“There’s nothing for it Anya, you’ll have to be my best man.”
Anya raised an eyebrow and checking to see that they were out of Esme’s sight asked provocatively ‘best what?’
“Not now.” Tim turned away and she realised she had made a mistake, he was in ‘getting married to the right person’ mode. Instantly she switched her mood to match his, becoming business like and efficient. “Tell me which jeweller you got the rings from, I assume you’re having one too, and I’ll go round. You can pay me back later. What else do you need?”
Anya was surprised at how much there was to do on the morning of a wedding. For the rest of the morning Anya sorted out the things that Dave and John had left undone. She bought new rings, she collected Tim’s suit from the dress hire shop, she calmed Esme, who had no idea who she was but kept calling her ‘my dear child’. With all her jobs done she returned to the Cross household just after twelve thirty. “I think that’s everything!” she laughed as she collapsed on a chair next to Esme.
“You have been so very helpful, my dear child, but I still have no idea who you are.”
“I’m Geoff’s girlfriend. Anya.”
“Ah yes, the girl at the party.” Esme looked guiltily at Anya. “I’m so sorry my dear it’s just that after the engagement party Kathleen was, well, she wasn’t very complimentary about you.”
“Don’t you think that’s natural? Her only son’s girlfriend? She’s bound to be a little suspicious.”
“I’m not at all suspicious about Tim’s dear Margaret.”
“That’s different, you’ve known each other for years. I’m a new kid on the block.”
“Well ‘new kid on the block’, whatever that might mean, I really don’t know what we would have done without you this morning. Tim!” She called to her son. “Tim I insist you take this delightful young lady to lunch. You have plenty of time and she has been such a help. Take her for a nice drink. I can’t imagine what has happened to David and John, they are normally so reliable. Just make sure you’re back in time to be ready to be at the church on time. Dear child, dear child.” She took another sip of her gin.
As Tim stepped aside to let Anya out of the door Esme wondered, rather vaguely, whether she and Kathleen were doing the right thing by their children. Perhaps Tim was a little unreliable for Margaret, perhaps Margaret a little on the unattractive side to be able to keep a man like Tim faithful to her. She and Tim’s father had been divorced years before because she wasn’t attractive enough to stop him straying. It had all been dressed up in other words but she knew that that was the fact of the matter. Perhaps someone like Anya would have suited Tim better. Perhaps it was all a mistake. ‘Too late for that, they’ll all have to sort it out for themselves after the wedding.’
“Will you have enough time to change?” Tim was being polite.
“Half an hour should do it. Everything’s ready back at the house.”
They sat, awkwardly sipping their drinks in the crowded pub.
“Your mother isn’t really so bad is she? I thought, last year, well, she wasn’t very friendly.” Anya tried to break down the barrier that Tim had put between them. “It must be nice for her, seeing her plans come to fruition, her only son getting married, settling down.” Only after she had spoken did she realise that that was probably the wrong thing to have said.
“I am not, repeat not, settling down. My life won’t change in any way at all other than I go home to a wife rather than a flat filled with my currently mysteriously absent friends. You know more about Dave and John going missing than you’ve let on don’t you?”
“How could I possibly know where they are?” Anya sounded genuinely surprised.
“It seemed like a very nice plot to spend time with me.”
“That is the most extraordinarily arrogant thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Well whatever your plan it hasn’t worked has it? Was this another of your silly bets with Geoff? Screw me on my wedding day too?”
“It was not! You really aren’t that irresistible.”
“There was no plot then?”
“Not that I know anything about.”
“Honestly?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Anya licked her finger and marked a cross over her left breast, running the finger rather too suggestively round her nipple.
He ignored the provocation. “So there’s really no bet with Geoff?”
“No bet.” She was very convincing.
“You were doing all this running around out of the goodness of your heart.”
“And because it needed to be done and there was no one else to do it.”
“I bet there’s a bet.” As he spoke she realised there was some humour in his voice.
She laughed. “Of course there’s a bet but it’s for this afternoon, after you’re married. That’s what makes it fun. This morning wasn’t part of that, honestly, this morning I just wanted to help.”
“How much?”
“A lot, I really wanted to help.”
“No silly girl, how much was the bet for?”
“Five hundredish depending on, well, depending on a few other things.”
“That’s a lot.”
“It was worth it to him to prove how stupid his mother and his sister are.”
“It’ll be the easiest money you’ll ever make.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. After the speeches Margaret will go and change. I’ll find you then.”
“Well that went rather well don’t you think?” Kathleen was standing with Esme and Geoff as they waved the newly-married, if not entirely happy, couple off on their honeymoon.
“A triumph my dear.” Esme was always keen to agree with her old friend.
“I can’t think of anything that went wrong.” Kathleen was never slow to congratulate herself. “And everyone seems to have enjoyed themselves.”
“Some of them quite a lot.” Geoff added under his breath.
Kathleen was right about the wedding, it had gone off without a hitch. The church flowers were perfection, Margaret looked as pretty as she ever could, as did the bridesmaids, even Fiona looked less like one of her horses than usual. Everyone knew the hymns, deliberately chosen for their familiarity and the homily was short, the vicar restricting himself to encouraging the bride and groom to ignore any faults and always look for the best in one another. The sun shone as they all left the church and the photographer seemed to know his business, though Kathleen considered him considerably under-dressed in faded denims and a light linen jacket.
‘He came highly recommended.’ Kathleen had said to Esme in unnecessary self-justification. ‘I’m sure he will do an excellent job. We will have a perfect record of this perfect day’.
Geoffrey, Kathleen thought, had played the part of father of the bride with panache and confidence. Looking at her son she thought, not for the first time, what a good job she had made of raising him. She had thought she might miss the presence of a husband on her daughter’s wedding day but she had not. The only blot on Geoffrey’s copybook was his ignoring her unmistakeable hint that Anya should not be present, but she took comfort in the knowledge that he had seemed to have spent no time at all with the girl all afternoon.
“We have Anya to thank for so much.” Esme didn’t understand the look of hostility that was flashed towards her from her old friend.
“In what possible way could that girl have contributed towards the success of the day?” Kathleen’s tone was harsh. The triumph was hers and she was not about to share it.
Esme looked at her old friend but said nothing, she didn’t want to upset the happy atmosphere of the day. The uncomfortable silence was broken when Geoff answered for her. “As I understand it Anya was running around all morning acting as Tim’s best men. John only turned up at the church five minutes before Margaret. I think I agree with Esme, Anya was extraordinarily helpful.”
Kathleen didn’t deign to answer, she was wondering what Anya’s motives ha
d been. Anya was not the unselfishly helpful sort.
“Come my dear, you must sit down.” Esme, trying to relax the atmosphere, put her arm on Kathleen’s and guided her back in to the club. “I’ll get someone to get you a fresh glass of champagne or would you prefer something a little stronger?”
Geoff followed them back into the throng of guests who seemed determined not to leave until the free drink had dried up. He walked over to Anya. “Well they’re off.”
“How long do you give it?”
“What, until the divorce? Three years. Tops.” He hoped his mother, who was walking back into the clubhouse with Esme heard him.
“I didn’t think you could get a divorce sooner than that.” Anya said doubtfully.
“Three years is the current minimum sentence. How much do I owe you?”
“I suppose we’re equal with one Tim minus one Fiona. I assume you managed it at long last?”
“Yes.” She was surprised at how downbeat Geoff seemed.
“Was she worth it?”
“She wasn’t terribly happy but I told her I’d had enough of her prick-teasing and if she wanted the tiniest chance of being with me she would have to let me go all the way. I left the final decision up to her.”
“And she did want the tiniest chance?”
“She did.”
“Was she a virgin?”
“She’s ridden horses since she was about eight years old how the hell was I supposed to know?”
Anya was shocked at the sharpness, almost regret, in Geoff’s voice. “That’s a dreadful thing to say.”
“I think she was, she seemed very upset afterwards and she didn’t enjoy it one bit, she just lay back and let me get on with it. And she wouldn’t stop crying.”
“I thought you’d been gone longer than strictly necessary, I wondered if you hadn’t got involved with one of the other bridesmaids as well.”
“It was all over with Fiona in a couple of minutes but I stayed to talk to her, calm her down a bit. She said she’d never forgive me. She said she had always known men were horrid but she hadn’t realised just how disgusting they were. Disgusting, that was the word she used. She said that one day she’d make me feel as humiliated and defeated and used as she did.”
“Poor little madam.” Anya had no sympathy.
She wasn’t prepared for his look of guilt. “It meant so little to me and so much to her. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“She’ll get over it.”
It was not the Geoff she knew who replied. “I don’t think she will. She took it really badly. I really wish I hadn’t done it.” It was the first time she had heard him regret a conquest. And that conquest had had to be Fiona.
Chapter 8: Deceptions
Kent, Christmas 1972
Kathleen’s voice down the phone was barely audible. “I will not invite that girl. She cannot come. Not for Christmas.”
“That girl, mother, is my wife and she will be there.”
Two weeks after they had returned from his sister’s wedding Geoff had asked Anya to marry him, it was the only way he could think of to be sure she wouldn’t leave him. He knew he wasn’t being fair as there were so many things, important things, she didn’t yet know. He hadn’t told her that for two of the afternoons in the week after the wedding when he had said he was with his mother, he had actually been attending job interviews, interviews, he knew, that had gone rather well. He didn’t tell her that the day he went to London with the brief explanation that it was ‘stuff to do with the estate’ had been in fact to go through the vetting procedure required by the government department. He hadn’t told her that the official looking letter he received two days after their trip had been the job offer. He had discussed nothing with her as he made decisions for them both. He had told her nothing of his decision that his four years in Liverpool had been enough; his years of rebellion were over; now he was ready to go back to Kent and settle down.
Anya had been surprised when Geoff had suggested they drive up to the Lake District for the weekend but had been happy to go. She was surprised at the hotel he had chosen, standing high above Lake Ullswater, it seemed expensive even by his standards. At first she was uncomfortable in the surroundings and wondered why he hadn’t realised that she would be. He had given her a gold band to wear on her ring finger ‘it’s the sort of place that expects us to be married’ he had explained. They checked in as ‘Mr and Mrs Philips’. The atmosphere was rather more relaxed than she had expected and she began to enjoy herself, especially when she noticed that they were not the most casually dressed guests at dinner.
“Happy?” Geoff had asked gently as they lay in bed the following morning watching the sun on the hills on the other side of the lake.
“Mmm.”
“Do you like being Mrs Philips?”
“Mmm.”
“Would you like to be Mrs Philips?”
She said no at first. She said no over breakfast, served on an over-sized trolley in the big bay window of their room. She said no as they showered together and dressed. She said no as they undressed each other and made love but she finally said yes as a shaft of sunlight fed through the window onto the blue bed covering that made her think of sadness and of tears and of loneliness. “I suppose that will be the end of the bets then.”
The wedding had been easily organised. There was no guest list, there were only the two of them and witnesses supplied by the Register Office. There was no reception, they had lunch at the first restaurant they came to. He rang his mother that evening to tell her. It had been a very short conversation.
Three months later phone calls between mother and son were no easier.
“I won’t have that girl ruining our Christmas.”
“Why would she ruin it?”
Kathleen didn’t answer the question directly. “Christmas should be spent with people one likes.”
“Then most Christmases would be spent alone.”
“Your marriage,” She spoke the word as if it were in inverted commas, “will not last. Not now she has got what she wants.”
“And what would that be?”
“Your name and your money, but not necessarily in that order.”
“You know nothing about her.”
“I neither want nor need to.”
The silence on the line was broken when Geoff presented his ultimatum. “It’s either both of us or neither Mother.”
“I will not have her in my house.”
Geoff paused for a fraction of a second too long. They each knew what the other was thinking. The house was not hers, it was his and had been since the day he had turned 21. He spoke firmly and coldly. “Then we’ll go elsewhere.”
His mother made no reply faced as she was with the impossible idea that she should, after nearly thirty years, change Christmas. Every one she had had with Geoffrey had been the same and it had been a matter of honour to maintain that standard after his death. Champagne and buttered toast for breakfast, smart dress for the walk to church, drinks and conversation while the food was prepared, the Queen’s speech as the turkey rested at the table, Christmas pudding set light after being doused in a ladle-full of brandy then, and only then, the gathering under the Christmas Tree for the giving and receiving of presents.
Geoff knew what the traditions meant to his mother and many of his early memories were bound up with the ceremonies that went with the day. When he was eight he was given the task of warming the brandy, though he was ten before he was allowed to pour it over the pudding and set it alight. When he was thirteen he was surprised to see his mother moving his knives and forks from his place on her right to the end of the table. He clearly remembered her words and could almost hear the familiar, theatrical, catch in her voice. ‘You are the head of the family now, your place is at the head of the table.’
“For years you’ve said ‘I’m head of the family and I don’t think you’ve meant it even for a moment. Well now, as head of the family, I have made a decision. We’ll go
to Tim and Margaret, she’ll probably jump at the chance to cook for us all.”
Before she had a chance to reply he put the phone down, picked it up again and dialled Margaret’s number. On hearing the ring tone he realised he had beaten his mother to it.
“Christmas? You want everyone to come to us for Christmas?” She had sounded doubtful, Geoff thought she sounded as if she had been crying.
“Forget all about the old routines. Do it your way.”
“Why not?” She sounded less doubtful.
Geoff was surprised she said nothing about ‘family tradition’ and didn’t ask if he had ‘checked with Mummy’.
“Will Tim be OK about it?”
“He’ll be fine. We were only talking about Christmas this afternoon.”
“We’re going south.” Geoff had thought carefully about how he was going to tell Anya and he couldn’t put it off any longer. “We’re going south for the weekend.”
“Any particular reason?” Anya was sitting at the table typing and was concentrating on an article she was writing. She was finding it hard going and didn’t really want to be interrupted.
“We need to start looking for a house.”
He had her attention.
“A house? What would we want to look for a house for?”
“Come here, sit next to me and I’ll explain.”
Reluctantly she joined him, not really wanting to hear what he was going to say. She sat down and listened as he explained how it had all started.
“An interview? Back in August?”
She listened as he talked on, not really hearing what he was saying. She interrupted him again. “You knew this when we went up to the Lakes?”
He nodded.
“You knew this when you asked me to marry you?”
He nodded again, waiting for the storm he knew would follow. It didn’t come. Anya was calm and cold as she questioned him.
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