Shut Your Eyes (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 3)

by Lee, Mandy

  ‘To the marquee,’ I hear him shout. ‘Now!’

  Under the umbrella, with Dan’s arm clasped around my waist, I’m guided quickly back through the orchard and the garden. We stop by the opening to the marquee. As guests scurry past us into the shelter, someone takes the umbrella from Dan. He glances out at the rain.

  ‘Just think of this as a big thunder tent,’ he suggests.

  ‘That might work.’

  ‘We can always go inside the house for a while.’

  ‘No. I want to stay here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He looks down at my stomach.

  ‘The baby’s fine. I’m going to ride this one out.’

  ‘Fair enough, but I’m not leaving your side.’

  Taking my hand, he turns to our guests, beaming his happiness at them, and leads me into the throng. We’re hugged and kissed and congratulated, one smiling face after another presenting itself in front of us while the rain gathers force outside, hammering against the tarpaulin until I’m struggling to hear what people say. Here and there, above the din, I catch a crack of thunder, and each time I hear it, it’s louder. With no regard at all for my wedding day, the storm’s about to pass right over our heads … and I’ve begun to tremble. I’d love nothing more than to hide under a table, but I think that might be a step too far. Instead, I tell myself I’m all grown up now. I can stay in control.

  Clive approaches us.

  ‘We’re swapping the order,’ he shouts over the noise of the rain. ‘Official photos later when it’s cleared up outside. And they can’t serve dinner until it stops raining.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I shout back. ‘Just keep everyone’s glasses topped up.’

  ‘Limitless champagne on empty stomachs,’ he laughs. ‘That should work well.’

  With a mock salute, he marches off to liaise with the waiting staff.

  He’s quickly replaced by Lucy.

  ‘We need to get you inside.’

  ‘Why?’ I demand.

  ‘Weather. Baby.’ She points at my stomach. ‘Quivering, pregnant mess.’

  ‘She’s coping,’ Dan reassures her.

  But I’m not so sure about that. The trembles have already mutated into shakes.

  ‘I’m perfectly alright,’ I lie. ‘Go and get drunk.’

  She stares at me, and then at Dan.

  ‘Suit yourselves. But don’t come running to me when she starts swearing.’ With a wave of the hand, she heads off to help Clive.

  Another few minutes pass by in a whirlwind of chat. At some point, I thank Norman for the arch, and Betty for the cake. Jodie informs me she can spruce up my make-up. With a wink, Kathy tells us she’s bought ‘nice clean sheets’ as a wedding present. Bill asks us what we think of his Bermuda shorts, and Charles introduces me properly to his family. I do my best to focus, but it’s not easy. With my heart pounding and thumping, I’m half-listening to the storm, constantly gauging its movement, checking every now and then on the flapping marquee, the rain squalling in through the doorway.

  ‘That was beautiful, darling,’ Little Steve enthuses, clapping his hands together. ‘Just perfect. I cried like a baby.’

  ‘He did,’ Big Steve confirms, looking dapper in a black suit. ‘It was embarrassing.’

  Thunder erupts nearby. Dan’s arms close around me. The children are screaming now, all apart from Damian who’s wheeling around like a maniac.

  ‘I’m glad you made it,’ I tell them, my voice cracking with anxiety. ‘I thought you’d be too busy terrorising Europe.’

  ‘Darling,’ Little Steve breathes, ‘we’ve been concentrating on France, but we had to shoot back for this. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  Another thunderclap. Closer this time. I jolt again, leaning into Dan’s side. I hear the children screaming again. Through half-closed eyes, I watch as Damian jumps up and down on the spot, laughing at his brother.

  ‘How’s the painting going, Maya?’

  ‘Portraits,’ I gasp. ‘I’m working on portraits. Commissions.’

  ‘Big commissions,’ Dan adds quickly. ‘Don’t undersell yourself, Maya.’

  ‘We’ve popped into Slaters,’ Big Steve adds. ‘You’re doing wonders.’ He pats Dan on the arm. ‘Three floors fully functioning. And what’s this about a new gallery?’

  ‘I’ve got some land on the North Bank. We’re having plans drawn up.’

  ‘But you’re still running Fosters?’

  ‘Not for much longer. There’s a deal in the pipeline.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it all.’

  ‘Lucy virtually looks after Slaters on her own. I’m collaborating with Gordon on the new place. He’s taking on a lot of the work for now.’

  He nods over to where Gordon’s sitting at a table with Clive, Lucy, Lily and the mystery man. I have no idea what they’re discussing, but Lucy’s in fits of giggles. Lily, meanwhile, is busy knocking back a glass of champagne. As soon as she finishes, Lucy slides a fresh glass towards her. She’s clearly accepted her mission, and it looks like we’ll have a legless Lily before dinner’s served.

  ‘Who’s that chap with Gordon?’ Little Steve enquires.

  ‘Mark,’ Dan answers. ‘Gordon’s boyfriend.’

  Little Steve’s mouth opens. ‘No.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dan confirms. ‘He is gay.’ And before I can ask the obvious question, he’s already answering it. ‘He came out to his parents and risked everything.’ He turns to me. ‘Inspired by you, actually. Anyway, they’ve accepted it, albeit grudgingly. So it looks like …’

  Another clap of thunder cuts short Dan’s explanation. It’s deafening this time, causing virtually everyone in the marquee to jump. I whimper, press myself into Dan’s chest and watch out of the corner of my eye as Damian pirouettes on the spot.

  ‘We’re all going to die!’ he shouts.

  And with that, Layla’s boys begin to cry, Sophie’s daughter rushes into her mother’s arms and Ethan scoots under a table. Damian laughs at it all, and then shouts his warning one more time. My brain clicks into action. I may well be on the cusp of hyperventilating, but I’m not having that. Anger trumps terror, and before I know what’s going on, I’ve unpeeled myself from Dan’s grip, waddled across the marquee, and I’m pointing straight at Damian’s triumphant little face.

  ‘That’s enough,’ I snap. ‘Nobody’s going to die. Don’t say that. You’ll scare the others and it’s not fair.’

  Silenced by my outburst, Damian freezes. I turn to the others, softening my voice.

  ‘It’s just a thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning. It can’t hurt you. Don’t be scared. You’ll be fine.’

  The children stare at me, goggle-eyed, even Ethan who’s still under the table. Suddenly, I realise there’s no other noise in the marquee, nothing apart from the rain, and that’s easing off. Everyone’s silent, and I already know they’re all staring at me. Great. I’ve gone and had a public outburst, on my wedding day … in a cardigan.

  ‘Auntie Maya’s right.’ Sara hoves into view. ‘Don’t scare the others, Damian. It’s horrible.’

  I’m aware of a hand at the base of my spine, that familiar tingling sensation every time he touches me.

  ‘Wow,’ Dan smiles. ‘That was amazing.’

  ‘Was it?’

  I curl back into his arms. Now the anger’s gone, fear’s nudging its way back into my head. And I’m still shaking.

  ‘The giant thunder tent thing must have worked.’ He kisses the top of my head.

  ‘I’ve just had a strop. That’s not good.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s on your side.’

  I wince, partly from embarrassment, partly because tiny arms and legs are on the move again.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Baby’s getting comfortable.’

  He puts a hand on my stomach.

  ‘Don’t mess with your mum,’ he smiles. ‘She’s a force of nature when she gets going, far scarier than a thunderstorm.’


  The hand moves to my chest. He places a palm over my heart and frowns.

  ‘You should sit down for a while. No arguments.’

  He guides me to a seat and waits for me to settle. A glass of orange juice is pressed into my hands, and then he sits next to me, stretching out his legs.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Looking after my wife.’

  ‘You should be circulating, chatting with the guests.’

  ‘They’ll understand.’

  ‘The thunder’s gone. I’ll be fine on my own. We’ve got a lifetime together, Dan. Go and do your duty.’

  ‘What duty?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  With a sigh, he stands again, straightens his suit and saunters off. Picking up a glass of champagne from a passing tray, he eases himself into conversation with my dad. I miss him already, and I want him back. I’m about to follow and let him know I’ve changed my mind when I hear Lily’s voice.

  ‘Holding court?’ She plants a dainty kiss on my cheek and takes the seat next to me.

  ‘I’m under orders to sit down for a while.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘I feel like a sack of spanners.’

  ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’

  I can’t believe the statement, but I thank her anyway. While Lily takes a few sips of champagne, I watch Dan as he laughs at something my dad says, and then moves on.

  ‘What sort of dad do you think he’ll make?’ I ask.

  She sucks at her lip.

  ‘He may not have had a great role-model to begin with, but he’ll do his best.’ She turns to me. ‘You’re not worried, are you?

  ‘No. I just wonder how he’ll take to it.’

  ‘He’s a quick learner. I think he’ll be fine.’ Her eyes darken. ‘To think this might never have happened.’

  I should have known this would come up. Lily’s done her best to deal with the aftermath of Boyd, but it hasn’t been easy for her.

  ‘It’s not worth thinking about.’

  I watch her closely, spotting a tear in the corner of her eye. She wipes it away, quickly shaking herself back into public mode. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it.

  ‘He didn’t win. We won.’

  ‘Still …’

  ‘It’s done. The future’s all that counts.’

  I catch Lucy’s eye, sending her a silent plea for help. Immediately, she breaks off from a chat with Gordon and swoops on us, thrusting a fresh glass of champagne into Lily’s hands.

  ‘Get that down you, Lil. I’m in the mood for partying, and you’re my perfect partner in crime. Come on.’ She waves a hand impatiently and winks at me. ‘Let’s get down to business.’

  ‘It looks like I’ve got no choice,’ Lily grins at me.

  ‘No, you’ve not. Good luck.’

  Left alone for a minute, I gaze across the marquee to where Dan’s sitting with his sisters. Looking completely relaxed and utterly gorgeous, he smiles at something Layla says, watching as her two boys whizz about in front of him. I decide to go over and join them, but Clive’s next to me now, distinctly frazzled.

  ‘How’s the best man?’ I ask.

  ‘Coping.’

  ‘Ready for your speech?’

  ‘Cards.’ He taps his pocket. ‘I’ve made notes on cards.’

  ‘You’re doing a brilliant job.’

  ‘You too.’ He pauses. ‘Listen, it seems that Damian’s picked all the flowers off the cake. He ate most of them and then threw up outside. He’s been suitably chastised, but I thought you should know.’

  ‘He’s the devil’s spawn.’

  ‘And dinner’s about to be served.’

  ‘Thank God.’ I glance out of the marquee. It’s stopped raining. Sunlight’s glinting against the wet grass. ‘You’ve been a massive help, Clive. Not just today. You’ve got Dan’s back.’

  ‘That’s friendship for you.’

  ‘But you always seem to be running around after him.’

  ‘I owed him a few favours. He’s helped me out in the past, more times than I care to remember. He deserves to be happy, and I’ve been only too glad to help.’

  ‘You deserve to be happy too.’

  ‘I am.’ He nods towards Lucy. ‘She’s as mad as a badger, but I love her. She’s letting loose today, and that’s fine by me.’

  ‘Be careful. You don’t know how far it can go.’

  ‘Oh believe me, I do. Now, let’s get everyone into their places.’

  Before long, the guests have been ushered into their seats, and I’m back with Dan. We’re served by a succession of glum-looking, wet-haired teenagers, but dinner’s amazing, and at least the morning sickness has gone for now, leaving me free to enjoy it all. As soon as the dessert plates are cleared away, I hear the tinkling of cutlery against a glass. I look up to find my dad’s on his feet. And my heart sinks.

  ‘This wasn’t in the plan,’ I whisper to Dan.

  ‘He’ll be alright,’ Dan whispers back.

  ‘He could barely get his dinner in his mouth, he’s so drunk.’

  Dan shrugs, and turns to listen to the speech.

  ‘Quiet everyone!’ Dad shouts. ‘I’d like to say a few, er … words.’

  Resisting the urge to order him back into his seat, I smile sweetly as Dad blunders on about his beautiful daughter, his wonderful new son-in-law, and his forthcoming grandchild. Finally, he begins to ramble incoherently about plans for the new conservatory, at which point Mum tugs him back onto his chair.

  ‘Bugger it.’ I let my head fall, feel Dan’s hand on mine, and look up again when Clive takes over.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he begins, dropping his cards onto the table. ‘Shit. Oh.’

  He spends a few moments attempting to slot the cards back into the right order, with no evident success, before he proceeds to meander through the best man’s speech entirely from memory, stumbling over a jumble of anecdotes and lame jokes, forgetting the punchline to every single one. At least he remembers to thank the maid of honour, rounding off the entire sorry episode with a toast to the bride and groom.

  While Clive’s clearly mortified by the whole experience, Dan hardly seems bothered. Holding my hand under the table, he thanks his friend, and then leans in to me.

  ‘I’d say it’s time to rescue the situation.’

  He gets to his feet, immediately taking command of the marquee with a simple, calm authority. I’m impressed. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before, a side he must have used at Fosters time and time again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen …’ He surveys our guests. ‘I’d like to thank you all for being here with us to share our special day. And believe me, this is special. Thunder and lightning. There’s never a dull moment in my wife’s world.’ He pauses. ‘My wife. I’m so proud to be able to call her that.’ He gives me a full-on, no holds barred smile. ‘This beautiful, intelligent, talented, spirited woman is my wife.’ He turns back to the audience. ‘I am the luckiest man in the world. And I’m fully prepared to argue the toss over that one.’

  There’s a babble of laughter. He becomes serious.

  ‘It’s a miracle we ever got to this point. You all know what’s happened over the last year, and that’s the only reference I’m going to make to it. What you may not know is that when I first met Maya, the very first time I ever laid eyes on her, I knew … I knew I’d be spending the rest of my life with her.’ He takes in a breath and blinks. ‘I was an idiot back then, didn’t exactly go about things the usual way, but Maya stuck by me … she saw the real me, she believed in me, and she had faith in us. I can’t thank her enough for that.’

  A round of applause interrupts his flow. He waits for silence to resume.

  ‘We both grew up in the same town. In fact, we grew up on the same street. We hardly crossed paths back then, but years later, fate brought us together again.’ He rubs his chin, gazing at the tablecloth for a moment before he goes on. ‘The past is a difficult place for some of us, bu
t if it weren’t for our shared past, we wouldn’t be here today. I needed to cope with my past, and Maya helped me to do that. I love this woman more than I can say. She’s given me a life. She’s given me love, hope, and a future. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to raise a glass to the love of my life, my soul-mate, my other half.’ He picks up his glass and looks at me, his eyes dancing with complete and utter happiness. ‘Mrs Maya Foster.’

  The last I saw Dan was about half an hour ago. I go in search of him, making my way through the orchard, no longer bothered that the bottom of my dress is splattered with mud. The sun’s finally showed its face and, with the chairs wiped down, guests have migrated outside. This is nearer to what I’d imagined. I head towards Clive who’s laughing with Gordon and his boyfriend. At the next table, Lucy and Lily are deep in a serious, drunken conversation with Sara, probably comparing notes on Boyd.

  ‘Anybody seen my old man?’ I ask.

  ‘He went inside,’ Clive grins. ‘Said he fancied a cup of tea.’

  I look towards the house.

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘Tea,’ Clive confirms. ‘Seems he’s not into coffee these days.’

  ‘Well, he doesn’t have to make his own,’ I mutter, wandering off to the house. ‘We’ve got caterers.’

  I head straight to the kitchen where I find him standing at the Aga, his back to me. He’s jacketless now, still wearing his waistcoat. It accentuates those gorgeous hips, and I pause to admire him.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  He turns and gives me the broadest smile.

  ‘Making tea. I was just coming to find you.’

  ‘It’s your wedding day. You should be having a few beers.’

  He lifts the lid on the Liberty teapot and checks the brew.

  ‘I don’t need beers.’ He replaces the lid. ‘My wife can’t drink, and I’d like to stay relatively sober for her. And besides, I need to have her to myself for a little while.’ He glances at me, his eyes twinkling and I’m wondering if he’s planning on whisking me off to the bedroom for an early honeymoon.

  ‘You can’t just abandon your guests,’ I remind him.