Chapter Twenty-Two #3
The house, its fixtures and fittings, might not have been to her taste, there was nothing sweet, cosy or indeed cute about it, but from this vantage point on top of the ridge, the park-like garden dropped away down the hillside, and it was as if the property were perched on a mountain top, with the wide sweep of the valley below.
Dotted with full and ancient trees, it was like peering through clouds at the world below, the stunning countryside bisected by the River Avon, which sparkled where the sun danced on its surface.
And the city of Bath itself, sitting in beautiful symmetry like pale Lego bricks with red roofs, nestling in the distance.
The soaring Gothic arches of Bath Abbey rose into the skyline, and she could only imagine what it might look like after dark when the honey-coloured street lamps and the interior lights of all who lived below would glow like the dying embers of a fire, and just as hypnotically.
‘It’s why we bought the place. The view.
’ Trish spoke with a pride that was not overt or conceited, but rather with love for the spot she called home.
‘There was an old house on the plot, a grotty thing really, all creaky stairs and dusty corners.’ Enya caught Aiden’s eye, wondering if he, like her, might think that creaky stairs and dusty corners would be preferable.
‘Took us six years to finish the build. Would have been a lot quicker were I not married to a perfectionist.’ Trish rolled her eyes.
‘Where is Dad?’ Iris asked, looking around as if he might be wearing all white and they’d lost him against the marble background.
‘Three guesses!’ Trish threw her manicured hands in the air and walked towards the kitchen, where an island, at least fifteen foot in length, housed a couple of stove tops, one gas, one halogen, and what looked to be a wood-fired grill and a small sink.
Everything looked pristine. Enya remembered then that Trish didn’t use the kitchen for cooking.
She had thought at the time that Trish was joking.
‘Not the boat!’ Iris sounded exasperated.
‘He said he had a couple of jobs that needed doing urgently, he’ll be back in time to fire up the barbecue, don’t worry.’ Trish winked at her daughter.
‘It’s like having a demanding sibling who takes the lion’s share of his attention.
’ Iris laughed, and they all tittered, but there was a low hum of pain behind her words.
Enya understood his desire to halt the move into the flat until after the wedding, dismantling things gradually.
Iris would of course take it hard. The thought of the girl learning that there had been any kind of fascination between him and her future mother-in-law was utterly unthinkable.
She was glad she’d nipped it in the bud when she had.
‘She’s my escape, the place I go to stop everything coming to a head. I’ve been buying time for us as a family, nothing more. Because pulling the plug on our marriage is not something I consider lightly...’
Enya, in truth, felt nothing but relief, even with his words in her thoughts; an hour or so’s grace before she had to face the man who occupied space in her head was most welcome.
‘Aiden, can you go and put the awning up, sweetie?’ Trish spoke to him with affection, indicating a closeness that made Enya feel a little excluded.
While she wondered where to stand, whether or not she should take her bag off and where she might place it, knowing it would sit like a burgundy splat on this pale, pale landscape, her son strode confidently out of the back of the house.
He pressed a button that controlled a wide sail-like covering, which appeared like magic and cast the spacious patio in shadow.
‘Thought we’d have tea outside,’ Trish added.
‘That sounds lovely.’
‘There’s a side garden, Enya, an orchard.
’ Iris pointed in the general direction.
‘It’s flat and has a clearing. We thought it perfect for the ceremony under an open-sided marquee, just in case the weather is rubbish – we’ll pretty it up, of course, with fairy lights and flower arches and whatnot – and then all round to the back garden with the doors fully open so the reception can happen out there or in here, people can wander, plenty of seating, bistro tables, candles in jars, flowers everywhere ! ’
‘Tell Enya about the swans!’ Trish laughed.
‘Yes, swans!’ Iris pulled a face. ‘Mum thinks swans on the lawns, just wandering, something to amuse the guests.’
‘Well, that sounds lovely,’ she repeated, and cursed her nerves, which not only curtailed her vocabulary but also made her overthink every word.
Truth was, she felt a little overawed by the overt display of wealth, uncomfortable in a way that was alien to her, and unsure of her role in the very grand wedding plans.
She wanted to feel part of it, wanted to show willing, but the way the three interacted, her son walking around the house as if he had been doing so forever, the ease of affection between the trio, relationships already established when this was only the second time she had met Iris in person.
.. She felt empty and a little surplus to requirements, awkward.
This the exact situation when being able to exchange a knowing glance with Jonathan would have made all the difference.
Just a look that said in tune, in sync, one team.
A darling retriever came padding over, tail wagging, before falling down into a heap on the warm floor.
‘Ah, this must be Fishstick!’ She bent down and stroked the handsome large head of the dog.
‘Huh! Who told you his name was Fishstick? I always introduce him as Sticks!’
‘I... I can’t remember.’ Enya felt sick and focused on the lovely, lolloping dog, anything other than meet anyone’s eye.
The thought of having to come up with a scenario that would only take her further along the path of deceit made her want to throw up.
‘Not sure, but I think Aiden or Iris must have.’
Thankfully, no one seemed to pick up on it. Iris herself changed the subject. And Enya feared she might pass out with relief. She stood up straight, keen to put as much space between her and the dog that had nearly been her undoing as was possible.
‘It’s not going to be a big wedding, but we have about fifty coming, people we absolutely have to invite, immediate family, my closest friends, Mum’s closest friends, that kind of thing. Thankfully, some people couldn’t make it, what with it being short notice and the holiday season.’
‘Yes, of course!’ She hadn’t considered this.
‘We can’t get married legally here so we’ll have the ceremony and then the Monday after we’ll go to the registry office, that’s just going to be AJ and me and two mates to witness.
I want the wedding at home to be the “ wedding ”,’ she flexed her fingers to put this in air quotes, ‘and the registry office thing will be purely administrative.’
‘That makes sense.’ Enya swallowed this horrid new feeling of alienation that she was unaware of the detail.
It was the opposite of how Holly and she interacted; Enya even knew what perfume the girl would have worn on her big day.
The big day that never was. She felt the fold of exclusion in the base of her stomach at the thought of her boy getting married without her.
‘Also, I wanted to say, I’d really like to make a contribution to the cost, happy to go halves or whatever works. ’
It was far from comfortable talking about money in this way, especially as they were strangers.
‘Oh goodness, no!’ Trish answered. ‘We only have the one daughter, her dad would be mortified not to do this for her. But thank you, Enya, bless you!’
There was much to unpick about the woman’s response, not least the way she seemed to dismiss the fact that Enya only had the one son, and would have liked to have paid for something, anything!
Also, the way she added bless you indicated that she suspected Enya might be incapable of making a financial contribution, what with her living in such a cutesy cottage and all.
‘We need your invite list,’ Iris continued. ‘AJ’s been useless – apart from his nan and grandad and his Auntie Angela and Uncle Frank, two mates from school, three from uni, Jim, of course, and a few of the rugby lads, and one from work, he’s drawn a blank!’
Enya opened her mouth to remark that he’d forgotten Holly and her parents, so used was she to them being a pair, so entwined were their histories that it still felt most odd to think of them as separate. How she wished Jenny was going to be present, her ally in every situation, until now.
‘We’re a very small family.’ She hated how apologetic she sounded.
‘Yes, but your bestie, who’s your bestie?’ Trish asked, as she filled a glass kettle with water and set it to boil.
‘Erm.’ She looked out towards Aiden, who was securing the awning and adjusting a chair to make sure it was in line. Jonathan... Jonathan was my bestie... but I’ve lost him. Jen was my next bestie, but I’ve lost her too... ‘My sister, I suppose. My sister, Angela.’
She looked around in time to see the lingering look of wide-eyed judgement shared between Trish and her daughter. Glad she hadn’t yet discarded her bag, she gripped the handle, something on which to steady her shaky hands.