Shelley and Dave entered the terrace and took their place at the top table, flanked by Shelley’s parents, Margaret and the radioactively made-up bridesmaids, Sophie and Amelie. As soon as they were seated, the waiting staff moved into action and delivered the first course.
Neil was quickly deep in conversation with Madeleine. Kathy listened quietly while Jeff, on her left, and Judith, to the left of him, shared their views on the state of the United Kingdom. They agreed it ‘was better in the old days’. Oscar, to Kathy’s right, was deep in communion with his phone.
The conversation was dull but the food was delicious. The wine was wonderful. The evening was balmy and scented with jasmine, just as Kathy had imagined. And then there was the music.
Henry Innocenti and his band were a cut above. It was a shame there was so much other noise for them to compete with. The braying laughter. The shouts from one table to another. The increasingly heated debates about the future of the Conservative Party from Neil’s relatives on Kathy’s table.
A first course of pasta in sage butter was followed by steak – tagliata – with a rocket and tomato salad. White wine followed Prosecco. Red wine followed the white. Soon Kathy was getting tipsy. After the steak, came a palate-cleansing sorbet. Then tiramisu. You couldn’t come to Italy and not have tiramisu, Neil announced across the table.
Madeleine agreed, though she took only the tiniest mouthful. Kathy, on the other hand, would have licked the dish clean if she could have been sure no one was watching.
It was then that she heard it. Kathy half turned in her chair as the song began. Those first few notes were unmistakable. She caught Henry’s eye. He nodded and gave her a little salute. ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ had been Kathy’s favourite song ever since she’d first heard it as a teenager, watching Swing Time, the old black-and-white Fred Astaire movie, with her mum and dad one Sunday afternoon. It was their song, they told her. The first song they’d danced to at their wedding. The tender, melancholy romance of the lyrics had touched Kathy’s heart. She’d written them out in the back of her school notebook and prayed every night that one day she might find someone who felt that way about her.
It didn’t happen while she was at school, where the boys largely ignored her. Long before she was Chicken Licken, Kathy had another nickname she hated. Born with a condition that caused her left eye to turn inwards, she’d been dubbed Cross-eyed Kathy by her peers. The nickname outlasted the condition – she’d had an operation to correct it when she was eight – and the self-consciousness she’d developed as a result had long outlasted the nickname.
At secondary school, the boys acted as though they thought her junior-school unpopularity might still be contagious so Kathy’s teenage romantic life was confined to romance novels, black-and-white movies and old songs, and wishing that life would bring her a real-life hero. Of course, she grew up and realised that a good, solid man was preferable to a matinee idol but she still loved a song that could take her back to those earlier, less complicated times.
On stage, the band’s female singer had stepped back so that Henry could take the vocal part. How Kathy wished that the whole terrace would fall silent so that she could hear every note of this special performance. Savour it. But the party continued. Madeleine was laughing like an actual donkey at something Neil had told her.
When the music stopped, Kathy was the only person to applaud. Neil looked at her. ‘Did I miss something?’ he asked.
‘Just my favourite song,’ she said.
‘Oh, right,’ said Neil. ‘Didn’t hear it. More wine, Madeleine?’
Looking across the terrace to the stage, where Henry was already playing something else, Kathy held the special moment close. From the way he had played that song for her, she felt understood. Maybe it was time to do something stupid.
Chapter Eleven
Then coffee and petit fours were on the table and Matthew the best man was heading back up to the stage, albeit a little less steadily than before. Once again, he tapped the microphone and addressed it, ‘Testing, testing,’ standing too close and making it shriek. Once again, Henry Innocenti got up to tweak the volume and to remind Matthew to stand a little further away if he didn’t want to make the guests’ ears bleed.
Kathy had her back towards the stage. She should probably have turned her seat so she could see Matthew properly but nobody else seemed to be bothering with that. Half the people on the adjoining tables were continuing their conversations, oblivious to the fact that the speeches were about to start.
Matthew introduced Shelley’s father first. His pride in his daughter was clear as he spoke about her happy childhood and the woman she had become. Shelley sobbed happy tears throughout.
‘Speeches are the worst part of any wedding,’ said Jeff. ‘They should just email what they want to say to the guests in advance so we can get on with eating and talking.’
Kathy disagreed. She envied Shelley the chance to hear her father make that speech.
Dave’s speech, which came next, was almost as brief as his speech on the first night of the wedding party. But it was full of a deep and quiet love. No one could doubt that Dave would honour his vows.
Then Matthew stood up again.
‘I know this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for,’ he said. His best man’s speech was the usual mix of bad jokes and rambling anecdotes that were only funny if you’d been there. Kathy found herself zoning out. She tuned back in for the traditional toast to the bridesmaids, then zoned out again as Matthew rumbled on.
Soon Matthew’s voice was just background noise. Kathy wanted to make the most of that last evening in Italy. Of the gentle scent of flowers and wood smoke on the night air. The sound of the cicadas. The soft light from the lanterns in the trees and the candles on the tables. The taste of the warm red wine. The memory of her song being played. As far as possible, she also wanted to pretend she was alone on that terrace – well, perhaps not entirely alone. She was so absorbed in taking in the atmosphere that she didn’t even notice when Neil got up from the other side of the large round table at which they were seated to take over on the microphone. But then …
‘Kathy! Kathy Courage! Come on up!’
‘Go on!’ Madeleine leaned over to shake Kathy back to attention. ‘You’re wanted on stage.’
‘What?’
‘Kathy!’ Neil bellowed into the mic. Then he added, in an aside to his audience, ‘See what I have to put up with, ladies and gents?’
Kathy rushed to the front of the terrace where Neil was waiting for her. She struggled to get up on the stage. She couldn’t find the steps. She hadn’t been watching closely enough to see where they were. Her long dress tangled around her legs as she tried to climb up the front. Behind her, there was laughter. Neil looked tense. Eventually, he grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her up, as if he was hauling her out of a roiling ocean.
Kathy smoothed her skirt, checked her bodice for crumbs and then grinned towards the darkness. The lights on the stage made the rest of the terrace invisible. She was painfully aware this meant she was absolutely in the spotlight and everybody could see her. Chicken Licken. Cross-eyed Kathy. She felt a little sick.
What was going on? Were she and Neil supposed to be giving their own toast to the bride and groom? Had she missed a vital instruction?
No.
Neil was getting to his knees, fishing in his jacket pocket and flipping open a small red-velvet-covered box.
It couldn’t be …
Oh, God, it was.
Now? After everything …
‘Kathy Courage,’ Neil said, looking more nervous than she had ever seen him. ‘Will you marry me?’
Their audience burst into applause before Kathy had even properly taken in the question. There was no need to wait for her answer. Of course there wasn’t. What could she possibly say except ‘yes’?
As it was, she didn’t even have to say ‘yes’. She blinked in shocked surprise and that seemed to be good enough. Neil stood
up right away. He took Kathy’s left hand, which was trembling, and slipped the ring onto her finger. Once the ring was in place, Neil lifted Kathy’s arm above her head as though she had just been declared the winner of a boxing bout. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss, which mostly landed on her nose.
Matthew came back onto the stage and patted Neil hard on the back.
‘Congratulations, Neil and Kathy. Let’s have three cheers for the happy couple, another Mr and Mrs Sherwin in the making … Hip hip …’
‘Hooray!’
Neil continued to smooch Kathy’s nose until she gently pushed herself backwards away from him. She couldn’t breathe.
‘Do you like the ring?’ Neil asked. ‘It’s supposed to be like Meghan Markle’s.’
‘Is it?’ Kathy’s voice came out high and squeaky.
And then the band struck up ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay.
‘I wanted you to have your first dance as my fiancée to your favourite song,’ said Neil.
Her favourite song?
As Neil whirled her around as though they were teenagers at a drunken ceilidh, Kathy caught a glimpse of Henry Innocenti, playing the song he hated most and looking more than a little surprised. He wasn’t the only one.
Chapter Twelve
Before Kathy and Neil had stepped down from the stage, Amelie had burst into tears and Sophie had flat-out fainted (or at least pretended to). Oscar didn’t look up from his phone. While Shelley’s sensible sister tried to persuade Amelie and Sophie that it wasn’t the end of the world, other guests at the wedding rushed forward to congratulate the newly affianced.
Shelley confirmed to Kathy that she and Dave had known all along Neil was planning to propose. That was a small relief. The idea that Shelley might have thought Kathy wanted to upstage her at her wedding was particularly painful. Meanwhile, Margaret had not known the proposal was going to happen and she wanted to know why.
‘You might have warned me,’ she told Shelley.
Kathy heard Jeff, Neil’s cousin, say, ‘What do you want to get married again for, you idiot? The rest of us are still trying to unravel our first mistakes.’
Neil laughed heartily at that. ‘Second time lucky,’ he said.
‘I thought the phrase was third time lucky,’ said Jeff.
‘Shoot me if I ever get to that stage,’ said Neil.
Meanwhile, Kathy was gathering a crowd of her own, mostly women, who all wanted to see the ring. Some of them stared at it with such intensity that Kathy half expected someone to whip out a jeweller’s eyeglass to check the diamonds for colour, cut and clarity. How much had Neil splashed out, was what they really wanted to know. Was there a whole month’s salary on Kathy’s finger? Kathy thought there might be. She couldn’t believe what she had on her hand. The stones were so big and they glittered so brightly. They hardly looked quite real.
‘Congratulations!’ The word rang out again and again. Kathy accepted hugs and kisses, all the while feeling as if someone had shoved her into an industrial tumble-dryer and pressed ‘on’. She didn’t know where to look or what to say. ‘You must be so happy!’ people told her. Yet the proposal was genuinely the very last thing she’d been expecting.
As soon as she could, she escaped to the nearest ladies’ loo, where she met Madeleine by the basins. Madeleine leaned over and took Kathy’s hand to inspect the new bauble. ‘Very nice,’ she said. ‘That’s at least a carat and a half. I hope it’s worth it.’
‘Worth it?’
‘Your part of the bargain. In my experience, matrimony is always a one-sided affair. One partner inevitably benefits much more than the other. My engagement ring was a consolation prize. Had I known …’
Kathy was too gob-smacked to respond to Madeleine’s comments, which were worthy of the bad fairy at Sleeping Beauty’s christening. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. The wedding planner was looking for her. She dragged Kathy back onto the terrace to pose with Neil for the wedding’s official photographer, who was going to take their portrait. Neil’s children could not be persuaded to join them.
‘They’ll come round,’ Neil said, when Kathy expressed her concern. Amelie was bawling. Sophie was still feigning a coma. Kathy wasn’t sure Oscar had even noticed what was going on yet.
‘Don’t worry,’ Neil insisted. ‘They’ll be pleased when they think about it.’
The photographer had Kathy look up at Neil, with her hand on his chest to show off the ring. Like in a royal engagement portrait. Neil was looking straight ahead.
‘I wish I’d known,’ Kathy said.
‘The photographer can probably do something about your hair with Photoshop,’ said Neil, which wasn’t quite the answer Kathy had expected.
It was getting late. When the photographer was sure he had the shot he needed – and Neil agreed with him – Neil suggested he and Kathy have one more dance to celebrate their newly engaged status.
The band was already packing up, leaving only Henry playing the electric keyboard.
‘Oi, mate,’ Neil called to him. ‘Play “Yellow” again.’
With a raised eyebrow, Henry obliged.
Unable to look in Henry’s direction as he struck up the first few chords, Kathy let Neil take her into his arms.
‘How are you feeling, my darling?’ he asked.
‘This is all really, really …’ She searched for the word. Sudden? Unexpected? A disaster?
‘I can tell you’re happy, Chicken Licken. You must be relieved. I knew I’d get round to asking you eventually but you must have started to wonder if it was ever going to happen.’
So many words bubbled in Kathy’s brain but didn’t quite reach her lips. Had this happened a year before, she would have been over the moon. To marry Neil had been all she ever wanted. But now? Madeleine’s comment upon seeing the ring echoed in Kathy’s mind. Consolation prize …
‘And that’s all we’ve got time for, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Henry, at the end of his encore of ‘Yellow’. ‘We hope you’ve enjoyed your evening and of course we wish all the luck in the world to our newly-weds and the newly-soon-to-be-weds.’
The band paused in packing up to applaud.
While Neil and Kathy accepted more congratulations from their fellow guests, Henry disconnected the microphone with another ear-splitting shriek.
‘Hang on a minute.’ Neil turned to the stage and beckoned Henry to the edge of it. ‘Here you are, mate. I want to give you something.’
Neil had a five-euro note curled in his hand. ‘Thanks for playing our song.’
Henry glanced at the note then told Neil, ‘Consider that rendition of “Yellow” my engagement gift to you.’
‘No,’ said Neil. ‘I insist. I know you guys don’t get paid much. Starving artists and all that.’
‘Well, in that case,’ said Henry, ‘I’ll take it for the band. Thank you very much.’
He reached to take the note but Neil whipped it away so that it was out of reach.
‘It’s not for the band. It’s for you, mate. You personally.’
Instead of letting Henry take the note from his hand, Neil tucked it into the top pocket of Henry’s shirt. It was a gesture intended to make a point and to establish some kind of pecking order. ‘It’s for you to buy yourself a decent shirt or get a haircut. Then you might be able to get yourself a fiancée as good as mine.’
Henry straightened up. Still standing on the stage, he towered above Neil but Neil had already turned away. He’d put his arm around Kathy again and was explaining to another cousin how Kathy had fallen for him. ‘She’s been dying for me to pop the question ever since she met me,’ he assured his audience. ‘Isn’t that right?’
Kathy felt as though she was underwater and running out of breath. She looked back to catch Henry’s eye. She wanted him to know she was sorry for what had just transpired between him and Neil. But Henry wouldn’t look at her.
‘Isn’t that right, Chicken?’ Neil asked again.
C
hapter Thirteen
Now – less than eight hours after Neil’s big surprise – they were on their way back to London. This time, they were in a luxurious car big enough to take five passengers. Kathy couldn’t help thinking back wistfully to their outbound travel arrangements. None of Neil’s children had addressed a word in her direction since the previous evening. The girls wouldn’t even look at her. At least, not when she was looking at them. She felt them glaring daggers when she wasn’t.
Kathy still had to tell her mother what had happened. She was surprised to hear Neil hadn’t consulted Clare before he popped the question. She knew her dad would have liked to be asked, were he still alive. It was one of Kathy’s big regrets that her father had never had the chance to meet her future husband.
‘But why do we need to ask anybody?’ Neil said. ‘We’re both adults.’ He had a point. ‘I asked. You said yes. Job done.’
Kathy still wondered whether she’d actually said yes. The whole proposal had come as such a shock that technically she’d just stood there and gulped, like a fish plucked from the water and plonked gasping on the bank.
In the back of the air-conditioned car, Kathy hugged herself for warmth. She was wearing a sleeveless blue linen shirt that was just right for the weather outside but not for an ice-chilled car. She had decided against asking if she could grab a cardigan from her suitcase. Neil was already stressing about the time it would take to get to the airport. He wasn’t convinced Melanie had thought far enough ahead.
‘The roads around here are terrible,’ he said. ‘It would take just one lot of unexpected road works for us to miss the flight.’
Before they had left the palazzo grounds, his attention was entirely concentrated on his phone. Though it was still only six in the morning back in London, the world of corporate law was already awake and sending emails.
‘I can’t be out of the office for even half a day without it all going tits up,’ Neil said.
The children said nothing.
It was not how Kathy had expected the morning after her once longed-for engagement to be.
Three Days in Florence Page 6