Chapter Twenty-Three
Dad offered to give me and Jonah a lift to Carlisle, which made sense in a we’re-all-going-to-the-same-wedding way but is an absolute, concretely firm not-in-a-million-years no if you’re not a fan of road rage nightmare journeys.
Dad drives like he’s taking part in a real-life Mario Kart Rainbow Road circuit with unlimited invincibility stars.
Nothing and no one will get in his way of getting from A to B and anyone who tries will face his wrath.
Dad is a large man – a broad six-foot-seven guy – and you may think he is a gentle giant, but you would be mistaken.
Very much so. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a wonderful father and a loving husband but he does not enjoy the company of most other people, especially when they’re in charge of vehicles.
He is grouchy and scathing and I’d rather walk the hundred miles to Keisha’s wedding barefoot than travel with him.
So, I’m driving me and Jonah to the wedding and we’re having a wonderful, rage-free time as we sing along to the radio and work our way through the bag of travel snacks we picked up from the petrol station earlier.
The mood is so uplifted, we haven’t even mentioned last night’s futile, and final, search for Kit.
Or perhaps the mood is so uplifted because we haven’t mentioned it.
Either way, I have officially given up. The piano bar was my only lead, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that the search is going nowhere.
‘Fried egg, please.’ I open my mouth in readiness for the sweet as Jonah delves into the bag of Haribo on his lap. I glance at him when no sweet is popped into my awaiting mouth.
‘Um, bad news, I’m afraid.’ Jonah shakes the bag, to double-check. ‘There are no more fried eggs.’
‘What?’ I frown, my eyes flicking to the bag. ‘But they’re the best ones.’
‘Which is why we’ve scoffed them all.’
If my hands weren’t on the wheel, I’d cross them over my chest in a huff. ‘A heart then?’
Jonah shakes the bag again. ‘Nope. All gone. I can offer you a cola bottle?’ I scrunch up my nose. ‘There’s a shit-tonne of teddy bears?’
‘Of course there are. They’re the worst.’ I’m actually pouting so I pull my face into a more mature, more neutral look.
‘How about a ring?’
I gasp and place a hand on my chest. ‘Are you proposing to me, Jonah Jackson?’ I thrust my left hand at him, fingers splayed. ‘Go on then. A ring is the best of a crap bunch.’
‘That has to be the most romantic acceptance of a proposal ever.’ Jonah stretches the orange-and-green ring onto my fourth finger. ‘I am the happiest man alive. It must be the Jelly gene that makes you so warm and tender.’
I pull the ring off my finger with my teeth. ‘Dad is actually a very romantic man.’
Jonah scoffs. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘He is. He doesn’t show that side of himself to anyone else, but he’s so sweet to my mum.’
Jonah scoffs again and bites the top off a cola bottle. ‘Like how?’
I don’t even have to think about an answer because, despite the show he puts on for everyone else, my dad is actually a caring, considerate partner to my mum.
‘He gets up early in winter so he can scrape the ice off Mum’s car so she doesn’t have to linger out in the cold.
He has made her breakfast in bed every Sunday for as long as I can remember, and he adds a little note to the tray to let her know how much she means to him.
And when their local bakery shut down, he learned how to bake a sourdough loaf because Mum said that was what she’d miss the most from there.
’ I sneak a peek at Jonah, to see what he thinks of Dad’s little love gestures so far.
‘I can’t imagine your dad writing love notes.’
I shrug. ‘It’s what he does. Every Sunday, without fail. And it’s always a different message. No copying and pasting for Duncan Jelly.’
‘And baking?’ Jonah huffs out a laugh. ‘I can’t picture your dad in an apron.’
‘Of course he doesn’t wear an apron.’ I flash Jonah a duh look. ‘But he did give baking Mum’s favourite bread a go, which I think is super-cute.’
‘And how was it? The sourdough?’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Awful. Inedible. He wouldn’t give up though. He kept trying to perfect the loaf until Mum begged him to give up after eight failed loaves.’
‘That is quite sweet, that he tried.’
‘I think so too. But don’t ever bring it up. Dad wouldn’t like you besmirching his name.’
Jonah holds his hands up. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He reaches into the bag of sweets and pops a teddy bear in his mouth before reaching in again, pulling out a ring this time. He holds it up to me and I fling my hand at him.
‘Yes! Yes! A million times yes!’
Jonah rolls his eyes as he slips the ring onto my finger. ‘That’s better. Now. Tell me more about your surprisingly sweet dad.’
I smile to myself, loving this topic of conversation. It isn’t often I get to brag about my dad. ‘So, my Mum’s favourite Disney film is Beauty and the Beast…’
Jonah holds a hand up to stop me. ‘Did he dress up as The Beast?’
‘He did.’
‘Oh my goat.’ Jonah pulls his chin back, a look of utter revulsion on his face. ‘Is this a… sex thing?’
‘What?’ I take my eyes off the road for far too long, but I can’t help it under the circumstances. ‘No! Of course not. You’re a sick man, Jonah Jackson.’ I tear the ring from my finger and chomp it, my eyes now fixed firmly on the road ahead.
‘Shall we change the subject?’
‘I think it’s important for our friendship that we do.’ I glance over at the carrier bag in Jonah’s footwell. ‘And can you also grab a decent snack? I need something better than the dregs of the Starmix to keep me going.’
The sun is shining as we park up outside the registry office and I feel its rays heating my shoulders as I step out of the car in my new spaghetti-strapped dress.
Mum and Dad are already waiting outside (which is no surprise – Dad probably made the two-hour journey in eighteen-and-a-half minutes) and they break away from the small gathering of relatives when they spot us.
‘Thank Christ you’re here.’ Dad nods back towards the pack waiting by the stone steps. ‘Your great-uncle Mick was about to tell us about his arse op.’
Mum tuts as she pulls me into a hug. ‘It was surgery on his haemorrhoids, not an arse op.’ She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. ‘You look stunning, love.’
I shrug away the compliment, because I’m no good at accepting them.
Jonah had admired me in my new dress before we’d set off and I’d told him he simply wasn’t used to seeing me in anything other than jeans or combats.
I do feel good in the dress though, and I spent an embarrassing amount of time twirling in my bedroom this morning.
‘And you look very handsome, Jonah.’ Mum pulls my flatmate towards her and pecks him on the cheek.
‘Thank you.’ Jonah knows how to take a compliment without batting it away. ‘And you look gorgeous, Cecilia.’
Mum does look gorgeous in a below-the-knee emerald dress with lace three-quarter-length sleeves, and Dad has scrubbed up well in a three-piece navy suit. He’s even shaved, which he’s usually loath to do because he ‘can’t be arsed’ going to the effort every morning.
‘What time’s this thing supposed to start?’ Dad nudges back his sleeve to check his watch.
‘Two o’clock.’ Mum lifts a hand in greeting as another car pulls up on the gravel. ‘Mary and Gail are here. Let’s go and say hello.’
‘Do we have to?’ Dad sighs, but he allows himself to be towed away towards Mum’s sisters, who are trying to exit the car without disturbing the giant yellow feathery hats on their heads. ‘Why have they both come dressed as bloody canaries? Are they being sent in first to check the air’s safe?’
‘Duncan.’ Mum’s tone is laced with warning and Dad wisely keeps his fashion commentary to himself as they approach.
‘You’re seriously telling me that man baked sourdough bread just because your mum liked it?’ Jonah raises his eyebrows as we watch Dad kick at the gravel while Mum enthuses over my aunts’ identical golden outfits.
‘Badly baked sourdough bread, but yes.’ I slip my arm through Jonah’s and guide him towards the steps, where I can see a couple of my cousins among the group.
I haven’t seen Ryan and Ellie since the last family gathering, which was our grandma’s funeral four years ago, and I’m glad we have a much nicer occasion to catch up over now.
The last time I saw Ryan, he was still in school and about to take his GCSEs, while his sister was in her first year at uni.
Now Ryan’s studying criminology and sociology at the University of Nottingham and Ellie is working in event management.
It’s proof that life moves fast, but it can also take you in unexpected directions.
Four years ago, I thought Alfie and I would be married by now, or at least thinking seriously about it, but it’s Keisha who’s getting married while I’m still single and flat-sharing.
‘How long have you been together?’ Ellie looks from me to Jonah, frowning when I splutter out a laugh.
‘We’re not together. We’re friends. Flatmates.’
Jonah gapes at me. ‘What happened to a million times yes when I proposed on the way up here?’
I roll my eyes and bump my arm against his. ‘That wasn’t even close to a real proposal. When I’m proposed to, I want a massive ring that doesn’t come out of a bag of Haribo. And I also want my fiancé to actually fancy me.’
There’s a whoop from the crowd around us and I turn to see a white Rolls-Royce turning into the car park. Cerys and her father step out of the back of the car and are quickly surrounded by her side of the family.
‘Why the chuff are they dressed like toddler twins?’ Dad has joined us at the steps while Mum, Aunty Mary and Aunty Gail greet the bride.
He nods at his sisters-in-law, who are both wearing yellow wide-legged trouser suits with the massive feathery hats.
‘They’re in their sixties. And there’s five years between them. ’
‘I’ve no idea, Dad.’ I take his arm and give it a squeeze. ‘But they’re happy.’
‘Hmm.’ He side-eyes them and shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath that I don’t quite catch because there’s excited chatter as Cerys approaches the steps to the registry office.
She looks stunning in a sleek, strapless gown that sweeps to the floor, and she has to lift up the skirt to make it up the steps safely.
It isn’t long before Keisha makes her entrance, arriving behind the wheel of a white convertible VW Beetle, with her mum sitting beside her.
Keisha’s dress, like Cerys’s, is strapless, but the bodice sparkles with sequins and the skirt is calf-length and made of tiered tulle, which is attached to the bodice with a beaded band.
The guests follow Keisha inside, heading into the ceremony suite while Keisha joins Cerys to sort out the formalities.
Ellie pulls me aside before we take our seats, leaning in close and lowering her voice.
‘Is your flatmate single? Because he’s really hot.’ She mimes fanning herself and I grin, doing a mental cartwheel because I knew this wedding would be the perfect place for Jonah to move on from Freddie.