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The evening festivities tonight were in a more traditional wedding reception vein than the previous night’s dreamy woodland folk and fairy themed spectacular. There was a DJ, proudly and repeatedly declaring his intention to play all the biggest hits from the 1960s right up to today. If the claim was true it was going to be a staggeringly long party.
Dominic was standing in the doorway, and Helen realised that she hadn’t seen him since the ceremony, and in her excitement about the possible new jobs she hadn’t missed him. At least, she’d missed him less. She raised an arm in greeting.
He waved back and wandered over. ‘So, disco?’
Helen nodded.
‘I hate discos.’
She nodded again. ‘Me too. The only kind of dancing I can do is slow-dancing.’
The current song appeared to be based around the singer finding that his valued pet dogs had escaped and needing to query who might have let them out. It was an odd premise, but it gave Helen confidence that there was very little risk of a slow-dance in the immediate future. ‘I didn’t see you at the meal?’
Dominic shook his head. ‘I had to pop out.’
‘Really?’
‘Just to see my mum.’
‘That’s a four hour round trip.’
‘Nearer four and a half.’
‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s fine. I ...’ he laughed. ‘It’s going to sound mad.’
Helen waited.
‘I needed to tell her I was quitting my job.’
Helen’s throat clenched and the lightness in her chest evaporated. It was as if the perfectly lovely sedate little merry-go-round car she was riding on had become detached and slammed headlong into a wall. ‘You’re quitting the university?’
He nodded. ‘I’m going to apply for teacher training.’
‘Where?’ She told herself to be calm. He could go where he liked. She was planning on leaving anyway. Whether he stayed here or not made no difference.
‘It’s late to apply, so wherever there’s a space probably. I’m going to try to get somewhere in the North-west though.’ He paused. ‘Seeing Mum today. She’s getting old, and she’s alone.’
‘Wow.’ Helen didn’t quite know what to say. They were talking, which she had decided to view as progress, but neither of them were mentioning the events of the night before. ‘So, er ... how does Emily feel about moving?’
He looked straight at her. Stupid blue eyes. ‘Emily won’t be coming.’
Oh.
Across the room the DJ raised his microphone to his lips. ‘Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the floor, for their very first dance as man and wife, Mr and Mrs Midsomer.’
There was so much about the moment that Helen would normally mock, and Dominic was generally an excellent mocking partner. The whole notion of the first dance was laughable, as if this was a society where nice married couples spent the majority of their nicely married time waltzing. And then there was the fact that he said ‘man and wife’ rather than ‘husband and wife.’ Helen could have written a short essay on that element alone. Today she didn’t say anything. Her brain had disengaged from her mouth and her senses. All she could do was watch as Professor Midsomer and Tania shuffled and twirled around the floor.
‘Ladies and gentleman, the bride and groom would like to invite you to join them on the dance floor.’
The DJ managed to entice two or three couples onto the floor. Dominic’s arm moved at Helen’s side. His fingers brushed against hers, and then wrapped around her hand. ‘Shall we?’
She nodded and let him lead her onto the edge of the floor. She put one hand on his shoulder and his arm curled around her waist. Neither of them were great dancers but they held and swayed against one another in some sort of rhythm, and the music was soft enough that Helen could hear his breathing against her hair.
She leant her head against his shoulder, facing in towards his neck. ‘So ... Emily?’
‘We broke up.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s no need. It wasn’t right, was it?’
She didn’t reply. They were probably a bit far down the line for her to be worrying about loyalty to Emily.
‘Maybe we should talk about that kiss.’
‘Probably.’ There was so much she should say. She wanted to explain that he needn’t think he could just jump from Emily to her, and she wondered whether she should also tell him the whole truth, that she’d loved him from afar for years, and that only that morning she’d decided to stop loving him. Obviously she hadn’t actually achieved that yet but she had definite good intentions in that area, and in addition to that, even if she did keep loving him she wasn’t at all sure how comfortable she was with the paradigm of the traditional relationship in which women are often seen as adjuncts to a male partner’s needs and career.
‘Actually no.’ Dominic interrupted her mental argument.
‘What?’
‘I know us. I know what we’re like when we analyse things and discuss them. We’ll end up with lists of pros and cons, and we’ll never actually do anything.’
‘Well analysing the situation is good academic practice.’
‘But this isn’t an academic problem.’ He laughed. ‘I really fancy you. I’ve really fancied you for a very long time. I think last night you kissed me like someone who probably feels the same. And now we’re both single. Stupid people could work this out.’
‘What?’
And he moved his head ever so slightly, so she wasn’t facing his neck any more, but his lips, and then he brought his lips to meet hers.
She pulled back. ‘I don’t think ...’
‘Don’t think. I’m sick of thinking about this. Let’s do whatever it is that we want right now in this moment.’
She stepped forward and raised her chin. Their lips met, firm and warm and right, and this time she didn’t pull away.