Chapter 21
21
It turned out that dinner was not going to be inside that beautiful oak-floored cool dining room. No, they were led, by the violinist and a woman with a flute, to another part of the garden where a vast pink marquee had been set up. Oh, the flowers! So many flowers… An entrance archway of flowers, and inside, extravagant bouquets on the tables, bouquets hanging at strategic points on the bunched fabric ceiling and all around the small stage. Lucie found herself wondering what all these flowers, not to mention the rest of the wedding, had cost. Or if Jacasta, as an influencer, had in fact managed to call in lots of favours and freebies. All very different from her wedding, where the flowers had been her bouquet and two table arrangements for the dinner at the hotel.
And now, as she followed the guests into the marquee, she saw the cake – an astonishing three-tiered wonder on its own small table slightly to the side of the stage. It was a cream, gold and pink pinnacle of a cake rising from the rose and peony-strewn table. She felt she had to go and have a closer look at the gold marbled icing and the miniature bride and groom on top. The fondant Jacasta and fondant Miles were tiny works of art, with faces carefully created to look as like the happy couple as possible.
As Lucie studied those little figurines, she felt a surge of anger. Look at these people in this tent all so delighted that her ex-husband had moved on, had found a nubile young woman to share his life with. And some of these people had been at her own wedding, eating a much humbler cake, by the way.
Smug Miles, starting his business and his married life all over again. Moving on without her, while she seemed to be stuck, hunkered down in the little post-divorce bomb shelter she’d built for herself. She looked at his slim fondant figure in its slick fondant tuxedo with his smooth black fondant hair on his fifty-six-year-old head. That man! She had been trying hard to be magnanimous, giving the happy couple her congratulations. But, as she thought about the fact that she was still paying for his new hair, there was no use denying that maybe it was a little too soon for her and Miles and his wonderful new life was, now and then, going to get right on her nerves.
It was the work of a moment to first glance about to make sure no one was looking, then take a knife from the place setting at the nearest table, and with a single, deft swipe, she scalped the Miles figurine. Yes, with one little chop, she gave him back the bald patch he would have had if he hadn’t spent her money on hair treatments and hair plugs. Yes, that was definitely better, she thought, looking at the nice white patch that now shone from the top of the figurine’s head. That definitely helped her anger to settle back down again.
People were starting to take their seats and, in some confusion, Lucie went over to the board and wondered where she was supposed to sit. She doubted there had been time to replace the name of the guests who’d cancelled with her name… And who did Miles say had cancelled? She couldn’t remember who it was.
She looked around the marquee and suddenly it felt overwhelming. In just that one quick scan of the room, she’d seen Miles and Jacasta kiss and laugh, Miles’s mother turn to Jason’s wife with that sour look that meant some stream of criticism was about to emerge, and Clark sharing a joke with the beautiful blonde wife.
No – this was too much. Way too much. No vegan, salad-based dinner was worth this amount of personal discomfort. And imagine having to listen to the speeches. Good grief! What was she thinking? She had to get out of here as quickly as she possibly could.
With that, she skirted the side of the marquee and headed, as unobtrusively as she possibly could against the flow of traffic, towards the house. She got in through the glass doors, mercifully unlocked, and was walking through the beautiful sitting room and into the reception area, wondering where her bag could possibly be.
That was when she ran into the maison’s keeper, or maybe fixer, Marcel, who immediately offered to show her to the room where he had taken ‘Madam’s bag’.
Thanking him, she followed him up the sweeping, polished wooden staircase that she’d already had a chance to study thanks to Jacasta’s Instagram.
Up they went on a second set of stairs to the higher floor, and Marcel opened a substantial wooden door and gestured her into the room. Now this was a lovely room, old-fashioned and traditionally furnished, but by someone who had an eye for detail and harmony. For a moment, she couldn’t decide which of the elements was the loveliest – the tall windows, framed with beautiful salmon-pink silk curtains, which no doubt looked over the beautiful lawns, shrubbery and driveway at the front of the house, the double bed with its polished mahogany bedstead and velvet bedspread in pinks and golds, the gilt-framed mirror on the wall, the antique lamps, or the luxuriously thick cream carpet and pink rugs underfoot.
It was all very prettily done, and now that she was admiring the bed with its thick mattress and freshly ironed white sheets, she realised how little sleep she’d had since leaving England. Nervous energy and many, many cups of coffee had kept her going for all this time, but now she was absolutely running on empty. She thanked Marcel and once he’d left the room, she wondered if slipping into that bed and allowing herself an hour or two of nap time while the wedding went on without her would be a good idea.
She sat on the bed, enjoying the deep, soft springiness, and realised with a wave of guilt that she had hardly thought about her dad since she’d arrived here, and with that, she was desperate to speak to him and check everything was OK.
She called his number immediately.
‘Hello, Lucie, my girl,’ he answered within a couple of rings. ‘How are you? How is France?’
‘How are you, Dad? That’s much more important!’
She found herself listening carefully to his voice, his tone, trying as hard as she could to read the energy levels and whether he was comfortable, happy and if it was going to be OK for her to stay away for another night or even two.
‘I’m as well as can be expected,’ he insisted. ‘Nothing dramatic to report. Now how about you all? Has my gorgeous Jag got you all there safely?’
‘Well… she did have a bit of an issue in the heart of the Auvergne.’
‘Oh dear… tell me all about it.’
So Lucie did, leaving out for now the bit about the dented front panel. She would get that quietly and unobtrusively repaired so he didn’t need to know that the Jag had been pranged and her good looks were currently spoiled.
‘So some refugee lads did a temporary patch up and helped you on your way?’ he asked, having listened to her recount the story.
‘Yes… and we took one of them to hospital.’
‘What?’
She told that part of the story too, thinking she must phone Pete and see what the update was on his brother.
‘Well, you’ve certainly had an adventure then, just like I told you. Has it done you some good?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a smile, thinking of Deva and The Bangles on the hillside… and permission to do something extraordinary. ‘I think so. But right now, I’m a little tired. There’s not been much sleeping.’
‘Ah well… hopefully, you’ll have a chance to catch up with that and the sun and the sea. So, where are you now?’ was his next question.
‘Well, you may not believe this, but I’ve just retreated to my room at the wedding venue. I watched the ceremony and it was… nice,’ she decided. ‘But I’m too tired to sit and have dinner and make polite small talk with people who are all probably wondering what the heck I’m doing here, let alone listen to the bloody speeches, so I’ve retreated to my room. And a very nice room it is too.’ Then, before she sounded like she was appreciating Miles too much, she added, ‘Wonder if he’ll send me the bloody bill.’
This made her dad laugh.
‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘Good for you for going along. I hope you’re looking fabulous. Make sure he knows what he’s missing.’
‘I looked just like a fifty-two-year-old woman who has spent too long in a car, but at least I was wearing a nice dress. Turns out Deva “borrowed” some items from the box under the bed, including the prized Chanel pieces.’
‘Well, this all sounds very intriguing! A proper adventure, like the old days,’ he added. ‘Remember them? We’d get a phone call on a Sunday evening and have no idea where you were going to be calling from.’
‘Ha… happy but slightly crazy days.’
‘Right, I’m going to push off now,’ her dad told her. ‘Why don’t you sleep now, then go back to the party later and let your hair down? You’re not too old, my darling. And I would argue that one is never too old.’
‘Love you, Dad. See you soon.’
‘Look after yourself… and the Jag!’
And with that, he was gone. She was left smiling at the phone, reassured that he sounded cheerful and as well as could be hoped.
She tried Pete’s number next, but there was no reply. A little worried for the brothers, she sent a text.
Hi Pete, how is Fikru? Hope the news is good. We are thinking of you both. Love from Lucie.
Once that one was sent, she messaged Zoe too.
Have gone to my room. Exhausted. Can’t face the dinner, speeches etc. Need a nap. Call me if I’m about to miss anything big. Marcel will tell you where I am. Have fun, loads of love Mxx
Then she lay back on the bed, closed her eyes and let all the events of the past two days swirl around her head. Images of Paris, of the hospital, of the statue in the town square, of Fikru and Pete, Jacasta and Miles, flowers, flowers, all came rushing into her mind.
Processing … she thought to herself. I’m processing…
It did feel as if more had happened in the last two days than had happened in the last two months… two years, even.
And now she found herself thinking about Clark and the blonde daughter and the blonde wife. It was almost thirty years since she’d seen him last. Thirty years! Could that even be right when she was so surprised, almost overwhelmed, at the strength of her feelings? She found herself remembering fragments of their conversations all those years ago, the good advice he’d given her, and a work trip they’d gone on in the car together – her all jumpy, nervy, determined to do her best work, but aware of how strong her feelings were about him.
She remembered too how exciting it was to go to work every day, just to see him and talk to him, then how depressed she would be afterwards, because she was convinced he could be perfect for her, but it didn’t look as if anything was ever going to happen between them.
And this situation had gone on for months, until a good friend had given her a stern talking to, telling her this was ridiculous and she had to stop pining for the impossible; there were literally millions of other people in the world and she had to get over this guy and get on with her life.
Her eyes closed, her head still reeling, she dropped into a light sleep with the last conscious thoughts being a troubling Was all this time spent with Miles a mistake? Am I ever going to recover from a mistake on that scale? Am I ever going to be able to emerge from the divorce bunker? Mixed with the reassuring Zoe is my compensation for marriage to Miles . But then Zoe was growing up, growing away, would soon have her own baby to care for. Lucie’s dad wouldn’t be there for her much longer either. Yes, she would have to put on her helmet and her flak jacket if necessary, but one way or another, she would have to get out of her bunker.