The Engagement Party

by R J Gould

  ‘So all I need to do is speak with the Relate organiser,’ Henry surmised.

  ‘That’s Mrs Sherwood. Let me introduce you now, we can catch her just before they disband,’ the manager suggested, sensing a resolution to the predicament and an opportunity to significantly increase the anticipated revenue for the day.

  ‘Fiona, join the others and let them know that we’ve probably found a solution,’ Henry said as he set off with the manager. Fiona beamed at Henry then did as she was told, heading off towards the bar. She was desperate for a gin and tonic.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to deal with you, sir. Rather a contrast to the other gentleman, if you don’t mind me saying,’ the manager added as they walked along a poorly lit, claustrophobically narrow corridor with royal blue walls and navy carpet.

  ‘No, I don’t mind at all. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve met him socially. I have heard rather a lot about him and I can’t say that today’s behaviour has done much to dispel what’s been said,’ Henry replied.

  On the door ahead of them, an A4-sized hand written flyer was attached with Blu-Tack.

  Relate Southern Branch Workshop

  ‘Recognising early signs of relationship difficulties: response strategies’

  Sunday 23rd January at The Manor Lodge Hotel, Worplesdon

  Cost of £20 to cover room hire and lunch

  Just as the manager’s fist was descending to knock, the door opened and he stumbled forwards. Henry grabbed hold of him. Nine women and one man paused to observe the two men locked in an embrace before brushing past them, resuming their animated dialogue. Henry correctly assumed that it was Mrs Sherwood who remained in the room, clearing up the morning’s paperwork.

  ‘Have you had a good morning?’ the manager asked.

  ‘Yes, excellent,’ replied Mrs Sherwood, a middle-aged lady with long, grey hair reaching well down her back. Her royal blue costume matched the walls of the outside corridor.

  ‘May I introduce you to, err …’

  ‘Henry. Henry Derbyshire.’ He extended his hand and they exchanged a firm shake.

  ‘What can I do for you, Mr Derbyshire?’

  ‘I’m with a small party to celebrate an engagement. Just the parents and one additional child, plus the couple, of course. Unfortunately, there’s been a mix up on our behalf and your group has taken the dining room we hoped to use. I must stress that it is our mistake but would it be possible for a second table to be put up so that we can dine in the same room? There needn’t be much overlap at all, we would be on starters while you were finishing your main course.’

  Mrs Sherwood replied with a friendly smile. ‘I can’t see any problem with that. We might be chatting about relationship difficulties during the meal, but I’m sure we won’t be revealing secrets,’ she jested with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Well, if you really don’t mind, I would be indebted to you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘I’d better get the staff going on preparing your group’s table. Do excuse me,’ said the happy manager. He exited, leaving Henry and Mrs Sherwood together.

  ‘Are you the father of the young lady or the young man?’ she asked.

  ‘Neither. I’m the stepfather of the girl, Clarissa. There are four parents and four stepparents and the way things are going we could be a study group for you.’

  Henry was joking when he said this, but Mrs Sherwood seemed to be seriously considering the option. ‘No, I don’t think it would be appropriate to analyse you when you should be celebrating. I had better join the others.’

  Henry followed her to the reception area, where she turned left to make her way to the dining room while he went to the right to get to the bar and announce his success. The guests were sitting in a circle chatting away – everyone except Reginald and the man who had to be either Wayne’s father or his stepfather. Reginald was sitting on a high stool at the bar looking down at the others. The second outsider was alone at a table, well apart from the rest of the group, facing away from them and staring at the blank wall. When Henry announced the outcome of his negotiations he got a little cheer from the circle and noted with pride that even Clarissa had joined in.

  Within a few minutes the manager returned and invited the guests to follow him to the dining room. He paused as he walked past Reginald. ‘You must be delighted that thanks to this gentleman all is resolved. Now you can relax and enjoy your celebration.’ This pseudo polite dig infuriated Reginald but there was nothing he could do to counter the sarcasm. He would only seem an utter fool if he reverted to yelling again.

  As they made their way to the dining room Carol approached Lil, who was at the rear of the group.

  ‘Time to stop texting, Lil. Switch off the phone at the table, you can’t be rude.’

  ‘I know, Mum, just the one to Matt then I’m finished.’

  She had been giving Matt a running commentary of events since they’d met up with her dad and Margaret. His football had been cancelled because of the weather. She could have told him that would happen before he’d set off, but at least it meant she could message him.

  Finally off to eat, one of Clarissa’s family sorted it. Wanker’s kept away from everyone. Mum in great form, chatting away. Speak later.

  Lil set her phone to silent and caught up with the others just as they were entering the dining room. She stopped abruptly, in awe of the grandeur. She had never been in a room like this except at a museum on a school trip. Three walls were covered with giant paintings encased in ornate golden frames. They were all portraits. Several of the men in them had those long white curly wigs that were fashionable in the past. She wasn’t quite sure when. The women had elegant, off the shoulder gowns. Bottle green was quite a popular colour, and their necks were decorated with dazzling jewels. Her favourite picture was of a woman with her young daughter on her knee. Both were smiling and the girl had a look of pride to be there. Lil was excited by what she saw, and resolved to use her phone to take photos then elaborate the mood for her next fashion project.

  The group they were to share the room with were already seated at a large, round table and were chatting away noisily while eating. Lil noticed that the one man in the group was speaking the loudest and looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. Their own party had assembled in an untidy circle by their table, no one yet sitting. There was a shiny silver tablecloth, with loads of cutlery and three differently sized and shaped glasses at each placing. It was big enough to comfortably fit the eleven dark wood chairs with their fancy carved backs.

  Lil joined the others and stood next to Carol. Clarissa had worked out the table plan in advance and intended to put out name labels. The mess up prevented her doing so and she’d forgotten what had been decided. Now she needed to improvise, working out how to get partners sitting together but as far away as possible from ex-partners. It was a noble if initially flawed effort involving statements such as ‘would you like to sit there, Carol?’ chased by revisions like ‘no, wait a minute, can you move two seats to the left?’ Finally, everyone was settled in a seemingly appropriate position – of course, Clarissa didn’t know that certain members of the group had little desire to sit next to their current partners, in particular Carol next to Jack. A waiter appeared and took their orders for prawn cocktail, duck pate, or onion soup.

  Jack had perked up with the help of a couple of pints of lager and he decided to give it a go socialising. Since his wife was ignoring him he turned to the woman to his right. She was nice looking, if it wasn’t for the neck brace and the arm in a sling.

  ‘What’s happened to you then, darling?’ he asked.

  This was not the best opening of a conversation for Suzie as she fought to contain her anger at being called darling by a complete stranger. ‘It’s a long story. I’d rather not talk about it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  A plate of duck pate with little triangles of multigrain toast was placed in front of Suzie. Jack received his prawn cocktail with fingers
of white bread. He called across to the waitress. ‘Miss, can I ’ave some extra mayonnaise for this?’

  Jack watched Suzie struggle to keep a triangle still while she put some pate on it with just one functional hand available. He stretched across and grabbed the knife from her. ‘’Ere let me help you with that, love.’

  ‘I can manage myself, thank you,’ Suzie snapped as she twisted her body to snatch her knife from his grip, sending a shooting pain down her left arm.

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  The waitress arrived with Jack’s mayonnaise. Having placed the spoon that came with the bowl on the table, he turned the container upside down and let the contents tumble onto his prawn cocktail. ‘That’s better.’ Using a dessert spoon he took a large mouthful of his starter and shovelled it in, leaving a globule of sauce on the tip of his nose.

  ‘I didn’t know Christina had a sister,’ he remarked in a renewed attempt to socialise.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Wayne’s woman.’

  ‘It’s not Christina, it’s Clarissa.’

  ‘Of course, Clarissa. Must be a Freudian slip.’

  ‘I don’t think it has anything to do with Freud,’ was Suzie’s icy reply. Rescue me, please someone, rescue me, she silently implored.

  ‘You don’t half look alike you two.’ Jack persisted as he examined her cleavage. ‘But I thought she was an only child.’

  A fuming Suzie remained silent.

  Jack continued. ‘Nice girl like you, I’m surprised you ain’t got no partner yourself.’

  With difficulty Suzie turned to face him and glared.

  With embarrassment, Jack realised the possibility of an error. ‘Oh, I get it, it’s permanent innit, your neck? You poor thing, I can see how it would put any bloke off.’

  Had she had the physical capacity at that instant, Suzie might well have hit Jack despite the cordiality of the occasion. She’d slapped some men in the past, but that wouldn’t be good enough for this moron. She wanted to try her first ever punch.

  ‘Actually, Clarissa is not my sister. I’m her father’s partner and I’d welcome not having to talk to you anymore.’ She turned away and Jack was left without anyone to speak to.

  Lil’s phone vibrated. She’d finished her prawns so there was no need to hang around. Anyway, there was lots more to tell Matt having overheard Jack‘s chat with Suzie. ‘Back soon,’ she whispered to her mum and was off before she got a reply. She headed for the exit but it was snowing again so she decided against going outside. The manager was at reception and looked across suspiciously as Lil stood in the foyer working out where to go. She decided that the toilet was the best place to get some privacy. Once inside she sat in a cubicle to get on with texting.

  How’s it going Matt had written.

  Wanker thinks Neck Brace is Barbie’s sister, she replied. Apart from her mum, dad, Wayne, and Margaret, everyone had been allocated nicknames.

  Back at the dining table Margaret and Thomas were partaking in synchronised onion soup drinking. They finished together and rested their spoons in their bowls with simultaneous clinks.

  ‘That was tasty, wasn’t it,’ Thomas remarked.

  ‘Lovely,’ agreed Margaret. Then she put her arm around him, surprising Thomas with this unusual show of emotion in public. She’d had a sweet sherry in the bar and had already drunk a considerable part of her glass of white wine at the table. Thomas feared it had got the better of her as she put her mouth up against his ear.

  ‘I’ve decided something,’ she whispered. ‘As soon as we get back I’m going to try and find my girls. They might not want to see me, that’s up to them, but I’m going to give them the opportunity to meet their mother. Who knows, perhaps they could do with some help.’

  Until that moment Thomas was undecided whether he would like her to do that or not, but when Margaret told him he was filled with a rush of joy. He faced her, grinning broadly, and planted a kiss on her lips. She smiled back and gave him a return kiss. All this affection was taking place just as Carol happened to be looking across the table at her ex-husband with a feeling of regret that she had treated him so badly. There was self-pity in there too, what with her ending up with Jack. Although she was pleased to see him and Margaret so happy, it also hurt and before she could control her emotions, tears were streaming down her cheeks. She had to get away to restore calm, dry her eyes, and reapply make-up.

  She stood, picked up her handbag, and made her way towards the ladies. All this emotion was apparent just as Fiona happened to be looking across at Carol. She liked her. They hadn’t spoken much but she seemed a pleasant enough, down to earth woman. It was a shame to see her upset when they were there to celebrate so Fiona got up and followed Carol, hoping she would be able to console her over whatever the problem was.

  Lil was aware of the door opening and was all set to flush the toilet and leave the cubicle when she heard it open a second time and Clarissa’s mum ask, ‘are you OK?’ Then her own mum answered, ‘not really.’ Lil reckoned that it was probably best to stay seated and hidden.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Fiona asked.

  ‘Seeing me ex look so happy set me off. Not that I mind him being happy, he’s a good man and it’s not even that I want him back. It’s just that my own marriage is such a mess.’ Carol went on to explain about receiving the photograph, then about the long list of other things that disgusted her about Jack. She hadn’t thought of the word “disgusting” to describe Jack before, but when she used it now it felt just right. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? How something you think you like in a man suddenly appals you. And then nearly everything they do and say bugs you, and picking faults becomes an obsession. So maybe I should have stayed with Thomas, not exciting, but kind and reliable,’ she continued. ‘And all the time I think how my decision to leave Thomas has messed up Lil’s life too.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, your daughter seems a lovely girl. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.’ Carol began to wipe off her soggy runny mascara as Fiona spoke. ‘It’s not easy is it, a second marriage? Reginald walked out on me and I was desperate not to be alone. Along came Henry and I suppose he was a bit like your Thomas. Comfortable, that’s a good description. Absolutely unexciting but comfortable.’ Fiona looked across as Carol applied new make-up. Boots own brand, she noticed. ‘It’s only a few months into my marriage and I’m not sure I can stay with Henry. He certainly cares for me, over cares, really. In fact, he’s so fussy it drives me mad. But what can I do, end marriage number two and look for a third? Or just give up?’

  ‘He’s done well today, your Henry, what with getting us the room. He’s a real gentleman. Not like mine. I’ve definitely made up my mind about my marriage. I’m not staying with Jack. And I don’t think I’ll be going for a number three.’ And with that, all her effort at redoing her make-up came to no avail as she started crying, and once again smudges of black drifted downwards from her eyes.

  ‘Mum,’ announced a soft voice from one of the cubicles.

  ‘Lil? What are you doin’ in there snooping?’

  Lil flushed the toilet to suggest respectability and came out. When she saw her mum’s sorry state she flung her arms around her and squeezed her tightly. ‘You leave him, Mum, that’s fine with me. I’ll help you get through it.’ And then Lil started to cry like maybe she should have done when her dad had left. Actually, she had cried plenty but she hadn’t let her mum see.

  A few minutes later the three of them re-entered the dining room chuckling away, faces made up to the nines. Two waitresses were clearing the starter plates, defying the laws of gravity as they piled cutlery, crockery, and serving bowls onto their extended arms. The waiter was weaving in between them, taking orders for the next course.

  Everyone - Main Course

  One of the waitresses approached, balancing two dishes on her right arm and holding a third. ‘Who ordered pork chops à la Flamande?’ There were three raised hands and she passed them out. ‘Madam. Sir. Sir.’

&nbs
p; ‘Another red wine please, miss,’ Reginald ordered, holding up his empty glass close to her face as she walked past.

  ‘No you don’t,’ Suzie countered.

  ‘Suzie, I’ve only had one. A second won’t hurt.’

  ‘You had a whisky at the bar. You need to stay sober to work out how we’re going to get home. Ignore that order, please.’

  The waitress hovered, then in response to a determined glare decided to side with Suzie and walked off.

  She returned a few minutes later with a colleague, each carrying two asparagus and pea risottos. Having set the plates down the pair briefly left the room before coming back with their third delivery, lemon sole. Now everyone began eating, except Jack, who had started on his pork chop as soon as it was put down in front of him and had finished by the time the fish orders had arrived. ‘Nice pork,’ he said to no one in particular, his attention fixed on the neighbouring table.

  The Relate man had stood up and was following the direction sign to the cloakrooms. Jack got up and pursued him, keeping what he considered to be a respectable distance between them. When the man went into the Gentlemen’s Cloakroom Jack waited outside. He stayed there for a timed minute before entering. The bloke was still at the urinal, so Jack stood and watched, thinking it best not to strike up a conversation while he was pissing. But the attempted tactic of decency didn’t work. The man did up his trouser zip, turned, and faced Jack.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing, watching me like that?’ He had a strong Scottish accent. He brushed past Jack to get to the washbasin.

  ‘Lucky sod, mate,’ Jack said in a bold attempt to strike up friendly conversation.

  ‘What do you mean?’