Chapter 47
I’m not sure why we’re calling it the rehearsal dinner because nothing’s going to get rehearsed. It’s simply a meal for both sets of parents to meet properly.
We’re back at our favourite Chinese restaurant, but this time in a private room at the back.
I take this place for granted, but it strikes me as we arrive, and the manager greets us all by name, that I can’t think of another restaurant that has stood the test of time.
We’ve seen other favourites come and go, but Mr Lee has outlasted them all.
When the inevitable time comes and he retires, it will be like losing a family member.
We were all anxious about potential fireworks between Theo’s divorced parents.
It was hard to know where to put them because they both need to have prominent positions and be near my parents – the in-laws forming their own new unit.
Our solution was to have Granny Maria sitting between Theo’s parents, acting as a neutral buffer.
She’s Switzerland with dentures.
I’m wearing a little black dress and my red suede heels, not because the occasion requires it, but because I want to look nice for Mark.
I’m surprised by how much I’m looking forward to seeing him, even though it’s only been a day since we got back from Cyprus.
A lot seems to have happened in a short space of time, including Yan finding out what Mark and I did in his garage all those years ago.
I keep a watchful eye on Yan in case he changes his mind and goes all Mediterranean and must-protect-my-womenfolk on Mark’s ass.
As it turns out, I’m sandwiched between Theo and Pen, and Mark, one of the last to arrive, is sitting opposite me.
‘You look good, Nella.’
‘You don’t look bad yourself.’ That’s the understatement of the year. He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. God, he can wear the hell out of a suit.
He doesn’t look like he particularly wants to chat with me. My disappointment surprises me. Did we leave our easy-going friendship in Cyprus?
‘How are the plans for Venezuela coming along?’ It’s not that I want to dwell on the fact that he’s leaving, but I want to keep the conversation from flagging.
‘Fine, fine.’
I wrack my brains for another question. ‘How is your Spanish? Yan mentioned you were trying to teach yourself.’
He smiles stiffly. ‘I never seem to find the time. Most of the Spanish I’ve picked up is from being forced to listen to Enrique Iglesias and Thalia because Brigitta is such a fan.’
It jars that he’s talking about her in the present tense and using her name. Didn’t he previously refer to her as ‘my ex’? Does he assume they’ll get back together? The idea doesn’t sit well with me, even though I’ve got absolutely no claim on him.
‘How are things with Rich?’ he asks mildly, and the penny drops.
He’s smarting that I left him hanging at Heathrow when Rich turned up.
‘I haven’t seen him. And anyway, we’re just colleagues now.’
If he’s happy to hear it, he doesn’t show it. Then he’s asked a direct question by Theo’s dad – probably heart-related – and any hopes of further chat between us vanishes.
While we’re waiting for the starters to be cleared, Dad goes to the toilet and when he comes out again, he’s walking very slowly.
‘Are you okay, Dad?’ I ask, going up to him.
He grimaces. ‘Something I ate didn’t agree with me.’
He’s holding his side.
‘Do you want to go home?’
He widens his eyes. ‘No, of course not. I’m fine. But go and see if your mum has any Rennie.’
Before I can get back to the table, Mark intercepts me.
‘Is everything okay with your dad?’
‘It’s just his tummy,’ I say.
‘That’s too low for the stomach.’
His eyes are focused on where Dad is clutching his side.
‘His guts, or wherever. He thinks it’s wind.’
Mark is frowning and I suddenly feel cold.
‘What are you worried about – his appendix?’
He doesn’t answer and instead walks to Dad.
‘Kyrie Vasili, do you have any medical conditions?’
Dad shakes his head.
‘Gallstones?’
‘Not that I know of.’ His voice sounds forced. He’s obviously trying to mask his pain.
‘He’s got a hernia,’ I say, ‘but it’s small, and that’s not serious, right?’
Mark meets my eye, and immediately I know he’s concerned.
‘I’m going to bring my car out to the front, and we’re going to Ealing Hospital.’ His voice is calm, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. He hurries out, his phone pressed to his ear.
Yan comes over to us.
‘Are you okay, Dad?’ When he doesn’t get a reply, he looks at me with panicked eyes. ‘What’s happening, Nell?’
‘We’re taking him to hospital.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ snaps Dad angrily. ‘It’s an overreaction.’
On the one hand, I’m glad Dad’s got the energy to lose his cool, but on the other, he wouldn’t have lost it if he wasn’t feeling scared.
‘It’s just a precaution,’ I say, for both Yan’s and Dad’s benefit. ‘Everything will be fine.’
Mum is up next, demanding to know what’s going on. When she announces she wants to come to the hospital, too, Dad puts his foot down.
‘One person can come with me so they can drive me back afterwards. Everyone’s making a fuss over nothing. I’ll be back in time for banana fritters.’
I walk Dad out to the kerb and help him into the back of Mark’s car. He yelps when I try to put his seat belt on, so I don’t bother. Mark asks a series of questions while he drives. What’s Dad’s date of birth and which GP he’s registered with.
Dad’s well enough to answer, only occasionally losing his breath from a wave of pain.
‘When did you start feeling unwell, Dad?’
‘Around three o’clock, maybe a little before.’
Mark is frowning in the rear-view mirror.
‘It’s nearly nine o’clock now. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?’
‘I thought it was indigestion.’
‘For six or seven hours?’
Dad closes his eyes in discomfort. He’s so pale, I want to kick myself that I didn’t notice sooner. Mark asks how much Dad ate at the restaurant.
‘Just a Wan Ton soup,’ I answer for him, trying to ignore a spike in my anxiety. Is Mark anticipating a general anaesthetic? Does Dad need an operation?
I try to calm my breathing. Mark’s used to medical emergencies. If anyone can spot the early signs of something serious, it’s him.
I squeeze Dad’s clammy hand and pray that we’re not too late.
Mark has managed to speak to whoever’s on call tonight, so there’s a man in scrubs waiting for us when we get to the waiting room. I can’t follow what they’re talking about, but none of it sounds reassuring. Then, a second man appears with a wheelchair and takes Dad away.
I try to follow him, but Mark stops me. ‘You need to stay here.’
‘I’m scared, Mark.’
‘He’s in good hands. Jas is an excellent surgeon.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘We’ll know more in a while.’
‘But he’ll be okay, right? It’s not life-threatening, is it?’
Mark holds my eye. ‘He’s in the best place he can be right now.’
A sob escapes me. This can’t be happening. He was asking for a Rennie twenty minutes ago, and now Mark is talking in that horrible doctor’s voice that is measured and calm but not telling me the thing I most want to hear – that Dad will be okay.
‘I can’t lose him,’ I whisper.
‘As soon as I know anything, I’ll come and find you.’
He squeezes my hand. I want to hold on to it, to delay the moment when I’m left to wait alone, but I know I have to let him go.
He darts through the double doors, his shoulders hunched, and when he’s out of sight, I settle myself in the waiting room and attempt to distract myself with Sudoku on my phone.
After a couple of minutes, there’s a commotion by the reception desk and it takes me a few moments to realise who’s causing it.
Mum, Yan, Tig, and Pen.
I’m on my feet immediately. ‘Guys? What are you doing here?’
‘What do you mean what are we doing here?’ asks Mum. ‘Is this the time for Mr Lee’s Kung Po chicken?’
My heart squeezes with gratitude. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Of course we came,’ says Yan, with a watery smile. ‘Has he already gone through?’
‘A few minutes ago. Mark’s with him.’
‘Does he know what’s wrong with him?’ asks Mum.
‘If he does, he didn’t tell me.’ I pause to steady my voice. ‘But he looked concerned.’
Mum pulls me into a hug. ‘It will be all right,’ she whispers, rubbing my back the way she used to when I was little.
I blink away tears before I turn to Tig and Pen. ‘You left Theo and his parents at the restaurant?’
‘Gran’s there,’ says Tig. ‘The rule is one family member always stays with the guests.’
Mum nods in approval.
‘Plus, the mains had just arrived,’ says Pen. ‘Someone had to stay and put them all in doggy bags.’
The ridiculousness of what she says makes me feel overcome with emotion.
I pull them both into a hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I was dreading the long wait.’
‘You should never have come alone,’ says Mum. ‘Your dad didn’t want to make a fuss, but it wasn’t fair on you.’
I nod, a lump in my throat stopping me from speaking.
‘Look, it’s Mark,’ says Yan.
I disengage from the hug and cut my eyes to Mark, terrified of what I’ll see on his face.
He looks … expressionless. Which isn’t reassuring.
He nods when he clocks that the whole Praxitelis clan is here, but he doesn’t comment.
‘What can you tell us?’ asks Yan.
‘It’s a complication with his hernia. A part of his bowel has become trapped in the abdominal wall. They’re working to free it before the blood supply is cut off.’
He stops to let us absorb what he’s just said.
‘That sounds bad,’ I say.
‘I won’t lie – it’s serious. But we gave him the best shot by getting him into theatre quickly.’
‘How long is the operation?’
Mark looks at his watch. ‘A couple more hours, at least.’
We nod, none of us knowing what to say.
‘I might be able to get an update before then,’ he adds.
‘Thank you, Marko mou,’ says Mum, her voice thick with emotion.