Double Wedding

by Patricia Scanlan

  30

  ‘Here they are,’ Jessica informed Liz, who was busy writing in a notebook.

  ‘I’ve made out a list to include menus, flowers, photographer, cake or cakes as the case may be, church music, church fees, tea and coffee reception, finger food for supper. I think that about covers it. Doesn’t it?’ Liz put away her pen and went out to the hall to open the door for her guests.

  ‘Finger food and tea and coffee reception, it’s going to be really expensive, isn’t it?’ Jessica said worriedly. She was starting to panic about the price of things. She had savings, but because they were getting married sooner than planned she was worried that they wouldn’t have enough and that they’d end up in debt. Both of them had agreed that they were paying for their own wedding. Liz was a widow and they wouldn’t feel at all comfortable taking money from her.

  ‘Stop panicking. We can keep our side of it as small as we want,’ Mike said firmly.

  ‘Hello, Nancy, come in. Hi, Carol. Hi, Gary,’ Liz said warmly, ushering her guests into the sitting-room.

  ‘Hi, Jessie. Hi, Mike,’ Carol said airily. Gary nodded affably.

  ‘Sit down, Nancy,’ Liz said kindly. She looks wretched, she thought sympathetically, indicating an armchair by the fireplace.

  ‘This is a lovely room, you did a great job on it,’ Nancy managed, making a huge effort.

  ‘The wooden floors make a huge difference and I got the builders to break through into the kitchen dining-room, so the glass doors here really lighten up the place. It was so dark before,’ Liz explained. ‘It’s a long time since you’ve been here, I’ve had it done a few years now.’

  ‘Ah, I don’t go out much nowadays. You know, since Bill left me . . . ’ Nancy trailed away sadly.

  ‘Gary’s brought some sample invites that a friend of his does at half the price,’ Carol interjected hastily, fearing her mother was going to go off into one of her self-pitying whinges.

  ‘Oh, let’s see,’ Jessica said eagerly.

  ‘Hold on a sec, would anyone like tea or coffee? I thought we’d have a bite to eat on the patio later on. It’s such a lovely day out,’ Liz suggested.

  ‘Nothing for us, thanks, Liz, we’ve all just had coffee at home,’ Carol said politely.

  ‘OK then, we’ll get down to business.’ Liz sat down on the chair opposite Nancy, and the two girls sat beside each other on the sofa with Gary and Mike sitting either side of them.

  Carol took the invites out of her bag and passed them round.

  ‘Would you mind if I smoked, Liz?’ Nancy asked hesitantly.

  ‘Not at all,’ Liz said, although she hated the smell of smoke. ‘I have an ashtray there beside you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s kind,’ Nancy murmured, wishing her heartbeat would slow down and the nervous cramping she was having in her stomach would stop.

  ‘These are good, aren’t they?’ Jessica held up a champagne-coloured invite with a beautiful flowing font. ‘It’s the same colour as my dress. I’ll be colour-co-ordinated.’

  ‘Oh! Did you go for cream?’ Carol pounced on the snippet.

  ‘Champagne actually,’ Jessica said, remembering that was how the saleswoman had described it.

  ‘Oh good. We won’t be two peas in a pod. I’m going for the traditional white,’ Carol informed her.

  Bully for you! Jessica felt like saying at Carol’s faintly superior tone, and then felt ashamed of herself for her pettiness.

  ‘You know, you could have your invites in cream and I could have mine in white,’ Carol suggested.

  ‘And what about our mutual friends, all the gang from the club?’

  ‘Oh, hadn’t thought of that.’ Carol wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Are you inviting many?’ Jessica asked delicately.

  ‘Er . . . not too many, so far,’ Carol hedged.

  ‘I have some menus and price lists,’ Liz said smoothly. ‘I know the two of you are going to meet up with the wedding manager next week, but I have some figures here so you can be prepared. The average is between twenty-eight and thirty-eight euro per head for a four-course meal. And here’s the prices for the tea and coffee reception and for finger food for supper.’

  ‘Well, we can’t have beef – mad cow and all that,’ Carol decreed as she scanned the menu.

  Jessica glanced at Mike. Typical of Carol’s high-handedness.

  ‘Steady on there, Carol,’ Gary remonstrated. ‘Some of us are prepared to take the risk.’

  She glowered at him. ‘Some people aren’t, and how do we know who eats beef and who doesn’t?’

  ‘Lamb is always fairly acceptable,’ Mike suggested diplomatically.

  ‘Or the poached salmon,’ Liz offered. ‘There’s chicken to consider too.’

  ‘I wonder where is it sourced? You read so much about chicken these days,’ Carol said gloomily. She looked at Jessica. ‘What were you thinking of?’

  ‘I’d go for the lamb with baby carrots and mangetout,’ Jessica said firmly.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Garry said briskly.

  ‘What do you think, Nancy?’ Liz asked politely.

  ‘It’s up to them,’ Nancy demurred.

  ‘OK then,’ Carol said. ‘And how about the mozzarella and tomato leafy green salad for starters? It’s a nice healthy option.’ She eyeballed Jessica.

  ‘Not dock leaves and nettles,’ groaned Gary.

  ‘Gary!’ his fiancée exclaimed in exasperation.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, just teasing.’ He held up his palms.

  ‘You OK with that?’ Jessica asked Mike, hoping he’d say he preferred the deep-fried Brie.

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said cravenly.

  ‘And the carrot and coriander soup?’ Carol pressed home her advantage.

  ‘OK, and the pavlova for dessert?’ Jessica had had enough.

  ‘Lovely.’ Mike rubbed his hands.

  ‘That’s that sorted,’ Gary declared. ‘Next.’

  Jessica looked at Liz’s list. ‘What do you want to do about flowers in the church? Mam’s doing my bouquet; she’s good at that sort of thing. Just remember, Mike and I don’t have a fortune to spend.’

  ‘Who has? Pick a few tulips,’ Gary suggested.

  ‘Gary, will you be serious.’ Carol rounded on him.

  ‘I am,’ he assured her.

  ‘Tulips don’t grow in September, you idiot—’

  ‘If I could make a suggestion,’ Liz interrupted. ‘Gladioli look very well at that time of the year. I’ll have plenty in bloom. You could buy ferns and gyp for dressing them up and it would look very nice. What do you think, Nancy?’ She looked across at her neighbour, not wanting her to feel excluded.

  ‘Gladioli are lovely—’

  ‘I would have liked roses,’ Carol said sulkily.

  ‘They cost a fortune, Carol,’ Jessica burst out.

  ‘Well, couldn’t you have two big vases of gladioli on the steps of the altar and two smaller arrangements of roses on the altar?’ Liz negotiated.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Jessica said crabbily.

  ‘Right, church music.’ Liz moved things on briskly.

  ‘I’m not fussy, we’re not really churchgoers,’ Carol sniffed. ‘Jessica can choose whatever she likes,’ she added magnanimously. ‘I presume we will have the Wedding March.’ She arched an eyebrow at Jessica.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We’ve had it once we hear that, buddy.’ Gary shook his head at Mike. ‘There’ll be no escape.’

  ‘Who wants to escape and miss the pavlova, not to mention the leafy salad?’ Mike smiled at Carol, and she had the grace to laugh.

  ‘OK then, Mike and I’ll pay for the soloist, and we can share the organist’s fees,’ Jessica said. That way at least she’d be able to have the hymns she wanted played at her wedding.

  ‘Agreed,’ Gary said equably. ‘Next?’

  ‘Photographer?’ Mike looked at Jessica’s list.

  ‘My brother’s pretty good with the digital camera,’ Gary said.

  ‘I’d
prefer a professional,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘Not casting aspersions on your brother’s photographic expertise or anything,’ she added politely.

  ‘Vince’s very good at photography, actually – we’d like him,’ Carol insisted.

  ‘Sure you two get him and we’ll get whoever Jessica wants, no problems there,’ Mike said matter-of-factly.

  ‘No problem,’ Gary agreed.

  ‘The aisle in the church won’t fit us all, it’s too narrow. Would you like to go up first?’ Jessica turned to Carol.

  ‘No, you go.’ The other girl shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘OK, we’re doing well.’ Jessica tried to lighten the atmosphere. It wasn’t a battle zone, she reminded herself.

  ‘What about the band?’ Carol asked. ‘Do you remember we went to see the Righteous Rockers—’

  ‘Yeah, they were brilliant,’ Mike enthused. ‘That was one of the best nights out I ever had.’

  ‘What do you think? My brother drinks with them.’ Gary eyed Jessica.

  ‘Jessie?’ Mike looked at her questioningly.

  ‘Would they play for us? Do they do weddings?’

  ‘Sure do, will I make inquiries?’ Gary grinned at her.

  ‘Yeah,’ she agreed, delighted that they at least were all agreed on that much. ‘They were fantastic, Mam, if we could get them we’d have a great hooley.’

  ‘It would make the night,’ Carol exclaimed, all tensions temporarily suspended.

  ‘Why don’t I put the kettle on for a cup of tea?’ Liz suggested, relieved that so far the get-together had passed off without major friction and the important decisions had been agreed upon without bloodshed and with just a few compromises here and there.

  * * *

  Brona drummed her fingers on the table. She was agitated. Bill had taken no notice of her advice whatsoever. And that was troubling.

  This stubborn, unreasonable, one-track-minded person was far removed from the man she had fallen in love with. He couldn’t see her point of view on this issue at all and it grated. He’d suddenly become obsessed with Carol and her damn wedding and she felt excluded and very isolated. One of her friends had warned her when first she’d started seeing him that a married man with children would always have baggage that he couldn’t offload. She had airily dismissed her friend’s concerns, confident of her ability to cope with any difficulties that might arise.

  She hadn’t realized that a situation quite as difficult as this would occur or that Bill would behave the way he was behaving.

  She sipped yet another cup of coffee. Ben was watching a Bob the Builder video. He should be walking on the beach with his dad, Brona thought bitterly. Bill had gone haring off to Arklow this afternoon despite her protests that no good would come of it, and she was furious with him. When it came to the crunch, her opinions, her advice and her feelings had not come into the equation. That hurt. It hurt like bloody hell. Resting her forehead on her arms, Brona cried her eyes out.

  * * *

  Arklow looked well, Bill reflected, noting the colourful, well-tended flowerbeds on the approach road into the town. Arklow had changed since his time. Apartment blocks were sprouting along the riverbanks, there was a big new swimming-pool and fitness centre near the wildlife reserve, and restaurants, bars and trendy boutiques dotted the narrow winding main street.

  He’d liked living in Arklow, liked the friendliness of the people. He’d played tennis and bridge and had a good social life. He’d lost all of that and a lot more when he’d walked away from his marriage, he thought sadly. But worst of all, he’d lost the respect and love of his children.

  Listening to Nancy’s worries about Nadine’s drinking, and aware that like every town in the country there was a disturbing drug problem, he admitted, reluctantly, that his wife didn’t have it easy in that regard. Especially with such a strong-willed character as Nadine. She’d been wilful as a toddler, a real handful, he remembered, smiling at the memory of her marauding around the sitting-room before she could walk, creating havoc in her wake as she explored every nook and cranny. Nancy hadn’t been able to handle her. She hadn’t been able to handle anything. Things had got so bad he’d reached his breaking point. Everyone had a breaking point. Carol might find that out some time. Some day she’d understand.

  The knots in his neck muscles tightened as he approached his former home. Dread enfolded him, as it always did when he turned down Nancy’s road. There was a silver Passat parked outside the house. It probably belonged to one of the neighbours. He parked further along and switched off the engine. His hands felt clammy. Should he go and knock on the door first and then carry in the wedding present or should he bring it with him? He dithered.

  He decided to carry it up the drive. The box was big and awkward and he was glad to lower it gently on to the path before ringing the doorbell. He never used his key now. He felt he didn’t have the right. Felt it would be an invasion of Nancy’s privacy. There was no answer and he pressed the bell again, keeping the pressure on a little longer than before.

  How annoying, he thought irritably. He’d come all this way and no one was in. He peered into the sitting-room, which was empty but surprisingly tidy. He’d often arrived at the house to find it like a tip. It was such a lovely day; perhaps his wife was sitting outside. Nancy had liked sunbathing when she was younger. She found the sun comforting, she’d told him once when he’d told her he couldn’t understand how people could sit for hours on the beach doing nothing.

  Rigid with tension, Bill walked around the side of the house. The grass could do with cutting; the flowerbeds were choked with weeds. Surely she could make an effort to keep the place presentable? he thought sourly. It wasn’t as if she were out working her butt off every day.

  If she wasn’t in the back garden and the gate was open he could wait for her there. It would be preferable than sitting in the car under the gaze of the neighbours, he decided, as he lifted the latch on the gate and pushed it open.

  * * *

  Nadine stretched languorously in the heat of the sun. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. Nancy was with Carol. The dreaded visit had turned out quite good, not the ordeal she’d been dreading. Her sister had seemed half-human, even inviting her to visit her in her new flat.

  And Gary . . . She smiled, thinking about her future brother-in-law. He was not at all what she’d made him out to be in her head. He was fun and dishy, and best of all he treated her like an adult. No nagging and bossing. It was so refreshing.

  The wedding might be surprisingly enjoyable after all. She was allowed to invite Mono and Lynn, so at least she wouldn’t feel like a spare thumb. It was great that she hadn’t to make a choice because her friend Lynn could get very thick about things and go into a snit that would last for days. She was hard going sometimes, but that was because she was spoilt rotten at home and expected the same treatment from everyone else.

  Nadine’s eyes drooped and a little snore escaped her lips. She hadn’t fallen into bed until after five. A few of them had gone drinking down by the river after closing time. The dawn had been streaking across the eastern sky as she’d made her unsteady journey home.

  She heard a voice call her name. A vaguely familiar male voice.

  ‘Nadine. Nadine, wake up.’

  Her eyelids fluttered, opened, saw the man looking down at her and closed again. It had to be a dream – more a nightmare, she thought crankily, annoyed that her lovely afternoon was being ruined with images of her father.

  ‘Nadine!’ The voice was louder, more insistent. She jerked awake. It wasn’t a dream! He was there looking down at her. A living nightmare.

  ‘What do you want?’ she said sullenly, pulling her bikini top up higher. She should have locked the damn side gate. She’d remember to in future. What could be worse than having your father sneaking up on you?

  ‘Where’s your mother? I want to talk to her,’ he said patiently.

  ‘For what? You’ll only upset her. She doesn’t want to talk t
o you. Can’t you get that into your thick skull?’ she retorted rudely.

  ‘That’s between your mother and me, and don’t be so rude and aggressive, Nadine. Show a modicum of respect, please. Now where is she? I need to talk to her. There was no answer at the door when I rang the bell.’

  ‘That’s because she’s not in. Duh!’

  Her father’s lips tightened but he ignored her impertinence.

  ‘Would you go in and open the front door for me, I have Carol’s wedding present on the doorstep,’ he ordered.

  ‘Are you mad, Da? Carol won’t take a wedding present from you! She hates you.’

  ‘Just do as I ask, Nadine,’ Bill said grimly.

  ‘Keep your jocks on,’ she muttered reluctantly, hauling herself up from the lounger.

  ‘Is that smoke coming from the window?’ Bill gazed in horror at the kitchen window as a cloud of smoke suddenly billowed forth.

  ‘Oh my God!’ screeched Nadine. ‘She’s set the fuckin’ kitchen on fire with her fags. I knew she’d do it some day. I just knew it. You have to do something about her, Da. She’s a danger to herself.’

  Bill grabbed his mobile out of his shirt pocket and dialled 999.

  ‘I need the fire brigade, urgently,’ he said rapidly, as he watched Nadine struggle into her jeans and run yelling for help out of the side gate into the front garden.

  31

  ‘Who’s that making such a racket?’ Liz paused from refilling Gary’s cup as the uproar intruded upon the indolent silence of a sunny Sunday afternoon.

  ‘That’s Nadine.’ Carol jumped to her feet from where they were sitting around Liz’s patio table and ran to the side gate, swiftly followed by the rest of them.

  ‘Quick, quick, the kitchen’s on fire, there’s smoke everywhere!’ Nadine, dishevelled and barefoot, shouted frantically.