This time next week he’d be on his way to the South Bank for Lydia’s poetry reading. Where had the time gone? Gray walked over to the window and gazed at Highgate Wood. The young man from the estate agents who’d brought him to look at this apartment had been surprisingly tactful and allowed him to walk round it on his own.
In the weeks since he and Maureen had split up, ever since he’d walked out of their house in Guildford, he’d been trying to imagine where he and Lydia might live and this was it, exactly. His job at the Whittington Hospital, though perhaps not as satisfactory as the one he’d left, was fine for the moment. He’d been surprised by how sad he’d been to leave his old hospital, and saying goodbye to his colleagues had been harder in many ways than walking out on Maureen. What did that say about the quality of his marriage? This street was perfect: elegant stuccoed houses, painted white, neat front gardens full of hydrangeas and azaleas and now, in late April, lilac beginning to blossom behind low walls. He saw happy children emerging from sparkling cars in the care of mothers who seemed glossy and prosperous, like the women you saw in advertisements.
The apartment was on three levels, almost as though these rooms were part of a house. Gray had liked it at once. He walked in through the front door, and there was a small bedroom on his left. Then up the stairs to the bathroom (lovely; newly decorated) and the kitchen; up more stairs to the half-landing and then up again to the big bedroom and the surprisingly large and high-ceilinged living room. Best of all was the small but elegant roof terrace that faced south and which he knew Joss would love better than all the other features of the property. Gray suppressed an impulse to say, ‘I’il take it … Please wrap it up for me,’ to the young estate agent. The golden parquet floor was so smooth he wanted to stroke it.
He went to find the young man. ‘Can we go back to your office? I want to make an offer.’
‘Fantastic,’ he said, practically bouncing with suppressed excitement. ‘That’s great.’
As they left the building and walked out into the spring sunshine, Gray imagined Lydia in that bedroom; that living room. Looking out of that window. What if she hates it? The thought crossed his mind and he dismissed it. She’ll love it, he thought. I know she will. And anyway, she might not even want to cross the threshold. This place is mine. I’m the one who’s got to live here, so I’m the one who has to be happy with it. And I am. More than happy.
*
Isis was thrilled to discover that there was such a thing as magic after all. She didn’t tell anyone about it, but it had to be true. She’d been wishing for her mother and father to get back together again for ages and ages and now they were going to and it was the best thing that had ever happened in her life. It was better than all her birthdays, Christmases, parties and outings rolled up together. And, best of all, there was still going to be a wedding and she was still going to be a bridesmaid. Dad was going to join in. He did a lot of grumbling about it, but he was doing it anyway to please her and Mum. He groaned every time anyone mentioned how funny it would be to see him in a proper suit with tails and a flower in his buttonhole and everything. Even Em had laughed at that, when Mum and Dad told her about the wedding.
Isis couldn’t understand why Dad didn’t come and live in Mum’s flat now but he didn’t want to. They were going to find a house with a garden and, once they were settled in, Isis had made up her mind that she would ask for a kitten. Or maybe two kittens, so that they’d be company for one another. She’d even decided on their names: Holly and Mimi. Now Mum and Em were washing up and Dad was phoning someone called Mattie in New York to see if he would fly over to be the best man.
‘It’s a long way to come,’ Isis said, ‘just to go to a wedding. Don’t you know anyone who lives here?’
‘Lots,’ Dad said, ‘but Mattie and I were at primary school together and he was my best man last time your mother and I went through this process. I think he’d be hurt if I swapped him for someone else, don’t you? Now, just hang on a mo while I try to get him on the phone.’
Isis went to lie down on the sofa and tried to get lost in her book, but there were too many things to think about. Next week they were going to Miss Hayward’s again, to see how she was getting on with the dresses. Gemma was coming too. Then the person Mum and Dad called the Rev. Geoff, who was the vicar at the church, wanted to show everyone what they had to do during the service. Mum and Dad had to talk to the organist as well.
When Dad put the phone down, he was smiling. ‘Want to hear what Mattie said about the best man thing?’
‘Go on, then.’
‘He said he’d be thrilled to bits. He kept going on and on about me coming to my senses at last. Sends you a big hug, Zannah, and says he can’t wait to see you. He’s going to come over a couple of days early, too. Good, eh?’
‘Cool,’ Isis said, and went back to her book.
The doorbell rang then and Em went to see who it was. A man came into the room and she introduced him to everyone. ‘This is Alex Rivera,’ she said. ‘He’s the best photographer. Come and sit down, Alex. This is Zannah and Cal. And that’s Isis, my niece.’
‘And probably a bridesmaid. Right?’
Isis nodded. She liked this man. Em had been telling them about him for days. She’d met him on a fashion shoot and told him about the wedding and she’d gone on and on at Mum, nagging her to choose him to take pictures of everything. He wasn’t handsome but he had a nice face. He was very tall and his clothes were quite messy. His jacket had pockets that were bulging with stuff he’d shoved into them and his socks didn’t match. Mum was looking a bit doubtful. Em and Dad thought he was okay, you could see. Alex took a sip of coffee from his cup, and spilt some on the saucer when he put it down, then took a big album out of a rucksack he’d brought with him.
‘Can I come and see, too?’ Isis asked, and Dad pulled her on to his lap because all the chairs were taken.
He whispered in her ear. ‘No talking, right? Alex is going to explain what he does.’
‘Well,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t do posed wedding photos, everyone lined up in the traditional way. What I like is to be there the whole day, if that’s okay with you, from the very early morning. Like this.’
He pushed the album towards Mum. Isis peered over to see it too. Lots of the photographs were black and white, or sort of brownish, but there were some in colour as well. Lots of the pictures had no people in them but were of things like bouquets lying on chairs. Veils and tiaras. Dressing-tables with make-up on them. Pretty shoes and big white dresses hanging on the backs of doors or peeping out of cupboards. The bride having her hair done. Lots of photos of couples coming out of church, dancing, eating, being happy. The groom kissing the bride. The bride with her parents. The bride and groom with both sets of parents, but just chatting, not standing in a row. People smiling. Loads of flowers. A few bridesmaids sitting on the grass with baskets on their laps. Or sitting on window-seats. Isis particularly liked the look of those.
‘They’re beautiful, Alex. Em, you were quite right.’ Mum was smiling now. ‘I’d love it if you could take photos at our wedding.’
‘Thanks. That’ll be great. I’ll put the date in my diary. I’ll even come beforehand and take some shots of other stuff, if you’d like that … fittings, rehearsals. Just say the word.’
Mum said, ‘I wouldn’t mind a photograph of Miss Hayward. She’s making my dress. And Maya who does the flowers … the church being decorated.’
‘Okay,’ said Alex. ‘Just give me their details and I’ll sort it with them. I should say that I’m good at being unobtrusive on these occasions. You’ll forget I’m there, honestly. Everyone does.’
Mum, Em and Dad laughed at that, and Dad said, ‘Aren’t you a bit tall to blend in?’
‘I melt into the background, believe me. After the first few minutes, no one gives me a second thought.’
Isis left her father’s lap and went to have another look at the pictures of bridesmaids. Their dresses weren’t as nice as hers was going to be.
*
‘Zannah’s quite determined,’ said Charlotte. ‘No presents on display. I think she’s right about that too. Most of the presents aren’t the kind of thing that goes on tables anyway. Bob and Joss have bought them a beautiful new computer. And Mrs Ford has apparently arranged a trip to Disneyworld at Christmas. That sort of thing. There are, it seems, a great many vouchers coming in and they’ll enjoy spending those once they’ve found a house. It saves us a lot of trouble too, finding a table and a place to put it. It’s also … Well, why would you want people looking at vases and towels and whatever else anyone’s thought to give you?’
‘I suppose so,’ Edie said. ‘Though I do like that scene in High Society where they dance round the gift table singing “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” But of course, they had silver coffee pots and gold-plated soup tureens and what have you on their table. Celeste Holm. That was her name. The woman who was dancing about with Frank Sinatra.’
Edie smiled at the memory.
‘Do you think,’ Charlotte asked, interrupting her fantasy, ‘we ought to have named places for everyone, or just set out the tables and allow people to find their own seats when they’ve helped themselves to the buffet? Not counting the top table which seats twelve, there’ll be six tables for eight.’ She thought for a moment and went on, as though she hadn’t asked Edie’s advice, ‘Yes, I think I’ll consult with Zannah and Cal and make a plan … We can have it displayed at the entrance to the marquee. That’ll prevent any scrabbling around and they’ll both know who’d go well with whom. The family of course at the top table: Cal and Zannah, Bob and Joss, Em, Isis and Gemma, Mrs Ford and Mattie, the best man. And, of course, the three of us.’
‘Do you mean me and Val, too? We’re not really family, Charlotte.’
‘Zannah insists. She says you’re like fairy god-mothers, so you count. And of course I agree.’
‘I’m very touched, I must say. Val will be thrilled to bits, too. I must thank Zannah for her kindness.’
‘By the way, I’ve spoken to Mr Marquee,’ said Charlotte. That was what they all called Stan Merryweather, whose firm’s motto was: Merry Marquees Whatever the Weather. He was as jovial as his name suggested: a great barrel of a man who’d loomed over them when he came to look at the garden and who threatened the safety of their china by his very presence in the kitchen.
‘He says a slightly smaller tent’s not a problem. And apparently Zannah’s found a caterer who’s willing to do a buffet in time. It’ll cost a little less than Maureen was spending, but of course she’s had to pay the deposit money back. Still, we should manage.’
Edie said, ‘Now, Charlotte, please listen. Val and I have been discussing this. We haven’t given Zannah and Cal a proper wedding present yet. Wouldn’t paying for the buffet be more sensible than another set of cutlery or some towels? That includes, of course, the cake. In fact, I’ve been speaking to someone who’s happy to make one for four hundred pounds. What d’you think?’
‘That’s much too kind of you, Edie. I can’t allow you to spend all that money. Really … perhaps just the cake? How about that?’
‘No, Charlotte, we’ve worked it out. We’ll afford it. Just living here with you saves us each a great deal of money, you know. Please allow us to do it … we really want to. I’ve got the name of the caterer that Maureen was going to use. She’d cancelled of course, so Genevieve was relieved to hear from me, I can tell you. And don’t forget, we’re down to sixty people … Maureen wanted over a hundred I believe. Incidentally, Val said the garden would cope much better with that number. Any more and she reckons her best effects might be overlooked.’
‘She’s only saying so because that’s how many are coming. If we had more, she’d have been perfectly happy with that. You know Val.’
They laughed and Charlotte said, ‘That’s really wonderful of you both. And you can tell Zannah yourselves tomorrow. She’s coming to the church to talk to the vicar. They’ll be going through the order of service and the music.’
‘Excellent,’ said Edie. ‘I’ll let Val know at once. She’ll be so pleased.’