Needles and Pearls Page 16

  The wedding march starts and Gran starts to shake as we walk up the aisle; I’m meant to be behind her, but she grips my arm so tight I end up walking next to her, with Jack and Archie sprinkling petals in front of us in slow motion. By the time we reach the Vicar Archie’s basket is empty, so he turns and hands it to Mum with a beaming smile, and then bows to Gran before sitting down next to Dad, and Jack does the same, and then we’re into ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today …’

  Vin winks at me when Reg nearly drops the ring, and it’s all very touching, so most of us are sniffing by the end, including Lady Denby, who’s wearing a giant hat and blows her nose with a very loud trumpet as we’re processing back up the aisle, which makes Jack giggle.

  Reg is looking less pale as we pose outside the church for photographs, with me and Vin waiting in the wings; we’re sitting on the wooden seat in the churchyard while Lulu takes the boys for a wander round before they get too fidgety.

  ‘They look so happy, don’t they, Vin?’

  ‘You’re not going to start crying again, are you, because I’ve run out of tissues.’

  ‘You’re such a romantic, and anyway, I saw you.’

  ‘Saw me what?’

  ‘Dabbing back the tears.’

  ‘Tears of relief, trust me. And men don’t dab. Christ, I thought he was going to have a stroke or something this morning. He was so shaky I even had to do the buttons up on his shirt for him. And that old codger Alf was no use. I thought the best man was meant to calm everyone down but he was as bad as Reg. That bloody tie took us about six shots before they were both happy.’

  Reg chose his oldest friend Alfred as his best man; they were at school together, I think.

  ‘Well, you all looked lovely. Morning dress really suits you.’

  ‘I feel like a total tit.’

  ‘Lulu looks great, doesn’t she?’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Vin.’

  ‘She always looks all right to me.’

  ‘That’s because you love her.’

  ‘Steady on.’

  ‘Go on, say it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll tell Mum it was you that burnt the hole in the living-room carpet. And you can’t give me a Chinese burn, because it’s illegal.’

  ‘Since when is it illegal to give your sister a Chinese burn?’

  ‘When she’s pregnant and you’re sitting outside a church. Go on, I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘I quite like her.’

  ‘Vin.’

  ‘If she wasn’t around it would feel like the world had shrunk. For ever. Will that do you?’

  ‘That’ll do nicely, thank you.’

  Oh dear, I think I’m going to cry again.

  Vin coughs.

  ‘Mum’s managed to behave herself pretty well so far, hasn’t she? Those herbal things must be stronger than we thought. I wonder if she’ll be calling Reg Dad?’

  ‘I doubt it. But it must be a bit weird for her. Imagine how you’d feel.’

  ‘What, if she dumped Dad and married someone else, you mean? I wouldn’t go.’

  ‘Everything’s so simple in boy world, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, if you don’t let girls complicate it for you.’

  ‘It must be strange for her, Vin. She never knew Grandad Tom, don’t forget, but I bet she still feels a bit torn.’

  He puts his hand over mine.

  ‘Are we talking about Mum, or the baby? She’s always been fine about it, you know that.’

  ‘Yes, but there was a war on; not having a dad because he was blown up in the Atlantic during the war is one thing, but if he’s not around because he’s not up for it, that’s something else. And I’d really hate that, if the baby felt like it was second best or something.’

  ‘It won’t. No kid of yours is ever going to feel like that.’

  ‘Thanks, Vin.’

  ‘Times have changed, sweetheart. Families come in all shapes and sizes. We don’t all have to fit into little suffocating boxes any more, thank God.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief, because I don’t think I’ll be fitting into anything little for quite a while.’

  He squeezes my hand.

  ‘Come on then, Big Bertha, let’s get you up. I think it’s our turn for the happy snaps.’

  Connie and Mark have hung white ribbon all over the pub when we arrive, unless Elsie nipped round earlier, and Nelly’s by the door in her ballerina outfit, carrying a basket full of sugared almonds tied up in little net bundles with white ribbon. There’s champagne for everyone, and plates of sandwiches on all the tables, with tartlets and Mark’s special cakes and biscuits, so there’s a great deal of milling backwards and forwards and people drift out into the garden, until Connie claps her hands and shushes everyone and Mark wheels the wedding cake in.

  The figures on the top tier are revolving slowly to the sound of a waltz playing on a tiny white musical box. Everyone claps and cheers. Gran’s decided she doesn’t want any speeches, mainly because we were both worried what Mum might say, so Reg proposes a toast to his beautiful bride and they cut the cake, and Elsie bursts into tears and waves her hankie. It’s all perfect, and Gran seems to have gone into a blissed-out daze.

  The cake is some sort of magical combination of chestnut and praline, and I’m trying to work out how I can have another slice before I rescue Mum from one of Reg’s relatives who’s been calling her Felicity for most of the afternoon when Connie comes over.

  ‘Is everything good?’

  ‘It’s amazing. Thanks, Con, you’ve both made it perfect for her.’

  ‘She looks so happy.’

  ‘If she was any more happy she’d burst.’

  Connie smiles and sits down.

  ‘Two people have already asked us if we can do the same sort of thing for them, and Mark told them a silly price, because he’s so tired, and they said yes. Can you believe it? If we continue like this we can be paying one of the loans early.’

  ‘Well, you deserve it, sweetheart – you’ve worked miracles here. And Alison and Peggy have done well today too, don’t you think?’

  She nods; finding reliable waitresses who have the same high standards as Connie and Mark hasn’t been easy, but they’re gradually building up a list of staff they can rely on, including Pete, the new barman, who’s turned out to be a real treasure despite the occasional spectacular drinking session. He’s very handsome and is busy making Linda and Tina some special wedding cocktail he’s invented, which seems to be going down very well.

  ‘Now I feel like we belong here. A wedding makes you feel like you belong. Like Italy isn’t my only home.’

  I lean forwards and kiss her, as Vin comes over.

  ‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ He’s looking rather flushed.

  ‘How much champagne have you had, Vin?’

  ‘I’ve lost count. I’d forgotten how much I like champagning. You should have knitted her wedding dress, you know, Jo, surprised you missed that one. Now what was I meant to be telling you? Oh yes, Archie. Up a tree. Can’t get down. But if you find me a ladder I can get him down, no problem, so don’t start going into one. So, have you? Got a ladder I mean.’

  ‘Not on me, no, and you’re not climbing up it when we do find one. Con, ladder?’

  ‘We’ve got a stepping ladder.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘I’ll find Mark.’

  After we’ve all gathered round the bottom of an apple tree and watched Mark get Archie down, much to his annoyance since he’s now maintaining he wasn’t actually stuck at all, it’s time for Gran and Reg to leave for their cruise.

  The Bowls Club people all line up to form a guard of honour, which is slightly disconcerting, and I’m really hoping they’re not going to be chucking bowling balls around and giving someone concussion, but they do some special bowling salute instead and Gran starts to get tearful.

  ‘Now you’re sure you’ll be all right, pet? Three weeks is a long t
ime, you know. Promise me you’ll call if you need me.’

  ‘Of course I will, Gran, but we’ll all be fine.’

  ‘They can get me off the ship in a helicopter in one of those little basket things if you need me. Reg has found out all about it.’ She’s holding his hand. Bless.

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen, Gran. You go and have a lovely honeymoon and we’ll be waiting for you when you get back. Have a lovely time, Reg.’

  He puts his hand out, and then hesitates and leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Reg – when you come home, would you mind if the boys called you Grandad? Only they were asking me earlier. They’d like to, if you wouldn’t mind. Would you?’

  I’ve been saving this as my final wedding present, since I know they’ll both love it.

  ‘I’d be honoured.’

  I get a hug from Gran and then we help them into the car. Even Mum’s looking mildly touched, and she’s wearing the amethyst brooch Reg gave her yesterday as we stand waving them off.

  ‘Let’s get back inside, shall we, Mum? Say our goodbyes and then we can make a move, don’t you think? I want to find Mark and thank him. Would you like to come with me?’

  ‘Yes please, dear. You can tell he trained in Italy – those biscotti were delicious.’

  I kiss her.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Nothing. Can’t a girl kiss her mum without a reason?’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about you and pink – I think it might be one of your colours after all. Maybe a shade or two darker, but you looked very pretty in the church.’

  Wonders will never cease: a compliment from Mum.

  ‘You looked lovely too.’

  Vin winks at me as we go back inside.

  I’m in the shop on Wednesday texting Ellen, who’s gone into pre-wedding meltdown, and is causing havoc at work. She pushed her co-anchor right off his chair yesterday twelve seconds before the six o’clock news, and has been given an official warning, which she tore up into small pieces in front of senior management.

  Have raised kilt issue with boys. Suggest standby trousers, just in case.

  The phone rings.

  ‘What the fuck are standby trousers?’

  ‘Morning, Ellen. How are we feeling today?’

  ‘Quite close to the fucking edge, since you ask. Technically I think I’m teetering.’

  ‘Sweetheart, you’ve got to calm down.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Trust me. We’re flying up this afternoon and Rebecca’s having some sort of dispute with the florist about white roses, so we’ve got to tour fucking Glasgow looking for alternatives and then I’ve got a rehearsal dinner with my mother. So calming down isn’t really an option.’

  ‘How can a florist not be able to get white roses? I’ll ask Mrs Davies for you if you like. We can bring them up in the car.’

  ‘They’re some special scented ones she’s put on her list, and if it’s on her list there’s hell to pay if it doesn’t happen. But she’s got it under control, I think. Actually, can you text her about the standby trousers thing, and don’t blame me if she throws a complete fruit loop.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Am I sounding like a nutter?’

  ‘Mildly.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How’s your mum doing?’

  ‘About to find herself under sedation.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘I’m getting a few syringes so I can jab her in the leg every time she annoys me.’

  ‘What’s her latest crime?’

  ‘How long have you got? She rang me at seven this morning to talk about chocolate mousse.’

  ‘Are we having chocolate mousse?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right. So what can I do to help?’

  ‘Buy some poison.’

  ‘Ellen. Count to ten. Slowly.’

  ‘Just get up there as soon as you can.’

  ‘Vin’s renting a big car on their way back from seeing Lulu’s mum. We’ll leave as soon as the boys finish school tomorrow. Is that okay? Vin loves driving at night so Lulu and me will do the first bit and then he’ll take over. We should be with you by Friday morning. Soon enough?’

  ‘No. Tell him to put his fucking foot down.’

  Oh dear; after packing Mum and Dad off yesterday I was hoping for a calm couple of days to get my breath back. We got a text from Reg saying they were having a lovely time; I’m guessing he got their steward to do it since it was full of un-Reglike we r ♥ abbreviations, but apparently there were flowers in their cabin ♥ and a note from the Captain . But I can’t help thinking that keeping Ellen happy over the next few days is going to make Gran’s wedding look like a complete doddle.

  It’s 8 a.m. on Friday morning and Lulu and I are having a map-reading crisis while Vin snoozes in the back with the boys. He did most of the driving last night so I’m feeling fine; there’s something about cars at night that lulls me straight off to sleep, and Vin’s rented the biggest people carrier he could find so it’s all been remarkably painless, and much cheaper than flying us all up. Even if Vin does think he’s taking part in a new world-record attempt for the number of times a pregnant person can need a loo break on one journey.

  ‘There should be a lake soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  We appear to be driving through the middle of a forest.

  ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  Oh God. Ellen will kill me if we get lost.

  My phone beeps.

  ‘Don’t read it – it’ll be a text from the bride, and she’s getting a bit fraught.’

  ‘It just says Help. Look, there’s a signpost.’

  I slow down beside a Forestry Commission notice telling us we’re welcome to have a picnic but if we could try not burn the forest down as we’re leaving they’d be very grateful. Damn. Lighting a fire may be the only way we’ll be able to attract the attention of someone who knows where the hell we are.

  ‘Let’s carry on up this road for a bit. It’s bound to end up somewhere.’

  ‘You’re definitely one of life’s optimists, aren’t you, Lulu?’

  She smiles.

  Please let there be a lake soon.

  ‘Is this some kind of girly short cut?’

  Excellent. Vin’s awake.

  ‘Yes.’

  The road starts to bend to the right.

  ‘Liar. You’ve got no idea where we are, have you? I hope you packed some flares in one of those seven hundred bags you’ve got in the boot.’

  Lulu turns round to look at him.

  ‘No. We thought we’d set fire to your hat.’

  He’s wearing a tartan-fleece hat that he bought in a motorway service station at some point during the night when we were all asleep.

  ‘How long before we get there then?’

  ‘Not long.’

  Lulu and I exchange anxious glances as the road takes a sharp left turn and we emerge from the forest to find ourselves driving along the side of a lake with what looks like a large castle-shaped building in the distance.

  Hurrah.

  ‘There, you see. Pretty nifty short cut.’

  Please let this be the hotel, and not some stately home where trespassers will be prosecuted, because we appear to be motoring up what looks like their front drive. We pass a very discreet navy-blue sign. It’s the hotel. Double hurrah.

  A young man comes out to help us with the bags, and it’s all going rather well until Ellen sweeps into reception.

  ‘Thank Christ you’ve arrived. Welcome to Loch Loon.’

  The young man retreats behind the reception desk.

  Oh dear.

  * * *

  Our rooms are beautiful; the boys are in a little bedroom off mine, with a huge telly and a stack of age-appropriate DVDs, and the bathroom is bigger than our living room, with a power shower that’s so enormous it nearly knocked me over when I had a quick shower to try to wake up. Everythin
g is in slate and chrome with piles of white towels and every kind of lotion you could possibly want, so we’re all squeaky clean and we’ve just had breakfast in our room, which was fabulous, particularly the kippers.

  The boys are watching The Incredibles while Vin and Lulu keep an eye on them; they’re just down the corridor from us, and while their room isn’t quite as palatial as ours, they’ve got a sunken bath, which the boys are desperate to try out, after the swimming pool in the spa. So it’s all looking rather good.

  I’m in Ellen’s suite, and the perfect white roses have been tracked down, but the rehearsal dinner wasn’t a complete success, particularly after Harry had a drinking competition with his brother Jimmy.

  ‘Where is Harry, by the way?’

  ‘Fuck knows. Last time I saw him he was heading off fishing.’

  ‘I didn’t know he was into fishing.’

  ‘He’s not. His mates have organised it, so he’ll probably come back Super Glued to his waders.’

  ‘That’ll be nice for the photographs.’

  She pours herself some more coffee.

  ‘And my mother wants to see you at some point, to lobby you about the tablecloths.’

  ‘What’s the matter with them?’

  ‘She doesn’t like the colour. We’re doing the tables in different shades of butterscotch and cream. Something like that. Ask Rebecca. Anyway, she wants pink or something, for the top table. I wasn’t really listening. Christ, it’s starting already. I’m turning into one of those women who talk about fucking tablecloths and I’m not even married yet.’

  ‘Ellen.’

  ‘Let’s do a runner.’

  ‘And go where?’

  ‘I don’t care.’ She starts to cry.

  ‘Sweetheart.’ I kneel by her chair and put my arms round her. ‘It’ll all be fine. You love Harry, and it’s all going to be perfect.’

  ‘I love him like he is now, but what if I don’t still love him when he’s my husband? Jesus Christ, even saying it makes me feel like I’m one of those women who settle for total losers just so they can say me and my husband.’