Virtually Perfect (34 page)

'I'll say we do.' she seethed.

Ben felt so confused.

It was a traditional ceremony.  Ben sat there in a daze.  It was kind of funny to watch after the last one he'd seen - they had a bride and everything this time around. 

Curtis seemed scared.  Ben had changed his mind about him - he seemed alright, actually.  There were two chubby bridesmaids in horrible lilac frocks.  The brunette kept looking his way.  As they stood to sing the first hymn, Ben peered behind him, frowning; puzzled.  She seemed to be cutting him daggers.

There's something about a wedding.  Watching two people express their love for one another; their desire to commit themselves
till death do us part
.  Even the most cynical, hardened heart can't hold out for very long. 

Alice was crying; Curtis was red-faced and jittery as they ran through their vows.  Eve could feel Ben watching her.  She wouldn't look up.  She had to keep it together. 

The last hymn was
Jerusalem. 

...Have you heard of it?  It's very famous... 

Ben had a flashback to the car, on the way to London.  He remembered her teasing him. 

...
That's where she gets those eyes from...

Finally, she looked up. 

Was it really going to end like this? 

He could sing.  He had a beautiful voice.  Eve stared up, quite taken aback.  He looked down at her with a modest smile: a flash of the old Ben, the one she knew before.

Curtis's brother, Damien, stepped up to the lectern to give a reading.  Eve barely recognised him.  He'd grown a beard and put on couple of stone.  The prerogative of the married man, the dutiful father, it would seem as Eve glanced around the church.

'...Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres...'

Eve felt Ben's cold fingers brush hers, closing gently around them.  She looked up into his eyes. 

Her cheeks were flushed; Ben could feel her hand shaking.  He saw tears pooling in her lashline.  It wasn't nearly so satisfying as he'd been imagining on the ride over.  Actually, it made him feel like shit.

He kept hold of her hand as they left the church.  It was cold and musty in there - he couldn't wait to get out into the tepid sun. 

Ben knew the photographer would be an hour or so messing around with the confetti shots.

'Do you want to go and grab a coffee?' he asked.

Eve didn't answer.  Her fingers tightened.  Her feet slowed. 

She stopped dead.

'Hello Evelyn.'

'...Dad?'

Eve looked up at the cloud scattered sky, closing her eyes briefly.

Perfect
. 
My nightmare is complete.

'...Benjamin?' Roger murmured in his faint Irish lilt.  '...My God!  Is it really you?'

Eve felt Ben's thumb stroke the back of her hand.

'Hello, Roger,' Ben said meekly.  'Yes.  Yes, it's me.'

...Who the fuck is that?

One of their party was unaccounted for.  The bottle-blonde dangling from Roger's arm.  She wore a black trenchcoat with a fake fur collar, bright pink lipstick and too much foundation.  She had a feathered bob and ridiculously false eyelashes.  Even for all the sunbeds, she couldn't have been a day over thirty. 

Eve looked up at Ben wearily.  He saw her jaw tighten; her lips purse.

'This is Alexandra,' she said frostily.  'My
stepmother
, would you believe.'

Ben rubbed his head, tried to hide his astonishment.

'Evelyn...' Roger growled.

'...Is everything alright here?'

Ben turned to the white haired interloper.  Marcus Stockman.  He recognised him from the website.

Eve was furious. 

Why didn't he warn her?  She never would have gone if she'd known.  She glowered at Marcus.  He threw his hands up, shaking his pink face in dismay.  He blatantly knew nothing about it.

Eve's gaze flicked sideways, rolling up to Ben.  Was it him?  Had he told him to come?

'...Roger!  So glad you could make it!'

Curtis bounced in between them, pumping Roger's arm.  He hesitantly shook hands with Alexandra.

...Oh, you little shit!

Eve was seething.  She clenched her teeth and smiled back at Curtis.  They all knew he'd pay for it later.

'Well... we probably ought to head over to the reception,' submitted Ben.  The atmosphere had gone beyond awkwardness.  It was verging on explosive.  'Nice to see you again anyway, Roger.'

'Right you are,' Roger nodded.  'See you there.'

Eve didn't say a thing on the way to the car.  Ben had never seen her walk so fast - her face was like thunder.  He went to open the door for her, but she got there first.  She jumped in, slamming it behind her.

He paused before he started the engine, looking at her.  She smiled at him bitterly.

'Well, my day just got considerably worse.'

'...Would you like me to take you home?'

Eve shook her head.  She didn't mean to.  It did it of its own volition.

'No,' she said quietly.  'Unless... unless you want to go?'

His eyes searched her face, shining in the afternoon sun.  She waited, with an ever-increasing sense of dread.  In spite of everything, she didn't want him to leave.  He closed his eyes, sighed, shook his head.

The stereo blared as the engine came alive.  He embarrassedly turned it down, switched it onto the news.  It was white noise - neither of them were listening at all - just a distraction
to mask the awkwardness of silence.  They gazed out into their own little worlds.  Too battle weary for questions.  Too afraid of the answers.

Ben took her the long way round.  The very long way round.  Out onto the A27 and into the country - he drove for nearly an hour.  Eve didn't mind; didn't question it.  She was in no hurry to get anywhere. 

Spring had sprung.  There were buds of new life on the trees; clumps of crocuses cheering from the grass verges.  They both peered up at The Barn Owl pub as they passed, remembering Eve's little stint behind the wheel. 

Eve closed her eyes, felt the warm sun on her face, the breeze against her cheek from her inch-open window. 
Creep
by Radiohead came on.  Eve recognised it in the first bar.  It was the first gig she'd ever been to, back in the days when she was all black nail varnish and Doc Martens. 

Her eyes fluttered open.  Ben's gaze darted back to the road.  He could feel her stare; fidgeted under the weight of it.  In his periphery, he saw her turn away.  His gaze crept to her again. 

He glanced at the clock and sighed.  They couldn't put it off anymore.  It was time to head back.

The wedding reception was at The Pavilions - Brighton's answer to the Taj Mahal.  It had more bling than Busta Rhymes.  There were vibrant murals all over the walls, frescos on the ceilings; huge swagged windows, snake wrapped columns, mechanical nodding monkeys.  It was ridiculously gaudy - wonderfully wacky.  It must have been Curtis's choice. 

Ben's timing couldn't have been better.  The wedding party had already arrived.  They were late, but not too late - he'd spared her the mingling. 

They handed their coats in at reception.  Ben glanced down at Eve.  She wore a simple v-neck dress in indigo blue silk; it came down to her knees, pinched-in at the waist.  The pearl choker, red lipstick, high black heels, set it off perfectly.

She placed her carefully wrapped present with all the others on the huge linen-covered table.  They joined the line of guests filtering through the ominous little doorway at the end of the hall.  It wasn't a big wedding, maybe forty people from what Eve had seen at the church.  Just enough to lose herself in.

The wedding party stood greeting everyone on the other side of the door.  Alice's mother came first.  Eve smiled, said hello, kissed her on the cheek. 

The suit had changed from powder blue to oyster, but other than that, she looked exactly the same.  She was Hilary Clinton's doppelganger.  Thank goodness Eve hadn't said anything.

Eve filed up the line.

'Hello Marcus.' 

They exchanged kisses.  He held onto her hand.

'Are you alright?'

He was still a bit pink.

'I'm fine!' Eve assured him.

'...I didn't know you know.'

'No, no.  I know,' Eve said with a smile.

'Hello Evie!'

'Hello Curtis,' Eve growled back at him.  'Congratulations.' 

Her words were clipped.  Curtis knew he was in trouble.  He lurched forward to kiss her, whispering in her ear. 

'Time to bury the hatchet.  Come on Evie, you can do it!' 

Eve moved on down the line.  She knew exactly where she wanted to stick it.

'Congratulations Alice.  You look beautiful.'

And she did.  She looked truly stunning.  She wore white - true white - bright as snow.  Her waist looked impossibly tiny in the jewel encrusted bodice, flaring out to an understated skirt.  She'd ditched the veil, her hair scraped back in an updo, topped with a modest tiara made from tiny seed pearls.

She stood beaming back at Eve.

'Oh my God Evie!' she whispered as they leant in to kiss.  'He's absolutely gorgeous!'

Eve watched Alice flush as she shook Ben's hand.  She couldn't help but feel a pang of pride.  Curtis cleared his throat, watching too.  His arm slid possessively around his new bride. 

Eve was greeted by the ginger usher; Curtis's brother Damien, and She Ra, aka Philippa. 

Finally she came to Wonder Woman: Bernice. 

Thank God... 

Eve was dying for a crafty fag.  She could smell them already.  She knew she'd be alright now.

Bernice studied her for a moment, then thrust her arms out and grabbed Eve by the shoulders, clamping her to her chest.  She hugged a little too tightly, for a little longer than felt comfortable.  When she finally let go, Eve saw pity in her eyes. 

Bernice looked Ben over.  She remembered what Eve had spent the past hour trying to forget.  She made sure Eve remembered it too. 

They all seemed pretty friendly as Ben moved down the line, welcoming him into the fold.  Hilary Clinton, Marcus (reeked of cigars); Curtis, the bride (the giggler); the ushers, the blonde bridesmaid - they were all OK.  All until he came to the last bridesmaid.  The chubby brunette, swathed in lilac. 

He hadn't been imagining it in the church.  She was definitely giving him the evils.  She was holding onto Eve like she never wanted to let go.

...Who the hell is she?
 

When she finally released Eve, Ben watched Eve's shoulders go back.  She gave him a black look too. 

...What the fuck's going on?

Eve stepped away.

'Hello,' he ventured.

The bridesmaid stared into space, like a catatonic.  He stood for a moment in stunned silence.

...Fair enough love.

Ben drew back his outstretched hand.  He stumbled after Eve, rubbing the back of his head. 

'What's up with her?' he whispered. 

Did he know her?  He didn't think he did.  It all seemed very odd.

'...You know when you said we need to talk earlier?' Eve said coldly.

Ben nodded.

'Well we do.  Only not here.'

Eve could smell food.  Her stomach gurgled loudly, she folded her arms across it. 
Did he hear? 
Ben looked down and smiled.  He put his hands in his pockets.

'You hungry?'

She glowered at him.

Ben frowned.

What's her problem? 

She had some front.  He hadn't forgotten.  She had some serious explaining to do.  She hadn't even tried, come to think of it. 

Come to think of it, why was he even there?   

One minute he'd been furious - almost out of control - as mad as he'd ever been with a woman.  The next he just caved...  What the hell happened there?  What kind of incense were they burning in that church? 

The sheets were still warm.  He could smell his cheap aftershave.  The little cockroach had said it to his face.  How much clearer did it need to be?  Signed confessions?  Video tapes? 

She hadn't offered a word of explanation, au contraire,
he
was the one in trouble now?