The Wedding Day

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘So this is what you did in Connecticut? On the beach?’

  ‘At weekends, sure. Tod and I made it a regular Saturday night fixture, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yeah, it was wicked. The house was right on the ocean.’ Tod turned to Flora. ‘You could literally step right off the steps down from the deck, and be on the beach in seconds.’

  ‘Cool,’ she agreed. ‘Have you still got the house?’

  ‘Yeah, but we don’t live there.’ Tod looked out to sea. ‘I still own it,’ Matt explained, ‘but it’s rented out. I live in Boston these days. In an apartment.’

  ‘Did your mum like the beach house?’ persisted Flora with the tactlessness of youth, but Tod didn’t seem fazed.

  ‘No, it wasn’t really Mom’s thing. She preferred the city. I like the city,’ he added loyally, ‘but not all the time.’

  ‘Madeleine finds the country dull. She calls herself a people person,’ offered Matt, without rancour.

  It was the first time he’d volunteered information about his wife. I wiped my plate with some bread and waited until the children had finished their meal; until they’d moved further down the beach to talk, to drink Coke, and cover their legs in sand.

  ‘Do you miss her?’ I ventured bravely.

  He pushed his fish skeleton to the side of his plate. Considered this. ‘Miss is perhaps the wrong word. If she’d just walked out and left me, sure, I’d miss her. But she took Tod too, so any feelings I had for her were overwhelmed by such anger and longing for him.’

  ‘But you did have feelings for her?’

  ‘For the girl I’d married, yes. For the sweet, smiling, serene girl I’d once known, but I have to force that image from my mind and remember the bad-tempered, faithless woman she turned into.’

  I nodded. ‘I have to do that too. Force myself not to remember Adam as he was, but look at what he became.’

  ‘Exactly. And that’s not easy, because you don’t just stop loving someone. But their changing into people you don’t recognize helps. It hardens the heart. What you’re left with is a longing for how things were long ago, not for the more recent past.’

  ‘Does … your work help you do that?’

  He gave a short shout of mirth. ‘What, my work as a psychiatrist? You think it gives me inner vision?’

  I felt stupid. ‘Well, you’re used to delving into other people’s minds, so I thought –’

  ‘No, Annie,’ he said kindly, ‘it doesn’t. It simply highlights the fact that I’m not doing so well. I do cling to my hate because it helps, and it gives me strength to get through the next bit of my life, but of course I shouldn’t, I know that. And not just because I’m a psychiatrist. It stands to reason. Hate leads to bitterness about everything. It colours your whole life, from buying your morning paper, to meeting a friend for lunch, to working with colleagues. You feel dead inside. But you carry on going through the rickety old motions, only with a more contemptuous feeling towards your fellow man, and that’s not nice. You feel quarrelsome, hostile, guarded, intolerant. It turns you into a deeply unattractive human being.’ He smiled. ‘Ring any bells?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. Only I never had the guts to harden myself as comprehensively as you did. I just crumpled every time I bought that paper, or had lunch with that friend. I was pathetic. And I went to pieces every time Adam called for Flora, in the beginning.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess that’s one blessing in disguise. Madeleine took off so comprehensively – emigrated, in effect – that I don’t have to see her.’

  He stoked the fire with a stick and I thought about what he’d said. About his toughness, his shell, which I’d originally thought was the real man when I’d first met him: gruff, belligerent, angry, barking at me and locking himself away in his room; and yet there’d been moments even then when his sudden, blow-torch smile would explode across his face and I’d think: No. That’s not him. There’s someone else in there, hiding. I remembered his kindness to Flora that first morning as he cooked her breakfast, and to me too, when Adam had appeared unexpectedly, and today … well, today a positive prankster had emerged. I looked up. He was watching me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was just thinking how you really blew it today. The tough, intolerant, hostile image. Your mask slipped on the beach there, lieutenant.’

  He grinned. ‘Don’t know why I didn’t go for admiral.’

  ‘Oh, I think you pulled rank quite enough.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he said softly after a moment, poking the fire around a bit more. ‘Today was a blast. First day I’ve enjoyed for a long while, actually.’

  He carried on stirring the embers, and somehow, I knew it was very important that we both stared hard into that fire and didn’t look up. We steadily contemplated the gleaming twigs simmering in the white-hot ash. A log shifted suddenly in the fire, breaking the moment, and I looked across to the shore, where the children had lain down in the sand and were staring up at the stars. Their eyes were shutting and they were murmuring only occasionally to each other under the inky sky. I glanced at my watch. God. Half-ten.

  ‘Yeah, come on, kids,’ called Matt, stirring himself and reading my mind. ‘Bedtime.’

  Uncomplaining and clearly whacked, they dragged themselves to their feet and trudged towards us, huge denim flares dripping in the sand.

  ‘How come?’ whined Tod, but it was a token gesture without any real conviction.

  ‘Because you’re bushed, that’s how come. Now go on.’ His father reached out and patted his leg affectionately. Tod leaned down to kiss him. Flora bent likewise to say goodnight.

  ‘Will you come up?’ she murmured anxiously in my ear. ‘Course I will. In about ten minutes. Clare’s probably asleep next door to you anyway, so you’re not up there alone.’

  ‘Oh. OK.’

  I watched as she followed Tod, climbing up through the dark wood behind him, with only the light from the fire and the moon to guide them, something she’d surely never do on her own. I gave it a few minutes, then turned back to the house again. Lights had gone on in the upstairs windows, which we could just see through the tops of the trees. Clare’s window was dark, though. Presumably back from her walk and asleep, I thought. I hugged my knees and gazed out to sea, to the still black water, where the moon on the horizon was sending a shimmering ribbon of light towards us. As we sat, either side of the fire in the cool sand, I felt the warm night air envelop us.

  ‘Your sister’s in a mess, I gather,’ observed Matt at length, reaching for the wine bottle and refuelling our glasses. I was grateful to him for deflecting the conversation away from us.

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘Michael’s chucked her out. And quite right too, in a way. She did behave stupendously badly.’ Without being too disloyal I gave him a quick thumbnail sketch of last night’s events. ‘And actually,’ I went on, leaning back on my elbows in the sand, ‘she needed this kick up the backside. But the problem is, it might not just be a kick. It might be permanent.’

  ‘Once he realizes what a relief it is not to have her around, you mean.’

  I glanced across, startled. ‘Well, yes. But how did you –’

  ‘Because that’s another emotional target I hit with a bullseye after Madeleine left. Having a secretive affair had made her tense, snappy, nagging at me and Tod, and that part of her I sure as hell didn’t miss. Felt something like the surge of relief Michael might be feeling now, as he throws his clothes on the floor, picks his teeth and watches the ball game all day on TV if he feels like it. Buried amongst the bitterness and anger, there’s a sense of release too. Like someone’s pulled the ring pull back on the beer can and let the bubbles out.’ He lay back in the sand beside me, propped up on his elbows.

  ‘Yes, that’s what bothers me,’ I said nervously. ‘That he’ll think: Yippee. Toss his bonnet, as my mum would say. Anyway, it’s a good thing she’s going there. To Mum’s. If anyone can talk some sense into her it’ll be … God, what’s that!’

  I swung around. There
was a crashing and rustling coming from the woods behind us: the sound of snapping branches and heavy breathing, saplings being bent and trampled underfoot. Matt and I got to our feet as one. It was as if an animal was moving directly through the wood towards us, crushing everything in its path, except that an unsteady, wavering light – which I suddenly realized was a torch – told me it was human. The beam emerged, brighter than before, at the bottom of the wood, and shone straight in our faces. It was coming towards us fast, blinding me. I put my arm up as a reflex, and as I blocked out the white glare, saw the face behind it.

  ‘David!’

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘God, David! You gave me a fright. What are you doing here?’

  He switched the torch off. ‘Well, I’ve come to see you, obviously. Came a few days early, that’s all.’

  He came towards us. The embers of the dying fire flickered softly over his face, but it was too dark to read his expression.

  A few? Heavens, he wasn’t due until Friday. ‘But – I thought you were on call today …’ I felt flustered, ridiculous, standing here on the beach with Matt, around a campfire. What must he think? But David, consummately polite as ever, was functioning normally.

  ‘I was, until six, then I got a locum to take over. I’ve just got here. Took me a while to find the place.’

  ‘But why didn’t you phone?’

  ‘I tried all day, but you were out. And your mobile’s off.’ He turned to Matt with a smile. ‘David Palmer.’

  ‘Matt Malone,’ Matt immediately responded, shaking his hand. ‘And, uh, I’d offer you some supper cos I guess you could use some after your drive, but I’m afraid we’re all cleaned out here.’ He gestured hopelessly to the empty pan and plates. ‘Those kids have appetites.’

  ‘Kids?’

  ‘Um, Matt’s son is here as well,’ I faltered. ‘He’s come to stay.’

  ‘Ah. That explains the boy asleep in the upstairs room. I must say I was quite surprised to arrive at a darkened house and find three sleeping bodies, but not the one I expected. Seems you have a pretty full house party here, Annie.’

  For the first time I detected a hint of rancour in his voice.

  ‘Oh, well, Clare’s here too, yes. She’s, um, had a bit of an argument with Michael. Nothing serious, but she’s off to Mum’s for a bit tomorrow. Just cos – you know – she hasn’t seen her for a while.’

  ‘I see,’ said David, although he clearly didn’t. ‘Well, obviously much has gone on here in a short space of time, but I think I’ll catch up on the minutiae of it in the morning, if you don’t mind. I’m ready for bed. Are you … staying down here, or …’ He gestured casually to the fire.

  ‘No no,’ I said quickly. ‘We were – I mean I was just on my way up.’

  I knew I was flushing to my roots now, but hopefully he couldn’t see in the dark.

  ‘You go on up,’ said Matt quickly. ‘I’ll just put the fire out and gather these plates together.’ He bent down to chuck stones on the fire.

  ‘Right,’ I said gratefully. ‘I could take the salad bowl, or –’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ he said, taking the bowl from me firmly, head bent, not looking up.

  ‘Come on, Annie, I’m exhausted.’ David put his arm around my shoulders and led me away.

  I glanced fleetingly back at Matt, but his head was still lowered to the business of clearing up. David and I went on up the beach together and then, out of necessity, walked single file through the woods, up the sandy path in silence. David went ahead, shining the torch, even though I knew the way backwards now.

  ‘Very cosy,’ he murmured when we got to the top. ‘Oh, not really,’ I said uneasily. ‘It’s just it makes sense for us all to eat together. You know, rather than separate meals.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ he conceded as we went up the garden.

  ‘And since we caught some fish today,’ I rushed on nervously, ‘we thought we’d cook them on the beach.’

  ‘Right. Ging Gang Gooly.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He held the back door open for me and I went through, still flustered.

  ‘I must say, I was surprised to find it all unlocked,’ David remarked. ‘You don’t lock up, if you’re down there at night?’

  ‘Well, I’m not normally down there at night, David. I told you, it was just tonight, and Flora and Tod had only just gone to bed. We were about to come up.’

  ‘Ah.’

  We climbed the stairs wordlessly. ‘Strange house,’ he commented, when we reached the landing. ‘Rather small windows. Gloomy, I’d imagine, during the day. All that wood panelling.’

  ‘It is quite dark,’ I admitted, ‘but lovely when the sun streams through. You need to see it in daylight, David,’ I said eagerly.

  ‘Oh, but I have. Many times, when I was young. I’d just forgotten about the panelling.’ He ran his hand along it pensively as we went down the corridor. ‘Haven’t been here since I was about ten.’

  ‘Oh. Yes of course. I forgot, you must have come here a lot. And of course houses feel so much bigger when you’re small. It must seem a bit poky now.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  He was being studiously polite, and I felt unaccountably nervous as we reached my room. Wished I could break the tension.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ I said, putting my arms around his neck when the door was shut behind us. ‘I’m so pleased you came early.’

  He held me tight. Very tight. ‘It’s lovely to see you, too,’ he murmured into my hair.

  ‘And – I’m sorry about being on the beach with Matt.’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘But it must have looked …’ I trailed off miserably.

  He pulled me down to sit on the bed beside him. ‘You’re here now, with me. That’s all that matters.’

  He kissed me warmly, and I responded, perhaps over-enthusiastically, still feeling horribly guilty.

  ‘But, David, why did you decide to set off so late?’ I asked, when our lips had parted. I stood up and started peeling off my clothes to get into bed. ‘It’s a long journey to contemplate at that time of night, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said wearily. He began to massage his face with the flat of his hand. ‘Stupid, really,’ he reflected, picking a bit of sleep out of the corner of his eye. He put his head in his hands, clearly exhausted.

  I went to the little sink in the corner to brush my teeth. When I’d finished, I wiped my mouth and looked back at him in the mirror. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the carpet, head in hands.

  ‘David?’ I turned off the tap and came back, frowning. Sat down beside him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He looked up. Gave a thin smile. ‘Nothing, really. I’ve just had a hell of a week, that’s all.’ He reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘One hell of a week. And I don’t particularly want to go into it, because the whole point of coming here was to get away from the stresses and strains of London and forget the bloody surgery.’

  ‘I know, but if something’s bothering you –’

  ‘Hey.’ He stopped my mouth with a kiss. ‘Shush. Come on, let’s go to bed.’

  He took off his clothes, brushed his teeth, and slipped into bed beside me. He held me close. Slipped a hand up the back of my T-shirt.

  ‘Mmm …’ he murmured sleepily, nuzzling into my hair. ‘If I hadn’t just driven two hundred miles and wasn’t completely knackered, I’d make love to you.’

  I was appalled to feel a surge of relief flood through me. ‘Plenty of time for that,’ I whispered back, hugging him hard.

  ‘Exactly. Anyway, I always wonder if it’s such a good idea. When it’s so tiny.’

  ‘You’re not tiny, David,’ I murmured sleepily. ‘In fact, from my limited experience I’d go so far as to call you Big Boy.’

  He laughed. ‘No, I mean, when the egg’s so tiny. Right at the beginning. Just a speck of life.’

  I froze i
n his arms. ‘Oh.’ I drew back. ‘Oh David, I forgot to tell you. It’s not. I mean – I started.’

  He went very still beside me. Very quiet. Finally, his voice came out of the darkness.

  ‘You’re not pregnant?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not. Such a shame,’ I hastened on quickly, ‘and I would have told you, only –’

  ‘Bugger.’ He sat up suddenly in the dark. ‘Bugger!’

  I sat up beside him, dismayed. ‘I – I know. It’s very disappointing. But, David, we’ve got so much time.’

  ‘Yes, but it is disappointing, none the less.’ He turned to face me, to look at me. I could see his eyes burning in the dark. ‘Only you don’t seem to think so.’

  ‘David, I do!’

  ‘God, you didn’t even ring me and tell me. Didn’t even mention it!’

  ‘No, well, of course I would have done, but you’ve only just got here!’

  ‘Don’t you want a baby, Annie?’

  ‘Of course I want a baby! Of course!’

  We stared at one another in the darkened room, our words ringing out, keeping us still.

  ‘Rather puts the kibosh on any imminent nookie, too, doesn’t it?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘Yes. I suppose it does. I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘Wasn’t thinking. As usual.’

  ‘David!’ I was shocked.

  Suddenly he drew his knees up, put his head on them, and cradled it in his arms.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said in muffled tones into the bedclothes. ‘I didn’t mean that. I just feel everything’s going wrong at the moment. You telling me that was the last straw, really.’