The Waitress

by Melissa Nathan

  “So!” said Hugh so suddenly and loudly when the tape finished that she would have jumped if she’d been physically capable of moving. “How’s the famous ‘café’ going?” By now, Katie was frightened to open her eyes, let alone her mouth. She decided to let Dan do the talking. He was in the best seat, after all.

  “Dan?” Hugh turned to look at him, swerving the wheel as he did so. Katie felt her breakfast lurch up into her chest.

  “Mm?” said Dan weakly.

  “How’s the wonderful café going?”

  “Fine thanks.”

  “I think you’ve done a marvellous job,” Hugh said. “Absolutely marvellous. You’ve shown real balls.” He let out an enthusiastic burst of laughter. “You know what I mean? Real balls.”

  “Thanks,” managed Dan.

  “Mon plaisir, capitaine,” smiled Hugh, “mon plaisir.”

  Now Katie felt really sick.

  “And it’s a lovely little café,” continued Hugh. He suddenly sat bolt upright, and leaned over to the glove compartment in front of Katie. He pulled out a map-book and threw it on to her lap. “Right,” he said. “I need directions from here.”

  “Hugh,” Katie sat up. “You know I can’t read maps.”

  “I know!” cried out Hugh. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  “But we’ll end up in Wales.”

  “Right, there’s a roundabout coming up soon,” said Hugh patiently. “Do I go right or left? It’s easy, right’s the one on the right. Left’s the one on the left.”

  “And Pillock is the one behind the wheel.”

  Hugh laughed good-naturedly. “You see?” he said. “Just like old times.”

  Katie turned round to Dan, who gave her a wobbly smile. She pleaded silently with him, but he raised his eyebrows in mock ignorance. “We’ll get there faster if you do it,” she mouthed. He sat up and grabbed the map from her.

  When they arrived at the hotel, they had just over two hours to get ready before the wedding was due to start. Or in Katie and Dan’s case, one hour to be sick, one hour to recover and ten minutes to get ready.

  As they drove, jerkily, up to the hotel they were momentarily hushed. Ahead of them stood a fourteenth-century castle, turrets stretching up to the aqua sky, swans floating round it in the moat below. They pulled themselves out of the car rather unsteadily and crunched over the gravel to the entrance where they were signposted to the cozy reception desk.

  Had there been any doubt in anyone’s mind that a wedding was taking place here this afternoon, all doubt now vanished. Had there been any doubt that daisies were the theme of this wedding, all doubt now vanished. The hotel was adorned with daisies: the imposing oak-banisters that spiralled from entrance hall to dining room and beyond were bedecked with them; every low, oak-beamed door (complete with attached cushion for those who might forget to bend) was smothered in them; in the small, private lounges, the vast fireplaces were festooned with them. There was a summer wedding here and daisies were the theme.

  Hugh became jittery with excitement. He unwrapped one of the boiled sweets in the bowl on the check-in desk and popped it into his mouth and then took a quick look round the place, while waiting for the receptionist to confirm their details. Some of the other wedding guests were also checking in and Dan and Katie smiled at people holding overnight bags and carrying creaseable outfits over their shoulders. Old college friends who had not been seen since the engagement party were greeting each other with whoops of delight, claims of great excitement and then uncomfortable silences.

  “Right,” the check-in receptionist smiled briefly at them both and held up a key. “Suite Number 121. Luxury four-poster bed as requested.”

  “Oh no,” said Katie quickly. “We’re not together.”

  “No,” said Dan half under his breath. “She’s with the buffoon in the lounge eating the Murray Mint.”

  Katie gave him a haughty glance. “You mean the buffoon who gave you a free lift all the way here?”

  “You’re right,” said Dan mildly. “I meant the ‘bastard’ in the lounge.”

  They stared at each other until the check-in receptionist gave a practiced little cough, and Dan started giving his details. It turned out that he was in Room 120 opposite, so after Hugh had found them again—“I’ve just seen Todd Jackson! He’s completely bald!”—they climbed the thickly carpeted main stairs and then a narrower winding stairway.

  “You’ve got the four-poster you requested,” Dan informed Hugh.

  “Excellent,” beamed Hugh, which hadn’t been quite the response Katie had expected. “Have you got one too?”

  “Don’t know yet,” said Dan.

  “What a shame Geraldine’s missing all this,” said Hugh.

  “Yes,” said Dan. “She’d have loved the drive down.” Katie had to stifle a smile. They reached their doors and Dan turned on his heel to face them both. He was holding his uncrushed dinner jacket and shirt behind him on its hanger, his hair slightly ruffled, his cheeks flushed, his head slightly cocked to one side. Katie looked away, stared at her closed door and then looked back.

  “Well,” said Dan. “Enjoy the four-poster.” He gave Hugh a boyish wink and then turned to unlock the door to his room.

  Katie stood looking at the suite, feeling suddenly glum. It was spectacular. The windows did not merely have curtains, they were garlanded with them. The bed did not merely have a quilt, it was swathed in fabric. The bathroom did not just have a bath, it had a small swimming pool. She was standing in the middle of the bathroom, performing a 360-degree stare, when she heard Hugh curse loudly. She came back into the bedroom to find him sitting on the four-poster, his travel bag beside him, holding an envelope. She was about to remind him that he had promised he’d sleep on the couch when she realized he was pale. She walked nearer.

  “Hugh?”

  He waved the envelope dismally at her.

  “It’s Maxine’s writing,” he said. “She’s here already.”

  Katie hadn’t given it a moment’s thought that Hugh had been driving toward a confrontation with Maxine. No wonder he’d wanted Dan to join them. Safety in numbers. He’d probably have asked the rest of the café if they’d been invited. She sat next to him on the bed and looked at Maxine’s writing. She wasn’t giving much away. Smack bang in the middle of the envelope was the letter “H.”

  “It was her nickname for me,” said Hugh, miserably.

  “It might be nice,” she said hopefully. “Come on.”

  He opened it and while he read it, she held his hand, looking away. He sighed heavily. “Oh God.”

  “What?”

  He gave her the letter.

  H,

  I thought it best to let you know that I’m here with David, my boyfriend. I didn’t think he’d get a late invitation, but Sandy called this morning to say that Geraldine wasn’t coming, so she had a spare space. It means swapping a few people around, but she did it. She just wants everyone to be happy on her big day. As do I. I hope you can find it in yourself to be happy for me.

  See you at the altar. I’ll be the one in lilac.

  M.

  They sat in silence until eventually Hugh said, “He was my carpenter.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s a good carpenter.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not very punctual.”

  “Mm.”

  “That’ll annoy her after a while.”

  “Good.”

  “Our bedroom’s lilac.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s the only room in the whole bloody house I like.”

  Katie smiled. “I’m surprised she didn’t wear magnolia.”

  He gave a half-hearted chuckle. Then he held her hand and thanked her for being there with him. She squeezed his hand and told him it was her pleasure. Then he hugged her and said he didn’t know what he’d have done if he’d been there on his own. She hugged him back and said it was her pleasure. Then he rested his head on her shoulder, and she got up to quickly
unpack her outfit.

  They arranged that Hugh would get ready first because Katie’s dress was so tight she wanted to get in some extra breathing before putting it on, but as the length of Hugh’s baths had been legendary at uni, she asked for the bathroom first for a quick shower. At this he promised her that he didn’t mind if she wanted to share bathroom time with him, and she told him to quit while she still felt any sympathy. Then he gave such a heart-wrenchingly sincere apology that she felt sorry for him all over again. When she came out, she lay on her bed in an oversized towelling robe, channel flicking, while he submerged himself for so long she thought even his internal organs must have gone wrinkly.

  As she heard a bold knock on the door she assumed Hugh had ordered some drinks and jumped up eagerly. “Ooh,” she called to him, as she opened the door excitedly. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Doubt it,” grinned Dan, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame.

  They both stepped back, Katie’s hand instinctively jumping up to her robe.

  “Hello,” she said in a small voice, the towelling feeling suddenly very thin.

  Dan glanced behind her into the room before speaking. It transpired that Sandy had set off a phone chain round the hotel to all her friends, pleading with them to pop up in turn and see her before the ceremony.

  Katie’s eyes widened. “But I’ve just found Big Brother Live on Sky TV.”

  “Wow!” said Dan. “Hard to resist. Or we can go and see Sandy before she gets married.”

  She gave a squeal and a little jump before instructing him to wait outside for two minutes while she got dressed back into her travelling clothes. When she opened the door again, he went off at some speed down the corridor, only talking to check if she’d told Hugh and left the name of the next person on the chain for him to call. Of course she had.

  Sandy’s door was ajar and, as they approached, the moment suddenly overcame them. They gave the door a tentative knock and pushed it slightly.

  The room was vast with an enormous double bed and there were flowers and presents strewn everywhere. In the background, Big Brother was on and three women in big hats, flowing dresses and stiletto heels stood watching it intently. As a toilet flushed in the bathroom, the woman in the middle zapped off the television and flung the remote somewhere on the bed. Then all three turned round and spotted the newcomers.

  “Hello!” said Katie quickly. “I’m Katie.”

  “And I’m Dan.”

  “Aha!” said Sandy’s mum, clapping her hands. “I’m Barbara. You must be Katie Simmonds and Daniel Crichton! Table 12. By the bay window. We had a last minute shuffle after Geraldine Harris phoned in sick and Maxine White brought David Barker along. It means Uncle Bob’s now near the band, but he’s deaf so he won’t notice…”

  “We don’t know what we’re going to do with her after the wedding,” confided Barbara’s older sister and they all laughed, a little too loudly.

  The bathroom door opened and Sandy stood framed there.

  Katie gasped. She’d never seen a bride this close up before. The dress was an exquisite tight, beaded number in ivory silk. The bride’s face was magnolia.

  “Look!” exclaimed Barbara in a high-pitched voice. “Daniel Crichton and Katie Simmonds! Table 12, near the bay window!”

  Sandy stared at them. “Hi,” she said weakly.

  Barbara nudged her sisters and they hustled past Katie and Dan, with manic grins. Barbara stopped when she got to them and in a stage whisper said that the bride had a few pre-wedding nerves, and then closed the door behind her with a resounding click.

  Sandy stared at them. Her hair was up in a bun, tiny white daisies round its base and a short veil hanging down to her shoulders, with matching daisies sewn into its hem. She was about half the size she’d been at her engagement party. Her collar bone looked as if she’d swallowed a hanger and a patchwork of blue veins showed through her almost translucent skin. Her large blue eyes suddenly filled with tears.

  “What the fucking fuck am I doing?” she whispered.

  Katie ran to her and, stopping short of hugging her in her dress, squeezed her bare arms. Dan stood frozen to the spot as Katie slowly guided the almost paralyzed Sandy over to the bed.

  “I mean,” she breathed, sitting on the bed. “For fucking fuck’s sake…”

  “You’re going to be fine,” soothed Katie.

  “Maybe today,” whispered Sandy, “But what about tomorrow? And the day after that? And next year? And the year after that? I need a cigarette. They’re on the table.”

  “You’ll be fine,” said Katie, passing her the pack.

  “How do you know?” Sandy’s hands shook as she lit up. “I mean you’re not exactly Commitment Queen yourself, are you?”

  “Sweetheart,” soothed Katie, “I won’t take that personally.”

  “I didn’t mean it personally,” Sandy held her hand tightly and took a deep drag on her cigarette. “I’m in shock.”

  “I know. You’re doing fantastically. You just have to take it one day at a time.”

  “He doesn’t shower before he goes to bed.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “The man I’m about to marry.”

  “Simon?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Well, tell him to.”

  Katie looked over to Dan for support. He was still where she’d left him, rooted to the spot, and staring rigidly at Sandy.

  “How can I?” asked Sandy. “I’m about to publicly relinquish all rights.”

  “No you aren’t!” said Katie forcefully. “You’re about to publicly declare how much you love him.”

  “Same thing.”

  There was a pause as Sandy inhaled deeply.

  “You look stunning,” said Katie.

  “Thanks,” said Sandy, flicking ash on the carpet. “Bloody should do, it cost three grand. Every bead cost twenty pounds.”

  “They are the most beautiful beads I have ever seen,” smiled Katie. “I was going to say.” Sandy managed a smile too.

  The door opened and Hugh bounded in, a smile on his face and a lilac bow-tie at his neck. He clapped his hands in delight.

  “Here she is then!” he boomed. “The blushing bride! Ready to swear Love and Obedience?”

  A bit later, Dan sat in his suite staring at the television. He really should turn it on, but he couldn’t be bothered to find the remote, and anyway, his headache was getting worse. In fact, he was still feeling a bit nauseous from the journey. Jesus, he thought. What was all this sickness? First Nik, then Geraldine, now him. Maybe there was something going round. Life, he thought bitterly. His bones ached. He kept thinking he should get up and shower for the wedding, but then he visualized Sandy’s rigor-mortis-in-ivory look and felt sick again.

  Seeing her like that had hit home to him with the force of a wrecking ball: he, Daniel Crichton, was getting married. His girlfriend, whom he had actually finished with once precisely because he had thought—had known—she was not the woman for him, was this very afternoon flicking through photos of wedding dresses with his mother, maybe even trying some on. He was going to share his surname with her. He would be giving her a part of himself, turning them into one entity.

  Why? Why was he getting married, he asked himself now, repeating the words over and over again until they lost all meaning. Was he scared of life without Geraldine? Or just scared of life without anyone?

  Oh God, what had he done? He started to rock to and fro as real panic began to rise inside him. No, he would keep a grip. He would concentrate. Think this through. He stood up suddenly and started pacing.

  It was OK to marry out of fear, he told himself. After all, wasn’t fear what made most people marry? Fear of being alone, fear of being an outcast, fear of never being loved. Look at Sandy. She was fucking terrified. He felt cold all over. No. Get a grip. He started pacing again. It was OK to have doubts, he told himself. After all, didn’t everyone have doubts? He paced a bit faster. Anyway, everyone knew
marriage wasn’t what it used to be. It was rarely for life any more. Divorce wasn’t the stigma it used to be. He could safely be married for ten years, divorce Gerry and still be able to have a family with someone else. He stopped still. Shit. That was not the attitude to go into marriage with.

  He leaned against the window frame and stared out into the gardens, letting his eyes fix on the leaves of the magnificent oak tree gently swaying in the summer breeze. If that tree could talk, he thought to himself. How many men had worried about their future in its shade? How many of those doubts had been futile? He shifted his gaze to the drifting clouds behind it, their shapes fluid. He watched them for a while. Feeling a bit calmer, he told himself there was nothing he could do now anyway. Just enjoy the wedding. And get drunk. Then he looked at the clock and walked into his bathroom.

  Meanwhile, Katie was standing, eyes shut, shoulders bare, the sound of Hugh’s soft breath sending shivers down her spine. As she felt his fingers on her shoulder blades, her whole body shuddered.

  “Nearly there,” he whispered.

  He made a small, guttural noise and she let out a moan.

  “One more minute,” he said. “God I’m out of practice.”

  “Shall I turn round?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want to be late.”

  “I never had to do this with Maxine.”

  Silence.

  “Aha!” he cried. “Done it!” He stepped away from her. “Top button done up.”

  Half an hour later, she was standing in the lounge of her suite phoning Sukie. She would not be sitting for the rest of the day unless absolutely necessary. Her dress only flowed from the hip; above the hip it clung to her small frame with the determination of a teething baby clutching its mother. If this dress could have got under her skin it would have. Her body wasn’t so much wearing any underwear as eating it. Her diaphragm was wondering who’d turned out the lights. Any food that hadn’t passed through her body yet only had itself to blame. This was a tight dress.