A Winter's Wedding (9 page)

‘And she still has most of her slates on when it comes to relationships, hopefully. That new man of hers is super-hot, that’s for sure,’ Arabella said to nobody in particular.

She added some dresses and shoes, snapped the case shut and carried it to the front door. She checked that everything was switched off and returned to the sitting room to finish her tea.

‘Yes, Emily is a wise one,’ she said to her reflection. ‘Not like some of us,’ she added.

And then, in spite of herself, Arabella managed a watery sort of giggle. She went to light a cigarette as she waited for the taxi to come and then she realized she’d lost her cigarette lighter. Could she possibly have dropped it in David’s house? Arabella’s heart convulsed with fright; her initials were engraved on that lighter. And, even worse, David had given it to her for their wedding anniversary just a couple of years earlier. He’d recognize it straight away.

Arabella felt like fainting with fear.

The taxi arrived, so she grabbed her bag and case instead, and went running down the front steps, slamming the door behind her.

At that exact moment David Harrington was answering a phone call from his local police station, telling him that his rented home in London had been virtually destroyed in an apparent arson attack. They’d found a cigarette lighter in the debris, they said. It bore the initials A. H. Did that mean anything to him?

David was too stunned to reply at first.

‘Arson?’ he stuttered.

They thought it was arson because the back door had been quite badly damaged, so clearly someone had gone to great trouble to gain access to the house. But they could find no real signs of ransacking. Was there a safe in the house?

‘No, there wasn’t.’

Did anyone know he’d be away from home for a month?

‘Only the landlord, our neighbour and my team at work.’

When asked if he had any idea who might target him in such a way, David didn’t have to think for very long. He wouldn’t have believed it possible that Arabella could turn arsonist like this, but the lighter was proof of it; there could be no doubt whatsoever.

The policeman noted his hesitation and urged him again to name names, but David couldn’t bear to put Arabella through any more pain and anguish. He had simply stopped loving her, and they hadn’t been able to have a baby together – and that was punishment enough. He didn’t want to have to come back to London from Italy every few weeks for some long-drawn-out court case. He’d much rather leave all the financial and rebuilding headaches for his landlord’s insurer.

Well, David did have the soul of a stockbroker when all was said and done.

‘Look, I’m sorry I’m no help to you. But I really have no idea what could have happened; it must have been a burglary gone terribly wrong,’ David said eventually, kissing Mary’s hand tenderly and thanking his lucky star their beloved daughters were safe and sound. They’d go to Italy early now – just as soon as he could make the arrangements. They could stay in a hotel until their new home was ready.

‘You can’t think of anything, sir?’

‘Nothing. The burglars must have got angry when they found there was nothing worth stealing, and just vandalized the place instead. You know what these hoodies are like; they think every nice house in London must be chock-full of Picasso paintings and diamond rings. The idiots don’t realize how much it costs just to rent a decent place these days. That’s the comprehensive system for you. I don’t know; they were probably high on drugs,’ David added.

‘Could be something like that, yes. There are lots of drugs about.’

‘There you are, then – drugs and boredom. We ought to bring back National Service, I expect,’ David said, hoping he wasn’t laying it on too thick.

‘National Service – you’re kidding, mate. These young lads never get out of bed before four o’clock in the afternoon. A week in the army would finish off the lot of them.’

‘Well, I’m just thankful we weren’t all asleep in our beds when the fire started.’

‘Yes, that’s true enough.’

‘And you definitely don’t know who A. H. is?’

‘No. Must be one of the burglars, I expect.’

The police mustn’t have known that his wife was called Arabella. And David decided they wouldn’t find out from him. If it ever came to light, he could say he was in shock at the time, and had forgotten all about Arabella. They couldn’t prove a thing.

David didn’t care about the fire. He just wanted to hold Mary in his arms and fall asleep with the fresh scent of her grapefruit shampoo in his nostrils. He wanted to kiss his daughters’ tiny little starfish hands now, and then go back to sleep. He hoped this awful turn of events could be reduced and compacted into nothing more than a mild irritation. Arabella had always been too complicated for him. She was such a restless person – forever rushing about the place, never sitting down to have a chat with him over a bit of supper. Never wanting to go for a simple, aimless walk …

He was glad he wouldn’t be seeing her any more.

‘Thank you for telling us about the fire, anyway,’ he said.

‘The property is being boarded up as we speak.’

‘Okay, I’ll keep my phone switched on just in case there’s any more news. And we’ll come back to London first thing tomorrow morning, of course. Thanks again, and good morning to you.’

‘Good morning to you, sir.’

9. Wedding Dress, Never Worn

When Emily opened her eyes she saw Dylan standing by her wardrobe with one hand on the open door and the other hand scratching his head. He was topless and barefoot but had managed to put his jeans back on. The sun shone through Emily’s tapestry curtains and made a mottled pattern on Dylan’s bare back. She thought she’d like a photograph of him standing like that – to keep with her for ever.

‘Hi there,’ she said sleepily.

He turned to look at her.

‘Hi there,’ he smiled.

There was an endearingly confused expression on his face.

Emily suddenly remembered her wedding dress.

‘Dylan, are you looking for something?’ she said nervously.

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he said, smiling at her again. ‘I just thought you might have an old T-shirt or something that I could borrow? My top has red wine spilt on it. I wonder how that happened! Anyway, I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.’

‘Hang on, I’ll find you something to wear,’ she said, leaning out of bed and flicking open a large wicker trunk. ‘I keep my casual clothes in here. I never really use the wardrobe. It’s mainly full of old stuff.’

She handed him the baggiest T-shirt she could find.

‘Emily?’ he said carefully.

‘Yes?’

‘Why have you got a wedding dress and other wedding things in the wardrobe?’

‘You saw them, then?’

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘I wasn’t snooping, honestly. They were right there on the top of this great pile of things. There’s an awful lot of wedding stuff. Is it all for a photo shoot or something?’

Emily briefly thought of lying to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘The truth is, I was due to get married a while back,’ she said, slipping on her robe and a pair of socks. ‘But the wedding was cancelled. I should have told you about it – but, anyway, there it is now. Do you just want a cup of tea for breakfast, or would you like cereal and toast as well?’ she asked, leaving the room suddenly. Dylan followed her through to the tiny kitchen.

‘Yes, please. Anything that’s handy – I really don’t mind. But, Emily, you said you’d never been in love before, when I asked you last night.’

Dylan looked at Emily patiently. He waited for her to fill the kettle, and then he folded her into his arms.

‘You look gorgeous in the morning,’ he said. ‘Your hair is all mussed up. But listen, you don’t have to tell me about it … if you don’t want to,’ he added.

‘No, it’s okay; I’ll tell you. There’s no big secret love in my past, Dylan. I have never been in love. I thought I was, once. But it wasn’t true love, just an infatuation,’ she admitted sadly. ‘It was a bit of a disaster, really. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Dylan. I just didn’t feel ready to tell you about it.’

‘So what happened? Why were you getting married if you weren’t in love? And why didn’t you mention this last night when I told you about my ex? You could have told me, you know. I would have understood.’

Emily slipped out of Dylan’s embrace to fetch a bottle of milk from the fridge and put bread in the toaster.

‘Yes, I know you would have been very sympathetic. But it was the most embarrassing day of my life, and I still find the experience very difficult to talk about. We were having such a lovely evening yesterday, I didn’t want to go and ruin it all. Anyway, it means nothing; he means nothing, and it’s all in the past now.’

‘But is it in the past? I’m really sorry for asking,’ Dylan said humbly, while still looking absolutely adorable but slightly ridiculous in Emily’s glittery skull T-shirt from River Island.

‘It’s over; it was all over and done with eighteen months ago. My beloved stood me up at the altar, if you must know,’ Emily said, setting out cups and plates and avoiding Dylan’s gaze. ‘He stood me up on our wedding day.’

‘You are joking?’

‘No, I’m not joking. It doesn’t just happen in romantic movies, you know. It happens in real life too, sometimes. I was there at the church, doing the whole mental bride thing – biting my false nails and pacing up and down the path and asking everybody what time it was. And he just didn’t show up.’

‘Where was the wedding?’ Dylan said, clearly horrified.

Emily sat down on a kitchen chair and indicated to Dylan to do the same.

‘It was in Belfast. The December before last, it was. A lovely old church right in the city centre! One hundred and fifty guests all present and correct – mostly extended family on my father’s side. I had four bridesmaids, who were all cousins of mine, all with very expensive hairdos and make-up. A luxury reception booked and paid for by my sweet self – at Belfast Castle, no less. There were oysters and lobsters, five tiers of white cupcakes with silver balls on the top instead of a wedding cake, a string quartet in the foyer and gallons of pink champagne. Oh well. They do say pride comes before a fall. And that was a pretty spectacular fall, I can tell you.’

‘And the guy actually did a runner?’

‘Yes. He sent me a text, would you believe it? A tiny little text! He was thirty minutes late by that stage, and there was no sign of the best man either. I was imagining all sorts. I thought they’d done something terrible to him on the stag night; I thought he was in a booze-induced coma. Or maybe they’d had a car accident on the way to the church? So anyway, I’m freaking out and thinking I ought to start ringing round the hospitals … and then I get a text from Prince Charming. And he says he doesn’t want to be tied down when he’s only thirty-three. And he’s very sorry, but it’s better to tell the truth now than to get married and regret it later. And as the final touch, he told me he’d met someone else a few days earlier and he thought she might be the one for him. Just a few days, and he’d found the one! We’d been together for over ten years, off and on.’

‘The absolute scumbag! What was his name?’

‘Alex. I’m not telling you his surname – in case you go and beat the hell out of him.’

‘Didn’t your father beat the hell out of him at the time?’ Dylan wanted to know.

‘No, of course not. My poor father weighs nine stone at the very most. He couldn’t beat the hell out of a wet paper bag.’

‘Still and all …’

‘Dad was quite nice about it, really. He said Alex didn’t deserve me and I was better off without him. It was the nicest thing my father’s ever said to me, actually. I was so moved when he said that. We had a nice little moment where we held hands by the church door, and he really seemed like a picture-book father. Then he disappeared off to the greyhound track.’

‘Why?’

‘He was too mortified to face the guests. He said a flutter on the dogs would calm his nerves. Frankly, I didn’t blame him one bit.’

‘Fair enough, I think. And what did your mother say?’

‘She didn’t say much at the time – because she wasn’t there.’

‘Where was she?’

‘She was shopping in Dublin.’

‘She went shopping on your wedding day?’ Dylan gasped.

‘Yes, I told you she was very fond of shopping.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ he said.

‘I think Mum was too nervous to be at the wedding, really. You know how the mother of the bride gets almost as much attention as the bride herself? Well, my mum doesn’t like wearing posh hats – and she doesn’t care much for my father’s relatives either. She says they’re very pushy and nosy types. Mind you, with all the drama, nobody noticed she wasn’t in the church. I don’t think they ever found out that the mother of the bride was wandering round Dublin with half a dozen carrier bags on each arm.’

‘Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry.’

‘Afterwards she said, what did I expect? She said Alex was a big-shot and a smooth playboy – and that he was well out of my league, anyway. And that I was, and always had been, a daydreamer with ideas above my station.’

‘She did not say that, did she? What an unforgivable thing to say to your own daughter.’

‘Listen, it makes no difference what my mother says to me or anybody else. She’s always been a bit odd, Dylan. Actually, I should tell you … that she’s … an alcoholic. She’s a bad-tempered, painfully shy, bitter and resentful inverted snob … and a desperate, incurable, unapologetic alcoholic.’

‘Come here,’ he said, pulling Emily into his arms.

He kissed the top of her head as she wept silent tears.

‘Thanks for being so kind,’ she said eventually. ‘I know it isn’t my fault, or Mum’s either, but I’ve been carrying the shame of her alcoholism around with me all these years. I think that’s part of the reason Alex broke up with me; he didn’t want the hassle of living with an alcoholic mother-in-law. He was very conscious of his reputation and, as I said before, Belfast is a very small town. Everybody knows everything about everybody else in their social circle. So there was that – and the fact we have no money.’

‘But that must have been so awful for you. What did you do? I mean, when this Alex
loser
didn’t turn up at the church?’

‘I thought I was coping okay, but after Dad left I had a full-blown panic attack in the porch, gasping on my hands and knees in a cloud of white tulle. A real fairytale wedding all right! I was shaking so much, I dropped my phone in the holy water font. The priest was very nice about it; he got me calmed down again and gave me a paper bag to breathe into. I thought I’d die of shame and hurt and rage. But we had a little chat out in the gardens, me and the priest, and he told me there must be something better in line for me. Or someone better. So I told the guests to go ahead and have the meal – the poor loves were all dressed up with nowhere to go. The priest made the announcement on my behalf. After all, I’d already paid twelve thousand pounds for the reception.’

‘Ouch!’

‘And I went back to my parents’ house in the wedding car, changed into my ordinary clothes and rang for a taxi to the airport. Needless to say, I never want to show my face in Belfast again. It’s not that they’d laugh at me or anything. I just don’t want their sympathy. Something like that will never be forgotten – not ever. They have long memories in Belfast, very long memories. Fifty years after I’m dead they’ll still be describing me as
the poor critter that got left at the altar
.’

‘Why did you keep the wedding dress?’

‘It cost me a fortune. And it looked beautiful on me. And also, I wanted a reminder of my madness.’

‘It wasn’t madness, Emily. Alex was totally cruel to do that to you. He should have gone through with the wedding, just to save face on the day. And then maybe you could have split up later, in private. You could have split up the following day and asked for an annulment. But he shouldn’t have done that to you. That was unforgivable.’

‘You’re so thoughtful and sweet,’ she said, putting on fresh toast and throwing the cold slices of bread in the bin.

She boiled the kettle again and filled the teapot.

‘Well, I don’t know about thoughtful and sweet, but I would never stand a girl up on her wedding day.’

‘I know you wouldn’t.’

‘What happened to this Alex chap in the end?’

‘He’s engaged to another girl now. The one he met a few days before he left me. She comes from old money; she’s a lawyer. Alex is a lawyer too. Did I mention that?’

‘He’s nothing but a grubby little gold-digger. You had a lucky escape, Emily.’

‘Ha! Thanks.’

‘He was only after her money, Emily. You know it’s true.’

‘Maybe he was. But anyway, my dear old mother was right all along.’

‘Huh! With a mother like yours, who needs enemies?’

‘She’s a depressive, Dylan. To her, life has always been a crushing disappointment. And everything that goes wrong simply confirms her belief that life will always be a crushing disappointment. I don’t think she knows how to deal with happiness. It’s very sad for her, really. I’m the lucky one, because I got away from Belfast and made something of myself. Would you like some toast?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

Emily set a plate of toast on the breakfast bar and calmly poured two cups of tea.

‘I don’t agree with that assessment, Emily. There’s simply no excuse for treating you like that. She ought to be ashamed of herself. What she said to you was even worse than that idiot standing you up on your wedding day. Parents should always be on the side of their kids – no matter what they’re going through themselves.’

‘It’s okay, I’m used to it. She can’t help the way her brain works, I suppose. I should just be grateful I’ve found something to be interested in. I love my work, even though it’s true that it isn’t very exciting. But the interiors business never disappoints either, do you see? That’s why I love all those perfect rooms – empty of people, empty of emotional baggage and the untidiness of human affairs.’

‘I can understand that, yes.’

‘Arabella was brilliant about it all too. She couldn’t make it to the wedding, because her father was very ill at the time. But she was so supportive for weeks and weeks afterwards. I feel I’ve let her down very badly over her husband’s recent behaviour, you know. She did beg me for advice, but I wasn’t able to give her any. I wish I knew where she was now. I wish I knew why she just took off like that. I wish I could do something to help her.’

‘I’m sure Arabella knows you care about her very much. Listen, you should give that dress away to a friend – or sell it. Get rid of the memories.’

‘Yes, I’ll donate the dress and all the accessories to the shop this very day. I’m sure Sylvia will be pleased. Or will she think you’re going out with a flake? She might as well know about Alex now – in case she finds out later on down the line and thinks I’m hiding a whole bunch of other things.’

There were one or two other secrets lurking in Emily’s wardrobe, as it happened. But Alex’s desertion was the main one – the big one. Emily decided that would be enough information for Dylan for one day.

‘Sylvia likes you, Emily. She says you’re very real.’

‘That’s nice, I like being real,’ Emily smiled.

‘Yes, it wouldn’t be much fun living life as a hologram, would it?’ Dylan said, munching toast.

The walls of Emily’s small kitchen were painted a zingy lime green, and she’d bought tea canisters and tea towels to match. A row of cup hooks held six green and white floral patterned mugs.