Then Gabriella was setting off at a canter, and I followed. There was a great multicoloured host of friends and relations standing on the lawn (I couldn’t see Jed, but was that Gina in the puce jumpsuit? Christ, it was horrible) and there were Mike and Rob, impeccably suited, waiting beside the celebrant in front of the perennial border . . .
A collective sigh rippled through the guests as Anna came around the side of the house, and I felt Rob’s exultation like an electric shock. Delight at his delight mingled with a bleak little pang of loss. Once upon a time I was the most important person in Rob’s life. Oh, get a grip, I told myself fiercely. Mike winked at me, and I smiled back at him.
* * *
It was a nice service, I believe, although I can’t remember a word of it. It was followed by a clamour of hugs and congratulations, then by champagne, and finally by far, far more photographs than can possibly have been necessary.
It was while being assembled for a Leslie family portrait that I came face to face with my sister, Gina. Tall and very thin, with wraparound sunglasses, she looked like a large, puce-coloured praying mantis.
‘Hello, Maggie,’ she said, nodding to Mum. ‘Hi, Lia, how are you?’
‘Great! Hi! How lovely to see you!’ I’m always far too enthusiastic with Gina – a reaction to being uncomfortably aware that I don’t like her much.
‘Okay, let’s have the bride and groom, with Dad on one side and Mum on the other,’ the photographer called.
‘It’s a beautiful spot Maggie’s got here,’ Gina said, as they took up their places against a backdrop of dahlias and native grasses. ‘It must be worth a bomb.’
‘Yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it? So, what have you been up to? How’s the family?’
‘Oh, we’re all fine. Kane’s in Year 14, now – he’s right into archery – and Melissa’s doing really well with her languages. Are you still running your café?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s going well.’
‘That’s good. Dad was saying you’ve had a boyfriend recently who hit you. I’m really sorry to hear that.’
‘Thanks. It wasn’t quite like that – he was an ex-boyfriend, and his mental health wasn’t great . . .’
‘Remember, it’s much better to be by yourself than with someone who doesn’t treat you right,’ said Gina kindly.
‘Yep,’ I said shortly, somewhat ruffled by this vision of myself as someone who’d rather have an abusive boyfriend than none at all.
‘Okay, let’s have siblings too, now!’ said the photographer. ‘Mike, you stand beside Maggie – a bit closer, she won’t bite you. Put your arm around her. That’s it . . . And you, ma’am – what’s your name? Gina? Stand by your dad, please . . . Sunglasses off . . . And little Lia in front where we can see her. That’s it. Lovely.’
* * *
An hour and a half later, with cheeks that ached from smiling, I paused on the edge of the top lawn and scanned the crowd for Jed. He was talking to Hugh not far away, but it took me a good ten minutes to get there.
‘Hi!’ I said, reaching his side with a feeling of mild triumph. ‘How are you guys?’
‘Oh, we’re great,’ said Hugh. ‘That’s a nice dress.’
‘Thank you. How were the parmesan wafers?’
‘Don’t know. Haven’t come across one yet.’
‘You haven’t tasted one, or you haven’t seen any?’
‘Haven’t seen any.’
‘That’s funny,’ I said, looking around.
‘Lia!’ Mum hissed, appearing at my elbow. ‘They’ve forgotten to put the hors d’oeuvres out!’
‘Shit,’ I said.
‘Come on.’ And taking my arm she smiled distractedly at the two men, turned and rushed me across the lawn towards the house.
* * *
I made several more attempts to talk to my boyfriend over the next few hours, all of them unsuccessful. After handing round the nibbles and lighting a couple of hundred tea lights in the marquee it was time for dinner (the responsibility of a catering firm from Dairy Flat, thank heaven). There was no formal seating plan, but the bridal party sat on a raised platform at one end of the marquee. Then came the speeches – Anna’s father spoke long and inaudibly, and Mike spoke briefly and well. Rob, normally unfazed by public speaking or anything else, stood up, gulped, said hoarsely, ‘Thanks so much for coming, everyone, it’s wonderful to have you all here,’ and sat back down. On being kicked in the shin by his brother he got up again, said that Anna was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he couldn’t believe his luck, pushed his chair back too far as he sat down and went heels over head off the edge of the platform. His fall was nicely broken by the marquee wall, and he received a standing ovation from two hundred wedding guests.
* * *
Just before ten, carrying an envelope with the vital information of who had given what wedding present written on the back, I headed out of the marquee towards the house.
‘Yo, sis!’ said Rob.
I stopped and looked around, frowning.
‘Over here. On your left. Your other left.’
I located him eventually, sitting on a chilly bin in the shadows to one side of the marquee doorway, behind the ribbon-enhanced maple. He’d taken off his waistcoat and tie, his legs were stretched out in front of him and he had a beer bottle in one hand. Beside him, on another chilly bin, was Jed.
‘Hello, chaps!’ I said, surprised and pleased to see them together.
‘Beer?’ Jed asked, offering his.
‘No thanks.’ I skirted the maple and ducked under a guy rope. ‘What are you doing lurking out here when you should be socialising?’
‘Just taking a breather,’ said Rob. ‘Sit down; you’re making the place look untidy.’
I sat – on Jed’s knee, since I’d barely touched him for days. He slid an arm around my waist and I leant back against his shoulder with a sigh.
‘That’s some serious hairspray,’ he said, dropping his chin onto my crunchy hair.
‘Isn’t it, just? It did occur to me that if I got too close to a tea light I’d probably go up like a torch.’ I stretched out a foot and nudged Rob’s. ‘Good wedding, bro.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, and we lapsed into a weary and contented silence, listening to Fleetwood Mac mingling pleasantly with the buzz of conversation on the other side of the marquee wall. I slipped my hand into Jed’s, and he stroked the inside of my wrist with a forefinger.
‘Hey, Rob?’ I said after a while.
‘Hmm?’
‘How would you feel about Mum and Mike getting together?’
‘What?’ he said blankly.
‘I think he’s been in love with her for about thirty years,’ I said. ‘Imagine how awful it must be, being in love with your father’s wife.’
‘You sound like an episode of Days of Our Lives,’ Rob remarked, and I felt Jed smile against my hair.
‘Oh, be quiet,’ I said. ‘The thing is, Mum’s in love with him too, but they’re both too scared to do anything about it. I thought maybe if we sat them down and – oh, I don’t know – gave them our blessing, or something . . .’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Dad suddenly from the doorway of the marquee two metres away, and I froze in horror. ‘They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that kind of behaviour.’
‘Well, if that’s how they want to live their lives . . .’ Mum said vaguely. ‘It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?’
They hadn’t heard. They were talking about something else. I went limp with relief.
‘Yes, it’s gone off very well,’ Dad agreed, sounding, for once, quite pleasant.
Evidently encouraged by his tone, Mum said, ‘You know, Gray, we may have made our share of mistakes, but you can’t deny we have two great kids.’
‘They’re not too bad,’ said Dad, and Rob started in mock amazement. I grinned.
The grin vanished rapidly when Mum continued, ‘When I think of how easily we could have lost Lia last month . . . You do
realise that Robin and Jed saved her life?’
‘Come on, now, Maggie,’ said Dad uncomfortably.
‘That madman had her on the ground with his hands around her throat. The bruising was horrendous.’
Jed’s arm tightened to the point of discomfort around my waist, and Rob shifted on his chilly bin.
‘Well, she’s fine now,’ Dad said. ‘Bright as a button.’
‘No, Gray, she pretends that she is. What she’s been through has really damaged her.’
What? I thought indignantly.
‘What d’you mean “damaged”?’ said Dad.
‘She’s – she’s lost her innocence. She doesn’t assume things are going to be alright any more.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought she had much innocence to lose, myself. The way she carries on with that boyfriend of hers.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Mum sharply.
But, thank goodness, just then someone behind her cried, ‘Maggie! What a gorgeous dress!’
‘What the hell?’ Jed said as their voices faded back into the general hubbub.
‘Damaged?’ I added.
‘You seem alright to me,’ said Rob, standing up. ‘No worse than usual, anyway. Well, so long, kids; I’m going to find my wife. No carrying on, alright?’ He ducked under the guy rope and went back into the marquee.
‘Your father’s a dickhead,’ said Jed.
‘Yep.’
‘Anyone would think he’d caught us having sex in a toilet.’
‘I suppose he did see you kissing me yesterday,’ I said. ‘And then he may or may not have found a vibrator in my handbag.’
‘Why is there a vibrator in your handbag?’ Jed asked.
‘I bought it by mistake, weeks ago. I thought it was a box of condoms.’
‘And why is this the first I’ve heard of it?’
‘I forgot about it. Anyway, I wouldn’t have wanted to imply I wasn’t happy with the status quo.’ I kissed him and stood up. ‘I’d better take this list up to the house before I lose it. Want to come?’
‘Can we have sex in a toilet while we’re there?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’
He sighed. ‘It was worth a shot.’
We meandered up the path to the house, where I stuck the gift list to the fridge door and Jed evicted little Gabriella’s brothers, who had been sampling Mum’s collection of ancient and uniformly nasty liqueurs in the living room.
‘Coming home with me tonight?’ he asked, watching them slope off into the night.
‘Yes. I think Dad can make his own breakfast tomorrow morning.’ I yawned and looked at the clock; it was twenty past ten. ‘I wish we could leave now.’
‘Can’t we?’
‘I think we’d better hang around a bit longer. It’s poor form for the bridesmaid to slope off halfway through the party.’
We wandered back outside across the lawn, hand in hand. ‘It looked like you were getting on well with Anna’s Auckland friends,’ I said. It had been a great relief to see him talking and laughing through dinner – it’s horrible to take someone to a party where they know hardly anyone and watch them sit, bored, in a corner.
‘Yeah. That guy Nathan’s a good sort. Drives a Kingswood ute.’
‘Is that cool?’ I asked.
‘Extremely cool.’
‘Although not as cool as a 1990 Toyota HiAce with tinted windows.’
‘Well, no,’ he said. ‘Obviously not that cool.’
‘Jed?’ I said abruptly. ‘Do you think I’m damaged?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
‘Perhaps just a few minor scuff marks,’ he amended, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
I smiled. ‘Your first answer was better.’
‘Lia,’ he said, stopping suddenly and turning me around to face him. ‘I think you’re the most wonderful girl I’ve ever met. I hate that that arsehole hurt you, but it doesn’t make you any less wonderful. Okay?’
I threw my arms around his neck. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too. Let’s go home and have sex on the dining room table.’
I paused, torn between duty and inclination, at the head of the grass path that led to the marquee, and heard Mike’s voice somewhere below saying, ‘What was the name of that bloke who was looking for truck drivers to cart maize?’
‘Glen Jackson,’ said Mum. ‘His number’s in the book – I can look it up for you. But . . . but didn’t you have some tractor work lined up?’
‘Yes, if I want it.’
‘Not that it wouldn’t be lovely to have you up here,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Rob and Lia would be thrilled.’
‘Would you?’ Mike asked, his voice about two octaves lower than usual.
They’d be on us in seconds. Decisive action was clearly indicated. Grabbing Jed’s hand, I dragged him off the path into a patch of shadow behind a large rhododendron. It would have been a really good hiding place, I’m sure, had the ground just there not been thickly carpeted with dry, crackly leaves.
‘Who’s there?’ said Mum sharply, peering into the undergrowth. ‘Lia?’
‘Hi,’ I said in a small voice, emerging from behind the rhododendron.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Um . . .’
Jed emerged behind me, thus providing a perfectly logical, although deeply humiliating, explanation.
There was a brief, toe-curling silence, and then Jed said, ‘Right. Well, goodnight, guys. Lovely wedding. Thank you so much for having me.’
Taking my hand, he pulled me out of the garden and across the lawn.
‘Oh, God,’ I wailed once we were out of earshot.
Jed laughed.
‘It’s not funny!’
‘Yeah, it is.’
‘Jed, we can’t just leave.’
‘Yes we can. We are.’
‘But . . .’
‘I want to go home,’ he said. ‘I’ve hardly seen you for days, I’ve spent an hour tonight listening to your father whingeing about the wool industry, I’ve been propositioned by a terrifying woman in a shiny yellow dress –’
‘Melody,’ I said. ‘Wow. That’s quite a compliment. She has very high standards.’
‘So have I. Don’t interrupt.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Where was I . . . And tomorrow morning I have to drive to Thames and listen to Tracey either scream at me, or cry, or both. Please can we go home?’
I reached up and kissed him. ‘Yes.’
Chapter 31
We slept late the next morning and then went to the beach, where Jed bodysurfed and I bobbed languidly on the far side of the cool green breakers. Back home we made French toast and ate it on the deck, putting off all thoughts of cleaning up after two hundred wedding guests or driving to Thames to be shouted at for as long as possible. We put them off so successfully that it was ten o’clock before guilt drove us to our feet and out of the house.
As Jed’s van pulled up at the back of the café, Dad glanced briefly up through the kitchen window, then back down at his newspaper.
‘Ominous,’ I remarked.
Jed smiled. ‘Good luck.’
‘You too,’ I said, leaning over to kiss him.
I waved as he backed the van around, then turned and ran up the steps. ‘Morning, Dad.’
‘Good morning,’ said Dad, not bothering, this time, to lift his eyes.
‘Did you find something for breakfast?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
I put the plastic bag containing my bridesmaid’s dress down on the window seat. ‘Coffee?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Is Mike around?’
‘No.’
‘Well,’ I said, determinedly cheerful, ‘I suppose we’d better get down to Mum’s and start cleaning up. I’ll just go and get changed.’ The shorts I’d borrowed from Jed were somewhat precarious, liable to fall down if not held up.
* * *
We met Rob and Anna, looking crumpl
ed from lack of sleep but very cheerful, at Mum’s mailbox.
‘Good morning,’ said Anna, with a smile that turned into a yawn. ‘We’re late. Sorry.’ They had booked their honeymoon to start on Monday, so as to help with the clean-up.
‘So are we,’ said Dad dryly, as if he couldn’t have come at any time he chose.
We weren’t very late, as it happened. Convening at ten had been interpreted loosely by the entire cleaning committee; Ian and Deidre had beaten us by ten minutes and none of the other volunteers arrived at all.
Mum, her face pale grey, was in the marquee collecting empty bottles into a black plastic rubbish sack.
‘Sit down,’ Anna said, taking one side of the sack. ‘Or why not go for a walk on the beach for an hour?’
‘Of course not,’ said Mum, snatching back the sack as if it contained the One Ring.
Rob yawned, stretched and began stacking chairs. ‘Is Mike around?’ he asked.
Nothing.
‘Mum?’
‘Robin, I don’t know!’
Rob looked at her for a moment and then said, ‘Hey, Dad, how about backing that hire trailer across the top lawn so we can load up the chairs and tables?’
It was a good hour later when Anna and I, ferrying armloads of dirty table linen up to the house, found Mum weeping into a sink full of soapy water and wineglasses. As the screen door banged shut behind us, she jumped like a startled fawn.
‘Oh – girls,’ she said, with an absolutely pitiful attempt at a smile, wiping her eyes on a tea towel. ‘Ignore me, I’m just tired . . . It was worth it, though, wasn’t it? It was a beautiful wedding.’
‘It was perfect,’ said Anna gently, turning Mum from the sink and putting her arms around her. ‘Mostly thanks to you.’
The Pretty Delicious Cafe Page 27