A Merry Mistletoe Wedding (23 page)

‘So …' The girl came back into the room, her hair brushed and even blonder as it dried. She was wearing skinny jeans and a pale blue chunky soft sweater with a drapey neck. She looked fresh, pretty, appealing. ‘Sean told me you're supposed to be getting married.'

The kettle boiled and Thea poured water into her mug. The girl eyed it but said nothing. ‘Shall I make you one?' Thea heard herself say just as she cursed her own good manners.

‘No thanks. I don't do caffeine.'

‘What do you mean, “supposed to be”?' Thea asked. ‘It's next month.'

The girl laughed. ‘Yeah. Sure.'

‘Well yes.
Sure
,' Thea replied. She went to the fridge to get milk. Inside were two new bottles of champagne and a duty-free bag containing a bottle of vodka that hadn't been there earlier that morning. ‘Yours?' Thea pointed to them.

‘Yeah. Gotta thank your host, haven't you?'

‘You're staying here then?'

‘Hey, lighten up, honey. Could you
be
more hostile?' The perfect all-American teeth were still showing but no longer even pretending to be part of a smile.

‘Yes, I probably could. I don't even know your name. Sean never said anything about a friend staying. And that bedroom where your clothes were, it's got its own bathroom.'

‘Yes, but it doesn't have your shower gel.' The girl grinned as she sat down on the bench alongside the cat and he moved out of the way, twitching his tail. ‘It was a last-minute call,' she said. ‘It's what we do – a surf thing. We crash on each other's sofas, worldwide. Sorry if it upset you. Sean knew you wouldn't be here, so I guess there was no point in mentioning me. I'm just passing through. It's no biggie. I think he might have wanted us to like each other but I guess it's not the best start. Sorry about the house-shoes. I'll put them back in the room, shall I?'

‘Just give them to me, I'll put them back.' Thea sipped her tea. It was still too hot and she scalded the end of her tongue. ‘Where are you passing through to?' she asked.

‘South Africa. I've got a comp there.'

‘Comp? A competition?'

‘Sure. I'm a surfer. I know Sean from when he was on the world circuit. We go back a
looonng
way. Has he never mentioned me? I'm Katinka. I'm surprised he hasn't.'

‘No, never … except …' Thea went to the window ledge and picked up the bracelet. ‘Oh yes, he did once, last week. I think this is yours. You must have left it last time you were “passing through”.'

‘Hey! That's great! Thank you
so
much – I thought I'd never see it again. It has great sentimental meaning to me.' She slid it on to her wrist and looked at it, stroking her fingers over the smooth scarlet stones set into the silver. ‘It was actually a present from Sean on my wedding day,' she said, looking up at Thea.

‘Oh right – so he was a guest at your wedding?' Thea felt some of the horror lift slightly.

‘Hell no, sweetie, Sean was the
groom
.'

The book group would never be the same again. Anna had missed the email while she was away because it had gone into her junk mail folder and she simply hadn't thought to check it till she was home and back on her computer rather than just the phone. The message that Miriam had died had come from Alec. He'd written it from a different email address from the one he'd used to contact her back when they were having their … What should she call it? It
was
an affair: almost anyone would call it that, but as Anna and Mike had been going through a phase of ‘extra-marital exploration', as Charlotte had once put it, with a view to the possibility of a totally amicable divorce, it hadn't had the sneaky intensity, the lying, the guilt and the sense of cheating that is usually associated with the word. All the same, seeing Alec's name confined to junk mail seemed sadly symbolic now, as if their former relationship itself had become a matter of garbage, fit only to be thrown away.

So Miriam had gone. Big, clumsy, flamboyant Miriam would never again spill red wine on someone's new pale sofa while declaring that
Vanity Fair
's Becky Sharp was the first example of a truly liberated woman in fiction. Anna remembered not quite agreeing with her on this (citing the Wife of Bath and Shakespeare's version of Cleopatra), though seconding Miriam's notion that Becky's quest for a rich and comfortable life was organized entirely on her own terms. Others, she recalled, had shouted them down, arguing that she'd merely prostituted herself by marrying for money and position and not for love. That particular book group meeting had been here in this house, Anna remembered now as she was about to leave for Miriam's funeral. Miriam had flailed an arm and sent a vase of tulips flying from the table beside her chair. Anna had been finding teeny shards of the vase's glass for months after that and had had to ban Alfie and Milly from running around barefooted in the sitting room.

‘Charlotte's here. She's waiting outside in the car,' Mike called up the stairs as Anna was putting on some lipstick. ‘She says hurry up or you won't get good seats.'

‘Not sure getting a good seat is what you go to a funeral for,' Anna grumped as she came down the stairs. ‘But it's OK, I'm ready.'

‘Are you sure you don't want me to come too?' Mike asked as he gave her a goodbye hug. ‘I could fling a decent coat on and a black bandana.'

‘No, it's fine. And anyway, you still need to rest that foot. Also, she was my friend: you didn't know her. And she hated black.'

‘I know Alec though.' He hesitated for a moment. ‘But … not that well. Only that week last Christmas.'

‘Thanks for not saying, “Not as well as you do though,”' Anna said as she opened the door. ‘I know you were dying to.'

He did a mock-innocent look. ‘
Moi
? Would I?'

‘Probably. Oh God …' She looked down the path towards the old green Mini where Charlotte waited, revving the engine to hurry her.

‘God what?'

‘I'm going to the funeral of my ex-lover's mother with my husband's ex-mistress who is also the ex-girlfriend of my ex-lover. It's practically
The Jeremy Kyle Show
on a plate.'

Mike laughed. ‘We're too old for our so-hectic love lives to be of any interest to the entire country, thank the Lord.'

‘You're right. The bare facts would only summon up a collective “Ugh, yuck” from the nation.'

‘And hey, all that was way back. We've moved on and all is well. Apart from for poor Miriam, of course. Have a good time,' Mike said, kissing her briefly and waving to Charlotte. ‘Or as good a time as can be had at these things.'

‘Thanks. I don't know what time I'll be back. I probably won't be out long. I'll go back after for a polite drink but leave pretty soon.'

Charlotte was wearing a scarlet satin coat under which was a bright emerald dress that had ridden up her thighs and showed a froth of lace-edged shocking pink net petticoat and red fishnet tights. ‘Alec said no black,' she said as Anna climbed into the car. ‘But I hope he'll make an exception for these boots.'

‘I know. That's why I've chosen purple.'

‘It's quite subtle though,' Charlotte said as she took a turning on to the main road. ‘Can't you jazz it up a bit?'

‘I've got this with me.' Anna pulled a pink and scarlet scarf out of her bag. ‘I think I'm waiting to see if everyone's gone with the dress code or reverted to standard funeral issue. I'm trying to be flexible.'

‘Me, I never bother. They'll have to take me as I am,' Charlotte said. ‘I liked old Miriam; she and I understood each other. She'd have made a great mother-in-law and I'm sorry things didn't work out with me and Alec, but only for that reason. She approved of me and that's not something I can say about most of the mothers of men I've dated. We once had sex at her house in the spare room when we thought she was out but it turned out she was in her bedroom having a nap the whole time. We only knew she was there because after we'd finished she shouted “Bravo” and “Encore” through the wall.'

‘Oh, hell's teeth, how embarrassing!'

‘I didn't mind but Alec was mortified.'

‘Yes, he would be. He was funny about …'

‘… about sex, yes. Rather, er …'

‘Furtive?' Anna supplied, wondering why on earth she was having this conversation with Charlotte of all people.

‘Furtive! Yes, that's the word. He only really liked it when he felt he shouldn't be doing it. No wonder his marriage broke up.'

Miriam believed in colour and fun but she didn't believe in God or the afterlife. The funeral party assembled outside Mortlake Crematorium were a cheerful-looking crowd in bright jolly colours, chatting and laughing as if they were at a party. Anna felt horribly sad though – was this how things were going to be in the future? Many a visit to this venue or others like it with everyone trying to pretend that never seeing a friend again was no big deal? And one day it would be either her or Mike arriving in a box. They hadn't discussed it properly, had no real idea how they wanted their own departures to be. She could guess what Mike would say: that he didn't care as he wouldn't be there, but perhaps they should discuss the options some time. A green burial or a simple cremation? All she knew was that with luck they had a good few healthy years left in them. She prayed she'd outlive her children. Mike's sprained ankle had shaken her, though. It showed how easily things could change from pretty much perfect health to loss of mobility in a few brief seconds. She tried to reason that the same could have happened at any age and that it was, as it turned out, no big deal. But it was different now they were older. Ten years ago, tripping on a step wouldn't have given her any pause for thought. Now, she couldn't help running a worst-case scenario at any tiny mishap.

Charlotte parked the Mini and she and Anna walked towards the front entrance where everyone was waiting in the chill damp air for the arrival of the coffin. Alec detached himself from the group and walked towards them. He – ignoring Miriam's instructions – was wearing a formal dark suit with a white shirt and a grey tie. In the background lurked a woman who Anna assumed was his ex-wife, holding the hands of two children who looked under twelve and very solemn. Those three were also in neat tidy dark clothes, the children's hair brushed to a shimmer. The former Mrs Alec stood a little apart from the motley crowd of Miriam's noisy friends and was frowning as Alec talked to Anna and Charlotte. Anna wondered if she'd put her foot down about suitable funeral attire for the deceased's closest relatives.

‘Thanks so much for coming,' he said to them, hanging back a few seconds before kissing them each on one cheek. Anna guessed he'd been debating which one to greet first and decided he'd opt for her on grounds of seniority.

‘Our pleasure, sweetie.' Charlotte beamed at him. ‘Well, not pleasure exactly, but you know what I mean. I'm so sorry about your mum. She was great fun.'

‘She was. She'd always said she wanted one of her poems to be read at her funeral.' He grinned. ‘I had quite a time finding one that was suitable so I gave up and just picked my favourite. Luckily I'm not the one who has to read it out. Oh …' He looked up past the two of them. ‘She's here. She always said she'd hate a parade of cars trailing after the hearse so that's why we all had to meet here. If she'd had her way she'd have been brought here in the back of Sandy the fishmonger's van but Sandy had a row with the undertaker about it and that plan came to nothing.' He went back to meet the undertakers and Anna and Charlotte went inside the chapel to take their seats.

Anna felt moved to see that Miriam's coffin was draped in a multi-coloured patchwork quilt that she remembered hanging over the back of Miriam's sofa. ‘I'm mending it,' Miriam had explained, and had pointed to the needle and thread that was poked into it, waiting to cobble together some of the unravelled seams joining the hexagons. It had been there the next time she'd gone to Miriam's too, and the time after that, and now Anna felt certain that if she went and looked closely, the needle and thread would still be there, waiting to be used. She just hoped, as the coffin was slowly paraded down the aisle, that it wouldn't stab one of the undertakers as he slid it on to the plinth. She also rather hoped someone would remove it before Miriam went into the flames – a lot of work had gone into it and Miriam would hate all that effort to go up, literally, in smoke.

Someone had to say it, Anna thought later with a deep sigh once they were in Miriam's house for the wake: ‘She had a good innings.' To Anna's surprise, given Miriam's self-confessed atheism, she'd requested a vicar conduct the ceremony and there'd been hymns, ‘Fight the Good Fight' and ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save'. The vicar had said Miriam loved a good lusty session of hymn-singing, even if she didn't believe in the message. He was the one who mentioned her having the innings, as if she were an England batsman scoring her last winning run.

‘Someone always says that,' Charlotte said, downing half a glass of red wine in one go. ‘It would disappoint Miriam. She never liked a cliché,' she told the vicar firmly.

He put his hand out. ‘Cecil Horley,' he said, taking her hand and giving it a thorough pumping, ‘and yes I know it's a poncy name but I think my parents were hoping for a foppish actor.'

‘They weren't far off,' Charlotte said. Anna laughed, embarrassed by her bluntness and the simple truth of it: he was wearing a traditional dog collar but with a yellow and grey striped waistcoat over a pink shirt. A lilac silk scarf hung from his neck.

‘Thank you,' he said, bowing slightly.

‘You did well to read that poem,' Anna said, glad that he seemed to understand Charlotte. ‘I first heard it early last year. She recited it at a book launch and I think she shocked a few people.'