| |
SOMEONE AT THE BACK of the church wolf-whistled. A few people laughed. The Bishop looked as if he’d seen that sort of thing too many times and wasn’t amused. He wore a green surplice and a mitre and glasses. He returned his attention to George and Susan and continued:
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace that you may so live together in this life, that in the world to come you may have life everlasting. Amen.”
Edward was standing behind the couple in a morning suit. Susan had a garland of summer flowers in her hair. The guests were from the Post Office on one side and the refuge on the other. Of those who had been invited only Valérie and Phillip weren’t there. Mrs Strawbridge’s six little granddaughters were Susan’s bridesmaids. They wore fairy costumes and held wands. Lek and Lek II and Mark sat at the back next to Thanongsak. It was exactly six months since Noonie’s disappearance and Lek was in England to ‘kill two birds with one stone’ as she put it.
The church was one of the six George shared nominal responsibility for. Susan had chosen it because it was the prettiest. Its low Saxon ceiling and painted rubblestone walls hailed from a time before Christianity had become muscular, and it seemed of a piece with the surrounding fields and copses. Today it was full of flowers.
There was a moment of silence. The Bishop cleared his throat. “Number forty three. The Lord’s My Shepherd.”
The hymn-books fluttered and the organ struck up. Because he was just behind them, Edward couldn’t help overhearing the married couple sing. He guessed they’d been practising. When it came to the final verse – in which goodness and mercy follow the singer all the days of his or her life – Susan’s voice wobbled.
Next, everyone exchanged hymn books for prayer books and turned to The Order of the Administration of the Lord’s Supper, or Holy Communion. The Bishop said the Lord’s Prayer and the congregation joined him in a monotone.
Forty-five minutes later, the organist switched the dial to full volume and the couple left the Church. The guests tossed rice and biodegradable confetti and Susan miscalculated and threw her bouquet onto the roof. The photographer made the principal guests stand in groups. Everyone else circulated and made new or renewed old acquaintances.
The sky was blue and the sun was baking. It was the middle of July and although the churchyard had been freshly mown, the wild grasses and nettles at the edges were set to re-colonise it. Somewhere in the horse chestnuts a fieldfare sang. Mrs Strawbridge sneezed.
George brought Edward over for a group photo with Susan and the bridesmaids.
“I’m looking forward to your speech,” he said. “I spoke to Mark about a week ago. He said when you were his Best Man your speech was quite moving.”
Edward smiled. “Were those his actual words? I thought I made a bit of a hash of it actually. I was hoping to redeem myself here.”
“You’d better not do a better speech for us than you did for Lek. I don’t think she’d forgive you. Whereas we will. Probably.”
“Please stop talking to Edward, George,” Susan said. “You’re distracting the photographer.”
“That’s as may be,” Edward said. “But it’d be hard to do a worse speech, even she’d have to admit that. Quite moving? Were those Mark’s actual words?”
“He didn’t say in what way. Smile ... Anyway, what did you do wrong?”
“Looking back, I may have put a bit too much existentialism in.”
George nodded. “Yes, I can see how that could be a problem.”
The Beston Hotel was a converted Edwardian country house three hundred yards down the road from the church. The reception had been paid for by Edward as his wedding-present. It began with half an hour of informal conversation in the bar then George and Susan stood in front of the conservatory doors to welcome everyone. Gradually, the guests put down their beers, wines, and glasses of orange and shook hands with George and pecked Susan and went through.
There were forty tables on a tiled floor. The Top Table was between the dining area and the dance floor, where a small jazz band waited. The room was festooned with streamers and the walls hung with balloons and the tables decked with flowers.
Edward sat next to the bride and groom. On his left was Mrs Strawbridge, and opposite her, a middle-aged woman in a tight dress, one of Susan’s new friends from the Post Office. He nodded to her. She smiled nervously and looked down at the napkin on her lap. He guessed she’d been asked to speak.
There was a choice for main course. He went for the fish. To his annoyance, he couldn’t stop trying to analyse the sauce into its ingredients. He had cheese and biscuits afterwards to give himself a break. He talked to Mrs Strawbridge about the difficulties of getting anywhere with so much traffic on the roads.
Afterwards, the Master of Ceremonies – a tall woman of about Susan’s age, dressed in a blue Beston Hotel uniform – proposed a toast to the happy couple then introduced the speakers, beginning with Susan’s new friend from the Post Office.
Mrs Flanaghan stood up. She was about forty in a dress that seemed designed to show her skeleton. Holding a notepad and trembling, she put on her reading glasses and read in a monotone.
“I think it’s fair to say – and I know she won’t mind me saying this, because I’ve asked her – that for a long time, everyone who worked with Susan thought she was a right little snob. But - ”
There was a roar of laughter. Susan blushed but didn’t look offended. The laughing gradually died down, except for one man who had to be helped outside.
Mrs Flanaghan’s trembling increased a notch. “But since she’s met George, and since George encouraged her to open up, we’ve all come to realise what a mistake that was. Just because someone’s quiet and they find it difficult to talk to you, that doesn’t mean they’re a right little snob. I - ”
There was another explosion of laughter.
“I think we’ve all learned a very valuable lesson. Susan, I hope you’ll stay at the Sorting Office for a long time to come yet. I hope you’ll come on next year’s outing to Margate with us – or wherever we choose to go next year. Maybe Ramsgate, maybe Margate - maybe some other ‘gate’, who knows!” She paused for laughter but there was silence. She blinked in such a way as to keep her eyes closed slightly longer than was necessary. “You – you’re really good fun, the pair of you. To sum up, on behalf of everyone at the Post Office, I’d like to wish both of you the very, very best for the rest of your lives together.”
There was a round of applause. Mrs Flanaghan sat down. The MC called on Mrs Strawbridge.
Mrs Strawbridge smoothed down her front and looked down at the floor for a moment, then at her audience. She let he arms dangle by her side. “I’m not very good at speeches. When I write them down, I usually can’t read my own handwriting even with my glasses on and I have to ask someone else what such-and-such a word means and they go, ‘Well, you wrote it, you daft cow’, then I look a prize chump.”
There was a ripple of polite laughter.
“But what I will say is, there aren’t many men like George left. I don’t just mean in this room. I mean generally. There are women here in this room who quite literally owe their lives to him. I think of the times he’s gone into real physical battles with men – big men - who’ve come to the refuge to take their poor, smashed-in wives home so they can smash them in a bit more ... and he’s stood up to them and never, ever backed down. It’s a wonder he’s still alive. Over the years, lots of women have fallen in love with him ... including me, and I’m old enough to be his mother and ... and I don’t really know what more to say ... Good luck!”
Suddenly forty or fifty women got to their feet, equally tearful, and clapped and cheered. Edward had never seen any of them before and he was reminded that there was a side of George’s life he’d always known about but never fully appreciated. The whole room joined the standing ovation. George grinned awkwardly and looked at Susan. Susan looked amazed and clapped hard.
“And now a few words from the Best man,” the Master of Ceremonies said, “who also happens to be the groom’s brother.”
There was another burst of polite applause. Someone coughed. One of the women from the refuge wolf-whisted. Everyone laughed. There was silence.
“A few months ago,” Edward said, “someone quite close to me asked me whether I believed in love at first sight. I said no. I suppose I saw it as a convenience for novelists and film-makers, something to save them the bother of psychological analysis. I might have added that we’re all animals and, since Darwin, what passes for love at first sight should probably be regarded as a mixture of sexual arousal and wishful thinking.
“That was before my brother fell in love with Susan. By all accounts, their first meeting, just over a year ago, was over in an instant. Then they lost touch. But I’ve no doubt they’d have spent the next twenty years looking for each other had fate not taken pity on them.
“Belief in love at first sight is supposed to require a mystical disposition and I’m no mystic. What I do know is that most people don’t have much self-knowledge. They think they’re slightly different to who they really are and I guess what they’re mostly looking for is a partner who complements and supports that illusion. But think about it. When you meet someone for the first time, your brain must pick up literally thousands of signals, all involuntary. Chemical signals, to do with smell and taste; aural signals, registering tone of voice; visual signals to do with body-language and pupil-dilation. All these must be processed in the twinkling of an eye. Maybe your brain knows better than ‘you’ do who’s right for you. The thing to do, perhaps, is go with your instincts; to leave open all the possibilities, however apparently absurd.
“That requires you to keep an open mind and take risks, something most of us aren’t very good at. I’m sure if you’d asked George and Susan two years ago who they thought they’d end up with, they would have been grossly wide of the mark. As people they’re very different. Nevertheless, they’ve found something in each other which the rest of us will be lucky ever to find in anyone else, even without the miracle of it being reciprocated.
“All of which goes to show that appearances can be deceptive. We may all be born with the capacity to recognise who we should be with, but the courage, the sensitivity and the humility to acknowledge it when it occurs, let alone to act on it – these are things that have to be learnt. Most people marry people who are mirror-images of themselves, with the firm intention of staying who they are. Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that such people merely fulfil what might be called their ‘programming’ and that, in the long term, they’re apt to shrivel and die. Only bold spirits marry outside their program. They marry there because, somehow, at some point in their lives, they’ve learned how to develop and grow.
“In short, the human is acquired – we’re not born with it. It’s acquired in the process of overcoming one’s programming. More: at the risk of sounding tongue-tied, it’s the program to overcome programs. It’s the nemesis of programs per se and, as such, perhaps the most difficult of all things to acquire. It lies at the source of a long, wild river, in the highest reaches of unknown peaks. Most people never get there. But, unlike my brother and his new wife, most people never take the first step.”
He raised his wine glass. “Please stand for the toast. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you George and Susan.”
“George and Susan,” everyone said.
“Finally,” the Master of Ceremonies said, “the groom would like to express his thanks on behalf of the couple.”
George scraped his chair back. “On behalf of myself and my new wife,” he said, “I’d like to thank the three excellent speakers, the hotel for its superb organisation and Lisa for being such an effective MC. It goes without saying I’d like to thank everyone for the presents, and, of course, for coming today and making the ceremony so memorable for us. We’ve both had a wonderful day. I admit, I’d find it wonderful being with Susan even in an unheated dentist’s waiting-room in the depths of winter but I can’t imagine how today could have been any better.
“Before I sit down, though, I’d just like to say a final few words about a small group of people who can’t be here today. It’s fifteen years now since my parents – Michael and Carolyn - died, and I’m sure they’d have been absolutely delighted with their new daughter-in-law.
“And then there’s Susan’s late grandmother. Susan and I actually met at Vivienne’s funeral, but I think it’s fair to say that she played the same role in Susan’s life as my parents played in mine. She gave her a set of values and hedged her round with protective devices designed to ensure that, although she had the freedom to learn from her mistakes, nothing really bad would ever happen to her. I’d like to thank her for making Susan Susan.
“Re-fill your glasses then for a final toast. To Vivienne, Carolyn and Michael.”
The guests drank and sat down. The MC invited the bride and groom to the dance floor and the jazz band played ‘Mississippi Waltz’.
Two hours later, most of the guests had dispersed. Susan raced across the middle of the hotel lawn, playing Chase with her bridesmaids. George and Edward walked around the borders together.
“All that must have cost you an absolute packet,” George said.
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Besides, if there is such a thing as life after death, I don’t want mine to start with a bollocking from our parents.”
“This has been a perfect day. Look at Susan. She’s so beautiful and she’s such a wonderful person. I love her so much I almost want to cry.”
“Get a grip on yourself, George. You’ve got her now. Anyway, I think it’s probably reciprocated. Whoops, there she goes.”
Susan slipped on her bottom. The bridesmaids went in for the kill, whipping her with their wands and treading on her dress. Mrs Strawbridge came haring across the lawn. When they pulled the fairies off, Susan was still laughing. She saw George watching her, blew him a kiss then got to her feet and growled at the top of her voice. The fairies screamed and rushed off towards the conservatory. Susan set off in pursuit.
“I’m going to give up working at the Refuge,” George said. “It’s not for Susan. We’re going abroad to do charity work, hopefully with children. Susan loves children.”
“You realise you can actually have children of your own? I’ve got some Biology textbooks I could lend you.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“You are going to remain a vicar, aren’t you?”
“It’s a vocation, not a job. I just want Susan to be happy. I don’t think she’s ready for when violent husbands come knocking on the door in the middle of the night, demanding their wives back.”
Edward scoffed. “She’s no wimp. I’ve seen her when she gets angry. She can take care of herself.”
“I know that. Only I’d rather she didn’t have to.”
“You’re probably right. I’m just saying don’t underestimate her. You saw how she dealt with those fairies. What time are you leaving tonight?”
“When all the guests have gone. We’re in no hurry. We’ll leave you the number of the hotel. You’ve got my mobile. You can contact us if there’s an emergency.”
“What’s the weather forecast like?”
“We’re expecting rain.”
“Is it normally rainy in Robin Hood’s Bay?”
“It’s normally rainy everywhere in this country.”
“What will you do then, if it does rain?”
“We’ll put our umbrellas up and do exactly what we’d do if it wasn’t raining.”
“But what if it buckets down?”
“People are far too wary of rain in my opinion.”
“It makes it difficult to sit on the grass.”
“Conversely, it means you’re more likely to find yourselves alone.”
“I wonder why.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I suppose that is the point of a honeymoon.”
“Exactly. Rain’s much more romantic than sun, in my opinion.”
“Imagine if it snowed.”
“True. Snow trumps rain. On the other hand, it is July.”
“Is rain just a risk you’re prepared to take or is it actually what you’re going for?”
“We’re going to be with each other.”
Susan joined them. Her wedding dress was muddied through. She kissed George on the lips and Edward on the cheek.
“Come and join the other guests,” she said. “There are still some left. They’re saying, where’s George and where’s George’s brother?”
“You mean, where’s your husband and your brother-in-law?” Edward said.
“Oh my God, yes. We’re related.” She kissed him on the cheek again but more fervently.
“Are you looking forward to your honeymoon?” he asked her.
“More than anything. We’ve got this huge hotel on a cliff-edge with a room overlooking the sea, and there’s a log fire downstairs or we can stay upstairs all day if we like, and we’re going to go for long, long walks along the cliffs and sit-downs in the little secluded bays under a big umbrella at night time, cuddling. And George is going to read me a poem a day, specially chosen, and we’re going to eat like horses, and drink, and have sex right away because, of course, George is a virg - ”
“I hope the weather keeps up,” Edward said.
She grabbed George’s arm with both hands and stroked her cheek with it. “I couldn’t care less about the weather. Neither could George.”
George reached into his pocket and handed Edward a big bunch of keys. “I almost forgot. Thanongsak told me to give you ‘the key’, for tonight. I don’t know which one he meant. He said you’d work it out.”
“But we’re not opening till later than usual, tonight. And I’ve got a key, I’ve had one since I started working there ...”
“It’s better to have too many keys than none at all,” Susan said.
“But this is his personal bunch of keys,” Edward said. “He doesn’t let it out of his sight as a rule.”
Suddenly, two and two made four. He could feel his chest pulse.
“Do you know where he went?” he said.
“Back to the Church, I think,” George said. “He left some things there at the beginning, apparently. I didn’t see what they were, because - ”
“Good luck on the honeymoon.” He shook George’s hand and kissed Susan again then set off at a run for the church. He hoped to God he wouldn’t be too late.
Edward caught sight of him as soon as he reached the front gate. Thanongsak stood by the Lych-gate, a suitcase on either side of him, dressed in his wedding-suit minus tie. He looked smaller and older than he had even a few hours ago. The hills in the distance, the centuries-old trees before the Church, the broad expanse of meadows in the background, all emphasised his diminution. It took Edward only a few moments to cover the five hundred yards of dirt track that separated them. He was panting heavily.
“Caught me,” Thanongsak said.
“What’s going on?” Edward said, although he knew the answer. “Why the keys? Why the luggage?”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“To a monastery ... In Thailand ...?”
“I’ve made no secret of it.”
“But the timing ... It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like goodbyes. I’ve done a lot of bad things over the past year, some of which may never be repaired. I know I don’t deserve a fond farewell and I didn’t want you to think I imagined otherwise. I’ve left a letter on the kitchen table explaining everything. You weren’t meant to catch me here.”
“What about the restaurant? Have you found a buyer?”
“No. Look, it’s all explained in the letter.”
“You’ve left me a letter? That’s how you say goodbye?”
“I’m giving you the restaurant, Edward. It’s yours. I knew as soon as you agreed to work for me that that’s what I’d do.”
“Er, hang on ...”
“All the necessary documentation’s on the kitchen table, signed by me and witnessed by Mr Rahman, my solicitor. He’ll be coming round to see you tomorrow morning, so you can sign your half and he can witness it. Money’s got to change hands, that’s the law, so there’s a single penny in the top drawer where the cutlery’s kept. Give it to Mr Rahman and he’ll take care of everything. He’s received his fees, so don’t worry about that.”
“But I thought you were going to sell it.”
“I don’t need money where I’m going. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“I don’t - ”
“Look, Edward, you need regular work at the moment and the clientele we’ve built up is ideal for what you’re going to have to do over the next however-long-it’ll-take. Those old women are interested in you and Noonie. You’re the reason they keep coming back, not the food. That means you can close the restaurant for long periods of time if need be and they’ll still come back when you return. I knew that from the very beginning. It was me who told them about you and Noonie.”
“You?”
“Look, you can speak and cook Thai now. You’re perfectly capable of running the restaurant on your own. You don’t need my help any more.”
“I – I can’t believe it ...”
“Here comes my taxi.”
“Can I ... come to the airport with you?”
Thanongsak smiled. “I don’t think that would achieve anything, do you?”
Edward took the bunch of keys out of his pocket and looked at it dumbly. “I don’t even know what most of these are for.”
“It’s all in the letter.”
The taxi driver eased himself out of the front seat and picked up the suitcases.
“Will you write when you get there?”
“Probably not, no. Listen, Edward: a piece of advice. Concentrate on getting Noonie back. Six months is a long time. This six months probably hasn’t seemed long to you because time passes quickly when you’re working hard. But it has been. I’m not sure you’re going to find her now, to be honest. I think she’s another Kwan. Someone’s got to tell you. I hope to God I’m wrong of course, but I don’t think I am.”
“I will find her.”
“Your Best Man speech. It was partly yourself you had in mind, wasn’t it? You and Noonie. ‘Only bold spirits marry outside their program.’ I liked that. I wish I’d said it. I mean ... I wish I’d known that ... that was what you believed.”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Don’t try to hug me. It’ll only fuel my self-disgust.”
Edward could see he wasn’t joking. He shook his hand. As they looked each other in the eye, Edward had the feeling he was the one who had committed the injustice. Thanongsak got into the car. Edward watched it grind its way along the dirt track until it was out of sight. He dropped his arms, closed his eyes and furrowed his brow.
Six months. Put simply, his decision to wait had been the wrong one. Time to admit that he knew Noonie and himself and the universe less well than he thought. She hadn’t tried to contact him. There was no reason to think she was going to. Which meant perhaps she’d put him behind her, in a way it was impossible for him to do with her.
As for searching for her, he still didn’t know where to begin. The best way of finding out was to do something practical. But what? And he was afraid now of what he might find. Was she really another Kwan? It didn’t bear thinking about.
But what bore thinking about was irrelevant. Tomorrow was rushing to meet him, full of the most ambiguous shadows.
“That’s two Lab Gais,” Rose said. She looked over the top of her reading glasses. “What did you say you wanted, Charlotte?”
“The chicken and fresh ginger with Thai mushrooms.”
“We call that Gai Pahd King,” Rose said. “One Gai Pahd King please, Edward. Jean?”
“Emma and I are having the Phet Makam. Number thirty-one. He won’t know unless you give him the numbers, Rose. Thirty-one, Edward.”
“It’s okay,” Edward said. “I know the numbers by heart now.”
“What do you do if you want to add a new dish?” Rose asked. “I mean you can’t just slot a number in otherwise you might forget, and say someone comes in and says, ‘I’ll have a number two, please’, you might give them a number one or a number three by mistake.”
Charlotte laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Millie said.
“I’ll have a number two!”
Everyone hooted as if it was the funniest thing ever.
Edward turned to Rose. “What was the original question?”
It was four hours after Thanongsak’s departure. He was still in shock. The restaurant was full of old women, all at different stages of ordering and inebriation. As usual, there was no rush and everything was noisy and relaxed. He was coping better than he’d anticipated and thanks to the company, feeling less lonely. In the kitchen, the ovens were fired up. The loose ingredients were ready to go. The first of the dishes was already on its way.
“When you’ve finished cooking,” Peggy said, “come and sit with us.”
When all six women had ordered he went back into the kitchen and sliced an onion. He wondered what time Mark and Lek would arrive. Probably not too late: they were going home tomorrow. They’d spent until this afternoon staying with Mark’s parents in Reading. This evening, they were supposed to let themselves into his house, rest, then come to The Golden Wave to eat. Top of the agenda was Noonie.
He was chopping a garlic clove when everything in the restaurant went quiet. Something nasty had happened. He put down his knife, picked up a dishcloth to wipe his hands on and hurried into the dining room.
Lek and Lek II and Mark stood looking mortified next to a Thai-looking man of about fifty in a tweed jacket and chinos and carrying a black briefcase. Forty diners looked at them, equally mortified. Edward’s entrance had no effect on the collective trance.
“And she’s had a baby,” Rose whispered, as if no one could hear her.
Lek grinned and gave a relieved sigh. She rolled her eyes.
“I’m Lek Shawcross. Edward’s friend. Noonie Kitkailart is slightly younger than me and sadly I don’t suppose she has any firm plans to show up tonight. This is Mark Shawcross, my husband. And this is Prakong Yanphaisarn, Private Detective extraordinaire. It’s too early to say for sure whether Noonie can now be located but if she can be, this man can and will do it.”
There was another second of silence. Then all the women applauded.
Edward shook his head. Even in the unlikeliest situation Lek had people eating from the palm of her hand.
