by Kitty Wilson
‘Marion, what are you talking about? How did we get from planning our wedding to destitute vicars?’ Matt always had to hark back to the practical. She supposed he was a gardener; she couldn’t expect him to be too cerebral. Millions of viewers didn’t tune in every Friday night because of his brains.
‘The thing is, Matt…’ She needed to stop babbling, slow down and present her clearest self. ‘It’s not just the good you could do. You and Angelina have done all your growing up together; I know how you looked after her, sacrificed everything to give her the best upbringing when your mother, you know your mother…’ Marion was flustered but felt that talking about maternal suicide at this time was not going to be okay. She didn’t know how much Rosy knew and certainly not Dan. ‘The point is that there’s a really nice symmetry to this: the two of you survived together and you both get your happy ever afters together. It’s not just a case of you seeing her happily wed, and thus less of a burd— um, responsibility to you. But the two of you getting married together, at the same time. It has a beautiful synchronicity, a final ceremony that ushers in a new life, new priorities for each of you.’
Matt did not look particularly captivated by her argument but she could see Rosy, absent-mindedly patting Scramble, looking as if she understood the point.
‘On top of which, I saw how you rose to the save the school challenge when you two first met.’ Rosy and Matt exchanged adoring looks and Marion tried not to gag. ‘I know how important giving back is to you. How you like to use your current status as television’s darling of the nation… now, now, don’t blush, we all know it’s true.’ She leant forward and tapped him playfully on the leg and Dan and Rosy nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Well, this is your finest opportunity to give back; this is worth even more than sucking up the name Green-fingered and Gorgeous for the sake of the pupils in Penmenna School, Matt.’
‘How did you know…?’
‘I know everything that happens in this village; you should know that by now.’ She heard the laugh escape her lips, but it was genuine and good-natured this time. She did know everything, it was a fact; knowledge was important when one wanted to hold a community together as she did.
‘What you’re saying, Marion, is that if Matt and Rosy chose to get married in a double ceremony with his sister and her partner then they could donate large sums to the charities of their choosing,’ Dan outlined.
‘Yes.’ Marion sat back smugly. She knew it would work.
‘Which means that you will have raised that money by selling our wedding to the tabloids, or whomever proves to be the highest bidder and our wedding becomes a circus,’ Matt countered.
‘No, well, a bit, but I’m sure if we made it an exclusive then we could limit that.’
‘So, if we sell it as an exclusive, we only have one or two photographers there and we give a substantial sum to charity?’ Rosy asked, bless her. Marion knew Rosy would have her back on this. See how important this day was to Marion. But before she could answer in the affirmative, Matt had butted in.
‘The thing is, I don’t want what Angelina wants, and I’m fairly sure neither does Rosy. It’s still a big no from me.’
‘Well.’ Rosy laid her hand on Matt’s leg. ‘You’re right of course, I don’t want that. Not at all. But if we could raise some money, we could donate it to Alex’s foundation and it’s only one day, one day and then we have the rest of our lives together to do exactly as we want. And it would make Angelina happy; that has to be worth almost anything.’
‘Of course it’ll make Ange happy, because she’ll have all the attention and that’s what feeds her. She’s like a gremlin; just because she asks to be fed doesn’t mean it’s wise to do so. More importantly, it’s our day, our wedding day. The first, the last, the only, and I don’t want it hijacked by my sister. That may sound selfish, but it’s true. I want this day to be about just you and me. That’s not so wrong, is it?’
‘Not wrong at all.’ Rosy reached over and held both of Matt’s hands with hers and there was a pause as they looked at each other lovingly.
Dear God, today was proving rather testing. She’d better let them have their moment. Even the poxy dog had sat up and cocked his head to one side in adoration.
Dan was the first to break the silence. ‘Why don’t you see what Matt and Rosy want to do for their day and then go from there. There may be a way to work out a compromise that suits everyone.’
‘There won’t be,’ Matt said, still looking lovingly at his fiancée but perfectly capable of making snide comments out the side of his mouth. ‘Have you met my sister? Actually, you probably haven’t; I’m ready to bet money that she has not set foot in the church since she arrived here two years ago. The fact that it’s still standing is testament to that. I’m fairly sure she would have burst into flames and taken out a pew or two had she tried.’
‘Matt!’ Rosy giggled and faux slapped him. That was almost as annoying as the whole staring into each other’s eyes thing. Even when she and Richard were together they never made a public show of themselves like that!
A quick memory flashed into Marion’s mind of herself and Richard in a coat cupboard the very night that Chase and Angelina had met and she felt, just for a second, a flicker of guilt. Of awareness that Chase that night certainly saw more than was fit for public consumption but then that was hardly their fault. They had shut the cupboard door; it was he who had rudely pulled it open.
‘Why don’t we go through the order of the day, what you two have already decided that you want and go from there,’ Dan said, breaking Marion’s reverie. She supposed anything that made a start would be something. She did need them on side and maybe listening couldn’t hurt. That way she’d know their plans and be able to show how if they had Angelina and Chase involved it could become even better than their wildest imaginings. Which she now realized were very limited. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate them even more.
Marion took another deep breath; there was more than one way to skin a cat. ‘What a good idea, let’s do that. So, Rosy, Matt…’ She leant forward, her tablet poised, most professional and amiable smile on. ‘Tell me, what is it that you would like?’
Chapter Twenty-one
The meeting hadn’t gone the exact way she had planned it. Marion had walked back from Rosy and Matt’s with a list on her iPad of the wedding they wanted and it was very different to the one she had hoped for. She wasn’t sure how she was going to turn this around and get their wedding and the wedding Angelina would undoubtedly want into any kind of correlation, but she had faith in herself. If anyone could do it, it would be her.
Then she had come home to find Richard in the house with the boys, all upstairs gathered around the laptop screeching and shouting in communal joy at the screen as Rupert played his game. This was how a lot of the previous week, half term, had panned out, and it hadn’t been easy. She knew the boys loved her; they may be little rotters a lot of the time but when it came to the outside world her boys had her back like no other. But did they ask her to play video games with her? That was a definite no.
She had dotted each of the boys’ heads with a kiss and then headed into the kitchen where the most delicious smell was emanating from the oven. Peeking through the oven door she saw it was a lasagne, presumably one with butternut squash and goat’s cheese, her absolute favourite that Richard used to cook for her on a Saturday when he felt she needed a lift after running the boys around all day.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see her husband standing in the doorway, sheepish grin on his face.
‘I thought after your long day, the least I could do whilst I was keeping an eye on the boys was to have something warm for you in the oven.’ She looked at his little face, the crinkle around his eyes and knew he was worried that he had overstepped. He had always been respectful of boundaries and was aware she may feel it was an invasion. She allowed herself a small half-smile of thanks and a grin spread across his face, presumably thankful that she
wasn’t reaching for something to throw at him. She had felt a little guilty about the vase she had cracked over his head. It was hard to be cross with this face that she had loved for so many years; it would be a lot easier if he just sodded off.
‘There’s a good half hour or so before it’s ready. If you want to go and have a quick bath, the boys and I will have everything ready when you come out. Although I won’t stay for supper,’ he added, the last sentence an afterthought.
‘No, that’s okay. You can stay. The boys will be cross if you don’t. And a bath, that would be nice. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ He reached over and touched her shoulder, tentatively. ‘I’ve got lots to tell you. I’d love it if we could go out this week, maybe for lunch, and I can fill you in with all my news. Lots of changes.’ She may appreciate a lasagne and a bath but a lunch date? With the man whose actions had tipped her family upside down? Pfft! ‘The main thing is I will be in Cornwall full-time now, just as we had always planned. It means I can support you lots as you get this new business off the ground,’ he continued.
‘Better late than never I suppose,’ she snapped. He did have a cheek. She had been desperate for him to come home and then, typically, he had finally managed it a little too late.
* * *
Supper had been lovely though. It was a snapshot of everything she had ever dreamed of, her whole family around the table on a regular weekday, the boys and Richard laughing and joking as they ate, discussing what they had done at school. She had found herself taking a backseat, too scared to join in, in case she ruined the mood.
She was grateful that the boys were so accepting about the situation and tonight, when Richard left, Rafe had come down the stairs and rubbed her back silently as she stood at the front door. Her sons really were special.
Marion decided to get comfy and cuddle down on the sofa with Darcy and watch reruns of The Wedding Planner, to see if there was anything she hadn’t thought of – unlikely, but one had to keep one’s sword sharp. She popped on her pyjamas and dressing gown – a look she would never normally sport but her whole world was far from normal these days, and other women seemed to make a big fuss about it so she thought she would try. She was just beginning to get comfy when the doorbell rang.
Shit!
No one ever visited Marion in the evening, not without it being pre-arranged and at Marion’s behest. Trust that the first ever time she decided to slob out and watch reality TV, she would have a visitor. Did she have time to run upstairs and change?
The doorbell rang again – argggh! She turned the television off and went to see who on earth had decided to disturb her.
She peeked through the spyhole. For goodness’ sake! It was Alice. What was she thinking? Marion yanked the door open and fixed Alice with one of her fiercest looks. One of the things she respected about the teaching assistant was that Marion’s looks slid right off her. Alice was made of stern stuff and Marion quite liked it. Still, it amused her to try.
‘Yes!’ she barked.
Alice smirked, in a you’ll-have-to-try-harder-than-that manner before saying, ‘Is it okay to come in?’ as she was walking in. One of Marion’s tricks. For a minute Marion forgot that she was in pyjamas and smirked back. This might be interesting.
She wasn’t batting an eye at Marion’s attire so Marion decided to relax a little.
‘You’ll have to be quick,’ she snapped. There was relaxing and then there was being a pushover. ‘Why are you here?’ Marion felt her eyes narrow as she quizzed her unexpected guest, widening only as she spotted a bottle of wine peeking out of her tote.
Alice followed her line of sight and wiggled the bag. ‘I thought we could have a drink, a catch-up, a chat.’
Now Marion was suspicious; no one nipped in for a chat. Was Alice grooming her? And what for? She’d better not be looking for volunteers for Sunday School again.
But maybe now she was single, this was when people started coming out of the woodwork. Was this part of the plan she had overheard in the staffroom? She supposed it could do no harm just to have one drink. Free wine was free wine and Marion was savvy enough not to get caught into anything she didn’t want to be.
She motioned Alice to the sofa, the dog to his basket and went to get a corkscrew and a couple of glasses.
‘So, how are you?’ Alice asked.
Marion fixed her with a look and stayed silent.
‘What about those lovely boys of yours, how are they?’ Alice flashed a huge grin.
‘Just that, absolutely lov—’ There was a huge crashing from upstairs, followed by a slapping sound and a loud ‘Muuuuum!’
Both Alice and Marion’s heads whipped around.
‘Should we…?’ Alice gestured to the stairs.
‘Oh no, nothing to worry about. They’re just practising their karate, such diligent children,’ Marion fibbed. She really didn’t need the myth of her perfect family life smashed at the same time as she was slumming about in pyjamas.
Alice didn’t look convinced.
‘Muuuum!’ the bellow came again, this time from Rafe, and with a distinct note of panic in his voice. Then some kicking and owwwing from what sounded like Rupert.
This time Marion didn’t even try and gloss over it. The two women jumped from their chairs, racing up the stairs to the bathroom to find Rupert in his pyjamas on the floor rolling around like a professional football player, his older brother Rafe in front of the bathroom mirror with his hand atop his head but at the oddest angle and Rufus laughing hysterically whilst pointing at Rafe.
‘Boys, what is going on?’
‘They’re little shits, Mum, little shits, look what they’ve done.’
‘Language,’ Marion reprimanded sharply.
‘I think this merits it.’ Rafe’s vocabulary had always been so adult, bless him. Rafe, however, didn’t seem particularly bothered about his vocabulary right now. But he did spot Alice behind Marion in the doorway.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Pentire, I didn’t see you there. But look, look what they’ve done!’
‘Rupert, get off the floor; there’s nothing wrong with you. Rufus, pull yourself together. If your brother is distressed that is not a thing to giggle about. What have they done, Rafe, darling?’
Rafe tried lifting his hand from his head but it didn’t appear to come away. Although his hair, despite being short, raised up with his hand.
‘They put superglue in my hair gel. How am I ever going to get it off? I’m never going to be able to leave the house again. I’m meant to be FaceTimeing Sophie in a bit and…’ Rafe’s voice was spiralling getting higher and higher and more and more angry. He kicked out at Rupert again, who was getting up off the floor and who bounded out of the way just in time.
‘Why would I put superglue in his hair gel?’ Rupert said, an expression of faux outrage on his face. An expression that didn’t fool a single person in that room.
‘Rupert Marksharp, I cannot believe you have done this. Why would you do this to your brother?’
‘Because he’s an idiot?’ Rupert answered as if his mother was stupid for asking a question to which the answer was so obvious.
‘I’m gonna kill…’ Rafe turned around to attack his brother again, but could only do so one-handed; the other remained firmly attached to his head.
‘It wasn’t just me!’ Rupert giggled as he skipped out of the way again. He had always excelled at his country dancing classes, Marion thought with pride before she remembered the situation she was in, and all in front of Alice as a witness. Mortifying. She threw a glance in Alice’s direction but the woman was tapping away on her phone, a half-smile on her face.
‘Shut up, shut up, shut up!’ Rufus jumped up and also tried to attack Rupert, who was still busy laughing, his words coming out between giggles. Rufus was landing blows on his brother but not enough to stop him from speaking.
‘Rufus weed in your Lynx shower gel,’ Rupert said triumphantly.
‘Mum!’ screeched Rafe. ‘T
hat’s disgusting, disgusting.’
‘That is too far, boys, really too far. Rupert and Rufus, get to your room now. No video games for two weeks – you’re both grounded and I will be drawing up a list of chores to keep you busy and they will involve so much scrubbing you may lose your fingerprints,’ Marion said firmly. The skirting boards could do with a good clean; every cloud and all that.
‘I don’t want to lose my fingerprints,’ Rufus sobbed.
‘I don’t want your wee in my shower gel, you disgusting little toerag,’ Rafe shouted in response over his mother’s head, still with only the one arm flailing wildly.
‘What’s disgusting is that he hasn’t worked it out yet. Rafe put it in there three days ago and he’s clearly not showered in that time. I thought having a girlfriend would make him want to wash at least,’ Rupert shot over his shoulder as he tripped out of the bathroom towards his room.
‘For the last time, she’s not my girlfriend,’ Rafe shouted, tears welling in his eyes at the unfairness of life. At that moment, his phone began to ring on the side, his not-girlfriend’s face flashing up on the screen.