22. Chapter 22
The photographer, sweat beading on his forehead, clapped his hands again and shouted in a strained voice, ‘Please! Ladies and gentlemen, if I could please have the bride’s family….’
The guests were hot and unruly and kept drifting off into patches of shade. It took several minutes to set up for each shot, as people kept disappearing in search of missing family members and friends. Dave, having discharged the first part of his best man’s duties, was leaning against a tree, clutching a bottle of water and pouring most of it over his hair.
‘Thank god you’ve got a hat to shade your face in this sun,’ Jack said, poking at Lucy’s fascinator.
‘Ha bloody ha,’ Lucy mumbled, the heat sapping all energy from her.
She was shoeless once more, enjoying the relief of her toes in the soft grass.
The guests had gathered in the hotel gardens for photographs and drinks reception. The sun was high overhead and people were wilting in the heat. Georgia was holding a parasol over the bride to try to stop her make-up from sliding off, but everyone else was on their own.
The photographer was shooting the bride and groom posed on the side of the fountain, the honey-coloured hotel rising behind them. His assistant, a skinny, nervous girl clutching a piece of well-pawed, wilting paper, scuttled from group to group.
‘Excuse me, are you the bride’s family? Can we have the bride’s family, please?’ She wiped her damp fringe across her forehead. ‘Please don’t leave yet,’ she pleaded with guests, ‘we have more pictures to do!’
Waiting staff, in dark trousers, shirts and waistcoats, moved slowly between guests passing out glasses of champagne. Hot and sweaty, the guests drank greedily. Lucy wondered if anyone would still be able to see straight by the time they sat down to eat.
One hand on James, Valerie watched Heather and Lucy’s movements for the groom’s family photos. Heather was doing battle with Peter to get him to keep his shirt on.
The skinny assistant popped up in front of them, a line of sweat beading on her top lip, her glasses sliding down her nose. She pushed them up and looked at them hopefully. ‘Groom’s family?’
Lucy nodded, and the girl smiled with relief and beckoned them to follow her. Jack hung back.
‘You go,’ he said, pushing Lucy forward. In a low voice, he added, ‘You don’t want to look back on these photos in years to come and see your fake boyfriend in the shot.’
‘I don’t ever want to look at these photos ever again, they are pictures of people melting,’ Lucy said, grabbing Jack’s hand and hurrying towards her mother.
Valerie was beckoning them furiously, and Heather called out, ‘Please, hurry,’ as she wrestled with the wriggling child.
‘Valerie,’ Jack said smoothly as they stepped up, ‘I’m not sure I should be in these photos. It should just be family. I’ll wait over here.’
He tried to step away.
‘Nonsense, Jack,’ Valerie said, grasping his hand. ‘You may not be family right now, but I am sure it’s only a matter of time.’
She gestured for him to join them.
Lucy grinned as Jack meekly obliged.
‘Lucy.’ Valerie looked down. ‘Why on earth don’t you have shoes on?’ Her hands flew to her mouth. ‘Have you been like this all day?’
Lucy held up her shoes, and Valerie pursed her lips.
‘Just cooling down,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll put them back on now.’
‘For goodness sake,’ Valerie muttered under her breath, as Lucy slipped her feet back into the sandals. Valerie’s gaze landed elsewhere. ‘Jack dear and Mark, perhaps you’d be good enough to put your ties and jackets back on. We don’t want the photos to suggest this was some third-rate, hippy-ish affair, do we?’
Valerie smiled through the tart words and watched eagle-eyed as Jack obediently dug his tie out of his pocket and Mark struggled back into his dress coat.
Peter started wailing and freed one arm.
‘Can we get on with this, please?’ Heather said, sounding harassed.
Nanna, the only person who had been given a chair in the shade, made her way over with James. Her cobalt blue polyester dress crackled with static electricity as she walked, her face partly hidden under a wide-brimmed red hat. James was waving a battery-powered fan around his mother’s face.
‘Very good, very good.’ Nanna puffed as they arrived. ‘Move over,’ she said.
She batted Lucy with her walking frame and shuffled in beside the bride, pushing Lucy and Jack back. A muscle in Valerie’s cheek twitched, and her eyes narrowed.
‘Actually, if you could stand––’ the photographer began.
‘I’m fine here,’ Nanna snapped.
Lucy smothered a laugh, and Heather pleaded, ‘Can we please get on with it?’ as Peter started to wail.
‘Yes, let’s get it done,’ James said, flashing a quick smile at the photographer.
The photographer buzzed around them, arranging them around the bride and groom so they all faced uniformly inwards. He stood back to look at the line-up.
‘Lovely. And husbands and partners, put your hands on your partner’s waist or shoulders… that’s it!’
Lucy felt Jack’s hand slide onto her waist and rest there.
‘A little closer,’ the photographer called, and the assistant appeared and flapped her hands and her withered paper at them, urging them to press in. Nanna shimmied in until she was practically leaning on Sophie, her hat obscuring part of Sophie’s arm.
‘Perhaps not quite so close,’ the assistant offered, but Nanna shot her a look, and she backed off so fast she nearly fell over.
Valerie muttered, ‘This is a disaster,’ through gritted teeth, and glared at James, who stared straight forward, a fixed smile in place.
Jack’s fingers tightened on Lucy’s waist, and he murmured in her ear, ‘This is a hoot.’
The photographer snapped away furiously, crouching around them, finding different angles.
‘And now the couples, please,’ he said. ‘Please go with Jess,’ the assistant waved, ‘she’s doing these shots.’
‘Lucy, Heather,’ Valerie clapped her hands at her, ‘don’t go anywhere. We’re getting a few pictures of the couples. Me and your father, Heather and Mark, and you and Jack. I’ve booked it as an extra package.’
Heather released Peter, who used his newfound freedom to strip off his shirt and then use it as a weapon to chase his brother.
‘Sounds lovely,’ Heather said, watching Peter terrorise Thomas. ‘But we’ll need to go first.’
As Valerie led the way with Jess, the photographer yelled, ‘Friends of the bride and groom!’
People picked themselves off the grass and shambled out of the shade to cluster around Sophie and Ollie.
Heather and Mark wrought themselves into various poses under Jess’ tutelage. Mark listened attentively to Jess’ suggestions while the increasingly frequent shouts coming from behind the hedge distracted Heather. As Mark gazed into his wife’s eyes, and Jess snapped away, there was a sudden wail. Peter appeared, shirtless, looking worried.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said.
The crying continued behind the hedge.
Heather sighed. ‘Thanks, mum, I think our shoot is over.’ She marched up to her son, Mark hot on her heels. ‘What did you do to your brother?’
‘Nothing,’ Peter said, trailing after her. ‘He fell over…’
Unable to wait any longer, Valerie pulled James over to Jess. Lucy watched as her mother, who was clearly a Hollywood starlet in another lifetime, perched on her father’s knee. Valerie coaxed James into posing for a photo of them lovingly gazing into one another’s eyes. Then another with him standing behind her, hands on her shoulder, both gazing off into the side distance, like some old portrait.
‘Your mother is an artist,’ Jack murmured.
Lucy snickered. ‘My mother is an Army Major,’ she corrected, ‘and my father is her prisoner of war.’
‘Looks like a very willing prisoner to me,’ Jack said.
James watched his wife indulgently as she insisted Jess show her all the photos she had taken so she could check them. Valerie waved Lucy over.
‘Lucy and Jack,’ the harried assistant said, eyes wide, ‘please come with me.’
‘Now darling,’ her mother said, fiddling with her hair. ‘What is all this about?’ She tutted and tried to push strands of Lucy’s hair back. Lucy tried to twist her head out of her mother’s reach.
‘Now you come here,’ Valerie took Jack’s hand and sat him on a bench beneath a copper beech, sunlight dappling through. ‘And you,’ she took Lucy’s hand, ‘you sit on his knee.’
This was a step too far for Lucy, who snorted with laughter. ‘Mum, no, that’s not us. I’m too old to be sitting on someone’s knee.’
Valerie’s lips pressed into a thin line. ‘I just sat on your father’s knee.’ Then, ‘Fine.’ She threw her hands up. ‘I just wanted some pictures of my children, happy, with their partners and this seemed like a great opportunity, but if you can’t be bothered to cooperate, forget it.’
‘Mum…’
‘No!’ Valerie was picking up her bag. ‘All I have done for weeks––months!––is think about how this day can be special. Special for Ollie and Sophie and special for the whole family. And when Ollie said you were bringing someone, I thought, at last - wonderful! The bride and groom will have their photos, and we’ll take the chance to capture the other happy couples in this family, too. But it seems, as always, I ask too much.’
She adjusted her hat on her head. ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’
‘Mum!’ Lucy said, loud enough to get her attention.
Valerie stopped and looked at her daughter, eyes hard.
‘We’ll do it, we just...’ She looked at Jack. ‘We just want it to feel natural. Maybe without an audience, would be better?’ Lucy said. ‘Just us and the photographer. Jack’s shy,’ she added.
Jack looked up at her in surprise from his position on the bench, but dutifully tried to look awkward and ill at ease.
‘Fine.’ Valerie sniffed, and looped her arm through her husband’s. ‘I look forward to seeing these natural photographs. Let’s go, James.’
And she picked her way carefully across the lawn towards the marquee, leaning on James every time she had to ease a high heel out of the grass.
‘So,’ Jack said, rubbing his palms together. ‘Let’s do this our way. I suggest the first image is of you bent over my knee and me spanking you.’
Lucy cackled. ‘Oh yes, that’ll go on the coffee table along with the graduation and wedding pictures’.
‘Then,’ Jack continued, ‘we’ll get a shot of you trying to rip my shirt off so you can ravage me….’
Jess was fiddling with the camera and looked like she’d rather be anywhere but there.
‘It’s okay,’ Lucy called, ‘we’re joking.’
‘I’m not,’ Jack protested.
‘C’mon,’ Lucy said. ‘We just need to get a few pics, then we can finally eat.’
She sat down beside him on the bench and took his hands. They both started giggling at the awkwardness of it all.
‘Come on, Jack, get it together!’ Lucy said, sucking in her cheeks to stop herself from smiling.
‘You look like a duck,’ Jack said, and she snorted.
‘Sorry, sorry!’ Lucy called to Jess. ‘We’re nearly ready, honestly. Wait.’ She looked down at their clasped hands. ‘What are we doing? This pose makes it look like I am giving you bad news.’
‘Okay, um, maybe you should sit on my knee after all,’ Jack said. ‘Casually.’
‘How would you formally sit on someone’s knee?’ Lucy asked. ‘Is that when you sit on your boss’s knee in a meeting?’
‘Yes. Or when MPs sit on each other’s knees.’
Lucy giggled and lowered herself gingerly onto Jack’s lap. She looped her arm around his shoulders. Their faces were just inches apart and she could smell the wood and citrus notes in his aftershave. She swallowed as he shifted under her.
‘Sorry, am I too heavy?’
‘No, you’re fine,’ he said. ‘I think it’ll take a couple of minutes for the blood flow to be cut off to my legs.’
‘Jack!’ she poked him.
‘She’s assaulting me!’ he shouted at Jess. ‘Trying to have her way with me!’
‘She doesn’t think you’re funny,’ Lucy said. ‘No one does. And me having my way with you would be getting this over with and getting some food.’ More quietly, she added, ‘Now be a good fake boyfriend and make your fake future mother-in-law very happy and take a few pictures.’
‘Okay, okay.’
They took a breath and looked into each other’s eyes, twitches of amusement still playing about their lips. As they sat there, staring at one another, listening to murmurs of encouragement from Jess––‘Great, hang on, that’s good’––the giddiness subsided, and Lucy stared into Jack’s dark eyes. She draped her arm around his shoulders, and he looped his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip as she sat in his lap. He reached out with his other hand and laced his fingers through hers, resting their hands on her knees.
Jess was bobbing around them. ‘That’s great, great.’
Jack’s gaze was unflinching, and in the dappled light under the tree, Lucy couldn’t tell where his pupils ended and his dark irises began. For another shot, at Jess’s urging, Jack lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to it.
Lucy stared at the dark head, bent over her hand, felt his fingers firm on her hip and his lips soft on her hand. She suddenly felt both the nonsense and the magnitude of what she had asked him to do. This charade they were engaged in, the folly of it all.
Jack at a wedding, which he hated. These pictures, which would stick around forever, documenting the lie. A lie which, she understood now, she would have to live with from now on. The lie wasn’t just this one weekend; it would never go away. It would never end, plastered all over her parent’s house, framed for all to see.
Whenever a visitor asked who the man was with Lucy in the family wedding photos, her mother would purse her lips and say, ‘Oh, that’s Jack. He and Lucy were together briefly, but it didn’t work out.’
Lucy would either need to tell the same lie to any future proper boyfriend to keep up the charade with her parents, or bring him inside the lie.
‘Nearly there,’ Jess said, hopping around them, looking between them and her camera, ‘just a few more. Maybe,’ she said, flicking through the shots she had taken, ‘maybe one with a kiss?’
‘Oh, I don’t think––’ Lucy said, as Jack said, ‘Sure.’
‘For the cameras, Luce,’ he said.
His eyes dropped to her lips, and his hand slid up behind her neck and gently pulled her head down towards him. Her lips met his and gently parted under the insistent pressure, his tongue sliding into her mouth. His other hand on her hip pulled her in closer, folding her into him, and she wound her arms around his neck to steady herself. His fingers slid into her hair and stroked the back of her neck, and she felt herself lean into the kiss. Jack’s lips were moving over hers, seeking her tongue, and everything but Jack faded to nothing as she pressed into him.
‘I think we’ve got it,’ Jess called.
Jess’s voice was like a gunshot that broke the spell, and Lucy pulled back from Jack so abruptly she nearly catapulted herself off his lap onto the grass. She grabbed the back of the bench to steady herself.
‘Oh, good!’ she called, her voice oddly shrill.
She clambered off Jack’s lap, tripping over her own feet. Jack grabbed her to stop her from falling.
‘Bloody shoes,’ she muttered, as she leaned on the bench to steady herself, cheeks flaming. She whipped her hand away from Jack.
‘It was just a kiss, Luce,’ he said. ‘I think it would have looked odd to refuse, don’t you think?’
Jack’s voice was relaxed, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
‘Of course,’ Lucy said, her stomach turning over.
Her legs seemed to have forgotten which side of her body they belonged to and were shambling along, threatening to turn an ankle in the grass.
‘You okay?’ Jack asked, reaching a hand out for hers.
‘Yes, fine!’
Once more, the shrill voice sounded, and she snatched her hand back. She cleared her throat and tried to speak more quietly.
‘All’s well.’
She quickened her pace, trying to put some distance between herself and the scene of that kiss.
Over her shoulder, she called, ‘Let’s eat!’