? Which is a little worrying, as we’re not even married yet.
‘Are you going to arrange another night out, then?’ I find myself wondering if Rachel will be at the next reunion as I fork some chicken and rice into my mouth.
‘Yeah, we were talking about it. I’d forgotten how well we all got along when we worked together. And, don’t worry, I’m not excluding you. I’ve suggested doing a couples thing next time, as most of us are hooked up.’ Max smiles warmly before he rips a piece of naan bread and dips it into his curry.<
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And here was I, for a brief, silly second, wondering if some of the appeal for Max in meeting up with his old colleagues was Rachel.
We enjoy our tasty food and finish off sharing a sweet coconut dessert before we stroll home on what turns out to be a beautiful, warm summer evening. I’m feeling guilty about still not having spoken to Max about the evening in Crete with Vangelis, but the truth is I’m terrified of what will happen after I’ve told him.
‘You’re quiet tonight,’ Max notices, as I spend the rest of the walk home lost in my thoughts. We pass the individually designed houses in the elegant streets, most of them with wrought-iron gates, before we finally turn into Somerville Road, where a grey tabby has taken up its usual night-time position on the red brick wall of the end house.
‘Sorry, I’m just not looking forward to going to work tomorrow, that’s all. I feel in the mood to get on with some painting. With the weather being good, I fancied maybe painting outside in some natural daylight. Maybe creating some more pieces to display for real one day.’
That’s the trouble with a break away in the sun. You never feel like returning to work, especially as the weather forecast here is for a sunny spell over the next few days and I can think of nothing better than creating some new pieces in our garden, which has tall hedges, meaning we are not overlooked. I shouldn’t be hiding behind a computer screen despatching my paintings to people without meeting them. I should be chatting to them in my own gallery, seeing their reaction to my work and discussing the finer points of art.
I realise that working at the gift store in town has helped me to overcome my shyness, but it’s the holiday in Crete with the girls that has pushed my confidence up even further. Joining in the Greek dancing in front of a crowd, and singing on the karaoke, are two things I would not have dreamed I could do. And I was surprised by how much I actually enjoyed it all.
That evening in bed, as I sink into Max’s embrace amongst the tangled sheets, I have no doubts in my heart about how much I love him. As I melt into his kisses I pull him close to me and silently pray that everything is going to be alright. I just need to stop feeling guilty about the other kiss in Crete, and to find the courage to tell Max what happened with Vangelis.
My life is here with Max and I must make it the very best life for both of us. Perhaps if I did have my own gallery, I wouldn’t have envied the Greek artist with the studio high up in the mountains. As I drift off to sleep in Max’s arms I count my blessings, yet resolve to make some changes in the future. I have a lot to be thankful for in many ways, but I need to be responsible for my own happiness too.
Seventeen
I’m serving a customer with a pair of white ceramic turtle doves, when I spot my mum outside the shop; she’s waving at me through the window. I wave back, wondering why she hasn’t come inside and is gesturing for me to step outside.
‘Hi, Mum. What’s up?’ I say, as I step through the doorway. ‘Why didn’t you come into the shop?’
‘Sorry, Alice. I always end up buying something if I go inside. You know how hard it is for me to keep my spending under control and you have such lovely things in there. I mean look at that.’ She moves her face close to the window and points to a pretty floral footstool. ‘That would look really good in the lounge, which Rex has recently painted and wallpapered, but he’s given me a budget and that is way over it.’
Mum seems to be in charge of soft furnishings, but it’s Rex who does any painting and wallpapering, as Mum, by her own admission, lacks the patience for it.
I feel a surge of admiration for Mum for trying to curb her spendthrift ways. Maybe she has learnt her lessons in life the hard way.
‘Anyway, I just wondered if you and Max would like to come for dinner tomorrow night? Max had such a good time with us that evening when you were away. It’s made me think I should invite you both over more often.’
I’m wondering whether I’m seeing a softer side to Mum as she gets older. Her looking after Lexie with her broken leg was a bit of a revelation, as Mum’d only recently reminded me that she was no good with sick people. Something I recall well from my childhood. Lexie has let me know that she’s gone back to her flat now, as she is managing to navigate her way around more easily with her crutches.
As if reading my thoughts, Mum says, ‘I’ve invited Lexie along too. Maybe Max has a friend he could bring along to meet her? It would be nice if she could meet someone like Max. They got along so well that evening he came here for dinner.’
‘Are you trying to set Lexie up with a date?’ I find myself laughing at Mum’s attempts to find someone for Lexie. ‘I think Max’s friends are either married or in relationships. There is a single guy at his office, but I don’t think he’s Lexie’s type somehow.’
Dave is in his early forties and apparently spends his weekends up to his armpits in oily rags and tinkering about with motorbikes.
‘Oh, well, it was just a thought. Thursday around seven o’clock?’
‘I’ll have to ask Max to check his diary first, Mum, but that works for me.’ Max can’t just drop everything to accommodate Mum, but I have to admit it sounds nice, and I did miss seeing Lexie while I was away.
‘Already asked. He said that’s fine with him but he would check with you. As I was in town today, I thought I would pop in and check before I do any shopping. It will be boeuf bourguignon for dinner. And I might make my apple crumble again. It went down a treat with Max. You really ought to try some classics, you know. All this brown rice and quinoa is fine for lunch, but men need real, hearty food when they come home from a day’s work.’
‘He works in finance, Mum, not down the pits.’ I laugh and shake my head in disbelief. Once again, Mum has asked Max something before she has run it by me and I’m doing my best not to be annoyed or get angry with her. ‘Well, if Max has agreed then I shall look forward to it.’ I smile as brightly as I can.
I return to the shop just as a small queue has formed at the counter, and the rest of the morning passes fairly quickly. I probably need to lighten up, but I wonder why Mum has suddenly started asking Max and me round for dinner. Maybe she’s ill. Or maybe she’s realised she wasn’t the warmest of mothers when we were younger, so is trying to make up for it now. Who knows? But whatever the reason, I’m sorry to say that I feel hesitant about diving straight into this happy-families routine with her. I’m never entirely trusting of my mother’s motives, although I do suppose people can change.
After work that evening, I head home on the train and arrive at the house a little after six. There’s no parking near the shop and city parking costs a fortune so I prefer to get the train, especially as you can chill out at the end of the day without having to worry about being stuck in traffic. I’m just putting my key in the front door when I receive a text. It’s from Molly and it simply says Sorted and a thumbs-up sign. As soon as I’m inside and have shrugged off my jacket I call her.
‘Have you managed to sort the catering?’ I breathe, fingers crossed behind my back.
‘Yes, I was going to ring you later. The couple who own the café are happy to help. As I told you, it’s a fledgling company and they’re keen to make a name for themselves.’
‘Thank you so much, Molly. Can we keep the same menu?’ I remember it took hours to select the menu, such were Max’s particular specifications with the food. He wants everything to be just perfect.
‘Yes. I’ve arranged a meeting with them at their café on Hardman Street tomorrow night, if that’s okay, around seven o’clock.’ Hearing this news, I feel relief flood through me.
‘Yes, that’s fine. I’m sure Max will be relieved.’
Molly reminds me that Max doesn’t know there’s a problem. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be happy that we’ve found a solution.’
‘That you’ve found a solution. I can’t thank you enough.’
When I finish the conversation, I immediately realise that Max and I have agreed to go to dinner tomorrow evening at Mum’s at the same time as t
he appointment with the caterers, so give her a quick call to say we won’t be able to make it after all.
‘What’s so important that you have to cancel?’ Mum asks, obviously annoyed with me.
I decide not to tell her about the catering problem and tell her that Max has had to rearrange an appointment. It’s only a white lie and I remind myself of all the dates Mum has cancelled in the past, so I don’t feel too bad.
‘Well, it’s a good job I didn’t buy the beef today then,’ she huffs.
‘Sorry, Mum, there will be other times.’ I wonder how many times I’ve heard Mum say the very same thing to me as I finish the call.
Max texts me to say he’ll be home at seven thirty and, after a shower, I prepare us a nice pasta dish and open a bottle of red wine.
Later, as we are sitting at the kitchen table, Max devours the pasta, saying the addition of some anchovies has taken the dish to a whole new level, and I can’t help smiling at his passion for food.
‘Mum thinks I should be feeding you stew and dumplings every evening after you’ve spent a day at work.’
‘Please don’t,’ Max says, laughing. ‘As much as I enjoy your mum’s cooking, if I ate that stuff every day I’d end up in A & E like Rex.’
We both laugh.
Talking about food, I think it’s time to come clean about the caterers, especially as we have to go and meet the new ones tomorrow evening. I take a deep breath and tell him all about Molly’s visit. The catering problem should be the last thing I’m worried about confessing, but I feel so anxious every time I think about telling Max about what happened in Greece.
‘Cancelled on us? Gone into liquidation? I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Are you joking?’ Max is silent for a few seconds as he processes the news. ‘We’ll probably lose our deposit then if the company has gone bust.’
The smile that was on Max’s face a few seconds ago has completely disappeared. Thousands of pounds may have just disappeared down the drain. This is more of a disaster than I’d realised.