Chapter 41 Amy
Watching him disappear through the ballroom doors makes my heart jitter. I just pray Flynn can hold onto some of the dance moves: his style of dancing could be described as enthusiastic, but lacking finesse.
‘Flynn.’
At some points he made my body move with carefree abandon – bits I don’t like jiggling jiggled – but, rather than worry and judge, I found myself grinning and spurring him on.
‘Flynn.’
A large hand on my shoulder makes me squeal and spin around.
Eddie snorts with laughter. ‘Oh my god, mate, what was that noise?’
My heart is hammering as I try to style things out. ‘Sorry,’ I say, coughing to hide my discomfort. ‘Sorry … mate. Just, yeah, I was miles away.’
‘Psyching yourself up for the big tournament? I’m going up to change now. Going to bring my A game, mate,’ his chest puffs up. ‘Someone’s got to take you down.’
‘Ha,’ I say, plucking at my pristine white top. ‘Yeah. I’m going to get lots of games.’
‘How’s your serve these days?’
‘Oh,’ I say, mind scrambling for the correct response. ‘Yeah, I serve it all, good.’
Eddie frowns and I sense that hasn’t landed as I might have liked.
Who organizes a tennis tournament the evening before they get married? This whole weekend is like Gold Duke of Edinburgh. I feel like we should all get badges.
‘Where’s Tanya?’ I ask. This could be a good opportunity to find her, probe Flynn’s past with him safely away in the ballroom.
Eddie’s eyes roll. ‘Don’t know, some girl thing to do with dancing. Top secret.’
I glance over my shoulder. She’s in there with Flynn. Eddie’s eyes narrow as I turn back around. ‘Why’d you ask?’
‘Just curious,’ I say quickly, sensing a menace underneath his words.
This is confirmed when he presses his hand back on my shoulder, his grip a little too tight. ‘Well, leave her alone, yeah, that’d be best for everyone.’ His smile is cold and I wonder again what has happened in the past. Why would Eddie bring her here? As I assess his flint-like eyes I know I would swerve a man like Eddie with his hard edges and bitchy retorts dressed up as ‘banter’.
‘She’s with me now, mate,’ he says. The mate part doesn’t sound friendly at all.
‘I’ll see you in a bit.’ I cross the foyer away from him before reeling backwards when Patty, with her stiff grey bobbed hair and pearls, appears through the revolving doors, a cloud of fur by her side.
‘Just the man, here he is.’ She immediately hands me the lead. Reggie looks as reluctant as I do as he growls at me.
‘Stop that, Reggie. Flynn, take him. Jay told me you adore him and you’ve barely seen him this weekend.’
‘I … but …’ There are no excuses. Flynn had meant to look after Reggie. With a deep breath, I gingerly accept the lead.
‘A quick spin.’
Miraculously, Reggie allows me to guide him back through the doors, as I’m murmuring, ‘Please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me.’
Down past the hotel, we take the steps across the lawn, past the bandstand where uniformed men and women are stringing up fairy lights and rearranging flowers, all a reminder of why we’ve all descended on this stunning place. I can’t believe Laura’s getting married here. Instead of seeing the extravagance, I see the beauty of the place and feel guilty for being so judgemental. My teasing wasn’t friendly, it was couched in my opinions about capitalism and the uneven distribution of wealth and all the things that got me out on protests with Dad and her in the past. I wish desperately I was with her now, preparing for tomorrow, getting excited about things. Why did I have to moan about the expense? The luxury. Sometimes I needed to set my beliefs aside and just enjoy the moment – like Flynn, I realize with a start.
Trembling, I reach and release Reggie from the lead, screwing up my eyes in case he’s considering an attack. Instead, he spins on the spot and bounds away, joy personified. I can’t help a small, relieved smile as I watch him gambol.
The lake is a balm, the sky perfectly mirrored in its smooth surface, the odd insect or duck causing ripples that make the idling rowing boats rock. Two of the flamingos are standing on the side of the lake, legs bent, necks curved as they preen. Reggie romps and I start to relax as he sniffs his way along the water’s edge.
In Flynn’s body I’m noticeably fitter, and as I walk I enjoy feeling its strength, my limbs moving powerfully and fluidly. There is still a disconnect, a strange feeling of being at sea when I move a certain way, but I’m starting to master his limbs, enjoy the perspective I get being taller than others, the way it makes me feel capable, powerful. I’ve neglected fitness in recent years, attending the odd Pilates session when guilt has taken over, but I want to feel like this in my own body, able to run and dance and scale mountains without pausing to catch my breath every second.
We plunge into woods, the canopy of branches making dappled shadows on the ground, and for a moment I enjoy the feeling of being alone, watching this crazy dog spin and bark at fallen trunks and random foliage. His enthusiasm reminds me of Flynn, how a walk is full of small exclamations. And yet, I remind myself sternly, what is all that masking? I still don’t know what lies underneath that cheery fa?ade.
Up ahead a bench looks out over the fields, two people still in the centre, the woman’s head resting against the man’s shoulder. It’s after a few moments I realize it’s Mum and Geoffrey. Something about the scene feels private, his arm around her shoulders. I’m about to call out but something gives me pause and instead I edge nearer to catch what they are saying. They’re speaking in low voices.
‘You’ll have to tell them sometime …’
That makes me straighten. Who is them?
‘You’ll feel better if you tell them.’
Tell who? Tell them what? My heart starts to pitter patter. Why does Mum sound so serious?
‘Not now, Geoffrey.’
‘They can take it, Trish, they’re all grown up now.’
‘They’re still babies to me.’
My stomach lurches with the knowledge that it is ‘us’ she is keeping something from and I step forward, twigs crackling, Reggie crashing into the scene behind me. Geoffrey cranes his neck.
‘Ah, hello young Flynn.’ The words sound false and I feel a flood of anger that Geoffrey appears to be in on a secret I am not privy to. I’ve known Mum for two decades longer; I’m her daughter: that should count for something.
Is Mum swiping at her eyes before she also turns? My anger dissipates immediately, only confusion remaining.
‘Flynn love, everything OK?’
‘Everything’s great,’ I say after a beat. ‘Yeah,’ I say, my head swimming. What is going on?
‘Yeah, great.’