As Jean arrives at his side, Idris grins at her.
“Happy birthday,” he mouths.
She smiles a small smile at him, looks down shyly at her feet and then back up at Idris. There are tears glistening in her eyes and he instantly feels tears pricking at his own eyes. They both turn to the minister, shaking a little with nerves and excitement, but eager to start their married life together.
*
After the ceremony, the wedding party walk to Parkwood for a celebration tea on the lawn. Miss Adelaide and her daughters help serve the champagne cocktails this time, while Jean and Idris have their picture taken on the stone steps leading up to the house. Janet and her Brockville family shower them with confetti and take dozens of photographs. Janet not only has a Canadian accent now but has taken on the mannerisms and even the look of her adopted sisters.
“She doesn’t even talk like me anymore,” Jean whispers at one point to Idris, the only point in the day when she seems sad. “She’s theirs now, not mine anymore.”
“Just like you’re mine now, not hers,” Idris says, kissing her full on the lips, “and you and I will make a family of our own right here in Oshawa.”
When the tea is over, Idris and Jean are driven in one of Colonel Sam’s fine McLaughln-Buicks to their house. Before Idris picks Jean up to carry her over the threshold, he stops and takes her hand in his. Gently he takes her finger and without saying a word, he draws a cross with it over his own heart.
Chapter 26
Gareth and Cassandra wait in line with the thousands of other tourists waiting to board the Maid of the Mist. Despite having seen dozens of images of it over the years, Gareth is still impressed by the sheer force of the thundering tons of water, the summer sunshine flashing off it and the deafening roar of the plummeting water.
The sun beats down on their heads. They don’t bother with the blue polythene capes emblazoned with images of the boat that they are provided with to shield them from the spray. Instead they stand holding on to the rail of the boat and listen to the stories of the people who went over the falls in barrels or walked over them on tightrope, letting the spray soak them through to the skin.
After they get off the boat, damp now and shivering despite the sun, their hair plastered to their heads, Cassandra leads them to a small grassy park area.
“Let’s sit down on the grass here and dry off.”
They lie down side by side in the hot sun. After a few moments she props herself up on one elbow and leans over to kiss him. He kisses her back and she hooks one leg over both his. He presses his erection against her thigh and she kisses him harder. He brushes his thumb over her t-shirt and feels her nipple stiffen.
“Come on,” she breathes urgently into his ear. “Let’s check into one of the love hotels.”
“The what?”
“Lots of motels all round the main strip in Niagara. Beverley is staying out of town tonight.”
The room they are shown to has a heart shaped bed strewn with rose petals. There is a jacuzzi in the bathroom.
“Classy room,” Gareth laughs as Cassandra pushes him onto the bed and straddles him, before lifting her arms to take her t-shirt off. She undoes her bra and Gareth reaches up to rub his thumbs over her erect nipples. They both moan. She unzips his trousers and lifts herself on top of him. He holds onto her waist as she moves up and down on top of him. Both of them come, quickly and hard.
“Amazing,” she says, collapsing panting onto his chest. “You’re fucking amazing. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I can’t get enough of you either,” he says, stroking her hair. “You’re an addiction.”
They venture out later on to the strip, and wander along the street with its tacky tourist shops and Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Odditorium. They drink beer and eat chicken wings together in a bar. Then they go back to the hotel and make love again, more slowly this time.
“You’re lovely,” Cassandra murmurs before falling asleep.
“You’re lovely, too,” Gareth whispers.
*
Rachel gives herself a stern talking to on the drive to Cardiff International Airport. She knows she is being unreasonable and tells herself that her husband is away earning money for the benefit of the family, her daughter is having an adventure with a very nice boy who clearly thinks the world of her, and her mother and Felix are good company, especially after a gin and tonic or two.
Cardiff airport is small and it only takes twenty minutes or so after a plane lands for the passengers to come through the arrivals lounge. Shortly after the Paris plane lands, Rachel spots her mother and Felix trundling their cases towards the car park ticket machine where Rachel usually waits when she picks her mother up from the airport.
“Hello, Darling,” her mother says, kissing Rachel on the cheek. She smells of Chanel No 5 with a faint undertone of tobacco. She is wearing biscuit-coloured tight trousers tucked into brown suede high heeled boots and some sort of poncho thing with a fur trim which to Rachel looks both faintly ridiculous but also impossibly glamorous. After years of buying all her clothes in Marks and Spencer, when her mother met Felix she suddenly became very keen on fashion.
“Hello Mum, Hello Felix.”
Felix too kisses Rachel on the cheek. “Salut, cherie. Ca va?” He is, as always impeccably dressed, in a grey pullover, dark grey jeans and highly polished black brogues. His skin is tanned and his thick white hair is neatly combed.
“Um, oui,” she says, in reply. Her French was always rubbish.
Rachel still feels a little awkward around Felix. Not out of loyalty to her father from whom she inherited her red hair but who died after a short fight with bowel cancer when she was four years old and Jocelyn was just two and whom, try as she might, Rachel cannot remember. Francesca grieved for a very long time after his death and became introvert and distant, using the life insurance money to put her daughters in boarding school from the age of eight and buying a run down place in France, the renovation of which took all her energy and time. So far as Rachel and Jocelyn were aware, their mother spent all her time out in France doing DIY and had no interest in meeting anyone else.
Then after so many years of being alone, she met Felix while buying cheese at the local farmers’ market. He had asked her which cheese was her favourite and then invited her for a coffee. They fell head over heels in love with each other in what seemed like a matter of days, possibly hours. It was as if someone had found the long lost charger for Francesca and had powered her up. The more time she spent with Felix, the more lively and beautiful and sexy she became. She became a wearer of suede boots and fur-lined ponchos, adopted Felix’s liking for smoking and gin tonique. And sex.
Jocelyn says it is as if their mother has had a personality transplant.
“It’s like we grew up with a Body Snatcher,” she complains. Rachel is delighted for her mother that late in life she transformed into a butterfly but does find it all a little unnerving.
“The sex is simply amazing,” Francesca had confided in Rachel when she first met Felix. “I don’t want to speak ill of your father of course, but it was never like that with him. At least not from what I can remember. It was all so long ago. I can honestly say I could stay in bed with Felix all the live long day. Don’t repeat that to Jocelyn though. I don’t think she approves of people enjoying sex.”
This sexual chemistry between Felix and her mother is not wearing off any with time. On the few occasions they have come to stay in Penarth since meeting, they see no reason to change any of their usual routine, taking long baths together and asking Rachel after lunch if she happens to have any massage oil before going off to bed for the afternoon. Nor do they see any reason to be quiet. The last time they came to visit and the rest of the family were in the living room watching sport on telly one late Saturday afternoon, the noise of their groans had reached the point where Eloise was miming retching and Nora had asked if anyone else could hear a cow mooing.
“Yes, that’s a cow all
right,” Rachel had answered. “It must be in a field nearby. It’ll be quiet soon I imagine, when milking’s over.”
“Good Lord,” Gareth had said. “Someone should really tell that farmer about the KitKat quickie.”
Rachel had thrown a cushion at him and gone off to the kitchen to start peeling vegetables and Gareth had followed her out and poured them both an enormous glass of wine. When Francesca and Felix came down to the kitchen later in search of an aperitif, they found Rachel and Gareth half sozzled and giggling together like teenagers.
But today Rachel will have to deal with her mother and Felix without Gareth around to help her see the funny side.
“Car’s this way,” she announces, and she leads the way, Felix and her mother following behind her like puppies.
*
“Glamma, Glamma,” Nora says, rushing to the door when they arrive to greet them. “You look beautiful as always.”
“Why thank you dear. I do so love it when you call me Glamma. So much less ageing than Granny.”
“I’m not going to call you Glamma, Granny” Iris says. “Just because Nora read it on some silly Instagram post. Dad says it’s just ridiculous anyway.”
“Does he now? Well your father isn’t here right now so I’ll take that up with him when I see him. Rachel dear, are we in your bedroom as you suggested?”
“As you suggested Mum, but yes, you are. Come on through to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on. Iris, take your grandmother’s bag upstairs for her.” Rachel is buggered if she is going to refer to her mother as Glamma either.
They find Grace in the kitchen, supervising Jake feeding himself his tea in the company of Jenny and Alastair and Daniel.
“Jenny and Alastair popped in for a cup of tea,” Grace explains. “If it’s if OK with you Auntie Rachel I thought maybe they’d like to join us for dinner. I’ve made plenty. Home made caramelised onion and goat’s cheese tart with a green salad. Home made sausage rolls for the children.”
“Of course it’s OK, all sounds marvellous.”
Francesca kisses her granddaughter hello. “How very accomplished you are Grace, and how very pretty you look.”
Grace looks a little embarrassed. “Hello, Granny, lovely to see you, and Felix, you too, of course. ”
Felix smiles at her. “I have brought some delicious wine from the cellar at home. Shall I pour us all a glass?”
“Yes please,” Rachel says.
*
After dinner, when Jake is in bed and the other children dispatched to the living room to watch television, Felix offers to make coffee and stack the dishwasher. The others sit around the battered kitchen table, drinking more of Felix’s wine. Felix has insisted that Grace try a glass but she has only taken a few sips.
“That was a fantastic meal.” Francesca congratulates Grace.
“Thank you. I’ve been helping out with the cooking a lot while I’ve been here. I really enjoy it. I love it when people like what I make and ask for more.”
“Jocelyn reckons Rachel has plans to adopt you!”
“That’s just a nice way of saying that Jocelyn thinks I’m treating Grace like an unpaid au pair, as she put it.” Rachel is tart.
“Oh she’s actually said that to your face has she? I thought it was just to me behind your back.”
“That’s not all Grace has been doing while here,” Jenny says proudly. “Why don’t you tell them Grace?”
“I don’t know…maybe later…”
“Come on now, don’t be shy. It’s something to be proud of!” Jenny cajoles.
“What is it! Don’t keep your grandmother in suspense!’ Francesca teases Grace.
“Ok, ok…” Grace is blushing. “Since Jenny and I met at Auntie Rachel’s book club—”
Francesca cuts in. “You go to book club Rachel? When did you start doing that?”
“Sh, Mum, ages ago, I told you about it. Go on Grace.”
“…well after book club Jenny recommended I should start keeping a journal, which I did, and from there I decided to have a go at writing a novel. And I have had a go and really enjoyed it…” She hesitates.
“We’re all on tenterhooks here,” Francesca urges.
“And then Jenny suggested I post a couple of chapters of my book up onto Wattpad.”
Grace sees the look of confusion on her aunt and grandmother’s faces.
“It’s an online writing community where you can upload your writing for others to read and comment on,” Jenny explains.
“And,” the words come tumbling out of Grace, “it’s currently top of the What’s Hot List and the first chapter’s been read 54,000 times!”
“Not only that,” Jenny adds, “the online community are posting hundreds of comments that they can’t wait for the next chapters.”
“It’s an amazing achievement,” Alastair says. “I’m really enjoying reading it.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Rachel says, getting up to hug Grace, who looks like she is going to pop with embarrassment and pride. “That’s fantastic news.”
“Your mother never even mentioned to me you were writing a novel!” Francesca exclaims. “I just spoke to her this morning and she only mentioned the au pair thing, not the writing.”
“I haven’t told Mum, not yet, and please don’t say anything, Granny. Not yet. I don’t want her to start bragging to all her friends that I’m some sort of junior J K Rowling and about to land a major book deal or something. I’m not. But I’m really enjoying the writing and all the positive feedback, so much so I can even cope with the critical comments.”
Felix, who has long since finished stacking the dishwasher, approaches the table with more wine.
“We should toast your success, Grace”, he says, topping up everyone’s glass. “Félicitations!”
“Thank you,” she smiles. “But no more wine for me, thank you. I don’t really like wine, I’m sorry.”
“Well, I love it,” Jenny says, leaning over and pouring the rest of Grace’s wine into her own glass.
“After all that excitement, I need to go outside and have a cigarette,” Francesca declares. “Tu viens, Felix?”
He nods.
“Ooh, can I come too and steal one off you?” Jenny asks. “And don’t start Alastair! It’s just the odd fag every now and then. Just don’t let Daniel see me.”
“Shut the door behind you!” Rachel calls after them. She and Alastair and Grace continue to sit at the table, watching the others as they smoke. Francesca delicately holding her cigarette away from her body, taking long languorous puffs every now and then, Jenny tucking herself around the corner out of sight and smoking very fast, already patting her pockets down in search of a chewing gum ready for when she finishes.
“You should tell your Mum about your book, Grace. About everything really. How you were feeling before and how you feel now. She loves you very much, you know. Your dad, too.”
“I know and I love them, but I’m not ready to say anything and I’m not quite ready to go home yet either.”
“You can stay here as long as you like.”
“Thank you, Auntie Rachel.”
The others troop back in from their fag break, smelling of smoke and fresh air, and in Jenny’s case Juicy Fruit chewing gum.
“He’s got a keen sense of smell our son.” Alastair comments, disapprovingly. “He can tell when you’ve been smoking you know.”
“He’s eight and he likes the smell of his own farts!” Jenny replies. “He hasn’t got a clue whether I’ve had a cigarette or not.”
“I’m going to put Nora to bed and read her a story and then go on up to bed myself, maybe do some more writing,” Grace announces. “Good night all.”
“We’d best push off too shortly,” Alastair says. “I’ve got work in the morning. I’ll go give Daniel a five-minute warning. And you’ve got a five-minute warning, too, Jenny to finish off your wine.”
While he’s gone, Jenny tops her glass up. “Ssh, don’t tell him. I’l
l drink fast.”
“So what do I need to do to get on this Wattpad thing to read Grace’s book?” Rachel asks.
“Just Google it and then register. Takes two ticks.”
“Is it very dark? Cathartic?”
Jenny smiles. “Don’t worry. She hasn’t written about her own life. It’s not dark at all. It’s set in the future but a bright sunny one, not post-apocalyptic or anything. It’s a teenage love story, basically, and the girl character is opinionated and eloquent and is one of a large family that live together in a big house by the sea and bear a very strong resemblance to the members of your family. But it’s funny and clever and touchingly romantic. She can really write. I wouldn’t say this in front of her, because I wouldn’t want to raise her hopes, but I think she might be able to get it published by a mainstream publisher.”
They hear the downstairs loo flush and Alastair returns to the kitchen. “Time’s up Jenny. Daniel’s asleep in front of the telly. I’ll have to carry him to the car.”
“Good night everyone – lovely evening. See you all soon.”
Rachel sees them to the door. When she gets back to the kitchen, Francesca is making peppermint tea using fresh mint and Felix is outside having another cigarette.
“Would you like a cup?”
“Lovely. Where did you find the mint? I didn’t know we had any.”
“Felix spotted a huge patch of it in the garden earlier. You really need to watch with mint, it can take over if you don’t keep pulling it up.”
“I haven’t got time for gardening, Mum.”
“I didn’t like to say so, but I can see that for myself, my dear.”
“Maybe I should ask Grace to make that her next challenge.”
Francesca smiles. “She’s obviously very happy here and a great help to you, too, but she does need to go back to Jocelyn and Nick eventually.”
“I do know that Mother, I’m not keeping her locked up here against her will.”
“I’m not suggesting you were. Jocelyn is my daughter and I love her but I can see her failings the same as anyone else. She goes on about Doha like it was Xanadu when it was nothing of the sort, or at least it wasn’t when I visited, and she puts a lot of pressure on Grace because she only has the one child on whom to pin her hopes. Whereas you have lots.”
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