Chapter Seventeen #2
Nina remembered how Hugh had always joked that he came from fearless stock, warriors to the last. When he’d been diagnosed with a brain tumour the family had said, ‘It’ll be fine, the tumour won’t last two minutes in a tussle with Hugh!
’ It had been fighting talk designed to reassure themselves, to arm themselves against the inconceivable that one of their own could be taken well before his time.
Especially someone as invincible as Hugh, whom the younger cousins looked up to.
At his funeral there had been much talk in the eulogies of Hugh’s sporting ability, his prowess on the rugby and cricket pitch, his daringness on the ski slopes and his all-round likability.
Someone had even joked that the man was just so damned perfect they should have hated him and not loved and admired him the way they had.
Not one person had mentioned that it was a small entity, a tumour the size of a walnut, that had beaten Hugh.
‘We’d better go and sit down or she-who-must-be-obeyed will be on the warpath,’ Keith said, breaking into Nina’s painful memories of Hugh’s funeral. ‘I’m afraid we only saved you the one seat.’ His gaze flicked towards Jakob. ‘If we’d known that you were bringing someone, we’d have—’
Suddenly irritated by Keith’s customary act of hen-pecked husband, she cut him off.
‘That’s all right,’ she said, ‘Jakob and I will sit at the back, there’s plenty of room there.
’ It seemed particularly unworthy of Keith to keep making his wife the butt of his jokes when he was seeing someone behind her back.
Feeling sorry for Hilary was a first for Nina, not something she ever thought she’d experience.
‘You won’t be able to hide from her once the ceremony is over, you know.’
Keith’s remark was only just audible to Nina above a noisy burst of laughter from the group of girls who had earlier been in the cloakroom and were now entering the ballroom en masse, but she caught the underlying tone of what he was accusing her of.
‘I’m not hiding, Keith,’ she said sharply. ‘What’s more, I’m certainly not the one here with anything to hide. I would simply prefer to sit at the back and let the immediate members of the family be closer to the action.’
He stared at her with a stricken expression on his face. ‘I … I didn’t mean anything, Nina, I was joking. I merely meant that …’
His voice tailed off.
‘It’s fine, Keith,’ she said. ‘Enjoy the service and we’ll see you afterwards.’
‘That wasn’t at all awkward,’ Jakob said when they were seated. ‘Do you want to tell me what just happened?’
‘I behaved badly,’ she muttered, ‘that’s what happened.’
‘Is it me, my being here with you?’
Gripping the wedding order of service in her hands, Nina tried to compose herself; she was shaking with shame that she had been so rude to Keith.
It had been appallingly judgemental of her, and she knew she would have to apologise just as soon as the opportunity arose.
But everything about the encounter had provoked her.
She had counted on Keith being entirely relaxed about her bringing a plus-one, that he of all people would think it was the most natural thing in the world that she should have a companion by her side today.
Had she assumed too much? Was she, in the eyes of Hugh’s family, forever destined to remain the heartbroken, grieving widow who mustn’t ever be unfaithful to his memory?
His sainted memory, she thought with a flare of white-hot anger.
It was not the first time she had felt angry since Hugh’s death.
There had been many gut-wrenching days of raging anger when she’d wanted to scream and shout and hurl things at the wall, to smash everything within sight.
She had been advised to find an outlet for the anger and so she’d joined a running club in Cambridge.
When that hadn’t been enough, she’d tried boxing, but she’d hated that.
She’d read about the so-called five stages of grief – denial, anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance – and which could roll up in no particular order. She’d never experienced the bargaining stage, but the others she was well acquainted with. Even moments of acceptance.
Acceptance was why she was here today with Jakob, she realised. Hugh was dead. He was never coming back. He was never going to be her companion again. And it was time that she was treated not as a widow, but as a woman.
‘Nina,’ Jakob said quietly beside her. ‘Are you okay?’
Realising she hadn’t answered him, she threw him a tight smile.
‘I’m fine,’ she whispered, just as an excited hush fell on the room signalling that the ceremony was about to begin.
That was when Hilary turned around, craning her neck to get a better look at Nina.
And Jakob. Keith must have just told her that Nina wasn’t here alone.
The ceremony was over. It had been one of those woo-woo affairs as Hugh used to call them, when the formal gravitas of the service had been jettisoned in favour of a more personal but perhaps less meaningful approach.
At one point Fabian had vowed not to squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle or mislay his keys quite so regularly.
In exchange the bride had promised to curb her addiction to online shopping.
Their vows had drawn chuckles from the guests, but it had made Nina feel old and out of step.
Just as she had in the cloakroom earlier.
With guests now on their feet, it was time to go outside to the marquee where, they’d been informed drinks and canapés would be served while the photographer got to work with the bride and groom.
This was it then, thought Nina. Now the curious glances and questions would really begin. And without realising she was doing it, she slipped her arm through Jakob’s and in response, he pressed it firmly and reassuringly against his side.
‘It will be fine,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘It will be a walk in the park. A breeze. Child’s play. A piece of your finest Victoria sponge cake.’
She laughed. ‘Any more idioms up your sleeve?’ she said.
‘Oh, I’m sure I can think of something if the moment presents itself.’
Inside the fuggy warmth of the marquee, they were met with the smell of crushed grass and the richly extravagant scent of cut flowers.
Every table was decorated with a beautiful display of white and lilac blooms. There were silver balloons too, which, no doubt, knowing Hugh’s family, would not make the end of the night.
They’d just been handed a glass of champagne each when Hugh’s aunt Lindsay approached.
She was Hilary’s oldest sister and was a no-nonsense woman who was a retired headmistress of an all-girl’s school.
Her default setting was straight out of the Mary Poppins handbook, spit-spot and best foot forward, no slouching, no slacking, even in the face of adversity.
Nina had often wondered at the army of girls who must have passed through her hands and who were now out in the world.
‘How lovely to see you, Nina!’ she exclaimed, landing a kiss on Nina’s cheek with such force it nearly tipped her backwards. ‘And how well you look. Now then, who’s this you’ve brought along with you? Introduce me!’
‘This is Jakob, Jakob, this is Lindsay, one of Hugh’s many aunts.’
Lindsay gave a deep-throated chortle. ‘Be warned, Jakob, when you throw in Keith’s side of the family, there’s a lot of us!’ She then leant in towards Nina. ‘And what does Hilary think about this?’
Nina played dumb. ‘This? What do you mean?’
‘You, having a chap.’
‘I think we might be about to find out,’ Nina murmured, seeing Hilary fast approaching and with Keith trailing in her wake.