Chapter 72 Flynn
Well, that was absolutely terrifying.
Why would anyone in their right mind want to put themselves through that? I can’t believe Amy wants to do this. It’s madness. I thought I might pass out. Everyone was watching me; it was like that dream when you’re naked on a stage. I’m trembling as I re-join her. Then I worry I’ve done the wrong thing, that I’ve messed up. I just wanted her to listen to herself, to hear what we all hear.
The relief as I realize she can’t speak because she’s about to cry is overwhelming.
‘I never had Flynn pegged as a crier,’ Trish whispers as we side-step out of the aisle and across the lawn where people stand waiting with trays full of the most delectable canapés. ‘But you never really know a person, do you,’ she murmurs.
There is happy chatter and laughing as we are instructed to head inside for the wedding breakfast. The tables are laid out in the dining room, glasses twinkling, the room filled with sunshine that pours through the enormous glass windows. Everything looks perfect, pink and cream flowers in the centre of each table, crisp linen napkins and polished silver, pots of sugared almonds and Polaroid photos in clip frames of Jay and Laura in various places.
The smells coming from the kitchen are otherworldly. The starter is already laid out, delicate morsels of salmon, miniature croutons, green flecks of something herby. It has a jus in a tiny jug because of course it has a jus. Patty told me one of the chefs was on MasterChef.
Just when I think I might be able to finally relax, I notice the place name two seats from mine, the man between us – one Martin – not yet in his chair.
‘Oh, hey, that song was amazing,’ Tanya says as she takes her seat, and her slightly too-bright smile is so familiar I want to laugh. ‘And your dress is lovely,’ she adds, pointing at me.
I plump for a polite, ‘Thanks’ and pull out her chair for her.
Puzzled, she sinks into it as I push her in.
‘You’re really talented. Did you get lessons?’
‘Self-taught,’ I say, putting my napkin over my legs with a theatrical flourish.
‘Well, you’re really good.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
Fortunately, Martin appears between us, mustard on the side of his mouth, as he introduces himself as Kia’s partner.
He embarks on a monologue about his job running a printing firm which I have to say is so boring he wants to make me grab my own fork and plunge it into my eye for something to do. Did I know that they can do letterpress, hot foil, calligraphy, even wax seals on the same site? Jay and Laura’s invites were handcrafted with a traditional hot foil press; the rose-gold was debated over a while, with ‘one party’ (a million pounds on Patty) not sure ‘it lent the right note’.
He is yet to ask me a question, laughing rather like a seal when I tell him I run an events company, as if that idea is amusing. I frown, not sure what is so funny about my reasonably stressful job juggling two full-time employees, a load of freelancers and over sixty events a year. No one has ever laughed at it before. I recall Amy once telling me how some men dismiss anything serious she says as if she’s being cute. I feel this now.
The waiter appears and pours wine, allowing me time to check for Amy at the other end of the long top table. She’s removed her jacket and rolled her sleeves up, laughing with the woman next to her, face relaxed as she listens. It makes me smile.
‘Nice salmon,’ I say loudly, desperate for a change of subject.
Martin looks up mid-bite, a little fleck of fish on his lips.
‘Fishy,’ I add.
Then Martin turns to talk to Tanya and I sit drinking too much wine staring around the room and reaching for a sugared almond. From the other end of the table I can hear my low laugh as Amy is apparently in full throttle. This time I scowl in her direction. I’m not used to being ignored or deemed irrelevant.
Martin leaves the table after the main course and I notice Tanya slumped in her chair, the saddest expression on her face as she stares at something on her phone. She’s either been bored to tears by talk of a soft silk finish invitation versus a pearlescent shimmer, or she really is sad.
Before I remember that I do not like her because she lied to me about sleeping with another man behind my back and tried to pass his child off as mine, I have scooted across to sit next to her.
She quickly turns the phone face down and I gesture to it. ‘Are you OK?’
This close up I can see her lower lip is wobbling, a sure sign she is about to start crying, and I look around for Eddie or someone to help, but everyone’s heads are bent in conversation. Eddie is dropping wax onto another man’s hand from a candle as another guy pisses himself next to him. I vow to stand up to Eddie in the future, no more pretending it’s banter or harmless. I see him for who he is: a bully.
‘Tanya?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tanya says, voice choked. ‘I’m suddenly a bit lost,’ she admits. ‘Martin was telling me about his niece. Apparently she was a flower girl at a wedding last weekend and refused to wear the bridesmaid dress so stripped off and walked up the aisle in her knickers.’
I snort, wondering why that might make Tanya sad.
‘It made me miss Charlie. This was a kid-free wedding. And also Eddie and I are pretty new and, well, I’m not sure … I haven’t actually introduced them yet …’
‘Oh,’ I say, taken back by this admission.
Tanya speaks softly, ‘I don’t want to mess with her, you know, not until I’m sure about someone.’
A familiar anger flares as I hear the words. Mess with her? That seems pretty rich from someone who could not have messed me around more. ‘Right,’ I say, reaching for my wine glass, pity fading fast. I’m even starting to miss Martin telling me about how if you select foil printing you need to factor in an extra week for delivery.
‘Amy,’ Tanya says, looking at me, turning in her chair.
It still takes me a few seconds to register she’s referring to me.
‘I’m sorry about this weekend, if it’s been awkward. I was quite nervous about coming, wasn’t sure how Flynn would react.’
‘Oh,’ I say, one finger circling the top of my wine glass, emitting a high whine. I take a mouthful, ‘No problem.’
‘I do feel terrible about what I did, you know. I don’t know whether he’ll ever forgive me for it, I’m not sure I could if I were him …’
This time I can’t speak, my ears ringing as I think back to all the times I’d cursed what she’d done. The shame I’d felt at pining for a child who had no connection with me at all. How I’d wanted to pick up the phone so many times, beg Tanya to see her so I could hold Charlie again and then hating myself for thinking like that.
I shift in my chair, swallowing as I meet her eye.
‘He can,’ I say.
She nods sadly. ‘The thing is, he was such a decent guy, the best boyfriend. My mum was appalled, barely spoke to me for months when I told her what I’d done. He would have been the most amazing father, and maybe it was that that kept stopping me. I was so scared of losing him that I just sort of hoped that maybe I’d never have to face up to it.’ She hangs her head. ‘Even in the hospital I almost didn’t tell him. I just saw him looking so besotted, you know how he is with kids, and I just couldn’t rob her of a man like that in her life. It didn’t help that Charlie’s dad was the opposite. He only stuck around a couple of months and then left us. Flynn wouldn’t have left us.’ A tear rolls down her cheek and plops onto the white tablecloth. ‘That makes me the most selfish human ever, doesn’t it?’
I can’t bear seeing her like this, hearing the pity. ‘Hey,’ I say, placing my hand over Tanya’s, ‘you’re not selfish, OK, you just …’ I search about for the right thing to say, understanding dawning, ‘You just thought you were doing the best for your daughter.’
The grateful look she gives me as I say the words does something to me. Inside I’m clear-headed, years of bitterness towards her finally dissolving, that last thorn removed.
‘Hey, can I see her?’ I ask, glancing at the phone face down on the table.
She bites her lip. ‘Do you really want to?’
‘I really do.’
She can’t help the eager way she snatches up her phone, clearly longing to show her off. My chest twists a little at that and my skin prickles in nervous anticipation as I watch her unlock her phone, move to the Photos app and click. I could still change my mind, I could still move back to my own seat, wait for Martin to come and tell me more about how calligraphy is a dying art form, but I feel pinned to my chair as she presses on a tiny thumbnail, a flash of purple and green.
Then there she is: Charlie.
She’s grinning at the camera, holding up an enormous green leaf, practically as big as her head. I can’t help the loud laugh that escapes me, cut short as my breath leaves me. She is adorable: mud on one cheek, hair in uneven bunches, completely delighted with her find.
‘She’s really cute,’ I say, my voice distorted.
Tanya is so busy looking at the screen she doesn’t seem to notice the fact my eyes have filled. I’ve spent years wondering what she might look like. A child in the street with a certain shade of blonde hair, another with dimples in her cheeks: I could never help wondering how they’d compare to her. Here she is: beautiful, happy, perfect.
‘She looks really happy.’
‘She is,’ Tanya says, her own face mirroring Charlie’s, eyes sparkling with love, ‘she’s joyful – she’s reminded me what’s really important. I’m better because of her,’ she admits.
‘No wonder you miss her,’ I say and as Martin barrels back between us, barking that someone’s sitting in his chair, and the waiters start bringing round the dessert, I slide back across to my own.
Amy glances up from her own chair and gives me a wink.
I swallow and return it, grateful I’ve seen Charlie and I can truly close that chapter on my life now with no feelings of anger or remorse.
‘Now have I told you about digital printing? It doesn’t always have the same finish as the handcrafted invitations, but it can work out a lot cheaper …’