All I heard at first was a massive outflow of breath. Ed had obviously been holding it. “Yes, yes of course,” he said, sounding mightily relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute. I’m so pleased you want to come. Dan and Emma can’t wait to meet you. I’ll leave you to it now, but let me know when you set off so I know when to expect you.”
I could not wait to get out of work that afternoon, not only because it had been a horrible week, but also because I really felt like my life was about to get a whole lot better.
I dashed home and threw clothes, makeup, wash stuff, medication and camera into a large, doctor-style, leather bag and almost jogged to the car, pausing only long enough to pick up a bottle of wine before securing the house and heading out to the car on the drive.
I sent Ed a simple text, ‘I’m on my way’, set the coordinates into my Sat Nav and set off.
The journey was straightforward enough, the sun was shining and the air con helped to keep me cool. I had packed two CDs – two 80s artists enjoying a revival, Rick Astley and Kylie – but I didn’t need them as Radio 2 was playing some mighty fine tunes. With the windows up and alone in the car I allowed myself to sing out loud. I felt so happy, so light, so excited, that I couldn’t stop myself.
Soon I was pulling up on the drive of a modern family detached house in a cul-de-sac of similar properties. I smiled as I saw the ‘For Sale’ sign on the perfectly manicured front garden. It really is happening, he really is moving closer, I thought as I grabbed my bag from the boot and approached the dark green front door.
Outwardly I hoped I looked calm; inside, however, I was skipping.
As I raised my right hand to ring the doorbell, I was stopped by the door being flung open wide. Ed took one step forward, enveloped me in his arms and kissed me, kissed me hard and passionately. I dropped the bag.
Finally, we pulled apart. Up until that point we had been completely oblivious to anyone passing by or prying eyes. Up until then we were in our own world.
Now we stepped back, Ed picked up my bag and my hand.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing my hand as he led me into his home. “Come on in, let me show you around and then we can have a drink before heading out for dinner.”
I said nothing as he led me through the door, shutting it behind us and leading me up to the bedroom. We didn’t make it out to dinner, but we did have that drink and some nibbles (of the food variety!) in the garden some time later.
We were mesmerised by the flurry of cabbage white butterflies flitting from one flower to another and for a moment I was lost in the recollection that some people believe butterflies are the souls of people we have loved and lost. I think there may be some truth in that. The day of my mother’s funeral, a cold but sunny Thursday in March, 350 people were crammed into a small Anglo-Saxon church. All the seats had been taken and there was little standing room left in the aisle at the back. As we all reminisced and cried, all but two of the congregation, my aunt (my mum’s sister) and I being the two exceptions, saw two large white butterflies dancing in the sunbeams streaming in through the high, arched, stained-glass windows.
When my cousins told me about them later that day I thought, Perhaps they were my mum and her brother letting everyone know they were okay. Although sad to have been one of the very few mourners not to experience the spectacle, it brought some comfort nonetheless. Others, however, perhaps the more sceptical, suspected that the butterflies had been awoken by the heat being put on in the church two days before the funeral.
*
Saturday came with an air of anticipation and a touch of trepidation. What if Ed’s family didn’t like me? What if I said or did something wrong or stupid or foolish? No, I resolved, I would need to make sure I got it right: think before I speak, consider before I act, avoid alcohol if possible.
Sensing perhaps my concerns that morning, it was the first time since we had been together that we didn’t make love. Instead we lay in bed, engulfed in each other’s arms. Feeling safe, secure and comforted my confidence began to grow.
Eventually Ed stroked the hair from my face, breaking the spell. “Come on, you, time to get up. I’ll go and get breakfast on. Help yourself to the shower if you like, there are spare towels in the cupboard in the bathroom.” He bent down and kissed me before jumping out of bed and disappearing downstairs at a trot.
We were due to meet Dan and Emma at noon at the hotel they were hoping to be their wedding venue, choosing to have the wedding, reception and accommodation all in one place, which had always seemed like a sensible option to me.
Ed and I had time for a leisurely breakfast, but as I grew quiet again, worrying about whether Emma and Dan would like me, Ed, observant as ever, came over and gave me a strength-inducing bear hug.
“It’ll be okay, they’ll love you like…” My eyes shot up to meet his but he trailed off before finishing the sentence. He looked at me with uncertainty. I smiled at him, willing him to finish what he was going to say. Clearly he was not ready to commit to it, or maybe the time was not right, either way it didn’t stop the rising feeling of joy spreading through my body as I realised he felt the same way as I did, even if he didn’t say it. I could wait until he was ready.
“Let’s get this cleared up,” I said, changing the subject, much to Ed’s relief. “We don’t want to be late.”
*
It was a short, half-hour drive out of the city suburbs to the country hotel, situated at the end of a long, narrow drive, flanked by thick trees and shrubs that hid what lay no more than a few feet from the tarmacked road. The evil little speed bumps threw us around the car despite the modern suspension and the slow speed we were travelling at. Every few feet the lane widened to provide a passing place for guests coming and going, but we didn’t need to make use of them on our journey down to the hotel.
Eventually we emerged from the canopy, back into the sunlight, the woods giving way to the rolling countryside. To our right the grass rose up to more trees at the top of the hill; to the left the lawn sloped away down to the valley floor below.
As we continued towards the hotel there was a new block of suites on the right, and ahead of us was a stunning sandstone mansion. We approached from the side, the gravel crunching beneath the tyres as we slowed to a stop alongside a handful of other smart cars in the large parking area. Ed squeezed my hand and turned towards me. “They’re already here,” he said, indicating a smart, dark BMW a couple of cars to our right and not dissimilar to Ed’s own car.
I took a deep breath, and as I was about to open my door it was opened for me and a hand appeared. I took it, allowing it to lift me gently from the car.
As I rose I came face to face with a younger version of Ed.
“You must be Dan,” I said, smiling at this charming, young, self-assured man.
“And you must be Chloe,” he responded, leaning down to kiss my right cheek and then the left.
“Hands off my girlfriend,” commanded a beaming Ed as he joined us, “and you are spoken for. Speaking of which, where is my future daughter-in-law?”
“She is with the hotel manager. We saw you approaching so I thought I’d come and greet you. We’re so excited to meet you, Chloe, and about this venue. Come on, come inside, we can’t wait to show you around.”
Dan led the way from the brilliance outside, through the cool shade of the portico and into the light interior of the grandiose entrance hall where the massive windows welcomed the sunshine in, casting beautiful beams across the large black and white chequered marble floor. A magnificent oak staircase adorned with a deep red runner, pulled in close to each step by a carefully polished brass rod, rose in front of us. At the bottom was a beautiful, petite, dark-haired young lady beaming from ear to ear. She rushed forward and kissed Ed on both cheeks.
“Hi, Dad-to-be,” she said before turning to me, now hesitant as to how to address me, deciding to keep
it formal with, “Hello, I’m Emma,” and proffering her hand to be shaken.
“Hello, Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Chloe. What a stunning location, I can’t wait to see more of it,” I said, smiling at her. I felt the glow of happiness, the warmth of a new friendship and the fact that it was nice to meet such an enthusiastic and lively young woman.
We half shook hands, half kissed cheeks, unsure of the etiquette. A hug might have worked just as well, but at that point we both felt a little awkward so went with what felt right.
“Mary, the wedding co-ordinator, will do the full tour later, but for now we’ve booked a table on the terrace for lunch.” With that Emma turned, hooked her arm through mine and confidently led the way to the back of the manor house.
It truly was a stunning location. The terrace ran the entire length of the house, providing panoramic views of the valley below and the hill opposite. We were sitting next to the stone balustrade that marked the edge of the terrace. There were two sections to the balustrade; an expertly centred gap in the middle opened out to a wide, stone, well-worn staircase, dipping in the middle due to centuries of footsteps, leading gently and elegantly down to the manicured lawn below.
The sun was beating down, but we found shade below the large umbrella extending out over the table. I love the sun but no one wants to sit and sweat during the first meeting with your boyfriend’s son and his fiancée. The situation was stressful enough without adding that social faux pas into the mix.
Immediately it became clear that the table was set for four and not for Ed’s ex-wife and her husband or for Emma’s parents. I looked at Ed quizzically. He had clearly made the same observation and gave a slight shrug to indicate that he, too, was confused, as the invitation had been for all of us to meet and view the venue.
I was stunned into silence by the sheer elegance and splendour of the hotel. The attention to detail was second to none. As soon as we were seated waiters appeared to fill our glasses with ice-cold water whilst another lifted, flicked and delicately placed the crisp white linen napkins onto our laps. I turned this way and that to thank each waiter in turn, finishing with the third that was handing out the leather-bound menus. As we perused them in studious silence I avoided looking at the prices, all of which seemed rather excessive, so I decided to focus on what I wanted to eat rather than how much it would cost. It was not that I don’t earn a decent wage, nor that I would skimp on such an occasion, but having spent much of my life watching the pennies, that avoidance of extravagance had remained with me.
In the end I decided to skip the starter and plumped for a Caesar salad, without anchovies. I had never understood why anyone would ruin a perfectly good salad by putting small salty fish on it. I was not having salad to make a point, but I just didn’t want anything too heavy this early in the day.
Ed and Dan, like father, like son, had decided on steak, medium-rare, with chips and a nod to a side salad for good measure. Emma, maybe in consideration of the tight-fitting dress in the not-too-distant future, although looking at her I suspected it was her lunch of choice, also went for a salad, opting for a tuna niçoise – now, that is an example of where a fish in a salad is acceptable.
We were all on soft drinks, aware that we would need to drive home later. Despite the fabulous setting all our attention was focused on the conversation around the table, which, thankfully, was flowing largely between Dan and Ed who were catching up on jobs and life. Emma and I sat quietly, listening in as the men we loved waxed lyrical.
Eventually conversation turned to the wedding. Emma and I became more animated and involved in the discussion. Emma had already picked her bridesmaids – her best friend as maid of honour and two nieces as flower girls. Dan had picked his best man, an old childhood friend and son of Ed’s best friend, which took the conversation off at a tangent whilst Dan and Ed again started down memory lane, updating each other on what their counterpart father and son were up to.
We were drawn back to the topic of the wedding by the appearance of an elegant and professional-looking young woman as we were drinking our assortment of coffee and tea. The new arrival was young, but with an air of maturity, of quiet confidence. She had long blonde hair drawn back into a very formal, neat, tightly controlled bun just above the nape of her neck. Her suit – black jacket and knee-length black skirt with buttoned-down crisp white blouse – made her smart and officious without being extravagant or showy. She appeared discreet, confident, perfectly mannered.
She smiled at the ensemble. “Good afternoon, everyone. Dan, Emma, it’s great to see you again.” She shook their hands before turning to us. “You must be Ed and Chloe, it’s lovely to meet you.” Her handshake was an affirmation of her physical appearance – strong and heartfelt. “I’m Mary. The wedding co-ordinator. I trust you enjoyed your lunch?” She smiled at us as we all murmured our agreement and our confidence in the venue being the perfect setting given the quality of the food, the attentiveness of the staff and the overall ambience.
“Is it alright if I join you now?” Mary asked, ever the consummate wedding planner. Again we agreed in unison. Mary carried a chair over from another table nearby and placed it at the short end of the table so she could maintain eye contact with all of us. We adjusted our chairs slightly to face her. She was in control and commanding the situation.
Laying the professional black leather portfolio on the table she opened it to reveal a collection of beautifully produced wedding brochures, a notepad and a beautiful antique-looking fountain pen. She took the lid off the pen, ready to make notes.
Mary turned to Dan and Emma. “Are we ready to plan the most important day of your life?” She smiled. A momentary flicker of doubt danced across Dan’s face – gone as soon as it appeared, but there nonetheless. It hadn’t been lost on Emma who had been staring at him the whole time. She gently lifted his hand in hers, squeezed it, smiled at him, and said, “Yes, we are,” on behalf of them both.
It became clear in that instant that Emma was the strong one in this relationship, in the emotional sense at least. Emboldened by Emma’s support Dan looked up, smiled and confirmed, “Yes, we’re ready.” He squeezed Emma’s hand and smiled at her.
“Well, the first place to start,” Mary picked up, “is to say thank you for choosing Astley Manor. We are at your service and will be with you every step of the way to make sure it’s the best day of your life.” Clearly Dan’s momentary lapse hadn’t been lost on Mary either. In fact the only one who appeared to be oblivious was Ed, who had yet to take his eyes off the formally presented young woman before us.
“Secondly, and I say this to all my couples as it’s so often forgotten or overlooked, this day is about you, for you. It’s about celebrating your love and it should be the day you want. It’s easy to feel you need to accommodate the requests of others.” At this point Mary glanced at Ed. “But planning a wedding involves a lot of decisions which can become stressful. So focus on what you want, how you want it to happen, who you want to invite and it will help you to keep in mind what is important.”
Ed nodded his agreement to the sentiment, which Dan, Emma and Mary appreciated. Ed had clearly received the message and was not going to interfere.
Mary continued, “At Astley Manor we only have one wedding per day to ensure we can focus on one couple and their guests. But as I’m sure you can imagine, it means we are booked up for every Saturday for the next eighteen months.” Dan and Emma both looked crestfallen. Clearly they had hoped their nuptials would be sooner than that.
“However,” Mary continued quickly, hoping to move the conversation back to a more happy note, “if you are flexible on the day of the week then we can find something sooner, for example Fridays are the second most popular days and Sundays are not far behind, but Mondays and mid-week are far more flexible, and if you have your heart set on a particular time of year I’m sure we can find something that would work.”
Emma looked at Dan, still holding his hand. “I was hoping for a day in spring, it’s always such a joyful time of year, especially when the blossom is out. Do you have any dates in April?” she asked hopefully.
Mary unzipped the pocket on the front of the leather document wallet and pulled out the slender iPad concealed within. A few swipes of the finger and she looked up smiling. “As luck would have it we have a few options in late April. We have a couple of Thursdays, otherwise it would be mid-week if that would work for you?”
Dan and Emma exchanged looks. Mary picked up on their reluctance, adding, “And of course mid-week is cheaper than weekends.” The ever-present smile.
“Well,” Emma began hesitantly, “all of our friends work and some of them will need to travel, so we were really hoping for a Friday, Saturday or Sunday. We can be more flexible on dates if that would help.” Clearly the betrothed couple were prepared to be flexible and wait rather than risk friends being unable to attend.
Mary focused on the iPad again. She swiped and read, swiped and read, swiped and read for several minutes whilst four pairs of eyes were fixed upon her, wishing, hoping, fearful that we were disappearing into years from now rather than months.
A big smile began to spread across Mary’s face, before she slowly raised her head to face us. “Well, I have some good news for you,” she said. “I was overseeing a wedding yesterday so I hadn’t noticed that a wedding cancellation has been received by the Admin team. How does Friday 18 December…” she paused for dramatic effect, “this year sound to you?”
Dan and Emma leapt from their seats, leaning over to hug a rather shocked-looking Mary, who did, graciously, accept and return the hugs before continuing, “I’ll take that as a yes then?” Dan, Emma and Ed all nodded their consent.
At this point another member of staff quietly appeared beside Mary. Mary acknowledged her presence and excused herself, taking a few steps away from our merry band of lunch-takers, for discretion.
Loves Lost and Found Page 10