‘Me?’ My voice come out as a whisper. ‘Why?’
‘Because … she’d been in touch with your Cousin Angie. Found her on Facebook, she said. Angie told her to leave you be, that you had other things to think about, with the wedding and everything.’
My heart was racing now. I waited for him to finish the story.
‘The thing is,’ Dad started, ‘Sue – your mum – I don’t think she really took it in, what Ange said. I guess she only heard the part about you getting married.’
‘Jen,’ Dad continued, cautiously. ‘She thinks she should be there.’
‘Be where?’ I snapped back.
‘At your wedding,’ Dad said. ‘Your mum wants to come.’
*
Chris and I moved to the living room while Dad loaded the dishwasher. I’d told them both that there was no way I was going to return Mum’s call. It really was as simple as that.
‘You can take some time to think about it,’ Chris said. ‘Your wedding’s not tomorrow.’
‘Time to think about what?’ I said. ‘I don’t see how you can be so understanding, Chris. How dare she do this? She’s got two children, she can’t just call up wanting to talk to me.’
‘I don’t want to be in the middle of this, Jen,’ Chris said. ‘I’ve already got in the way of your relationship once, and I don’t want to again. If you want her there at your wedding, you should let her come.’
I shook my head. It was a mystery to me how Chris seemed to have let go of the resentment everyone expected him to have.
‘I mean I’m not justifying what she did,’ Chris said. ‘Of course not. But I pity her, that’s all. For whatever reason the fact she couldn’t cope with me back then stopped her being your mum, too. Now we’re all adults and things are different, we can make our own choices, and maybe you should give her a chance.’
‘Chris, I’m not having this conversation,’ I said. ‘You’re my family, Dad is my family – and Mum, Sue, whoever she is, is just a woman who abandoned us.’
‘OK. I still think you should sleep on it,’ Chris said.
‘I don’t need to sleep on it.’ I felt something build up in me, anger, frustration, I don’t know what, but it seemed like no one in my family could see that there was no discussion to be had here, and I knew I was in danger of taking it out on Chris. ‘I’ve talked enough tonight. I’m going home.’
I got back to the flat just before nine, with a heavy heart and a head busy with thoughts. Bath and bed, that was what I needed. As I turned my key in the lock, though, I heard raised voices. I’d completely forgotten that Dan’s best friend Russ was coming around tonight.
‘Hi Jen,’ Dan called out from the living room, where the two of them were playing MarioKart with the volume up high. Half-empty foil cartons lay strewn across the coffee table, curry dripping on to the glass top. Russ was swigging from a bottle of Becks. ‘Woahhhhhhh,’ Dan said, staring at the screen and moving the controller so that his kart went over to the left, ‘the lava nearly got me that time.’
Russ called out ‘Hi Jen,’ and flashed me a cheeky grin. I went into the kitchen to fix myself a cocoa. It was chaos in there, as if they’d raided it before settling in the living room. I put the kettle on and then started to tidy slowly and methodically, putting empty glasses and dirty plates in the dishwasher, trying to calm the annoyance welling up in me as I realised I was barely making a dent in the disarray. I took my cocoa into our bedroom, changed into my pyjamas and got into bed. I looked at the clock and willed it to go faster, it was only nine-thirty. I got out a copy of the Marian Keyes I was halfway through and looked for my page, but the shouts from the front room were too loud for me to concentrate. Instead I just lay in bed, my mind racing. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the noise was getting louder – each time I closed my eyes and started to drift off I’d be woken up again. At around half one I heard Dan see Russ out. He creaked open the bedroom door and crept in, but noisily, in that drunk-person-being-quiet way.
‘Dan,’ I said, looking up. ‘You don’t need to tiptoe. I’m not asleep.’
‘Oh hi babe, I thought you would be. It’s late, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, pretty late.’ I rolled over, away from him, and tried to make myself drift off. Dan didn’t seem to have a clue how wound up I was. Then I turned back around, unable to hold in my frustration any longer. ‘Did you really think I’d be able to sleep with all that noise you and Russ were making?’
Dan was taking off his T-shirt and had got it stuck over his head. His words muffled through the cotton, ‘Oh, sorry about that,’ he wrestled himself free, ‘but you know I haven’t seen Russ for ages.’ He undid his jeans, pulled them off and climbed into bed beside me. ‘And you said you’d be at your Dad’s till late, didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t feel like staying after all.’ He cuddled up to me in bed. Why couldn’t he tell that things weren’t OK?
I pushed him away and sat up. ‘Dan, this is my flat too, and I want to be able to get to sleep when I’ve had a long day.’ My voice was shrill, I didn’t sound like me.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I’ll be quieter next time.’
‘But Dan,’ I went on, not able to stop myself now, as the words came pouring out. ‘We’re not students anymore, you know.’
He looked at me, confused. ‘I know that, Jen,’ he said. He reached out an arm to touch me but I moved away.
‘Don’t touch me. Just don’t.’ I carried on, my voice louder now. ‘I get tired of being the grown-up, sometimes I need an adult to be with too. I’m spending all this time planning for our future and you—’
‘Hang on, Jen. This isn’t fair,’ Dan said, firmly, his brow furrowed. ‘I’ve been working all hours this past week, just to get money so that you can have the wedding day that you want, and—’
‘So what are you saying?’ I said, sitting up straighter. ‘That it’s not the day you want? That you’re not bothered what we do?’ I felt a lump come to my throat. ‘Don’t do me any favours, Dan, please.’
‘What?’ Dan said, searching my face for something he’d missed. ‘Where’s this all coming from? Of course I want our wedding to be great too. And it will be.’
‘But it won’t.’ I was resolute. ‘It won’t be.’
I thought back to the vintage dress I’d splashed out on and which was now hidden away in my wardrobe. I hadn’t even dared to tell Dan how much it cost. I knew that even with the extra hours he’d been putting in we were at risk of going over budget. Bigger than all of that, though, was the thought that my mum, after all this time, was trying to muscle in on our day. Where did I even start with that? How could I explain how that felt to Dan, or to anyone? My head spun; this was it, our dream wedding day was going to be ruined by debt and family drama.
Dan looked at me, his brow creased, and even in the heat of the moment I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t understand where all of this anger was coming from. The stress of the evening at Dad’s, and the last few weeks, had reached fever pitch and I no longer felt in control.
‘Jen, don’t be silly – all that matters is you and me getting married,’ he said, staring straight at me. ‘I thought we’d talked this through?’
‘Silly?’ I said, shouting at him now, gathering up the spare blanket and wrapping it around me. ‘You think I’m being silly now?’ My cheeks were burning with fury. ‘Can’t you see it’s all going to be ruined?’ I turned my back on him and marched out of the room, but as soon as I’d closed the door my eyes blurred with tears.
I took the blanket and dragged myself into the living room. It still smelt of curry, but Dan wasn’t there, and that was a good thing. I curled up on the sofa with a cushion under my head and stared up at the white wall. A shaft of moonlight was cutting across it. I could hear the distant hum of motorway traffic.
Our argument echoed in my head. Was this what married life was going to be like? Cross words and compromises? As I thought of how dismissive Dan had been, my dress and my mum�
��s reappearance slipped right down my list of worries. It felt like he didn’t understand me at all. I pulled the blanket closer around me, and closed my eyes.
Chapter 18
Jenny
‘Going once …’
Alison gripped the sleeve of my rose-patterned cardigan tightly, and I held my breath.
‘Going twice …’
Maggie, on my left, had my other arm in a vice-like grip.
‘And …’
‘Ouch,’ I yelped, as Maggie’s hold got even tighter, pinching my skin.
‘Oops, sorry,’ she whispered to me, as an old lady in the row in front of us gave us a disapproving glance over her shoulder. ‘Nerves.’
‘Sold, to the lady at the back,’ the elderly auctioneer squinted to see, and Alison let go of my cardigan and stood up to give him a better look, ‘in the fetching red dress.’
We cheered as Alison sat back down and turned to us. ‘Well done us,’ Ali said, with a smile. ‘What a complete bargain.’
We’d come along to the local antiques auction with modest expectations. There’d been a lot of tat for sale, admittedly; cat statuettes and a giant serving plate shaped like a carp. But among it we’d spotted and snapped up a prize 1930s teaset. And Maggie had bought some art deco glass-fronted wooden cabinets for Blue-belle.
Going to the auction wasn’t exactly what I’d felt like doing when I’d woken up that morning. I’d been stiff from a night on the sofa and it felt weird that Dan had already gone out. He plays football every Saturday morning, but normally we find time for a lie-in together with the papers before he heads to the park. This morning I’d slept late though, until just after eleven. I’d dashed to get myself washed and dressed in time for Maggie, who was picking me up in her car.
‘Shall we call it a day, go out on a high?’ I asked the others. I didn’t want to be a killjoy, but I was finding it hard to rustle up my usual enthusiasm for the teacup-hunt this morning.
‘Leave before we bankrupt ourselves, you mean?’ Maggie said. ‘Yes, that’s probably a sensible idea.’ ‘Tea?’ Alison said. We both nodded.
*
There was a makeshift stand in the adjoining room, which sold polystyrene cups of tea and coffee, and paper plates of cakes and raisin scones. We sat on plastic chairs at a wooden table and Maggie got her sketchbook out. With everyone else still at the auction, we practically had the place to ourselves. Our voices echoed off the walls.
‘The Mad Hatter’s tea party was always my favourite part,’ Alison said, as Maggie showed her some of her sketches for the wedding. ‘When he gets the measuring tape out to measure people’s heads for hats? I loved that. Anyway, I think filling the teacups with flowers is going to look great.’
Maggie spread our treasures out on the wide wooden table – so that we could all take a second look. The lady running the stand had raised her eyebrows a fraction as she brought over our teas and struggled to find a space to put our drinks down. Maggie moved the teacups aside to make room. She looked serene and elegant today, dressed in an emerald green shirt dress with simple gold bangles that jangled to announce her every move. Her hair was held back at the sides with vintage bronze hair-clips. But it wasn’t any of that which made her look so different today – it was the sparkle in her eyes; she seemed softer, magnetic.
I felt the opposite – tired, brittle and hurt after the row. Alison’s dark hair looked sleek, pulled back into a ponytail with a quiff styled forward, but my guess was that in spite of the make-up and her scarlet dress, she wasn’t at her best either.
‘Thanks for lending me the books, Jenny,’ Maggie said warmly, handing them back to me. ‘I think getting the details right will help give me the edge on Owen.’
‘I thought you said that the bride wanted to see you work better together?’ Alison said.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Maggie laughed, her hair glossy under the strip lights, ‘as long as I’m better when we’re working together.’
‘Maggie.’ I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘You’re all … radiant.’ I pointed at her cheeks. ‘You’ve got this glowy thing going on.’ She also seemed to have an irrepressible smile on her face. ‘Is there something you should be telling us?’
‘Ha ha. Sort of,’ she said, coyly. Alison and I exchanged a look.
‘Yeesss?’ Alison and I prompted in unison. By the looks of things Alison needed cheering up with some gossip as badly as I did.
‘Is it Dylan?’ I guessed. Maggie had mentioned that their meet had gone well, but she hadn’t given many details.
‘Yes, it’s Dylan,’ Maggie said, looking as if she might spill over with the news. ‘It’s a long story, and it’s early days, but I’m beginning to think this one might just have a happy ending.’
*
By the time Maggie had finished filling us in we’d drained a tea each and munched our way through flapjacks, a slice of carrot cake and a slab of millionaire’s shortbread. Alison and I had listened, rapt, as Maggie talked.
‘Like I told you, back when I met Dylan I thought him being The One would make it all go smoothly, but of course it didn’t. At all.’
Alison nodded in that knowing way she had.
‘But now I feel we’re meeting as two different people, people who know better what it takes to make a relationship work.’
‘Four years is a long time,’ I said, thinking back to the early days of my relationship with Dan.
‘It is,’ Maggie continued. ‘And I think we’ve both grown up, realised what it is we want and need. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, I suppose. I’m not sure that real love ever goes away.’
‘But doesn’t he live in New York?’ Alison said. ‘I mean, I don’t want to put a damper on things, but what does that mean, in terms of the two of you?’
‘New York is still his base, but he might be able to get a few jobs here in England over the summer. He’ll be in Charlesworth tomorrow, as it happens. He wants to see the shop, my house, my life here. I’ve said he can keep his stuff at mine while he’s travelling around,’ Maggie said, smiling. ‘So he’s not such a hobo, I mean.’
‘Wow, things are moving along pretty quickly,’ Alison was still smiling but she had a questioning look in her eye.
‘Life is short,’ Maggie replied, without any hesitation. ‘And we already know each other through and through. I don’t really see the point in waiting around any longer.’
‘Well he certainly sounds gorgeous,’ I said. New York, his photography, the passionate reunion Maggie had told us about … he did. Living in Charlesworth most of my life I hadn’t really met any men like that. ‘Before I forget,’ I said. ‘Sorry to change the subject, but I’ve got a date for your diaries – my hen night. Saturday July the eighteenth.’
I glanced at my phone as I spoke and the high I felt about my upcoming hen mixed with a sinking feeling when I saw the time. It was two o’clock. Dan hadn’t texted me after his football game. He always texted me.
‘Ooh,’ Alison said. ‘Your hen. Excellent. It’s been a very long time since I went on one of those.’ Maggie got her diary out and wrote it in.
‘Hey, isn’t that …?’ Maggie caught sight of someone out of the hall’s grand windows. I turned in time to see Pete walk by. Alison immediately put a hand up to her face and turned her head so that he wouldn’t be able to see her through the glass.
‘Alison!’ Maggie said, teasing. ‘Are you hiding from your husband? What’s going on?’
Alison wasn’t laughing though. The colour had drained from her face. ‘Don’t. I just want a break from everything today.’ Alison’s strength and confidence seemed to dissolve away in an instant.
‘But I thought things were going well,’ Maggie pressed her. ‘The offer from Jamie, the new café. You sounded really excited.’
I nodded. ‘It sounded great, Ali. Was Pete not keen?’ I asked.
‘You know what, it’s just not happening,’ Alison said, her voice flat. ‘I’ve told Jamie I can’t do it.’
I looked out the window and watched Pete’s back disappear from view. He was laughing, I realised then. And he was with a woman whose dark-red hair fell in waves.
Chapter 19
Maggie
‘But we can’t have people actually falling down a rabbit hole.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
She was at Joey’s café with Jack and Owen. Jack had gone to order sandwiches for their lunch, leaving the other two to discuss their ideas.
‘They won’t really be falling down it, Maggie,’ Owen said, speaking slowly like he was talking to a child. ‘It’ll be like a tunnel that they walk through. We’ll build sculpted archways and grow plants over them.’ Maggie listened, trying to picture it. She was struggling. As Owen talked, dark curls of hair fell across his eyes and he pushed them back.
‘A tunnel. And the wedding guests will be like moles in holes?’ Maggie challenged him, a childish urge to put down his ideas proving impossible to resist.
Owen closed his eyes briefly and breathed out slowly through his mouth before his eyes came to rest on her again. ‘Rather than grown adults hula-hooping, you mean?’
Maggie opened her mouth ready to let the insults fly. Just then Jack arrived back at the table, putting plates of sandwiches between them.
‘Was it the lychee and passion smoothie you wanted, Maggie?’ She nodded. ‘And apple juice for you, Owen?’ Owen nodded too, unable to hide his irritation with Maggie. Jack looked puzzled and turned back towards the counter.
Owen started to explain again, leaning towards her, his tanned forearms resting on the table. Maggie bristled. She hated having to keep quiet, but it was the only sensible thing to do. This boy must have been at least six years her junior, couldn’t have worked on nearly as many weddings … in fact, come to think of it, had he even worked on any? And yet he was patronising her? She felt the annoyance start to build up again. She bit her tongue, so that Jack wouldn’t see them at odds again – the whole point of the meeting was to show that they could get on.
The Vintage Teacup Club Page 12