Happy Ever After

by Kitty Wilson

  Hector was flailing around the dance floor, providing a picture familiar at weddings: drunken man with tie around head and bottle in hands, happily stumbling and being a bit of a tit, albeit a harmless one.

  Rosy had kicked off her shoes now and she and Matt were in a slow dance, one just for the two of them, ignoring the up-tempo beat of the music around them. Holding each other’s faces as their feet moved from side to side.

  It made her feel quite emotional, the lump that had been in her throat as she sat down now fully formed. Those two were so in love. They reminded her of herself and Richard on their… oh and there he was now, coming into view. He was dancing with Rufus, in the middle of the floor, twirling him around as he always did her.

  What the hell did she feel about him?

  She’d been so cross this morning when she found out about Serena’s evidence that supposedly proved Richard had not slept with Claudia, so cross at him for keeping more secrets. As for arranging a renewal ceremony, that was so out of order she couldn’t begin to get her head around it. But now as she watched him dancing with their youngest son it was hard to feel too much anger. If she could just separate all her emotions out, work out which one was the dominant and why, and from there move on to what was the best thing for her to do next. How did she want to shape her life? Who did she want to be in it? Who did she want to be?

  She recalled Alice’s advice from a few weeks ago, that sometimes taking a moment for oneself was the best way to see clearly. Was this what she was doing out here now? Taking a moment for herself? She could certainly do with some help seeing clearly.

  She was just coming to terms with Richard and her possibly getting back together. And then on the day she had to be calmest, most together, most professional, he had dropped a bomb on her. Telling her that her great big celebrity party next week, her I-am-Marion-Marksharp-and-I-can-arrange-the-chicest-the-most-glamourous-the-most-everything-party-ever party was not what she thought it was. It was going to be so embarrassing, professionally and personally, and in front of all the people Angelina had made her invite.

  She could feel her breathing spiking. She tried to balance herself by looking back in through the windows of the orangery. She focused in on Hector again; he had just tripped over Scramble and was now scooping the dog up and trying to plonk a kiss on his mouth. Did that count as animal abuse?

  Hector was a funny old thing. He represented everything she had believed made one successful in life. Born to privilege, he had everything his heart could ever wish for, and yet still she knew he had an ache inside there, an ache that money and status wasn’t filling.

  She had lost count of the amount of times he had made a pass at her over the years; he was an absolute fool of a man the majority of the time but there was a depth to him that many didn’t see.

  Scramble very definitely didn’t at this moment.

  Hector had asked her to run away with him more than once. She never had agreed of course, but neither had she objected to the attention. She would never have left Richard for Hector, not in a million years. Although it was his house she had run to, his advice she’d sought last summer when she and Richard were starting to struggle.

  She had thought they were getting back on track. This year had been tumultuous, it had pulled her apart and forced her to build herself up and adapt and conquer but the last few months, she had almost been living her dream life, slowly making her peace with her husband, her family around her. And now, at the point where she was nearly ready, he had to have secrets from her, hide something else that had to do with him and Claudia, not show her the evidence she had so desperately craved. And then he’d assumed she was ready before she had said she was coming close, forcing her to do what he wanted and with the support of people she had thought were her friends. He could have Chase, that was fair enough but Angelina was hers, all hers. He didn’t even like her that much.

  ‘Hey, hey. You’re going to snap that glass stem in a minute. Do you mind if I sit down?’

  Marion looked up to see Pippa standing over her looking a little flushed and out of breath. She had been dancing but a minute ago. Marion wanted to say no, no you can’t, sod off. Pippa was the one person left in Penmenna that she hadn’t really gelled with over the last few months, the one who was always a step back, eyebrow quirked and looking at Marion with undisguised loathing.

  Marion was aware enough to know that this was largely her fault. She had taken a swipe at Pippa at every possible opportunity over the years, and it was true some of her worse insults still made her smile but it hadn’t been fair really; she suspected it was all born out of jealously. Jealousy that Pippa was so confident, had a perfect family and seemed to lack all the demons that plagued Marion.

  Pippa sat, not waiting for Marion to answer. See, confident.

  ‘I’ve been watching you out here; you look pretty stressed but you should be proud.’ She paused and Marion sensed a reluctance, as if she wasn’t sure of what she was about to say. She went ahead anyway. ‘Is there anything I can help with?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Marion said shortly; the last thing she needed was Pippa’s help. But then it wasn’t that long ago that she was happy being an island, and yet she had learnt that having friendships, making connections was more rewarding than she had realized.

  ‘That was snappy,’ she said by way of an apology.

  ‘Yep.’ Pippa nodded. ‘Why, though, why aren’t you happy today of all days? You should be over the moon. Do you know what, all through summer I’ve been trying to take the burden off Rosy so I kept offering to help her with things.’

  ‘You did help her, you did the hair and make-up and did a good job; your mum made and decorated the cake. I’d say it was definitely Parkin-heavy, this wedding.’

  ‘Mmm. What I’m trying to say is that every time I asked if she needed something, if there was any way I could help, she replied Marion’s got it every single time. And you had, you made everything so relaxed for them. Sitting on this bench on a summer’s evening bigging you up seems really freaking surreal. That was not something I ever thought I would say to you, that’s for sure. But maybe you’ve picked up too much, so as you helped Rosy I’m here to support you, so let me in. What’s going on? Why that look in your eye on a night you should be bold with victory?’

  Marion looked Pippa up and down; what harm could it do? And to talk to someone she didn’t care about that much, maybe that would be liberating. She could always stop as soon as she became uncomfortable.

  ‘Men. I don’t expect you to understand.’

  ‘Ha! I’m going to assume that’s because I’m wildly happy with Kam rather than you having a personal dig at the people I dated before him.’

  ‘Oh good God, no, you can shag who you like. I meant Kam, obviously I meant Kam.’ Marion was mortified; she didn’t mind being taken for a manipulative, power-hungry sociopath but she wasn’t a bigot. She had never judged Pippa for her romantic partners; her clothes, yes, but not her choices of partner.

  ‘It’s alright, but trust me I understand what you mean. Yes, Kam is great but oh my goodness I’ve had my fair share of nightmares. Not that Richard is a nightmare – oh look, we’re both getting ourselves into a pickle now.’

  Marion smiled. ‘Richard is no saint, let me tell you.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve all seen him grope you under the table at governors’ meetings, we know that.’

  ‘Unnecessary but that’s not what I meant. I thought I knew him, was convinced of it – and when I make my peace with the fact that he is a good man, a good role model and the person I want to grow old with, he does something duplicitous or self-serving and shakes my world all over again. I can’t help but think I’m better off as I am, keeping him at a distance.’

  ‘Look, Marion, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors, but duplicitous and self-serving doesn’t sound like the Richard I know and have come to know even better over the last two terms. I’m not questioning the fact that you know your husband a damn sight
better than I do but are you honestly looking at his behaviour rationally rather than emotionally?’

  ‘Of course its emotional; it’s my life, how can it not be emotional?’ She should have known this woman wasn’t going to talk any sense.

  ‘True, emotion isn’t a bad thing, but when it dominates us, pushes out rationality and impacts our life negatively then maybe we need to re-look at what we’re thinking. I know that when my emotions, my fears and insecurities were telling me that Kam was a let-down and I reacted rather than thought, I made poor decisions. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Don’t do what I did.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to have a go, I didn’t know that about you and Kam, but I’m trying, I really am. My mind just gets flooded with the injustices of what he’s done, what he’s doing and what he’s planned.’

  ‘Aha, the old wood from the trees problem. I can’t wave a magic wand for you, Marion, but I can make some suggestions, if you promise not to whack me over the head with your glass.’

  ‘Go on. I am willing to listen to anybody right now.’

  ‘Anybody?’

  ‘Well, obviously not Harmony but pretty much anybody else.’

  ‘Okay, well this is a bit Harmony-like. Mindfulness; do you practise it?’

  Marion tried not to lose her temper. Why did people always say this as if it was a miracle cure for everything and anything if only she tried hard enough? She recognized that Pippa was trying to help, but breaking that promise about her wine glass was proving difficult right now. She put her drink on the floor beside her and answered honestly. ‘I hate mindfulness.’

  ‘Okay, why?’ Pippa asked.

  ‘I tried, I did try but I found that I just couldn’t switch off my brain. The minute I tried to concentrate on how my poxy toes were feeling in that moment then everything else just crowded in and made it impossible. It made me feel like I was failing at even this basic thing.’

  ‘Yep, I get that. And it’s okay, it’s really common. Just acknowledge it and note it. Note what keeps popping up and stop fretting about it happening, it’s all part of it. What keeps popping up? Anger?’ Pippa asked and Marion moved closer to her on the bench. This was weird; it felt honest, but it was still weird.

  ‘It might be easier if it were anger. I get sad. So sad.’ She tried to cover up the honesty of her words with a little laugh.

  ‘Why?’ Pippa said so quietly that Marion couldn’t be sure she had spoken at all.

  ‘Why? Because I love him so much; he comes into a room and my heart pitter patters as if I were a teen. I want to reach out to him, bind him to me and never let him go. Every tiny crinkle and crease he has on his face, on his body, has been one that has grown with us as a couple. We have gone from being eighteen years old and madly in love to a pair of middle-aged parents and we have taken every step of that journey together and my heart wants to continue that. But – and it’s a huge but, an insurmountable but – it’s not just love that counts, it can’t be, there needs to be respect as well. I respect him but recently… recently his behaviour has indicated that he doesn’t feel the same.’ She glared at Pippa as she said this, challenging her to oppose her.

  ‘Are you sure? To the outside eye no one could possibly argue that Richard doesn’t respect you. We are all so fed up of hearing what a bloody queen you are when quite frankly we, I, only ever get the rough side of your tongue and there’s nothing very regal about that. Imagine I’m a judge in a court case: back it up, tell me how he doesn’t respect you.’

  ‘If he respected me why didn’t he do as I say? Give me the evidence rather than keeping secrets?’ Marion heard her voice squeak high, sounding indignant. Like a petulant child that wants to be heard. Was that what she was being? Was that what Pippa was trying to say? Were her emotions and insecurities letting her inner child, her hurt self, make the decisions?

  Apparently not because Pippa wasn’t giving her time to think that one through.

  ‘Firstly, just because someone respects you doesn’t mean they have to practise blind obedience. I would argue that the people that care about you are prepared to stand up and be difficult sometimes. Doing as you are told all the time is not a sign of respect but capitulation. Have you talked to him about this?’

  ‘No.’ Marion shrugged. That was a fair point. Marion had always liked to command blind obedience but she had never really respected it.

  ‘Okay, well, talk to him about whatever it is you wanted him to do, find out why he didn’t do it. If you love Richard, and I think you do and yes, if you respect Richard’ – Marion nodded – ‘then let him speak. Listen to him. Ask him why. What else? You’re nodding and yet I’m not convinced you’re convinced.’

  ‘He told me today…’ Marion didn’t know how to verbalize it; her embarrassment was off the charts. ‘He told me that next week’s party at Angelina and Chase’s house is actually a surprise set up to renew our vows. He’s made a fool of me. Why on earth would someone organize that without asking if I wanted to renew my vows? I chucked him out; I’d strongly suggest that indicates that vow renewal is not top of my list of priorities.’

  ‘Okay. I hear you.’ Pippa paused and Marion looked at her, unfathomably desperate to hear what she had to say. Surely she had to agree. There was no black and white on this issue. Not saying yes to a renewal and having one scheduled; that was way too far for even newly zen Pippa and her mindfulness. ‘And you’re right.’ Marion let out a sigh of relief. She was, she knew she was. ‘But again, I’m going to say that doesn’t sound like Richard. The man is such a love but let’s face it, he wouldn’t say boo to a goose in case he hurt the goose’s feelings. Are you sure that he has done this? That there hasn’t been a muddle? Again, loath as I am to tie this back to me—’

  ‘Yes, you don’t want to become narcissistic, dear,’ Marion responded as quick as a flash, ‘not an attractive look.’ Pippa stopped and looked at her, brows arched. Okay, so they weren’t that comfortable yet. Marion winked to show she was joking.

  ‘What I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted…’ Pippa paused again. But this time to wink back at Marion. ‘…was that it may be worth taking it back a step, unravelling the truth of what’s happened. It seems a very bold move for him and I suspect there’s something else happening. Was this the party that is meant to be Angelina Masters’ engagement party?’

  ‘Yes, although she has been so difficult and has made me plan a huge, absolutely huge, party with half the guests being people I know, a handful of friends of hers and the rest are paid.’

  ‘I suspect your answer lies somewhere there… ooooh, woah! Woah! What are you doing. Be careful!’ Pippa interrupted her own answer to shout as Hector, in full flail mode, crashed out of the orangery and landed himself, pretty expertly, on Marion’s lap.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he slurred as he settled himself. ‘Fancy a quickie?’

  Pippa and Marion exchanged a look.

  ‘Not now, Hector.’ Marion tried shoving him off. It was not easy. He needed a little less booze and red meat and a few more salads.

  ‘Hey, mate, why don’t you come and sit between the two of us.’ Pippa had moved up a bit and patted the free space next to her.

  ‘Two of you, oh yes,’ Hector slurred, shifting his not inconsiderable weight to the bench and managing to lay his head on Marion’s shoulder at the same time. ‘You’ve always been so lovely.’ Marion didn’t dare look at Pippa; she was fairly sure she wouldn’t agree. ‘Richard’s always been so lucky. I would have loved to have been yours but even I know when I’m beat. Which is a shame. I should have tried harder to win you for myself. But you two were made for each other, made for each other.’ At which point he leant forward and swayed a bit.

  ‘You seem to be trying pretty hard right now,’ Pippa observed.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t!’ Marion tried to push him more forward; she recognised the signs.

  Too late. Hector fixed her with a goofy smile and then vomited violently all over the ground in front
of him, narrowly missing Pippa and Marion’s shoes as they both swiftly drew their legs up and under and managed to avoid his sick.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Marion said, professional wedding planner side of herself abandoned as old and irritated friend took over.

  ‘S’ry,’ Hector slurred. ‘Made for each other. Must sort it out.’ His head slumped back on Marion’s shoulder with not particularly attractive bits of spittle still on his chin.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Pippa giggled.

  ‘Not for much longer.’ Marion tried to jiggle him along her shoulder.

  ‘A wedding isn’t a wedding without at least one drunken uncle,’ Pippa observed sympathetically.

  ‘Hmm. I need to get that cleaned up. You are a pain in the arse, Hector. Here, will you support his weight a minute?’ Marion hefted Hector towards Pippa and stood up to go and get the bodily fluid clean-up kit; she knew it was sensible to have one. She considered using her walkie-talkie to call Serena whilst she watched over her friend and made sure he did nothing else to upset the night but knew it wasn’t fair to get her friend to do something she really didn’t want to have to do herself. Being new Marion definitely had its drawbacks.

  As she stood, Richard came out of the orangery with a sleepy Rufus clinging to his hand.

  ‘Hello, love, I’ve got to get him home; he’s dying on his feet. It’s been a lovely day though, well done. Obviously, I’ll take Rafe and Rupert back with me as well.’

  ‘Okay.’ She ignored the ‘love’ bit; she didn’t want to start a fight here. But honestly, he seemed to think that everything was more or less okay again, just because they had slept together. She needed to make it clear that she was still unsure of what was to happen between the two of them. ‘I’ve got to get Hector into a taxi.’

  ‘I’m not a child,’ their mutual friend slurred, child-like.