CHAPTER 15
‘Oh, thank every god in existence,’ said Jeremy’s mother as she spotted them coming up the steps outside the church. ‘I thought you weren’t coming and that I’d have to go to a wedding alone. Alone! You know how much I hate weddings.’
‘You’ve literally had at least three weddings yourself, Mum,’ Jeremy said, accepting a kiss on the cheek.
‘Why do you think I hate them so much?’ she retorted.
She looked at Jeremy with a quick, considering eye and said, ‘Gorgeous, beautiful. The earrings are a bit much, which means I love them the most. Well done.’ She sipped from a flute of champagne, then looked over the rim at Sam.
‘Well, now, you’re a handsome bundle of pork, aren’t you?
You must be Geoffrey. Thank you for bringing my wayward son to a family function.
I thought at this rate I’d have to wait until my own funeral for it to happen, I never see him anymore.
I’m Maria, and make sure you call me Maria because I’m not attached to any of my last names. ’
She leant in and presented her cheek to be kissed, and Sam duly kissed it. ‘It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Maria. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Actually, Ma, this isn’t Geoffrey. This is Sam, Sam Remis, who has rescued me at the last moment,’ Jeremy explained.
His mother paused, and gave Sam another look, and then raised an eyebrow archly at Jeremy. ‘I see – well, I’ve actually heard a lot about you too.’
Jeremy’s mum, Maria Thomas Sharp Fernandez Chatterjee (Thomas being her maiden name, Sharp the name they both shared, and the rest subsequent ex-husbands’) was wearing a white silk pantsuit and an outrageous string of pearls double looped around her elegant neck, tall red heels and red lipstick providing a splash of colour.
Her hair, moving from platinum blonde into silver, was gathered in a bun.
She looked, as per usual, glamorous and unapproachable.
Jeremy tinged on the glass of champagne with a fingernail. ‘Mum, where did you get that from?’ he hissed.
‘It’s a wedding, darling; if you ask around you can usually find some sparkles. One of the only redeeming features of these things.’
‘You can’t take it into the church,’ Jeremy insisted, at which his mum narrowed her eyes and drained the glass.
‘Ugh, you love rules. Sam, when I had a gay son, I thought that meant I’d have someone who didn’t care what society thought, who spat in the face of convention. Alas.’
‘Everyone’s gay these days, Mum. It’s not cool any more,’ protested Jeremy.
‘Exactly.’ She sighed, tucking the empty flute behind a pot plant as they walked further up the steps. ‘And you’re not even clean. My friend Birgitte’s son is a gay and he can get any stain out of anything, even white linen. Why couldn’t you have been that kind of gay?’
‘The L in LGBTIQ doesn’t stand for Laundromat, Mother,’ said Jeremy, then laughed delightedly and kissed her again on the cheek. When she was outrageously grumpy like this, you knew she was in a good mood. Sam was smiling broadly at them both.
‘So, explain to Sam, because it’s Sam who doesn’t know who the hell we are watching get married today. I know who they are, but he doesn’t,’ lied Jeremy.
‘It’s your cousin Garth and his lovely bride Lara, as I’m sure I told you, Jeremy.’
‘Yes, but what are some details about them, in case I have to pretend to know them?’ he insisted.
‘Well, Garth has a job doing something, and he had to move to Sydney for it. Lara also works, and she met him … in some way … and it seems to be going very well.’
‘Illuminating, Mother.’ It was Jeremy’s turn to sigh.
The ceremony was mercifully brief. Garth, or the man he assumed was Garth, was a big, bearded giant with a sun-reddened face, who stood nervously at the altar, fidgeting with the cuffs of his suit jacket.
Lara appeared at the back of the church, a tall and robust blonde woman in an explosion of white taffeta.
The celebrant whipped them through the proceedings, with the two of them staring at each other awkwardly, hands held in a way that visibly denoted the sweatiness of at least one set.
And then they came to the vows, and Jeremy took a deep breath and shared a look with his mum.
‘This is going to be fun,’ she whispered, surreptitiously pulling a little hip flask out of her bag and taking a nip.
Because of the variety of husbands Jeremy’s mum had worked her way through, they’d been to a lot of weddings together: step-siblings galore, tentative half aunts, confused spiritual uncles. They’d quickly learnt that their favourite thing to make fun of (secretly, silently) was the vows.
‘Garth,’ said Lara woodenly, ‘if you’d told me three years ago we would be getting married today, I would not have believed you.’
‘Lara,’ spoke Garth, equally robotic in tone and delivery, ‘you are the love of my life and my best friend. I can – sorry, can’t – believe I get to marry you.’ He chuckled awkwardly, and Lara smiled tremulously as he stuttered.
From what Jeremy could see so far, their rigid stances, rictus grins and panicked eyes didn’t speak of any great love. In fact he wondered whether these people even knew each other, or if there was a Speed -style secret bomb that would blow up if they didn’t complete their vows.
When they finally finished, they both breathed out in relief and laughed, like they’d just avoided being shot by a firing squad, and their body language shifted entirely.
Lara leant her head into Garth, and he instinctively cradled her in his arms, before they both realised they were on stage and stiffened back up again.
They kissed, tentatively, and then it was time to leave the church.
‘In my opinion, they should do the ceremony and then go straight into the reception,’ groused Jeremy’s mum. ‘Keeps the energy up. Having us all go back to the accommodation means I start thinking about a nap.’
Jeremy frowned. ‘Wait what? You have accommodation?’
His mum put a despairing hand against her forehead. ‘Yes! And so do you. Did you think you were going to drive all the way back into the city tonight? We all have rooms. Didn’t you read the invitation?’
‘Well, in my defence,’ said Jeremy, ‘I never got the invitation, and everything I know about this wedding came from you, so clearly you never told me.’
‘It should have been obvious,’ she retorted, striding further away from the church and snapping open a packet of cigarettes.
‘Jeremy?’ came a delighted trill, and walking down the church steps was a woman in a huge, feather-ridden hat and one of those dress-with-blazer combinations in fuchsia. ‘Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you,’ she cried, giving him a kiss on each cheek.
Jeremy hastily looked towards his mother, who was smoking coolly to the side. ‘I’m here!’ he said. ‘Have you met my boyfriend Sam?’
Sam stepped forwards, flashing Jeremy a sneaky smile. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you. What a beautiful ceremony,’ he said smoothly.
‘I’m Helen, Garth’s mother and Jeremy’s aunt-in-law,’ she said, as if she was confiding in him. ‘When we heard that you were coming, we were just thrilled. We’ve heard so much about you. Maria, darling, gosh you look just a treat.’
Jeremy looked at Sam in confusion. ‘How have you heard anything about Sam?’ he asked Helen, as she kissed his mum on both cheeks.
‘Oh, we hear everything from Maria. We’re so proud,’ she said. ‘Your job in the internet newspaper, living in the city … it’s all so exciting.’ She looked Maria up and down. ‘Oh, you are a monster! Wearing white to a wedding!’
‘It doesn’t count if it’s a pantsuit,’ protested Jeremy’s mum. ‘Nobody’s going to think I’m the bride.’
Helen guffawed, wandering off with the halting lope of someone who didn’t wear heels often.
Jeremy discovered that the reception was taking place in a nearby sprawling country hotel, which was also where all the accommodation was. The highlands had an almost British countryside feeling, high and freezing and damp, and the hotel was closer to a manor.
‘I’m having a nap,’ Jeremy’s mum proclaimed when they reached it. ‘I’ll see you at the reception, where I’m sure we can enjoy a delectable meal of overcooked chicken or undercooked fish.’
Jeremy led Sam to the room allocated to him after getting their keys from reception, pausing only when a couple of other equally anonymous members of Garth’s family somehow recognised him and told him how thrilled they were that he was there.
‘I don’t know these people!’ said Jeremy, rubbing his forehead. ‘I feel like I’m going insane.’
‘You don’t need to know them,’ answered Sam. ‘You’re like a celebrity here.’
They reached the room, and, upon opening the door, Jeremy stopped and stared at the one, admittedly large, double bed that sat in the centre.
It was an old-fashioned room – slightly worn carpets, wooden dressing tables and armoires, and a window that looked out onto rolling green hills and an overcast sky.
‘Uh,’ said Jeremy, ‘I could go and see if they have another room?’
‘I heard them say they’re completely booked.’ Sam laughed. ‘It’s okay: we can share a bed. I hope you don’t mind a bit of light screaming – I have night terrors.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Jeremy nervously.
‘No, Jeremy. Although I do snore. What about you?’
‘No snoring, but apparently I’m very … elbowey.’
Jeremy walked around the room, taking in the extremely close quarters. It was pretty much just a bed and a bathroom. ‘I’m so sorry about this. We don’t even have any other clothes, or toothbrushes … we can leave if you want.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Sam, throwing himself onto the bed and looking up at Jeremy. ‘Tomorrow we’ll just have to make sure we don’t do much breathing on each other, but it will be fun.’
Something twisted inside Jeremy at the sight of Sam casually sprawled all over the bed (their bed?), looking beautiful enough in his suit to be a model.
‘Okay, well, any time you want to bail, that’s fine. I don’t even know these people. I am not invested.’