“Mate, the wedding’s next month and you think this is the right time to be having this conversation?” Mark idly scratched at the label on his bottle.
“Bit too late to have it afterwards, isn’t it?”
“Bit too late to have it now. I had thought of breaking things off but, well, my other option didn’t work out so well.” Mark leaned back to get more sun on his face and close his eyes. “Besides, you have no idea how much preparation has gone into this. To be honest, I have no idea how much preparation either because Tammy and the wedding planner made all of the decisions, the magazines want their slice of the action and apparently there’s a platoon of designers that will scratch each other’s eyes out if their outfits clash. I’ve left everything to Tamara and Tarquin. My job is to turn up and say yes.”
“Just to say yes?”
“To everything. Yes to the suit that’s been picked out, yes to where they’re sitting my parents, yes to the release of a hundred doves that will probably have been starved for a week to make sure they don’t crap on the guests.”
James grinned. “The doves will still have eaten more than anyone from her side of the wedding party.”
“Point taken. Then there’s the grand dinner in some hotel whose name I can’t remember where we won’t be pictured cutting a cake because apparently that’s too pedestrian. She did tell me what we were cutting but I’d started zoning out just after she said I was going to need my teeth whitened before the official photos.”
“You can’t tell me you’re happy with all this,” exclaimed James, reaching into a bucket of ice next to him for another beer.
“I feel like I’m plunging into the abyss without a safety net,” said Mark.
“Perhaps it will be a comfortable landing?” James passed him a bottle.
“Thanks. Well, Tamara’s been on a month-long juice detox so it’s certainly not going to be a well-padded one.”
“I still don’t think it’s too late to back out.”
“Trust me, it is. My job is to turn up and say yes next week and your job as best man is to tell me everything’s going to be okay and drink beer with me until we both believe it.”
“That’s my job, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to keep passing you beers until we both believe that’s all there is to it?”
“Yes.” Mark smiled wearily. “See how well we’re doing so far?”
As far as Mark could remember, last night he and James had indeed reached the alcohol to sanity ratio where everything started to make sense. At some point during the night, however, the levels had dipped more heavily towards alcohol and he was now nursing a fierce hangover.
For some reason he was finding it particularly hard to pack his suitcases in readiness for Vegas. Tamara was perfectly capable of throwing away half his clothes once she saw them anyway but he still caught himself putting a top in and then taking a shirt out with depressing frequency. He was definitely making more mess than progress.
The phone rang while he was debating his sock choices. Although he could hear the phone ringing, he couldn’t actually find it at first and was forced to fling ties and boxer shorts to the ground, desperately tunnelling through the mountain of clothing on his bed while counting down the time before the call went to voicemail. Mark found it under a sweater.
“Hello?”
“Mark? Hi, son, it’s your dad here.”
“Is everything all right, Dad?”
“Hit a bit of a problem, I’m afraid. The air traffic controllers have gone on strike and all the planes are grounded. We’re so sorry, your mum’s in pieces, we’re not going to be able to get to the wedding.”
Mark sat down heavily on the bed. “There has to be another way to get you both there. How about a train into France and catch a flight from there?” He was already reaching for his laptop. “I can make the booking for you. How quickly do you think you can get to a train station?”
There was a long silence from the other end of the phone and Mark hesitated. “It is just the flights that’s the problem, isn’t it, Dad?”
“Well, the flight is the problem but… the thing is… Vegas is a big sort of place, isn’t it? Your mum and I were sent the itinerary through last week and, to be honest, son, we didn’t understand half of it. It’s not that we don’t want to support you, because we do, but we’re… um… we’re both feeling a bit uncomfortable with being part of such a showbiz type of thing.” Mark hung his head as his father started to babble. “Your mother’s been through three outfits and four trips to the hairdresser’s, she was so worried about letting you down. I bought a new suit but the itinerary Tamara’s office sent us went on about co-ordinating with each other and I’m not sure now if the suit is what you both were thinking of. And then the strike kicked off over here and it almost seemed like a sign that little minnows like us should stick to the shallow end of the pond and leave the razzmatazz to success stories like you and Tamara. We’re very proud of you, Mark, I bet with all your celeb friends and glitzy lifestyle you won’t even notice we’re not there. Please don’t be disappointed with us.”
Disappointment fought with guilt. Of course his parents wouldn’t have wanted to be sucked into the media frenzy; even a night out to the cinema was something that involved weeks of planning. To them Scotland was a foreign country, never mind that it was only five hours away by train; it was a miracle they went to Spain, never mind bought a flat out there. He really should’ve thought about how much stress the event would put them under.
Mark breathed deeply and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Dad; this whole thing has got out of hand.” He forced a chuckle. “Forget the wedding, I was looking forward to going on the slot machines with you like we did when we went to the seaside camping every summer. Who’s going to help me find the best machine if you’re not there?”
“When did you think we were going to get a chance to do that?”
“Well, we were both going to be there a couple of days before the wedding and I doubt Tamara wants me hanging around her while she gets ready. James is going to be there too, obviously, so I thought we could form our own little rat pack.”
“You haven’t seen the itinerary, have you? Your mum and I were booked into a spa until the wedding, getting fillers, seaweed wraps and make-up sessions. I don’t so much mind the idea of a wrap because the ones your mum picks up from the local shop are quite tasty, but fillers? Sounds like something you’d use for grouting - and don’t get me started on the make-up option.”
“Ah, no… point taken. Don’t worry about it, really. If it was a small intimate service it would be different but as it is I’ve never met most of these people and the ones I have I can’t really remember their names. When the dust has settled, how about we come over to see you and all of us go for a nice meal somewhere? Didn’t you say there was a Chinese round the corner from your apartment that did flamenco? That sounded like fun.”
Mark could hear his father exhale and in his mind could see his shoulders relax. “That sounds great; we’ll look forward to it. My battery’s running down; Mum sends her love and says don’t forget to send photos.”
“Will do; you take care of yourselves.”
Mark put the phone down on the bed next to him and listened to the silence of the house. Then he left a message on Tamara’s voice mail to let her know his parents couldn’t make it because of strike action. He would’ve liked to have spoken to her but recently her phone seemed to be permanently engaged.
Knowing Tamara, she would’ve booked his parents into that spa so that they looked better in the photos. She would have seen that as a caring thing to do because what else was more important than image? It would never have occurred to her that his father only used moisturiser on sun burn and his mother thought a manicure was dangerously risqué. Mark wondered when he’d last had a decent conversation with his fiancée about things that actually mattered.
Mark got up and continued
his packing. So his parents couldn’t make it; perhaps that was for the best. At least James and Kate would be there and there was no point dwelling on things he couldn’t do anything about. He wished he could see Pam before he left but he’d royally messed things up with her.
Andy sat on the hard plastic chair and concentrated on slowing his heart rate down to a beat that would allow him to at least speak with some sense of calm. He moved forward and took Laura’s cool hand, covering it with his two warmer ones, feeling the slightness of her fingers. She was wearing her wedding ring today. Andy could feel the cold metal hanging loose and the memory of when he had first slipped the ring on her finger flooded back like a soccer punch. He bowed his head and kissed the inside of her wrist.
He had sat on this chair, in this room, for more times than he could remember but this time felt so much more different to the others. The nurses had washed Laura’s hair and made some cosmetic touches, which was kind of them, but they needn’t have bothered. Andy swore that once this was over he would try to wipe out the past few months from his memory and if he ever thought of her sleeping again it would be when she’d been cuddled up in his arms.
“Well, my darling, the doctors tell me that it’s time I said goodbye to you and let you go. I don’t want to but I can’t force you to fight this thing any longer.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“I still remember the first time I met you, so clearly, at that dingy university bar. You were surrounded by hopeful philosophy students and when you caught me staring you winked at me. I was yours from that moment on, and every day I count myself blessed that you’d lowered your standards to slum it with me.
“I can feel you with me every day. Silly little things, like when something funny happens, I turn around to share it with you, see if you got the joke too, even though I know you’re not there. I probably think about you more now than when we first started seeing each other, and Lord knows I was obsessed back then. You are always in my thoughts and you always will be.” Andy choked back a sob. “No one else will even come close to you so I want you to promise to wait for me in heaven. No chatting up those beefy angels, OK? I’ll stick down here and give our daughter the best life for both of us but as soon as my body’s done I’m going to be right there by your side. I love you, Laura.”
Two nurses discreetly began to remove the tubes that connected Laura to the life support machine. As the last tube was removed they wheeled the machine away and pulled the curtain further around the couple. A doctor moved to Andy’s side and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It will be very peaceful, after about ten minutes her breathing will start to slow and she’ll gently slip away. I promise she won’t feel a thing.”
Andy nodded, suddenly exhausted, and the doctor disappeared to somewhere behind the curtain. He gazed down at his wife.
“Baby Suzie is with your mum today. Hilary wanted to be here to say goodbye for now but she just couldn’t in the end. Remember, I’m not saying goodbye either, more of a see you later.” He moved a wisp of hair from her face and briefly kissed her lips.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. There’s something about you that just radiates out and you never knew it. Remember our first holiday? We ended up stuck in the resort for the week because every time we tried to go on trips you had so much male attention it got annoying. But you were always so polite, even to that old guy who kept trying to give you flowers. I’m going to miss giving you flowers, this last year has been awful without you. I miss the way your hair gets stuck in the bath drain, that ridiculous face you pull when you put mascara on, even the way you burn spaghetti. I miss the you-ness of everyday life.
“I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t want to know how to live without you. You’re the best part of me and I’m nothing without you.”
Andy sat in silence, holding her hand and listening to her breathing. It slowed until he couldn’t hear it any more. Then there was a big gasp. Andy had been prepared for this but not what followed. Her chest moved slowly, he could hear her inhale, pause, exhale, pause. Repeat.
Laura was breathing independently.
June
Edward finished shaving carefully and used the new aftershave his wife had ‘found in the back of a cupboard’. He’d made a special trip to the barber yesterday and his short back and sides were looking pretty smart. It was a shame he couldn’t wear anything different, parishioners rather expected their vicar to be in a black top and dog collar, but, as he trimmed his nasal hair, he knew that today he had made a special effort.
It wasn’t only Penny that could get an overhaul, he thought as he slipped on the soft jumper she’d ‘discovered at a charity shop’ the other week. Oh no, there was one person in the village he knew for sure had a crush on him, and he knew that Penny knew too. This time his efforts would absolutely have her in knots; he would force her to be jealous if it was the last thing he did in their marriage.
As usual, Penny was hunched over her laptop in the kitchen. When Edward entered the room he could have sworn his wife had been looking at holiday clothes, but she quickly clicked onto a different page when she realised he was behind her.
A pot stood on the side, bubbling away, filling the room with a cosy aroma. She had recently started a cordon bleu cookery course; apparently a friend had been forced to drop out at the last minute and gifted Penny the place. The standard of their evening meals together had improved considerably. He was tempted to open a bottle of wine and see if she’d be agreeable to spending the evening curled up watching movies.
Penny’s phone buzzed and she laughed at the message. “Geoff says he’s just arrested a burglar who got wedged in the bathroom window when he tried to make a run for it. Apparently they have to get a builder in to release him!”
“Really? Look, how about this evening we just…” He was interrupted by another buzz on Penny’s phone.
“Oh no! Update from Geoff, the builder can’t come for another five hours and it’s started to rain. He wants to know if I could pop in on Ruth to check she’s OK. We weren’t doing anything, were we?”
“No, of course not. So you’ll be going over there again then?” There was an edge to his voice.
“Hmm.” Penny returned to her laptop screen.
“Fine. I’ve got a house call to make anyway. Maria, remember her? The overly friendly one that always makes me cakes when I go over. Well, she’s asked if I could visit one evening so if you’re going to see Ruth, again, I may as well see Maria. That’s fine with you, I presume?”
“Sure. Just be careful where you sit, she’s still waiting on that bladder operation and I think she could do with changing her incontinence pads more often.”
Edward slammed the door as he left, startling Penny and causing a packet of sugar to drop off a shelf. Sometimes it really was infuriating how she paid attention to everyone but him.
One of the waitresses gave Pam an urgent message from James as she was finishing up after the lunchtime business. She knew that Mark would have left for the airport three hours earlier and she was trying to keep herself busy without taking her bad mood out on her staff. She hadn’t been too successful so far and the waitress wasted no time in scurrying off to the kitchens after letting Pam know she needed to call the school.
Pam frowned and quickly made the call, silently grateful for another distraction, although that was a feeling that swiftly passed.
James sounded stressed but measured and told her that Libby was resting after complaining of stomach pains. However, the problem seemed to be getting worse and he told her that he thought Libby needed to go to hospital. The school was within dashing distance so Pam arrived at the same time as the ambulance.
The young girl was lying on the floor with a cushion under her head. Her face was grey and sweaty with pain and she was crying softly. Pam rushed over to her and stroked her tear-stained cheeks. Libby reached up for a cuddle but the slight movement caused so much pain that she crie
d out and went back to whimpering.
Feeling helpless and redundant, James said he’d look after Sam; all Pam needed to do was concentrate on Libby.
Even with blue lights and the siren on, the drive to the emergency room seemed to take an eternity; every bump in the road and every time they were forced to overtake caused Libby more agony. Pam would have given anything to take it away from her daughter and go through it herself. Libby was given pain relief in the ambulance but not enough to knock her out; until the hospital could identify the cause the paramedics were taking no chances.
She was sent into X-ray where scans revealed that her appendix was moments away from bursting and she needed to be operated on immediately. Pam found herself alone in a corridor. Her phone buzzed with a text from Mark, his flight had been delayed and he was bored. She texted back to say that Libby was in surgery. There was no reply.
Although she’d been told that a normal appendectomy took less than an hour, after two hours there was still no sign of Libby and Pam felt her heart lurch when a doctor came out to see her. Her brain filtered his words out into staccato snippets; the appendix had ruptured, there were complications, she would be in surgery for a while longer. The doctor promised to send someone out to give Pam any updates as they became available.
Pam felt her legs go and she collapsed into a chair. The thought of losing Libby was simply too big and scary for her to contemplate, her children were everything to her.
Just as Pam thought she’d go crazy from waiting for a nurse or doctors to come with news, Mark appeared, dragging his flight bag with him.
“How is she?”
Pam burst into tears and Mark instinctively put his arms around her. She clung to him until she felt able to speak coherently again. Breaking away, slightly self-consciously, Pam gestured to a couple of chairs for them to sit down on.
“So…how is she?” repeated Mark.
“She’s in theatre but there are problems. The doctor said they’d come out with an update when they’ve got more but I can’t bear this waiting; it’s tearing me apart!”
Love, Lies and Lemon Cake Page 17