by Imogen Clark
Melissa’s breath came fast as her heart banged in her chest. She felt dizzy and she had to steady herself by placing a hand on his shoulder. This was it. The moment that she had always dreamt of. She was going to be a wife and everything was going to be perfect.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I will.’
19
MELISSA – THEN
When Melissa wasn’t dealing with baby Leah (which seemed to take an inordinate amount of time considering how very small her daughter was), she was planning her wedding. Since Ray had proposed, her head had been filled with dresses and bridesmaids and cars and flowers. She couldn’t imagine what she’d ever found to think about before. Her mind must have been a huge void just waiting to be filled with weddingy thoughts.
She had seen the most beautiful dress in Pronuptia in Newcastle. It was a true white, not that insipid cream that seemed to be creeping in to bridal design and which wasn’t, at least to Melissa’s mind, the thing at all. This dress, ‘her’ dress as she liked to think of it, was constructed (that seemed to be the only word for it) from layer upon layer of lace and frill. The skirts were no doubt supported by endless hoops and petticoats as the dress appeared to defy gravity, but Melissa could only guess about that. Of course, she hadn’t been into the shop to try it on. She knew she’d never be able to afford it and she couldn’t bear the snotty disdain of the shop assistants who would spot a time-waster at twenty paces. But she had stood on the pavement outside the shop and stared up at it in the window, trying to commit it to memory so that she could describe the design, in full detail, to Auntie Kathleen, who had a talent for deconstructing clothing with her eye and then recreating it. She could make Melissa a copy of the dress, no problem, and if Melissa played her cards right, Auntie K would give it to her as a wedding present.
Then there was the church to book and somewhere to have a reception. The football club in town would be perfect, she thought. They had a big function room and they did a cracking finger buffet. Melissa could probably negotiate a special rate, not that she was trying to skimp on their wedding, but every penny saved was money they could spend on things for Leah. Babies were so expensive, she was discovering.
But when Melissa tried to talk to Ray about her plans he didn’t seem as interested as she’d hoped. He was a man, of course, which would explain a little of his reticence, but this was supposed to be his wedding, too, and she wanted to be certain that he was as excited as she was about the details. She tried again now as they lay in bed, Leah sleeping quietly in her carrycot beyond the partition wall.
‘I’ve found the perfect wedding dress,’ Melissa began, propping herself up on her elbow so that she could watch Ray’s face as she spoke. ‘I can’t tell you anything about it, like. That’s bad luck. And I can’t afford it either, but my Auntie Kathleen is a canny dressmaker. She’ll make it for me if I ask her.’
Ray muttered something that might have been affirmative, but then he rubbed his nose into her cleavage, his hair tickling her under her chin, and made a sound a bit like a growl. Melissa pushed him away gently and then, when he refused to move, with a little more force.
‘Ray!’ she said, trying to make her tone serious. ‘Concentrate!’
Ray narrowed his features into a grave expression, his eyebrows pulling together and his brow furrowed. ‘Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss,’ he said.
Melissa wanted to laugh, but this was important, so she kept her face straight and continued. ‘And I thought we could maybe have the reception at the football club. I know the steward and I reckon he’ll do us a deal if I ask. What do you think?’
Ray rolled back into the pillows and stared up, his arms crossed behind his head. He didn’t speak.
Melissa had grown used to these silences. At first, they had worried her. She’d interpreted them negatively, assuming that he was building up to telling her he’d had enough of her, that it was over. Each silence had been accompanied by a growing sense of panic as she imagined what it could be that he was having such difficulty saying. But as their relationship had gone on and particularly now that he had proposed, she found his silences less unsettling. It was just his way of thinking, she understood, the way he processed what had been said. So she stayed still, propped up on her elbow, just watching his face, and waited.
‘You don’t think,’ he said finally, ‘that this wedding planning is getting a little out of hand?’
Melissa was confused. She hadn’t suggested anything outlandish or madly extravagant. All brides needed a dress, didn’t they? And they had to have a reception.
‘How do you mean, like?’ she asked him.
‘None of this really matters,’ he continued, his eyes still focused on the yellowing ceiling of the caravan. ‘The clothes and the flowers and the guests. It’s just white noise to me, a distraction from what’s really important here.’
Melissa didn’t understand. What could possibly be more important than their wedding?
‘But . . .’ she began, but he put his finger to her lips.
‘All that matters are you, me and Leah,’ he continued. ‘I don’t care about anything else.’
Melissa relaxed a little. She loved that Ray was so romantic, that he had placed her and Leah firmly at the centre of his world. It made her feel so cherished and safe. But still, this was their wedding.
‘I know that, pet,’ she said, running her fingers through his thick hair and pushing it back from his handsome face. ‘And that’s all I care about, too, but we still need to organise things, make plans. We can’t just rock up to the club and expect them to put on food for fifty people.’
‘Fifty!’ exclaimed Ray. He looked truly horrified.
‘At least!’ said Melissa. ‘I do have friends, you know! And there’s Auntie Kathleen and her friends and I assume that you want to invite people too. I don’t know how many’d be on your guest list, your family and that. I think the room can hold up to one hundred, but I’d need to check.’
Ray was shaking his head. ‘Melissa, my darling girl,’ he said. ‘Why do we need to make all this fuss? I don’t understand it.’ He kissed her lightly on her bare shoulder and something inside her quivered. ‘Listen,’ he continued. ‘Do you want to hear about my perfect wedding?’
Melissa felt a blush rise up. In all her excitement, she hadn’t actually thought what Ray might want, just assumed that it would be the same as her, the same as everyone she knew. Now she felt slightly ashamed.
‘I’m so sorry, pet,’ she said. ‘Please tell me what you want. Tell me everything, every teensy detail of your perfect day.’
‘Well,’ said Ray, pushing himself up so that they faced each other, their noses almost touching. ‘It’s simple, really. You, me, Leah. The registry office in Newcastle. A couple of witnesses pulled in off the street. Dinner just the three of us after, a bottle or two of champagne. That would be my perfect wedding, my darling. I don’t want anyone else there to distract me from you. I want you and Leah to have my full attention for every minute of the day so that I can store away all the memories and never, ever forget them.’
His voice was so gentle and his smile so adoring that for a moment Melissa was completely swept away by his words. But then she realised what he was actually saying.
She pulled away. ‘What? No guests? No dress? No reception? None of it?’
Ray shook his head, his smile never wavering.
‘And a registry office! No church?’ Melissa asked in a final flourish of disbelief.
She’d never been to a registry office do, but she’d seen them on films and they always seemed like poor excuses for weddings with fake flowers and a queue of guests for the next ceremony whispering at the door. There was no way she was going to have one of those.
‘Well, Melissa darling,’ said Ray smoothly, ‘I’m not sure, given the circumstances . . .’ He nodded his head towards the wall behind which Leah was sleeping. ‘. . . that we’d be all that welcome at the church.’
Melissa hadn’t even thought of that,
but he was probably right. She’d heard that the vicar at St Paul’s was very old-fashioned about that kind of thing. When Trudy from school had gone to see if she could get her banns read to marry twice-married Damien from the butcher’s, the vicar had almost swung garlic on a cross at her. He wouldn’t take kindly to a baby born out of wedlock.
‘Oh,’ she said, the single sound encapsulating all her disappointment. ‘Oh.’
‘But we don’t have to do it my way,’ Ray continued. ‘If you want the big do with a flouncy dress and guests that we don’t really know and a huge bill, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.’
Melissa leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her so that she felt little and safe. Maybe he had a point. A small wedding with just them might be perfect – so romantic, like eloping, almost. And where did she think she was going to get the money to pay for a big do anyway? It was the bride’s responsibility, wasn’t it, but it wasn’t like she could ask her mum to help and she didn’t even know who her dad was, not for definite.
‘But I don’t know anything about organising a wedding at a registry office,’ she said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Ray pulled her in tighter to him until she could feel his heart beating into her own chest. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ he said. ‘You just leave it all to me.’
20
CLIO – NOW
If someone had told Clio two months earlier that she would have a new friend who was a single mother of two and living in a tiny terraced house in Whitley Bay, she would have thought they were quite mad. Yet this was now her reality, and Clio found that she was happier than she had been in years. The only dark shadows were those that reared up if she allowed herself to think about the death of her father, but as time passed she was becoming better at keeping them at bay. They were less likely to ambush her than they had been, and Clio found that when she was with Leah she could even forget about them for a while.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on what she found so very appealing about Leah, other than the obvious, of course. It was Leah’s honesty, she thought, at least in part, and also her downright indefatigability. No matter what life threw at her, she just seemed to absorb it or shrug it off. Nothing fazed her, and Clio found this fascinating. In truth, not much fazed Clio either, but that was because she had always had the cushion of wealth and privilege to protect her. Leah had none of that, but she still felt indestructible to Clio. She also had no expectations of their friendship, or none that Clio could discern. Leah put precisely no pressure on her. There was no need to be seen at this restaurant or to carry that handbag or get invited to the party of the year, as there was with the other women with whom Clio spent time. It was all so very refreshing.
However, chatting on social media could only take them so far. What Clio needed now was to think of something for them to do together, preferably away from their homes so that the differences between their lifestyles didn’t get in the way any more than it had to. It should also be something that the children would enjoy, as it was clear that wherever Leah went, her children went too.
But what did families do together that was fun? Clio couldn’t remember ever going out on family trips when she was younger. When Hector was home from school for the holidays, they went abroad. The rest of the time they had mainly kicked around at the Hall, inviting schoolfriends over from time to time. She had never considered there to be much wrong with this when she’d been growing up, but now she could see how very out of sync with real life it actually was.
She flicked open her laptop and typed ‘Family things to do in Newcastle’ into Google. A plethora of pages popped up and Clio let out a sharp breath. Where to start? She dived in, clicking and rejecting her way down the list.
Then she found the perfect activity. Ten-pin bowling. She had tried it once, as far as she could remember. A friend from school, whom she could no longer bring to mind, had had a bowling party. Obviously the friend’s father had hired the entire place, which she wasn’t about to do, but Clio remembered that it had been fun and she’d actually been not that terrible at it. Bowling would be the perfect activity to do with Leah and the children.
When she’d mentioned the idea to Leah, her enthusiasm had been unrestrained and so, feeling buoyed by this, Clio had booked a lane for them all.
She had arranged to meet Leah outside the leisure complex, but now, as she waited, Clio could feel butterflies in her stomach. It was a mixture of excitement about the fun they were going to have and fear that she would do or say something that might spoil everything.
‘They’re late,’ said Marlon, who was standing at her elbow and surveying the approach to the complex.
Even though this was true, Clio felt irritated with Marlon for pointing it out. She didn’t want to hear any criticism of Leah, no matter how small. It crossed her mind again that she might have made a mistake in inviting Marlon along, but he had been so good with the children at the Hall; and it made it more of an outing, she felt, if there was a gaggle of them. Her main motive, however, had been that tiny little spark that she thought she had detected between Marlon and Leah. She hoped she hadn’t imagined it.
‘Barely,’ she replied sharply, and then, ‘There they are!’ as she caught sight of Leah rushing up the pavement holding tightly on to Noah’s hand, Poppy trailing a few steps behind them.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ said Leah before she had even reached them. ‘The Metro was all to pot this morning. Oh. Hello, Marlon,’ she added when she caught sight of him.
Clio saw her shoot a hand up to check her hair, but also thought she heard a note of wariness in Leah’s voice.
‘Hi,’ replied Marlon with a little wave. He looked less flustered than Leah, Clio noted. Had she got this wrong? Well, there was no time to worry about it now. She would just have to play things by ear.
‘Let’s go in, shall we?’ she said.
Noah transferred his hand neatly from Leah’s to Clio’s and Leah looked at her and grinned, eyebrows raised.
‘Someone’s popular,’ she said, and Clio couldn’t help smiling.
Inside they had to go through the rigmarole of exchanging their own shoes for the ones that you were supposed to wear to bowl in. Clio gave her shoe size and tried not to grimace as she handed over her sandals and was given a pair of red and blue bowling shoes in return. They were still warm from their last occupant and Clio realised in horror that she hadn’t brought any socks.
‘Here,’ said Leah as if she had read her mind. She handed her a balled-up pair of trainer socks. ‘I brought some spare, just in case.’
Clio felt herself blush. Leah must have realised that bowling wasn’t something that she did every day but in any event she was very grateful for her insight.
Once they were all appropriately shod, they headed to their lane, where Marlon took control of the scoreboard console.
‘Are we doing funny nicknames or actual names?’ he asked, his hands poised over the keyboard.
‘Funny ones,’ replied Noah at exactly the same moment as Leah said, ‘Actual.’
‘Let’s stick with actual,’ said Clio quickly. ‘This is complicated enough for us newbies.’
‘Can’t you bowl, Clio?’ asked Poppy.
Clio pulled a face and shook her head. ‘Not really. I’ve only been once.’
‘I’m dead good, aren’t I, Pops?’ said Noah, looking directly at his sister.
Poppy nodded encouragingly and then mouthed, ‘We’ve only been once as well,’ over his head.
Clio felt herself relax a little.
And so they began, going in age order, starting with Noah who refused to use the special guide to help him aim and so had to watch his ball run down the gully at the edge. Poppy fared a little better, managing to knock over five of the ten pins. Then it was Clio’s go. She selected a ball by colour, hoping that it was about the right weight, took aim and let it go. It trundled down to the bottom of the lane and gently nudged the pins, a couple of which w
obbled and toppled over obligingly. At least she hadn’t disgraced herself entirely, Clio thought.
Next it was Leah’s turn. Clio could tell as soon as she hefted the ball in her hand that she had done this before.
‘Go, Mum!’ shouted Noah, and Leah swung her arm back and let go. The ball thundered down the lane and knocked down all the pins, which toppled over with a decisive clatter. Noah cheered and Marlon let out a slow wolf-whistle.
‘Someone’s done this before,’ he said.
Clio couldn’t decide if his voice contained a competitive edge or not, but she hoped that it didn’t. The last thing they needed was to fall out over something as trivial as ten-pin bowling.
‘I grew up in Whitley Bay,’ Leah replied. ‘What did you expect?’ She dusted her hands together as if this was child’s play and took her second shot, which also decimated all ten pins.
‘Well, I consider that gauntlet to be well and truly dropped,’ said Marlon, when the scoreboard had finished doing its little celebration.
He took aim and his shot was good, but not as good as Leah’s. Two pins remained standing and at such a gap that it would be impossible to knock them both over with a single ball.
Clio watched to see how Leah would react to her clear superiority, but she just smiled and said, ‘Bad luck! I hate it when that happens.’
They played on, Marlon distracting Noah between his turns so that he didn’t lose interest. Once or twice Clio caught Leah watching Marlon, but she wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking. Was there something there? A flicker of something? She hoped so, but she couldn’t really tell. Leah might just be being polite.
They had played six of their ten goes and Leah had a convincing lead, but with Marlon not that far behind her.
‘Is anyone thirsty?’ asked Marlon, and Noah hopped up and down on the spot with his hand up as if he were at school. ‘Let’s go get some drinks, shall we, Noah?’