The Vintage Summer Wedding (4 page)

‘What’s going on?’ she asked as she pushed the tray of drinks onto the table.

‘Jackie is educating me on the world of Internet dating.’ Seb laughed.

‘It’s nothing,’ Jackie waved a hand, ‘Just Tinder.’

Anna nodded, not sure what she was talking about but, rather than ask, pretended that she wasn’t really that interested. She felt herself doing it on purpose, fitting into the role Jackie expected.

‘The website. No?’ Jackie said, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, as Anna obviously hadn’t been able to hide her blankness as well as she thought. ‘Well I suppose you wouldn’t know, not being single. It’s meant to be the closest thing to dating in the normal world.’ Jackie went on, leaning her elbows on the table, ‘You know, you rate people on what they look like, it’d be right up your street, Anna.’

Anna narrowed her eyes.

‘Look—’ Seb leant forward, Jackie’s phone in his hand. ‘If you like them, you swipe them into the Yes pile and if you don’t, you swipe them into the No. Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t believe it exists. It’s so ruthless, like some sort of horrible conveyor belt of desperation.’

‘Thank you very much, Seb.’ Jackie sat back.

‘I didn’t mean you. I meant them.’

Forgetting her act for a moment, Anna inched her head closer, fascinated, as she watched men appear on screen and Seb swipe them into the No pile as easily as swatting flies.

‘Hang on,’ Jackie snatched it off him. ‘Don’t waste my bounty,’ she laughed.

Seb leant over her shoulder and said, ‘I mean, look at this guy.’ He stabbed the shadowy profile picture on the screen, ‘Why put that picture up? Why wear a hat and a scarf and take it in the dark? All it does is say I’m fat and or ugly. Surely that’s an immediate no from everyone, because fat, ugly people know the trick because they’d do it themselves, and everyone imagines if they were fat and ugly that’s what they would do. He’s a fool.’

Jackie laughed and swiped the shadowy image away.

‘He’s quite nice though.’ Anna edged closer as a picture of a snowboarder popped up, all tanned, chiselled cheekbones and crazy bleached hair.

‘Never fall for the snowboarders or surfers. Believe me, without the get-up they’re all pretty average and all they talk about is how great they are.’

‘I take it you’ve been on quite a lot of dates.’

Jackie shrugged. ‘A fair few. Before this it was eHarmony and Match. I’ve done them all.’

Seb crossed his arms over his chest and sat back against the wooden slates of the booth, ‘It’s interesting isn’t it, the idea of being paired by a computer?’

‘I wonder if you two went on something like eHarmony,’ Jackie said without looking up from her swiping, ‘whether they’d match you.’

‘I doubt it,’ Seb guffawed.

Anna tried not to show her shock. ‘You don’t think?’ she asked, as neutrally as she could.

‘Oh come on. You’re always going on about how different we are,’ he laughed, taking a sip of his pint.

Anna felt her mouth half open, saw Jackie glance up with a wicked look in her eye.

‘Well you are!’ Seb said, as if he knew suddenly that he’d said the wrong thing. A slight look of worry on his face.

‘Yes.’ Anna nodded. ‘Yep, I am. Yeah, they’d probably never match us,’ she said casually and sat back with her wine, her legs crossed, trying to set her face into a relaxed expression.

Seb looked away from her, back to the phone screen and she felt a chill over her skin despite the stifling humidity. This was a man who used to look at her like she was made of gold, who saw a goodness in her that she barely saw herself, who saw the softness beneath the plating.

She suddenly felt like her dusting of glamour was wearing off.

‘Actually, Anna‒’ Jackie said, handing her phone to Seb. ‘I wanted to ask you a favour.’

‘A favour?’ Anna felt herself stiffen.

Seb paused momentarily and glanced up.

‘Well it’s just,’ Jackie licked her lips and Anna wondered if she was nervous. Wondered how long she’d been sitting there, laughing and joking, building up to asking whatever it was she was going to ask. ‘There’s this, this dance group. In the village. They’re only little ‒ you know, eight to sixteen. No one’s older than sixteen. And well, they always perform in the summer shows and they put on little routines and stuff and everyone really loves it. Well, they’ve been working towards a
Britain’s Got Talent
audition.’

Anna snorted in disbelief at the idea of wanting to go on some hideous ITV show like
BGT
.

‘They’re really excited. I mean, really excited. And I know they’re not the best but well, the whole village is kind of behind them.’

They never got behind me,
Anna thought with a feeling not dissimilar to jealousy.

She could tell Seb was listening despite feigning disinterest.

‘Anyway,’ Jackie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘They’ve been working super, super hard and well, Mrs Swanson’s au pair was teaching them but her visa ran out a fortnight ago and she hadn’t told anyone, so now, well, she left on Wednesday. There’s um, no one to help them.’

‘I see.’ Anna did a quick nod, rolling her shoulders back. No way, she thought, no way in God’s own earth, Jackie, no way. Keep going, but this is never going to happen.

Someone wedged the front doors open and the sounds from outside got louder, the laughter and chatting, but the heat stayed where it was, like a wobbling great blancmange.

‘You could do it,’ Seb said, jumping into the silence, unable to keep his trap shut.

‘I don’t think I could, Seb,’ Anna glared at him.

‘Well yeah, I mean that was exactly what I was going to ask. You see, it’s been me and Mrs McNamara—’

‘She’s still there?’

Jackie nodded.

Anna blew out a breath of disbelief. ‘It’s like time literally stood still here.’

‘Neither of us are particularly good dancers. I mean, I can hold my own at a party but you know, I don’t exactly know enough to teach them and well, we all know McNamara’s not exactly a lithe mover. I just don’t want to let the kids down.’

‘I’m sure you don’t.’ Anna tried to find something to distract herself, and rummaged in her bag for her lip gloss. Anna didn’t dance. Anna hadn’t danced in ten years. She hadn’t set foot on a stage, hadn’t warmed up, hadn’t looked out at the glare of the spotlight or felt the hard floor beneath her feet. Anna’s name had never been in lights. ‘God, it’s so hot. Why does it have to be so goddamn hot?’ She could feel Seb watching her.

‘Some of them aren’t the best kids and it’s really good seeing them involved in something—’

‘Jackie, I’m really sorry,’ Anna cut her off. ‘God, it’s just insufferably hot.’ She pulled her top away from her stomach, ‘I’m not going to do it. It’s just a definite no.’

‘Could you just think about it? We’d pay you?’

‘No.’ She shook her head again, reaching for the sing-along song sheet to fan herself with. ‘All the money in the world and I wouldn’t do it.’

‘Well, that’s not strictly true,’ she heard Seb add and shot him a look. ‘Actually,’ he said, sitting back with a grin on his face, ‘You’d be bloody awful teaching kids.’

She narrowed her eyes. He raised a brow. While half of her could sniff out his attempts at reverse psychology in an instant, the other half felt like he was deliberately being mean. Like this was almost her punishment ‒ for hating Nettleton, for spending all their money, for not trying hard enough.

‘It’s OK.’ Jackie shook her head, picking up her gin and tonic and taking a sip. ‘I just thought I’d ask.’

Anna rubbed her forehead and felt the heat prickle over her body. Jackie looked away, pretending to glance at the menu chalked up on the blackboard. The fan whirred on above the din of chat in the bar, a low hum beating out the seconds of their silence. Anna watched a fruit fly land in a spilt drop of her white wine and was about to lift her glass to squash it when Seb almost leapt from his seat.

‘Holy shit!’ he shouted.

‘What?’ Both Jackie and Anna said at the same time, equally desperate for some distraction after the dance snub.

‘It’s Smelly Doug.’

Jackie pulled the screen her way. ‘God, it is as well. And look, he has a Porsche, he’s photographed himself leaning against it. Oh no.’

‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Anna said, confused.

Jackie took another sip of her drink. ‘You know, Smelly Doug. Never washed his hair, trousers too short, huge rucksack...?’

Anna only had a vague recollection. ‘Was he in the year below us?’ Everything to do with school, pre-London, pre-The English Ballet Company School, was a bit of a blur. All she could remember was coming back for a few summers to stay with her dad and despising every minute of it.

‘This is fascinating,’ Seb said, as he clicked to look at more photos. ‘There’s one of him in Egypt. Doing that point at the top of the Pyramids.’

‘You should go on a date with him, Jackie.’ Seb nodded at her over the rim of his pint.

‘No way.’ Jackie shook her head.

‘Go on. It’d be a social experiment. Catch up, see what he’s up to. Find out how he could afford a Porsche. It’s a fact-finding mission. I’m putting him in your Yeses.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Jackie laughed. Anna watched them, feeling stupid for feeling left out.

‘Too late.’ Seb sat back, smug, and Jackie snatched the phone back, incredulous.

As Seb went to take a final gulp of his drink, his eyes dancing with triumph, Anna toyed with a coaster, pretending not to envy their laughter.

Then a shadow fell across the table. And Anna heard a familiar voice drawl, ‘Seb, darling, I thought you were going to pop round as soon as you arrived.’ Hilary, Seb’s mother, was standing at the end of their table, feigning her disgruntlement with a dramatic wave of her hand. But when she then pressed her palm over her creped cleavage, the pearls looped round her neck bunched up and caught on the buttons of her cream silk blouse, causing her to turn to Seb’s father, Roger, for help disentangling herself.

Seb glanced between the two of them, ‘Sorry, Mum, yes we were going to pop round. Arrived late last night though.’

‘Hi, Hilary. Hi, Roger.’ Anna stood up as much as the table would allow against her legs.

‘Hello, Anne.’ Hilary said, not looking up from her tangled pearls.

Anna rolled her eyes internally; she knew she called her the wrong name deliberately. Every time she met Seb’s parents, they made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for their son. Like he’d trailed his hand in the Nettleton mud one day and pulled out Anna. The list of problems was endless. Her parents’ divorce, their messy break-up, her father’s job, her mother being Spanish, like her immigrant blood would pollute the famous Davenport gene pool. They must rue the day their lost, London-shell-shocked son had bumped into Anna Whitehall on her lunch break in Covent Garden. They must look back and wonder why they didn’t do their weekend orienteering round London rather than the Hampshire countryside. That way Seb would have been savvy and street-wise, not like a lame duck ready and waiting for her fox-like claws to swipe him away. And now, of course, despite getting their precious youngest son back under Nettleton lock and key, the reason behind it had been her fault. Her inability to keep her job. Her fault he left his position at the elite Whitechapel Boys’ School. Nothing to do with him hating fucking Whitechapel, all the boys who just put their iPhone headphones in during lessons and said things like,
‘My father pays your salary, Sir. Which kind of means he owns you, doesn’t it? He paid for that suit you’re wearing.’

‘So what’s happening with this wedding, then? It’s very unusual, this limbo,’ Hilary sighed. ‘Postponed? Everyone’s been ringing me up, asking what it means. People like to be able to make plans, Anne. They have to book hotels. You must understand.’

Anna nodded. ‘We are sorting it, Hilary.’

‘Well that’s all very well for you to say, but it doesn’t look like you are. As far as I can see, you have a dress and a hotel that’s gone into receivership. And when people ask me what’s going on I simply don’t know. I know you’ve lost money, but what about what we gave you?’

Anna could feel herself getting hotter again. Wanting to shoo Jackie away so she didn’t witness her humiliation at the hands of Hilary and Roger.

When she’d told Seb how much she’d paid and, as a result, how much she’d lost, the main point he’d kept repeating was: just don’t let my mum and dad know.

‘It’s young people and the value of money, Hilly.’ Roger mused. ‘I just can’t believe you didn’t pay for it on a credit card. Everyone knows you pay on credit cards. Instant insurance.’

Anna swallowed. The credit cards she’d kept free to pay off the rest of it, month by month, to syphon off from the salary that she no longer had. ‘I’ve applied to the administrator, I’m doing everything I can.’

Roger snorted. ‘As if that will do anything at all. You won’t see a penny. You’re just a generation who thought they could have, have, have. I blame Labour. All you
Guardian
readers thinking that the world owes you another pair of shoes. What’s that woman in that ghastly programme?’

‘
Sexy in the City,
’ Hilary sighed.

‘Yes, just like that. Well, it’s come back to bite you.’ Roger tapped a cigarette out of a silver case that he always carried in the top pocket of his shirt, put it between his lips but didn’t light it, just sucked on the raw tobacco.

Jackie at least had the decency to absorb herself in her phone, Anna noticed, as Hilary leant a hand on the table and said, ‘You need to sort it, Anne. Can’t fail at your first job as a wife. That wouldn’t do at all.’

Tell them to stop, Seb
, she thought as they carried on. Tell them to stop.

But he said nothing, just looked at his glass.

The conversation swirled on around her until she heard Jackie say, ‘I know, I’ve been trying to persuade her to put her phenomenal talent to use back here in Nettleton. Razzmatazz are heading towards a big
Britain’s Got Talent
audition.’

‘And Anna‒’ Hilary frowned, ‘You’re not doing it?’

‘I just‒’ Anna made a face, glanced at Jackie and thought, you sly cow.