A Merry Mistletoe Wedding (24 page)

Cecil laughed. ‘It takes a lot to shock me. You'd be surprised what vicars get told.'

Anna looked at Charlotte. Her eyes were gleaming and she slyly reached sideways to where someone had left an open bottle of red wine and topped up both her glass and Cecil's. ‘Really?' she said to him. ‘Do tell me.'

Anna wandered off in search of something to absorb the wine. Miriam's poem had been a pretty terrible one in which she compared a slug to a penis. There'd been a nervous outbreak of tittering as the poem was read at the crematorium but that soon turned to unbridled proper laughter. All Miriam's poems had been fairly awful but they were exuberant and wordy and fun, which was a lot more than could be said for those of many people. As she had told Cecil, Anna had first heard that particular gem at Miriam's book launch where she'd met Alec for the first time. They'd gone to a bar afterwards for chips and champagne and thus had started a lovely, sexy interlude that had made her feel so exhilarated and joyful and a good thirty years younger. Would she ever feel like that again? Or would she – one day – come to terms with the knowledge that youthful passion being a part of her life had gone for ever?

‘Is this all OK, do you think?' There was Alec, beside her now, ‘Would Mum approve?'

‘I think so,' Anna told him, fighting a sudden urge to put her arms round him, to be close to his warm strong body. ‘You've done her proud and she'd love it. Everyone's having a splendid time.'

‘Except her,' he said, looking sad. ‘It's all very well, all this … I don't know … determined jollity, but she's gone and I'll miss her. The children no longer have their gran and she won't see them grow up. She'll mind that, wherever she is now. She'll mind missing this. She always loved a party.'

‘That's the thing, isn't it, with funerals,' she said. ‘It's the best party you ever have and you're the one who misses it.'

Alec nodded and then looked down at the floor for a few moments. ‘Come with me, Anna?' And he took her hand and led her through the kitchen and out to the conservatory where Miriam's hardy annual seedlings were leaning towards the light and looking a bit dry. Anna had decided she would water them before she left but after that she hoped someone would take care of them. Miriam treasured her bright summer flowers. These seedlings of cornflowers and calendula and tobacco flowers would have been sown in autumn so they'd flower as early as possible next summer. Miriam would have sown more outside next year once the earth warmed up but these would go in early and, in the late spring, give her that first taste of colour that she so loved.

‘Will someone take care of these?' Anna asked Alec.

‘What, the seedlings? I suppose so,' he said.

‘Once they've got another couple of leaves they should be out in the greenhouse really. It's going to be too warm in here for them.' She wondered what he'd brought her out here to say, away from the noise of the party. She felt she was putting off an awkward moment; she was slightly nervous about what he might say to her. Funerals did that, she knew. People would take the opportunity to reveal secrets, confess things better left unsaid.

‘It was sudden,' he said, opening the door and letting some cool air into the overheated house. Behind her, Anna could hear the laughter levels rising as the guests drank more. They were becoming rowdy and raucous. A proper wake, she thought. Near-riotousness compensating for the sense of loss and of life's ending. Partying as denial. ‘She fell and had a stroke, apparently; or the other way round. Wouldn't have known anything about it anyway, they tell me, though I'm never sure how they can be so certain.'

‘Well, that's got to be a blessing, hasn't it? Who wouldn't want to go like that?'

He grinned. ‘Mum wouldn't. She hated not knowing everything that was going on. She liked you.'

‘Thanks. I liked her. I hear she liked Charlotte too.'

He blushed, which Anna found a touch too boyish, reminding her of their age gap. ‘She did. But it was never going to work. Suki – my ex – wants to give us another go, she says. But …'

I bet she does, Anna thought but didn't say, now having, through her own property dealings, a very good idea of the value of a four-bedroom house with conservatory bang in the middle of prestigious Chiswick. Suki had been the one to leave the marriage, taking the children to the far end of the country and barely letting Alec see them except strictly on her terms.

‘But I won't go back to her. I couldn't, not after …' Anna expected him to say almost any name, most likely Charlotte, but he finished: ‘… you.'

She took a deep breath. ‘Alec …' she began. ‘It could only …'

‘I know, I know, only be a short-term thing. I guess it sorted a few things out for you, home-wise, but for me, well, it spoiled me for your regular girlfriend type.' He laughed. ‘But who knows what's out there? I hear Sean and Thea are getting married. Good for them and I'm glad it worked out.'

‘You'll be OK,' Anna said with more conviction than she really felt. ‘You've at least got plenty of time on your side. And actually, I'd better go now. I'll see if I can find Charlotte but I expect she'll need to leave her car here.'

‘That's fine. If she gives me the keys I can put it on the driveway when people have gone home.'

‘Thanks. There's no way she could drive. I think she only brought the car because she was being kind to me, giving me a lift. And … thanks, Alec, for today. And …' She couldn't really continue, not without getting tearful.

‘It's OK. I know,' he said, putting his arms round her and hugging her close. She had a feeling that this wasn't just a goodbye for the day but a more permanent one. There was probably no reason for them to meet again now and she-and-Alec would fade away into a simple memory that would make her smile when (and if) she reached properly old years.

Anna went in search of Charlotte but couldn't find her among the crowd in the sitting room. Thinking that she might as well go to the loo before she left to catch a bus home, Anna went up the stairs. A shadowy figure crossed the landing from a bathroom to a bedroom and, as the door opened, Anna caught sight of Charlotte's bright green dress in a crumpled heap on the floor. Next to it was a lilac puddle of vicar Cecil's silk scarf. Miriam, Anna thought as she shut the bathroom door, would definitely approve.

‘Thea, my darling. I can explain.' Thea heard Sean's words on her voicemail and immediately switched it off.
I can explain
was, in her opinion, one of those phrases that no one should ever trust. It was a weaselish little term that meant the person doing the explaining already knew there was a problem with what they were about to explain – and had known for some good long time.

Thea had arrived home from Cornwall well into darkness, weary and depressed. She went straight to bed without bothering to unpack and had a horrible restless night in which she flipped and flapped about, got the duvet tangled and woke up hot and miserable and wishing she had to be anywhere but at the school that day. Furious, hurt and all jangled inside, she showered and washed her hair and spiked it up for maximum Melanie-annoyance. If the head teacher picked on her for ‘unprofessional' appearance, she'd give her both barrels. Just let her try. As she drove to school in the slow-moving rush-hour traffic and the still half-dark of that winter morning, Thea was well aware that this attitude was bordering on the childish but she wasn't in any mood to care. If she couldn't punch that smug Katinka in those perfect all-American teeth, hard, then she'd take on anyone else who was unlucky enough to be in the firing line.

She was disappointed to find that Jenny wasn't in school that day. She was the one person she'd have told about Sean. Jenny would have somehow put an optimistic spin on it, might even come up with some reason why Sean hadn't bothered to mention that he'd had (possibly still had) a wife, but it turned out that she'd been in France with her son's school trip and they'd been delayed returning on their ferry by the stormy sea that Sean had predicted. Melanie was fuming, stalking round the staffroom and loudly complaining about the cost of supply teachers and general lack of organization.

Thea's early-morning spirit of anger and rebellion subsided into a pit of gloomy depression and she kept out of the head's way, going quickly to her classroom to deal with the inevitable stream of parents with questions about costumes for the nativity play, reasons why their infant couldn't play outside at lunchtime and a mother who wanted to be given – in advance each Monday – a list of the week's school lunches so she could work her way through it to see whether she felt it was a suitable diet for her picky-eater child. ‘They can't run on empty,' she whined. ‘And he can't eat a thing if there's something green on the plate. Green terrifies him. He can't even look at it.' Thea answered all the queries, even the last one (pointing out as kindly as possible that the child was quite happy to eat peas and when he'd finished his own he didn't hesitate to nick them from the next child's plate), with dogged patience and tact. Yet all the time she felt that she was playing a role to keep herself sane and busy so she wouldn't have to think about Sean and that brash and beautiful Katinka. She
couldn't
think about them, not at work, not if she didn't want to end up in a corner, sobbing. But … there was surely no way he could have
not
known Katinka was going to stay with him? ‘Just passing' would surely have meant at least a phone call, at the very latest the day before? Thea had been gone from the stables for no more than an hour, in which time the girl had had time to get into the house, undress and take a shower. What else had she had time to do, and with Sean? Thea's insides contracted painfully as she tried not to think about it.

As soon as school was over for the day, she drove home, unpacked the clothes from the week before, shoved a lot of them in the washing machine and then went and lay in a hot steamy bath for a while. She felt numb inside and still hadn't spoken to Sean. There were over twenty missed calls on her phone, all from him, and a long list of text messages.
For fuck's sake talk to me, Thea
, was the last one, showing he was running out of patience – and who could blame him? A man wanting to make his excuses wouldn't want them to be kept waiting. Holes in the arguments might present themselves. She was longing to talk to him, desperate to hear something that would stop her thinking the worst but she didn't trust herself not simply to burst into tears the moment she heard his voice.

When the house phone rang she didn't answer but the voicemail told her it was Anna.

‘
Can you come over for supper, Tee? I know it's short notice and you might be busy but I want to talk to you about this house. We're going to need to get rid of a lot of stuff so it's less cluttered and easier to sell and I want you to come and decide if there's anything you'd like. Jimi and Rosie are coming over too. I've asked Emily as well but she says she “just can't”. She still seems to be in a silly sulk. I hope she comes out of it soon – it's very tedious.
'

Thea wasn't keen to go but her mother sounded a bit despairing. They weren't going to get through the evening without mentioning the wedding and she'd have to tell them it might not be on. Or it might. If she didn't talk to Sean she'd never know. OK, so it had to be done. She sent a text to Anna to say that she'd be there later and then, taking a few deep breaths first, dialled the number of the stables. She didn't want to call Sean's mobile as the signal down at Cove Manor wasn't reliable and if they were going to have a proper in-depth discussion about issues of honesty and whether this little matter of the unmentioned marriage to Katinka was a deal-breaker or not, then she didn't want them also to be dealing with crackling down the line and the chance of being cut off.

She was trembling as she heard his phone ring. She pictured him either in the kitchen or in the bedroom where the second handset was kept. She hoped he'd grab it at first ring but it rang five times before it was picked up and a voice that was girly, American and definitely not Sean's said, ‘Hiiiii!' with an upbeat cheerleader over-brightness that made Thea want to throw her own phone out of the window. So Katinka was still there. Terrific. Without speaking, Thea switched off her phone.

‘But it's a school night and we haven't got a babysitter,' Emily was saying to Sam.

‘If you'd said earlier that your folks had invited us out, we could probably have got someone,' Sam replied, ‘and we can take Ned with us anyway – it's only to your parents', not some fancy dinner party.'

‘I know, but …'

‘You don't want to go because Thea will be there. That's the bottom line, isn't it? You still haven't spoken to her.'

Emily shrugged. ‘No. And I feel bad about that but I've not been, you know, that well, have I? I mean, obviously she's my sister and I've got to face her some time but I don't think I can face going over the whole thing again. I don't want her to hate me for not wanting to spend Christmas in Cornwall but I still think it was unreasonable of her to expect me to. She knew from the start how I feel about it.'

‘I think we all know how
you
feel, Em,' Sam said, sighing. ‘You never stop telling us. Look, I'll babysit. You go on your own. Well, you and Ned. Or leave me a couple of bottles and I'll have him.'

‘Bottles? What, of formula?' Emily said. ‘No way! I don't even have any!'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake, Em, it's not as if I'm suggesting poison for him. I just thought you might like an evening out without having a baby glued to your front.'

Emily stared at him. ‘It's called “contact parenting”. It's not “glue”. I'm just doing the best I can for
our
baby. Is that so bad? Is there
anything
I can get right for you these days?'