Chapter 65 Amy
‘Spaghetti arms!’
‘What?’
‘Spagh … how have you never watched Dirty Dancing?’
‘Because I’m a virile man – haven’t you noticed?’ Flynn says, indicating his tiered maxi skirt covered in tiny flowers and the frilly peasant blouse I dressed him in for the morning. Hair shiny once more with make-up that looks good, a light dusting of powder and the tiniest flick of eyeliner.
‘Yep, that’s you. Says the man who makes me watch Stardust every time I ask what movie.’
Flynn laughs, tongue out as he attempts to copy the last few steps of the routine. As I watch him really try, I’m struck by the fact that for the first time this weekend I’m not panicking or miserable, I’m starting to enjoy myself. That is largely down to Flynn. He seems a hundred times happier since sharing his history over Charlie. Then he swung into action detailing all our movements so that Laura could have the best day and share it with me.
I truly can’t believe he was carrying all that stuff around with him. I should have guessed that a lot of his ‘live in the present’ chat was masking a refusal to face up to hurt in the past. I’m ashamed that I’d been so quick to assume that he didn’t have things in his own life that were complicated or upsetting because he seemed so upbeat. Worse, that I had started to believe he was simply not serious.
He’s not even rich, or posh. He told me he just paid Patrick his stepdad back for years of boarding school. It’s why he practically lives at work, desperately paying what he owes. I need to stop assuming things about people. And even if he did go, I need to trust the person he is: I’ve been biased and judgemental and I don’t want to be like that any more. I think sometimes I’m always wondering what Dad might have thought, rather than what I really think.
Flynn’s desire to look on the bright side is a trait I want to emulate more. Some of the things I’ve fretted about in the past seem silly now in comparison to what can happen. We have both experienced big losses; it reminds you what truly matters. He has been right in the past to try and bring some perspective to my life.
The music goes again, bouncing around the glass walls of the Orangery. It’s such a striking room, ivy crawling up the windows outside, lemon trees in large pots inside the room filling the air with their scent. Bunches of grapes dangle, their vines twisted around the rafters above us, making me feel that nature is inside the room. Many of the panes of the glass roof are rolled back to reveal wispy clouds and white aeroplane trails in a clear blue sky.
My Converse trainers squeak on the polished cream tiles as Flynn tries twisting to the floor once more. Then he collapses, panting on one of the large cream sofas that we pushed back against the wall.
‘Mercy, mercy. How do you get your hips to move like that?’
‘Um … loosen them?’
I drop into the seat next to him, pretty pleased with his progress. ‘You’re getting there, you shouldn’t embarrass yourself too much …’
‘Too much …’ he says, jumping to his feet again, playing the music one more time. The steps are more fluid as, pink-cheeked, he goes again.
I rest my head back against the sofa and watch him, his earnest expression, a clear determination to get this right. He’d listened to all my instructions, copying me as best he could, and now I can see he’ll fit right into the group. I know he’ll hate it; for a confident person he is hilariously frightened of being on any kind of stage or dancefloor – he’s a two-step kind of guy.
Closing my eyes, listening to the beats, I think of the day ahead, relieved Laura and I are back on track with her in on the secret. In fact, I’m starting to suspect she’s almost enjoying the madness. She has suggested electrocuting us in various different ways after the wedding, so that’s something to look forward to. I forget how well she can take things in her stride in her work in corporate finance, and perhaps Flynn and I are like another project to be tackled.
‘What are you two doing?’ a voice calls out. Mum is standing in the entrance to the Orangery, a different pair of spectacles in lime-green on today. She has croissant crumbs on her top and I want to run over and give her a hug. Geoffrey waits a little way behind her.
‘Just going over the dance, Amy was just … showing me her moves,’ I say, smiling as Flynn grinds to a halt.
‘Geoffrey darling, I’ll meet you back in the room,’ Mum says, waving him off. Then she steps inside, stands next to Flynn, nods to me to start the music and joins in.
It’s a joy, watching her shake her hips, attempt to twist, surprisingly flexible, but then that’s Mum, constantly surprising, constantly exceeding people’s expectations. It was often Dad that got the accolades in our house, Mum sweeping up in the background, letting him have his moments. When she would clean and cook and organize, he would play. He would swing us around, take us to the corner shop for a quarter of strawberry BonBons and get all the credit for being the fun parent. Watching her collapse now in laughter, one arm thrown casually over Flynn’s shoulders as they finish, reminds me Mum has always been fun. And Geoffrey lets her shine, perhaps I’ll admit, a little more than Dad had. That disloyal thought gives me a twinge but I don’t dismiss it – I need to accept that I’d assumed things about Dad and Mum too, and that had to change.
Another stab of pain runs through my chest as I remember Mum is carrying around her own secret. I must set my own situation aside and find out what that is – Mum isn’t one to keep secrets.
Then into this mix whirls Reggie, Eddie giving up on the leash and watching as he flies into the room, making an excited beeline straight into Flynn’s crotch, his nose sniffing at the flowers on the maxi skirt.
‘That dog really loves you, Amy,’ he calls, making Mum and me grimace.
Flynn is too busy on his knees, getting his powder licked off by the craziest Golden Retriever this side of the M5, to hear him. ‘I’ll leave him with you. Jay says he’ll need a walk.’ Eddie pointedly ignores me, a quick glance at my black eye.
‘Amy, why don’t we take him,’ Mum says. ‘It’s a gorgeous day and Laura won’t need us up there for another hour or so …’
Flynn looks across at me, and I’m grateful he wants to check.
‘Let me just go and put some better shoes on,’ Mum says, and I realize she just had breakfast in the hotel monogrammed slippers. ‘Honestly,’ she says, ‘it’s like walking on a cloud. I assume we can nick them. I mean, take them at the end of the weekend …’
‘You can,’ I laugh and watch her leave, glad we all came to this sumptuous place, that my lovely, hardworking mum is getting a proper treat too. Laura deserves all of this – everyone deserves to be spoiled if it’s possible.
‘And the robes?’ she asks brightly, glad to hear I have the answers.
‘Er, that would just be stealing.’
‘Shame,’ she says, then pats Reggie and goes to leave. ‘Won’t be long, Amy darling.’
‘Are we done here?’ Flynn asks, pulling his long, curly hair back behind his shoulders.
‘You nailed it,’ I say, wanting to kiss him, but still not wanting to kiss my own mouth. I opt to reach up for a quick peck on the cheek, making Flynn start too. It’s clearly too weird being kissed by yourself.
He straightens with a strained laugh, one hand up to his face.
‘So, you’ll let the dog snog you,’ I joke, but for a second we both seem to panic about the same thing. That this swap is permanent. What that means for us.
Not ready to tarnish the morning, I change the subject.
‘Flynn,’ I say in a low voice, ‘when you walk with Mum, if she says anything, important will you tell me …’
He frowns. ‘What’s happened?’ He can tell something is up, alarm on his face. ‘I think you should go,’ he protests, one hand stroking the top of Reggie’s head.
I shake my head. ‘You’ll know what to say,’ I assure him, aware I really mean those words. ‘And judge if you want to share it. Also, we need to think of Laura,’ I say, ‘she shouldn’t need more to worry about today.’
‘No, Ames, I can’t do that. I don’t want to keep anything else from you.’
‘I trust you.’
It’s true, I do. Him opening up has altered things between us in a way I’d been desperate for. Now I realize this intimacy, this trust was what I had been lacking; it was why I’ve been convincing myself he’s all wrong for me.
‘But …’
Mum returns in her trainers, cheeks flushed, interrupting us both. I search her face as she steps towards us. What is going on that she won’t share? She looks content, happy. But haven’t I learnt that people can mask big feelings, that some people carry their secrets and pain quietly, which doesn’t make them any less real? Particularly Mum, who has always protected us from her pain.
I think of the months after Dad died, her smile plastered on the moment I got home, the fun events she planned on weekends Laura came back from London. Those quiet moments when I saw her reflection in the kitchen windows, her quick swipe at her face before she turned to us. Not wanting to face the fact her grief was equal to my own, dare I say it, even more devastating. My chest hurts as I realize I have often put my own feelings first, never the same after that night with Dad.
‘Have a great walk,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
I’m scared.
Reggie springs about, delighted to hear the word.
Flynn gives me a last look back as Mum links his arm.
‘Love you,’ I mouth to him.
It’s only after they’ve left I crumple back onto the sofa.
Mum has to be OK: she has to be.