25. Chapter 25
Lucy moved shakily through the throng. Her mother was waving, beckoning her over to speak to Aunt Paula, but she ploughed on. Weaving through the dancing guests, sweating in suits as they danced to Beyonce, she grabbed a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket as she went. She felt claustrophobic, hemmed in by people and heat and noise. Picking up speed as she passed the huge white and gold sign that said, Welcome to the wedding of Sophie and Oliver, she stumbled back out into the darkness.
A quartet of smokers huddled together outside the marquee, united by their relegation outside. They glanced over, but Lucy veered in the other direction, around the building and towards the gardens where, a few short hours earlier, they had all gathered and posed for photos.
The night air smelt of trampled grass and warm earth, and Lucy moved across the lawns further into the gardens, where it was darker. The fountain the bride and groom had posed in front of was still running, and Lucy stumbled towards it. She kicked off her shoes as she got close, and the feel of the soft, cool grass underfoot soothed her. She clambered onto the low, stone wall around the fountain and swung her legs over, dropping her feet into the water. It was freezing, and she shivered but left her feet dangling there, the cold water calming her. Goosebumps broke out on her arms as a cool, fine spray from the water gently misted over her.
She peeled the foil off the champagne and eased the cork out of the bottle. It shot into the fountain pool and bobbed about maniacally. Lucy took a long swig from the bottle and let out a shaky breath. The sharp, fruity tang of the champagne filled her mouth as she forced it down past a lump in her throat. She and Jack had never fought before. They bickered and bantered all the time, but they’d never had a fight more serious than arguing over who should get the last doughnut.
It was quiet in the gardens, and the tumult of the reception seemed far away, just the occasional peel of music rolling down the garden. Lucy sniveled, swigged some more champagne and wiggled her toes in the water.
Someone behind her swore, and Lucy turned to see who was interrupting her ice foot bath. It was Heather, who had tripped over Lucy’s discarded shoes. Lucy was in no mood for her sister, and spun herself back to the fountain, kicking her feet, splashing water up her legs.
‘Lucy? What are you doing out here?’ Heather sounded terse.
Lucy turned. Heather was clutching her handbag as if Lucy was a highwayman who might steal it from her. She shrugged and pulled a face.
‘What does it look like? Midnight dip.’
‘Where’s Jack?’
‘Don’t care,’ Lucy retorted. ‘Where’s Mark?’
‘Not the foggiest.’
There was a pause, then they burst out laughing for a moment. It was the first laughter they had shared since they had started speaking again.
‘What are you doing down here?’ Lucy grumbled.
Heather looked furtive, glanced around and then took something out of her handbag.
‘Cigarettes?’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
Finding out that her sister smoked and was hiding it from everyone, and was therefore fractionally less perfect than she tried to pretend, was like the Holy Grail to Lucy. Heather was human, after all.
‘Shhh! Officially, I don’t,’ Heather said, looking sheepish. She perched on the fountain beside Lucy, her back to the water. ‘But sometimes….’ She shook her head. ‘I just feel like I need one, to get through.’
‘Through what?’
Heather didn’t reply and lit her cigarette, the flash of the lighter illuminating her face in yellow, and took a long draw.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words so quiet they almost faded into the night.
Lucy wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
‘I’m sorry,’ Heather said, a little more clearly. ‘About last night. I don’t mean to get at you.’
Lucy wasn’t entirely sure about that, but an apology from Heather was as rare as hen’s teeth and therefore just as valuable.
‘I’m sorry too,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean what I said. About you not being happy in your life.’ She felt her throat tighten. ‘I just wish you could see I am happy in mine. Even if you don’t understand how.’
Heather nodded in the darkness, sighed and pulled at the hairs on her eyebrow. Lucy noticed her hand shook a little. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. The acrid smell of the smoke drifted under Lucy’s nose before being carried away on the breeze.
‘Perhaps you weren’t,’ she hesitated, ‘completely wrong. It’s a lot, you know. It’s so busy. Relentless, actually. All the time. Being made partner is great,’ she paused. ‘but it’s a lot of pressure. The kids are hard work.’ She took another drag and shook her head. ‘Sorting childcare, swimming, tag rugby and music lessons for Thomas. All Mark and I do is work and fetch them from place to place.’ She took another draw on her cigarette and exhaled slow and long. ‘And then a weekend like this on top of everything. Sorting outfits, packing for them as well as me…sometimes I feel like there’s no room left for me in it all.’
The words hung in the air, mixed with the smoke from her cigarette.
Lucy looked at Heather, her strong, capable sister, silhouetted against the night lights in the garden. With her long neck, pale skin, and arm crooked holding her cigarette, a thin plume of smoke rising into the night sky, she looked like a star of a film noir. Heather looked, Lucy thought, tired and suddenly a few years older than she’d seemed earlier in the day.
Lucy stuck out her arm.
‘Champagne?’
Heather paused and looked at the bottle. Then, ‘Fuck yes,’ she said, and snatched it from Lucy.
Lucy laughed and leaned into her sister. Heather took a long swig from the bottle.
‘Smoke?’ Heather said, offering Lucy the packet.
‘Fuck no,’ Lucy laughed, shoving her gently. ‘Those things will kill you.’
Heather laughed and took another drag.
‘How does Mark not know?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh, he knows.’ Heather nodded. ‘And he doesn’t like it. But he knows it’s only the odd one, or when I’m stressed. Which is a fair bit, I suppose,’ she said ruefully. ‘So long as it’s not every day, or in front of the kids, he doesn’t grumble—much. Makes a fuss about giving me a kiss if I’ve just had one, though.’
‘Eurrgh, you and Mark kiss? Is that how babies are made?’ Lucy said, poking her in the arm.
Heather giggled, a slightly alien sound for her, and it surprised them both.
‘Yes, we still kiss. Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Between work and school runs and laundry and homework and dinner and bath time and…’ She took a breath. ‘And breaking up fights and organising birthday parties, and buying presents for other people’s bloody kids’ birthday parties….’
‘And cigarettes,’ Lucy prompted.
‘Yes, between cigarettes.’
Heather turned to face her, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. Lights shone brightly from the party, and raucous shouts and laughter occasionally reached them as people tumbled in and out of the marquee.
She peered at Lucy.
‘What are you really doing down here, anyway? Hiding from mum?’
‘Hiding from you,’ Lucy retorted.
‘That went well then.’
Lucy laughed softly. A companionable silence fell. Heather smoked, and Lucy swigged champagne, and they leaned into one another. This was the longest they’d been alone in years.
‘Jack and I had a fight.’
It felt strange to say it out loud.
Heather sat quietly.
‘We haven’t ever had a fight before. Was my fault, I think,’ Lucy said in a small voice.
‘Probably,’ Heather said.
‘This is why I don’t tell you things. No support or sympathy whatsoever, when I—’
Heather interrupted her. ‘What’s the deal with you two, anyway? Haven’t you been friends for ages? What happened there, then?’
Lucy sighed as she thought of the agreed story—one drink too many and we suddenly realised…
At that moment, it would be so simple just to tell Heather the truth—that it never got any easier, being with family. That she had dreaded seeing Heather, seeing their mother, had dreaded spending this much time with everyone, having all her perceived shortcomings combed through. Jack was there for her. A human crutch.
But when she opened her mouth, the words that came out, were, ‘Oh, you know, we just got a bit drunk one day and, well, one thing led to another....’ She trailed off.
Heather nodded. ‘I’m not surprised. Seeing you two together, it makes sense.’
‘It does?’ Lucy said in surprise.
‘Yes, you’re very comfortable with each other. Very easy. And he’s so attentive to you, makes sure you’re okay, pulls your chair out for you, gets you a drink.’
It seemed Heather had been paying more attention than Lucy had.
‘I remember when Mark was like that.’ Heather’s voice was wistful. ‘Now I’d have to be maimed or wounded to get his attention.’
‘You think Jack’s attentive?’ Lucy searched her sister’s face.
‘Yes.’ Heather was watching her. ‘Hardly takes his eyes off you.’
‘Huh, unless he’s talking to Suzy Whatsherface,’ Lucy grumbled.
‘Oh, Suzy!’ Heather exclaimed. ‘Doesn’t she look fabulous?’
This wasn’t helping.
‘You know she works in social marketing too? She’s a strategist, consults with a lot of big city firms on how to build their public profile. I spoke to her earlier when I was trying to get away for…’ Heather nodded at her cigarette. ‘She said she and Jack had a great chat about his company. She was very impressed by him.’
‘Hmm.’
Lucy felt her heart sink.
Heather put her hand on Lucy’s shoulder.
‘She’s happily married to Ben, Lucy. They’re devoted to each other.’
‘Yes, well,’ Lucy twirled her feet in the water. ‘Good for them.’
Lucy could no longer tell how much she was playing the role of the jealous girlfriend and how much she was genuinely relieved to hear that Suzy wasn’t about to try to romance Jack with her social media wizardry.
‘Dearest blister,’ Heather said. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about. Jack’s as devoted a boyfriend as I’ve ever seen. Mum said the same.’
Good. The plan was working then. Perhaps a little too well.
She kicked at the water, hoping it would wash all the bothersome feelings away.
‘Your toes will turn blue.’
‘I think I’ve got frostbite,’ Lucy replied, examining her feet.
She squeezed her toes to see if there was any feeling left.
A shout came from the direction of the terrace. ‘Mummy! Muummmeeeee!’
‘Well,’ Heather said, crushing her cigarette under her shoe. ‘That’s the me-time over.’
‘Can’t you hide down here? They might never find you.’
Heather covered Lucy’s hand with her own.
‘I know you hate me telling you what to do, and you think I’m bossy and interfering—’
‘Noooo,’ Lucy said. ‘I don’t think you are…not really.’
‘And that was a pitiful protest, thank you for that. But really, Lucy.’ Heather’s voice was earnest now. ‘If you only listen to me once in your life, let it be now. You’ve got a good thing going with Jack. He’s a really nice man, and he dotes on you.’ Her eyes sparkled, and she grinned. ‘And he’s rather easy on the eye, too. Do what you need to do to fix this fight you’ve had.’
‘Muummmeeeee!’ came a wail from the terrace.
Heather sighed.
‘Got to go’, she said, stuffing her cigarettes and lighter back into her bag and fishing out a can of body spray. ‘To hide the cigarette smell,’ she said, pulling a face.
She squeezed Lucy’s shoulder and started to walk up the garden.
‘Ouch! For fuck’s sake Lucy, your bloody shoes!’ she said in a furious stage whisper.
Lucy cringed inwardly as Heather rubbed her ankle and in her best calm mother voice, called, ‘Coming, darling!’
And she was off, back towards the blazing lights, the pop music, the crowd of loved ones mingling with strangers, the children, spritzing herself with body spray as she went.
Lucy rubbed her chilled toes and thought about what Heather had said. She wondered if she could tell the truth from the lie any more, or if it was all the champagne. It didn’t matter, anyway. Jack was clearly doing a great job as a fake boyfriend. Everyone was sold.