Chapter 30 #2
Was this a mistake? Lydia wondered. Did they regret booking Chance House?
Maybe they wished they’d gone to a register office with immediate family, and left it at that.
Should she tell Martina they didn’t have to stay the night, they could eat and go if they preferred, and she would adjust the price she’d charged them?
Just then Cathy put her head around the door. ‘Dinner is served,’ she announced cheerily, and as they filed out, David approached Lydia and drew her aside.
‘Karen’s feeling tired,’ he said. ‘I’m going to bring her up for a nap’ – and Greta, overhearing, offered to accompany them. Within minutes, as everyone was taking their seats at one of the two prepared tables, David reappeared.
‘She’s sleeping,’ he told Lydia. ‘Greta has offered to sit with her for a bit. I didn’t want her to be alone.’
‘Of course.’ Lydia saw him murmur to his parents-in-law before taking his seat.
As Ann emerged from the kitchen with starters, Lydia slipped in to help.
Handing plates around, she thought of Greta sitting by the sick woman’s bedside, in the same way that she’d sat silently with Lydia after Damien’s death.
Fearless and compassionate. It was a formidable combination.
When the cake had been cut and served, when the teas and coffees were finished, Cathy opened the champagne the bridal couple had requested for this part of the proceedings, and when glasses were filled, Martina and Karen’s father rose to his feet and waited for silence.
From her vantage point just inside the kitchen door, Lydia saw him reach into a breast pocket and draw out a sheaf of cards – but after regarding them for a few seconds he put them back. He drew a long breath, his gaze roaming the tables, as everyone waited.
‘Dolores and I,’ he finally began, and stopped. He cleared his throat and started again. ‘Our hearts are full today,’ he said, ‘as we welcome James to the family. We’re delighted that—’ He broke off for the second time and rubbed hard at his mouth, and Lydia could see how close to tears he was.
The groom pushed back his chair and stood. ‘Patrick, let me,’ he said quietly, and his new father-in-law resumed his seat without another word.
James didn’t appear to have a speech waiting in a pocket. It looked like he hadn’t planned on making one – or if he had, he’d decided, like Patrick, that it wasn’t the one that was needed now.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ he began haltingly. ‘Thank you for sharing this day with Martina and myself. We know the effort it’s taking for you all to be happy for us, and we appreciate it, and will remember it. Thank you to Lydia for giving us this lovely venue at such short notice.’
Nobody stirred. Nobody lifted a cup, or a glass. His words were quietly spoken, but perfectly audible in the dead silence. Lydia observed the bride’s mother, fighting tears like her husband.
Kathleen and Brendan flashed without warning into Lydia’s head.
Outliving one of their children, already travelling the hard road that was ahead of this couple.
Something Greta had said came back to her, something about a mother losing a child being the hardest loss of all.
Having gone through her own bereavement, Lydia wondered if grief could be quantified.
‘I don’t know,’ James continued, ‘what more I can say. I wish it wasn’t so, I wish these things didn’t happen. I’m part of the O’Neill family now, and I’ll support them in every way I can, as I know all of you will too.’
David, destined like Lydia to lose his partner young. Would it have been easier, she wondered, if she’d known in advance that Damien was to leave her? Maybe it wouldn’t have made that much of a difference. Either way, her heart would have been shattered.
James lifted his glass. ‘The O’Neill family,’ he said, and other glasses were raised, and the toast echoed around the room.
As conversations resumed Lydia emerged to see if anyone wanted more drinks, more cake, more coffee, and while she was fulfilling requests David disappeared, and a few minutes later Greta was back.
‘She’s up,’ she reported to Lydia. ‘She wanted to get up. She’s getting dressed. She’ll be down shortly. I’ll ask Cathy to get a plate ready for her.’
Karen’s reappearance served to lift the mood a little as she picked at what was on her plate, and everyone took more cake to keep her company.
‘I will go now,’ Greta said to Lydia. ‘I think you can manage without me.’
‘Thank you so much, Greta. I’ll organise an official assistant if I get more business.’
‘I like being your assistant,’ Greta said. ‘I am happy to continue, if you are happy to keep me.’
‘But would you let me pay you?’
‘Certainly not,’ Greta said, looking offended. ‘I would do it because I enjoy it’ – and accustomed as she was now to village ways, Lydia wondered why she’d even offered payment.
‘I’d be delighted,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Greta.’
‘I wonder,’ Martina said, when the tables had been cleared of food, ‘if we could have more lively music, for dancing.’
As requested, Lydia had put together a playlist of instrumental piano and guitar tunes as background music for the meal – ‘Something relaxing,’ Martina had said – but it wasn’t music anyone could dance to.
‘Hang on,’ Lydia said, scrolling through her playlists, and when she found what she was looking for people got up and danced to Lady Gaga and Coldplay and Harry Styles and Taylor Swift, and even Karen and David took to the floor for some of the slower songs, and a stranger happening on the scene could have been forgiven for thinking it was just another regular wedding reception, with nothing more challenging ahead than catching the bouquet.
And watching it all, Lydia realised she could listen to love songs again without falling apart.
In due course, the guests began to gravitate to the upstairs lounge, their number reduced after a few – Karen and David, the parents of the bridal couple, the two grandparents in attendance – had opted for an early night.
Lydia intercepted Martina’s best friend, the only non-family guest, before she left the dining room, and brought her into the kitchen to show her the sandwiches Cathy had prepared before leaving.
‘You want me to bring them up now?’ she asked.
The woman shook her head. ‘Not at all – I’ll come down and get them in a while. You head off, we’ll be fine.’
‘How do you think it went?’ Lydia asked. ‘Did they enjoy it?’
‘It was great – honestly. It was just what everyone needed, a few hours of distraction.’
‘I was afraid they might have regretted it – you know, the strain of trying to be happy.’
‘No. Martina wanted to do it for Karen, and you gave them a lovely occasion to remember – and it was good that we had the place to ourselves, under the circumstances. They’ll have no regrets, believe me.’
It made her feel better as she switched off the main lights downstairs and made sure the dying embers of the fire were contained. Later, lying in bed, with Naomi fed and sleeping in her cot, Lydia sent up a wish that her second enquiry, if she got a second enquiry, would lead to a happier occasion.
Two days later, her wish was granted.