Love, Lies and Wedding Cake_The Perfect Laugh-Out-Loud Romantic Comedy

by Sue Watson

  He would have obsessed over the wedding breakfast and insisted on baking the cake, which was white chocolate and raspberry, sweet and delicious. Dan was a fantastic cook and a brilliant baker, and though self-taught, he had the knowledge and passion of a great chef. And later, as we ate canapés made from goats’ cheese, figs and drizzled basil oil, I imagined Dan savouring every mouthful, discussing the flavours and ingredients intensely. He’d have pondered the exact origin of the Scottish beef for the main course, and I’d have teased him, saying it was the cow called Daisy who lived on the third hill from the left. He’d have loved the crisp, bubbly Prosecco, and the rich, fruity Merlot, allowing it to roll around his tongue, while he considered the grape.

  This was in complete contrast to darling Craig, who, while shovelling in two canapés at once, was heard to remark, ‘This is rubbish! Don’t know why they don’t just give us a sandwich until dinner comes.’ His only comment to me throughout the elegant wedding breakfast was, ‘This wine tastes like battery acid, I’m going to suffer with my guts later,’ causing my fascinator to droop. Wherever Dan might be, things could be worse – I could still be with Craig, I thought as he belched loudly into his napkin.

  As for Emma, she was magnificent, and as Mother of the Bride, I tried to ignore the Father of the Bride and just enjoy the day. I was so proud and happy for her. I wept loudly as she walked down the aisle, causing Craig to tut beside me and shift uncomfortably. But this was merely a prelude to my uncontrolled blubbing at the sight of my little granddaughter in baby pink with a basket of roses. To everyone’s amusement, her sudden sprint up the aisle caused my restrained sobs to erupt, reaching levels of what can only be described as climactic hysteria. Even the registrar waited until I’d composed myself before she started the ceremony. But Rosie reacted to my blubbing with her usual candour and, standing with the bride and groom at the altar, one hand on her hip, she rolled her eyes and shouted, ‘Nana, you crazy bitch!’

  13

  Filthy Foreign Words and Nice Men on Timber

  While Emma and Richard honeymooned in Ireland, Rosie and I spent the week in her old home. I was staying on for another couple of weeks – the rent was paid for a month and I was considering my options. But for now it was a treat for both me and Rosie to spend time together before she moved and, despite being forced to watch Frozen for the 538th time, I valued that week together. I wanted it to be special, and filled with everything about her life here, because once she was in Scotland, I doubted she’d remember our favourite pastimes. So we did lots of lovely things, from play dates with her friends from the crèche to walks in the park, to afternoon tea in our favourite local café. I also planned a visit later in the week for ‘beauty treatments’ with Mandy, but I’d have to ensure this was after Mandy’s vajazzle ‘promotion’, which left little to the imagination. The staff were wearing T-shirts with ‘Life’s short – get a vajazzle’ emblazoned in rhinestones, which I just knew Rosie would find fascinating. Too fascinating. I could only imagine Emma’s face when Rosie asked for one of her very own. I could also only imagine Emma’s face if I’d been working on ‘Vajazzle Week’ and had been forced to wear a T-shirt with a rhinestone vagina emblazoned across the front.

  ‘Come into the salon and I can demonstrate on you,’ Mandy suggested when I’d popped in earlier that week to ask about bringing Rosie in to have her nails done. ‘Go on… I’d put shedloads of crystals on it this time, we could have big posters of your lady garden all over the shop.’

  I couldn’t hide my horror at the prospect of close-ups of my jewelled vagina all over the walls. ‘Tempting as that is, I’ll give it a miss, Mand,’ I said, knowing the sarcasm would be lost on her.

  I wanted to provide memories for my granddaughter when we visited the salon, not post-traumatic stress.

  I was aware Rosie’s new life would be quite different, full of new and exciting things, but at the same time it might be a little overwhelming. So I photographed everything we did and all that was familiar and planned to put the pictures in an album so she could go back there sometimes.

  Of course, I’d visit them in Scotland and they would come and see me, but I’d been doing some thinking and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here. I was still in ‘analysis’ mode from my degree course, studying every text, every film – looking for the meaning, the subplot, the message. And it kind of hit me one evening, while watching Frozen (for the 539th time), if you try to hide your emotions and isolate yourself in a frozen ice castle, everything you’ve been holding inside will eventually blow up and cause a lot more harm than if you just – as the song says – ‘Let It Go’. So the answer had been in front of me all the time – Disney knew it, Rosie knew it – it had just taken me a little longer to see what was right in front of my face.

  I’d done this with my feelings for Dan – since he left, my life had been taken up with studying, my family and the hairdresser’s. I’d avoided communicating with him, I’d avoided anything to do with love – and if I didn’t do something about it soon, I’d be… frozen! Okay, I really needed to stop watching that film.

  That night, I lay awake and thought about his proposal in a way I hadn’t before. As painful as it was for me that Emma and Rosie would be living so far away, it also meant that I was now really free, with no ties, no responsibilities, and I could go anywhere I wanted to. Could I live in another country now? Could I marry again? And what about my career? Could I be a teacher? How difficult would it be to get work somewhere like… Australia? How would Dan feel about me now saying I’d changed my mind? What if his feelings had changed in the fifteen months since we’d parted? Then I thought of those eyes, and the way he loved me, and I just knew in my heart he’d still be waiting, because that’s what I’d been doing: waiting. Waiting for him, waiting for an opportunity, waiting for a time when, like now, I was finally ready.

  I woke early the next morning and called Sue, my old boss from the hairdresser’s, for some advice. As I heard the ringing on the other end, I wondered why on earth she was the person I’d turned to in my hour of need – her love life had been a car crash for years. It started when her beloved husband Ken ran off with the next-door neighbour (Sue put it down to the slut having O-level French and apparently using ‘filthy foreign words’ in his hearing, which had inflamed him). Relying mainly on looks and star signs, Sue had since been used, abused and dumped by men throughout the United Kingdom and various Spanish holiday resorts. But before I had chance to renege, she picked up the phone and I apologised for calling at such an ungodly hour.

  ‘I’m sorry for calling so early, but I need to speak to you before I ring him,’ I said quietly, trying to keep my voice down so I didn’t wake Rosie, who’d seen and heard enough this week. Fortunately, she was unable to pronounce ‘vajazzle’ after hearing it in the salon – but she’d certainly given it a good go.

  ‘Oh love, you can call me any time, day or night – it’s no bother,’ Sue replied, through her yawns.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do, Sue,’ I said, after explaining my dilemma.

  ‘I say go for it. I mean, look at me – I took a risk, abandoned everything, ran away to Devon and it’s the best thing I ever did. And I’ve met some very nice men on Timber.’

  I think she meant ‘Tinder’, but with Sue there was no telling – her love life had known such tragedy it could indeed have been a dating app for rampant lumberjacks.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve found happiness, Sue, you deserve it. Thing is, I wanted to ask you… Do you think I should call Dan and try and give our relationship another chance?’

  ‘Of course you should, love.’

  ‘But I wonder if he can ever forgive me. I rejected his proposal and let him go off to Australia alone and…’

  ‘He’ll forgive you, love. Look at me, when my Ken left for that hussy next door, I thought I’d never forgive him, but ten years down the line I’m over it.’ She so wasn’t – I could hear the venom in her voice down the line all the way from bloody Devon
! ‘My only regret, Faye, is never having kids, but I reckon he was impudent anyway. Mind you, he was a cheating, womanising Virgo, who I should never have married in the first place, but that’s another story.’

  So much for forgiveness, I thought as Sue went on to cheerlead me to Australia, insisting I call Dan immediately and pointing out that with the sun currently in Venus, I should strike while the iron was hot.

  ‘But be careful,’ she warned, ‘Sagittarians aren’t called the bachelor sign of the zodiac for nothing – they like to sow their wild oats.’

  ‘Oh, he’d been there and done that before he met me,’ I laughed.

  I listened on to Sue’s astrological, malapropism-punctuated nonsense, knowing it was just what I needed after all. She was my friend, always would be, and despite being quite bonkers, she’d tell me what I wanted to hear. And as we said our goodbyes, her final words rang in my ear: ‘Go for it, love! Death is not the greatest loss in life, the greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.’

  I was impressed, but this was too meaningful and malaprop-free for Sue. ‘Wow, Sue, that’s profound… Is that Proust?’

  ‘No… Pinterest,’ she said. ‘Bloody fabulous, isn’t it?’

  I laughed, said goodbye and put down the phone. I thought about what she’d said (well, what Pinterest had said) and started to type his number, then sat and stared at my phone for at least ten minutes. I hadn’t even told Emma about what I was contemplating, but I assumed she’d be okay with it. ‘Mum, I hope you meet someone… or that Dan comes back,’ she’d said at her wedding. We were both a little tipsy at the end of a long, but beautiful (apart from Craig) day and feeling happy but sad, the way weddings make you feel. ‘I don’t need to meet someone,’ I’d replied. ‘I don’t need a man in my life, it’s full enough without having to cook someone else’s dinner. I’m going to concentrate on me and my career now – I’ve worked hard for this.’

  ‘Just don’t throw yourself into work and neglect the real stuff,’ she’d sighed, her veil a little askew, but her heart in the right place. ‘I just wish you’d fall madly in love so I don’t have to feel guilty about leaving and living so far away.’

  ‘Emma, guilt is a wasted emotion. I know this because it has ruled my bloody life and I won’t allow it to rule yours! I’m perfectly happy on my own,’ I said, ‘so no more of it.’

  Yes, I thought, holding my phone in both hands, staring at the screen – this is exactly what Emma would want me to do. So I held my breath and I dialled his number (the one written on my heart) and I heard it ring. Strange to think it was ringing somewhere on the other side of the world. God only knew how much this call would cost, but I didn’t care.

  It rang and rang, and eventually went to voicemail: ‘Hi, it’s Dan at Lemon Myrtle – leave a message.’ My legs felt weak, my stomach was doing somersaults just hearing his sing-song sunshiney voice. He sounded slightly different – older perhaps? I suppose a lot had happened with his brother, and now he was a grown-up and a fully-fledged business owner, he’d probably been through plenty of ups and downs, which had taken their toll on that carefree voice, those eyes that were about to laugh any minute. No surprise if his light had dimmed a little. Perhaps me being there would bring the light back for him, because we were both at our happiest together.

  I gave it a few minutes, then called again. The second time I was even more nervous and as the voicemail picked up once more, I clicked off. I sat there tapping my feet. My whole life was hanging in the balance here – this could be the phone call that would change everything. I made a mental note that if I didn’t get through the third time then perhaps fate had other things in store for me and I would give up (knowing I had no intention of doing so. I’d made up my mind, and as Sue had said, ‘Leos are very detrimental’ – I think she felt it was a posh way of saying determined, but who knew with Sue?).

  Eventually, after trying for about an hour, Dan answered, and I heard that lovely voice. He only said, ‘Hi, it’s Dan,’ but my heart was immediately flooded with warm chocolate.

  ‘G’day, Dan, it’s me!’ I said in a fake Australian accent. I don’t know why, I just felt like being silly – being me again.

  ‘Faye…? Oh jeez, I never expected… I saw the number but thought it was my aunt.’

  ‘Oh – didn’t my name come up on your phone?’ I felt slightly deflated at this.

  ‘You told me to delete it, remember?’ Yeah, but I didn’t mean it.

  Okay, I suppose asking him never to contact me again was pretty much the same. And clearly he hadn’t remembered my number. But I remembered his, along with all of the quotations for my finals and the lyrics to ‘Let It Go’.

  ‘How is everything… your sister-in-law, your nephews?’

  ‘They’re good. Talking about moving back to be near Kimmie’s parents, which is a shame – I’ll miss them. Thing is, their memories aren’t so good here – John had a rough few years…’ he tailed off. ‘Anyway, how are you? How’s Rosie? I bet she’s really grown up!’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, she has. Still in charge, still spends her days in royal costumes, though she’s starting school in September. And I got my degree.’

  ‘Oh, that’s just fantastic, Faye! Really, really great.’ He was genuinely pleased, but I got the feeling he was distracted. Then again, we hadn’t spoken for a year and we were thousands of miles apart.

  ‘And Dan, you won’t believe this – Emma got married.’

  ‘Wow, what a turn-up!’ he said, and he asked about the wedding breakfast and the groom (in that order). I gave him all the details, from the canapés to the cake, and he was as engrossed as I knew he’d be – food was his language.

  ‘So… you said you never wanted to talk again, but you’ve called?’ he asked, once he’d heard all about the wedding.

  I’d been hoping for more small talk, more catch-up, some mild flirting even, so him asking me why I’d called made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame him – I was lucky he didn’t tell me to sod off, and say I had a cheek, calling him up out of the blue over a year after I’d broken his heart. Luckily, he was still lovely Dan and despite wanting to get down to why I’d called him, he seemed pleased to hear from me.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you because… I miss you,’ I suddenly said, aware my voice was catching. I knew in saying something like this, I was opening the floodgates and I waited for his response. It wasn’t easy to get back to where we had been but just hearing his voice the magic had begun again for me. ‘Are you there?’ I said, into the silence, wondering if we’d lost the line.

  ‘Yeah… yeah… I’m here.’

  ‘I’m sorry to just call you up out of the blue like this,’ I said. I could tell from his voice that he was upset – the emotional impact was huge for both of us and I’d taken him by surprise.

  ‘No worries… Faye… It’s good, all good.’ But I wasn’t convinced – I reckoned he was still hurting after losing his brother, grief can change you.

  ‘It’s just that, well, things have changed around here… You know I said Emma was married now?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Well, they’ve moved to Scotland. That’s where Richard’s from, and I was upset when they moved, of course. It took a bit of getting used to but now it’s happened, I’ve been thinking…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘About us.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You needn’t sound so excited,’ I giggled, unsure of what to make of his one-word reaction.

  ‘No, it’s not that, it’s just… Faye, you said it was over. You said there couldn’t be an us ever again.’

  ‘I know, I know, but that was then, this is now. I’m free… Dan, I’m finally free… No baby-minding, no daughter-minding, I can concentrate on us… We can do a road trip through Australia, you can show me…’

  ‘I have the café, Faye…’ He sounded surprised, not to say slightly underwhelmed, but I understood it was all so sudden for him – I hadn’t given him a chance to
take it in.

  ‘Oh, I know you have the café and I wouldn’t make you go on a road trip…’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  Christ, he was making this tough for me.

  ‘…But I was thinking, if you still want me…?’

  Silence. I felt a little uneasy at this, especially as it was followed by more silence. Which I of course had to fill.

  ‘Then I could come to Oz. I don’t want to wait another minute… I don’t mean… I’m not saying we have to get married. Though I would marry you – gosh, of course I would… But you might not want to get married anymore, right? Then again, you might? I just want to make it clear I’m not just calling you up and saying let’s get married, unless of course you…’

  ‘Oh… I don’t… That would be…’

  ‘Forget that last sentence,’ I said, feeling like an idiot. Why did I always say what I was thinking instead of being more thoughtful, more sensitive to his feelings? ‘Not just the last sentence, forget everything I just said for the last three minutes… at least.’

  He laughed and I felt a little easier.

  ‘I’m just thinking, I could come over there, get a job, stick around and see what happens? I want to teach English and I’d love to live somewhere like Sydney… with you. I stayed behind for all the right reasons, but now I’m free… Dan, just think about it. We can drink cocktails all night, stay in bed all day, lie on the beach – when you’re not working, I mean.’ I didn’t know what else I could say; I hadn’t thought this far, to be honest – I’d just assumed after ‘Dan, it’s me,’ his response would be ‘When will you be here?’ But we’d been apart over a year now. Our lives had obviously changed, how could I possibly expect him to be in synch with me?

  ‘I was all mixed up about ending things with you and being there for Emma and Rosie, but now I know this is the right thing to do,’ I started up again, tired of my own voice. ‘I just keep thinking of the fun we used to have and how we can do it all again, only this time with no responsibilities… just you and me.’