Authors: Madeleine Wickham
There was a tense silence.
`Might I?' said Simon eventually. Slowly he put down his wine glass and raised his eyes to hers. For a few moments they just gazed at each other, unaware of the waiters nudging one another and calling into the kitchen; oblivious of anything but themselves. `Might I really?'
`Yes,' said Milly, trying to control her shaking voice. `You might.' She put down her napkin, slid down off her seat beside him onto the marble floor and wrapped her arms around his neck. As her lips met his, there was a small ripple of applause from around the restaurant. Tears began to stream down Milly's cheeks, onto Simon's neck and into their mingled mouths. She closed her eyes and leaned against his broad chest, inhaling the scent of his skin, suddenly too weak to move a muscle. She felt drained of all energy, emptied of all emotion; unable to cope with anything more.
`Just one question,' said Simon into her ear. `Who's going to tell your mother?'
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AT NINE O'CLOCK the next morning the air was bright and crisp. As Milly's little car pulled up outside 1 Bertram Street, the postman was about to push a bundle of letters through the letterbox.
`Morning!' he said, turning round. `How's the bride?'
`Fine,' said Milly, giving him a tight little smile. She took the letters from him, reached inside her pocket for her key then paused. Her heart was beating in a mixture of anticipation and dread, and a thousand introductory phrases whirled around her mind. She stared for a few seconds at the shiny gloss of the front door, then put her key into the lock.
`Mummy?' she called as she entered, her voice high with nerves. `Mummy?' She put the letters down on the hall stand and took off her coat, trying to stay calm. But suddenly excitement was bubbling through her like soda, and she could feel a wide grin licking across her face. She felt like laughing and singing and jumping up and down like a little girl. `Mummy, guess what?'
She threw open the door of the kitchen joyfully and felt a sudden jerk of astonishment. Her mother and father were sitting companionably together at the kitchen table, both still in their dressing gowns, as though they were on holiday.
Òh,' she said, not quite sure why she felt so surprised.
`Milly!' exclaimed Olivia, putting down her paper. Àre you all right?'
`We assumed you stayed the night at Harry's,' said James.
`Have you had breakfast?' said Olivia. `Let me get you some coffee and how about some nice toast?'
`Yes,' said Milly. Ì mean, no. Look, listen!' She pushed a hand through her hair, and the smile returned to her face. Ì need to tell you some good news. Simon and I are going to get married!'
Òh, darling!' cried Olivia. `That's wonderful!'
`So you made up with him,' said James. Ì'm very glad to hear it. He's a good chap.'
Ì know he is,' said Milly. A smile spread across her face. Ànd I love him. And he loves me. And it's all lovely again.'
`This is simply marvellous!' said Olivia. She picked up her mug and took a sip of coffee. `When were you thinking of having the wedding?'
Ìn two hours' time,' said Milly happily.
`What?' exclaimed Olivia, dropping her mug down on the table with a little crash.
`Milly, are you serious?' said James. `This morning?'
`Yes! This morning!' said Milly. `Why not?'
`Why not?' said Olivia, her voice rising in panic. `Because noth ing's arranged! Because we've cancelled everything! I'm very sorry, darling, but there isn't a wedding to have any more!'
`Mummy, we've got everything we need for a wedding,' said Milly. À bride and a groom. Someone to give me away'-she looked at James ànd someone to wear a big hat and cry. We've even got the wedding cake. We don't need any more than that.'
`But Canon Lytton-'
`We told him last night,' said Milly. Ìn fact, it's all arranged. So come on!' She gestured to the pair of them. `Get dressed! Get ready!'
`Wait!' called Olivia, as Milly disappeared out of the kitchen door. `What about Simon? He hasn't got a best man!' The door opened and Milly's face appeared again.
`Yes he has,' she said. `He's got a jolly fine best man.'
Ìt's all very easy,' said Simon, taking a gulp of coffee. `Here are the rings. When the vicar asks you for them, you just hand them over. And that's it!'
`Right,' said Harry heavily. He took the two gold bands from Simon and stared at them for a couple of seconds as though trying to commit their form to memory. `The vicar asks me for the rings, and I hand them over. Do I hold them out on the palm of my hand, or in my fingers, or what?'
Ì don't know,' said Simon. `Does it matter?'
Ì don't know!' said Harry. `You tell me! Jesus!'
`Dad, you're not nervous, are you?' said Simon.
Òf course I'm not fucking nervous!' said Harry. `Now go on. Go and shine your shoes.'
`See you later,' said Simon at the kitchen door, and grinned back at Harry.
Àre you nervous?' said Isobel, from the window-seat, when Simon had gone.
`No,' said Harry, then looked up. `Maybe a bit.' He pushed back his chair abruptly and strode over to the window. Ìt's ridiculous. I shouldn't be Simon's best man, for Christ's sake!'
`Yes you should,' said Isobel. `He wants you.'
`He hasn't got anyone else, you mean. So he asks his old dad.'
`No, that's not what I mean,' said Isobel patiently. `He could easily phone up a friend from work. You know he could. But he wants you. You are his best man. And mine.' She reached for his hand and after a moment he squeezed hers. Then she glanced at her watch and pulled a face. Ànd now I really must go. Mummy will be having kittens.'
Ì'll see you there, then,' said Harry.
`See you there,' said Isobel. At the door, she turned back.
Òf course, you know what the perk of being the best man is.'
`What's that?'
`You get to sleep with the chief bridesmaid.'
Ìs that so?' said Harry, brightening.
Ìt's in all the rule books,' said Isobel. Àsk the vicar. He'll tell you.
As she went into the hall, she saw Rupert coming down the stairs. Unaware that he was being watched, his face was full of an unformed grief; a raw misery that made Isobel's spine prickle unpleasantly. For a few moments she stood silently, saying nothing. Then, suddenly feeling like a voyeur, she forced herself to make a sound with her foot and pause for a moment before walking forward, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts before he saw her.
`Hello,' she said. `We were wondering if you were all right. Did you sleep well?'
`Great, thanks,' said Rupert, nodding. `Very kind of Harry to put me up.'
Òh my God,' said Isobel. `That was nothing! It was very kind of you to come all this way to tell Milly about . . .' She tailed off awkwardly. `You know the wedding's back on?'
`No,' said Rupert. He gave her a strained smile. `That's great news. Really great.' Isobel stared at him in compassion, wanting somehow to make everything right for him.
`You know, I'm sure Milly would want to you to come,' she said. Ìt isn't going to be a big, smart wedding any more. Just the six of us, in fact. But if you'd like to, we'd all be delighted if you could come.'
`That's very kind,' said Rupert after a pause. `Very kind indeed. But . . . I think I might go home instead. If you don't mind.'
Òf course not,' said Isobel. Àbsolutely. Whatever you want.' She looked around the empty hall. Ì'll find someone to drive you to the station. There's a fast London train every hour.'
Ì'm not going to London,' said Rupert. A distant, almost peaceful expression came to his face. Ì'm going home. To Cornwall.'
By ten-thirty, Olivia was fully dressed and made up. She peered at her reflection in the mirror and gave a satisfied smile. Her bright pink suit fitted perfectly and the matching wide-brimmed hat cast a rosy glow over her face. Her blond hair shone brightly in the winter sunshine as she turned her face this way and that, checking for make-up imperfections and fluff on the black velvet collar of her jacket. Finally she turned away and picked up her bag, noticing with pleasure the handmade pink silk bows now decorating her patent leather shoes.
`You look stupendous!' said James, coming in.
Ànd you look very handsome,' said Olivia, running her eyes over his morning coat. `Very distinguished. Father of the bride.'
`Mother of the bride,' rejoined James, grinning at her. 'Speaking of which, where is she?'
`Still getting ready,' said Olivia. Ìsobel's helping her.'
`Well then,' said James, Ì suggest we go and partake of a little pre-wedding champagne. Shall we?' He held out his arm and, after a moment's hesitation, Olivia took it. As they descended the stairs into the hall, a voice stopped them.
`Hold it. Just for a second. Don't look at me.'
They paused, smiling at each other while Alexander snapped away for a few seconds.
'OK,' he said. `You can carry on now.' As Olivia passed him, he winked at her. `Great hat, Olivia. Very sexy.'
`Thank you, Alexander,' said Olivia, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. James squeezed her arm and her blush deepened.
`Come on,' she said quickly. `Let's have that champagne.'
They went into the drawing room, where a fire was crackling and James had laid out a champagne bottle and glasses. He handed her a glass and raised his own.
`Here's to the wedding,' he said.
`The wedding,' said Olivia. She sipped at her champagne, then sat down gingerly on the edge of a chair, being careful not to crease her skirt. Àre we having speeches at the reception?'
Ì don't know,' said James humorously. Àre we having a reception?' Olivia shrugged and took a sip of champagne.
`Who knows? It's up to Milly. This is her day now.' A flicker of emotion passed over her face. Ì'm just another guest.' James met her eyes compassionately.
`Do you mind?' he said. `Do you mind that we aren't having the big lavish wedding that you planned?
The ice swans and the organist flown in from Geneva and the five thousand VIPs?'
`No,' said Olivia after a pause. Ì don't mind.' She smiled brightly at James. `They're getting married.
That's the important thing, isn't it? They're getting married.'
`Yes,' said James. `That's the important thing.'
There was a pause. Olivia stared into the fire, cradling her drink.
Ànd you know,' she said suddenly, ìn many ways, it's more original to have a tiny, private wedding.
Big weddings can become rather vulgar if one isn't careful. Don't you think?'
Àbsolutely,' said James, smiling.
Òne might almost have planned this all along!' said Olivia, happiness starting to edge her voice. Àfter all, we don't want the world and all its riff-raff at the wedding of our daughter, do we? We want an intimate, exclusive wedding.'
`Well, it'll certainly be intimate,' said James, draining his glass. Ì'm not sure about exclusive.'
There was a sound at the door and he looked up. Isobel was standing in the doorway, dressed in a long flowing column of pale pink silk. Her hair was wreathed in flowers and her cheeks were selfconsciously flushed.
Ì've come to announce the bride,' she said. `She's ready.'
`You look wonderful, darling!' exclaimed James.
Àbsolutely beautiful!' said Olivia. Isobel shrugged.
Ì look all right,' she said. `You should see Milly. Come and watch her walking down the stairs.
Alexander is taking pictures.'
`Darling,' said Olivia sharply, as Isobel turned to go. `What happened to the roses?'
`What roses?'
`The silk roses that were on your dress!'
Òh, those,' said Isobel after a pause. `They . . . fell off.'
`Fell off?'
`Yes,' said Isobel. `You can't have sewn them on very well.' She looked at Olivia's perplexed face and grinned. `Come on, Mummy. The roses don't matter. Come and see Milly. She's the main attraction.'
They all filed into the hall and looked up the stairs. Coming slowly down, smiling shyly through her veil, was Milly, wearing a starkly cut dress of ivory satin. The stiff, embroidered bodice was laced tightly around her figure; the long sleeves were edged at the wrist with fur; in her hair sparkled a diamond tiara.
`Milly!' said Olivia shakily. `You look perfect. A perfect bride.' Tears suddenly filled her eyes and she turned away.
`What do you think?' said Milly tremulously, looking around at them all. `Will I do?'
`Darling, you look exquisite,' said James. `Simon Pinnacle can count himself a very lucky young man.'
Ì can't believe it's really happening,' said Olivia, holding a tiny hanky to her eyes. `Little Milly. Getting married.'
`How are we all going to get there?' said Alexander, taking a final picture. Ì want to take my tripod with me.'
`Milly?' said James, looking up at her. Ìt's your show.'
Ì don't know,' said Milly, a perturbed expression coming over her face. She descended a few steps, her train falling behind her. Ì hadn't thought about it.'
`Let's walk!' said Isobel, grinning at her.
`Shut up, Isobel,' said Milly. Òh God. What are we going to do?'
Ìf we take both cars,' said James, looking at Olivia, `you could drive Alexander and Isobel, and I could come on with Milly ...
He was interrupted by a ring at the front door and they all looked up.
`Who on earth ' said James. He looked around, then silently went to open it. A man holding a peaked cap under his arm was standing on the steps. He bowed stiffly.
`Wedding cars for Havill,' he said.
`What?' James peered past him onto the street. `But these were cancelled!'
`No they weren't,' said the man. James turned back.
Òlivia,' he said. `Didn't you cancel the wedding cars?'
Òf course I did,' said Olivia crisply.
`Not according to my information,' said the man.
`Not according to your information,' echoed Olivia, shaking her head in exasperation. `Does it ever occur to you people that your information might be wrong? I spoke to a young woman at your company only yesterday and she assured me that everything would be cancelled. So what I suggest is that you get back in your car, and speak to whoever mans the telephone, and sure enough, you will find-'