The Wedding Girl Page 5

  `So,' she began then stopped and took a sip of champagne. She wandered over to the window, pulled open the heavy brocade curtain and looked out into the snowy night. She could barely remember the last time she'd been alone in a room with James; certainly couldn't recall the last time they'd talked together naturally. Topics of conversation passed through her mind like shrinkwrapped food on a conveyor belt, each as unappealing and difficult to get into as the next. If she told James the latest piece of Bath gossip, she would have to begin by reminding him who all the main characters were. If she told him about the wedding shoe fiasco, she would first have to explain the difference between duchesse satin and slub silk. Nothing she could think of to say seemed quite worth the effort of starting.

  Once, long ago, their conversation had flowed like a seamless length of ribbon. James had listened to her stories in geniune amusement; she'd laughed at his dry wit. They'd entertained each other, had fun together. But these days all his jokes seemed tinged with a bitterness she didn't understand, and a tense boredom crept over his face as soon as she began to speak.

  So they remained in silence, until finally the door opened and Milly came in. She gave James a brief, strained smile.

  `Hello, Daddy,' she said. `You made it.'

  `Did you get through to Isobel?' said Olivia.

  `No,' said Milly shortly. `I don't know what she can be doing. I had to leave another message.' Her eye fell on the tray. `Oh good. I could do with a drink.'

  She took a glass of champagne and raised it. `Cheers.'

  `Cheers!' echoed Olivia.

  `Your good health, my darling,' said James. All three drank; there was a little silence.

  `Did I interrupt something?' said Milly.

  `No,' said Olivia. `You didn't interrupt anything.'

  `Good,' said Milly without really listening, and walked over to the fire, hoping no one would talk to her.

  For the third time, she'd got through to Isobel's message machine. As she'd heard the tinny tones she'd felt a spurt of anger, an irrational conviction that Isobel was there and just wasn't answering. She'd left a brief message, then remained staring at the phone for a few minutes, biting her lip, hoping desperately that Isobel would call back. Isobel was the only one she could talk to-the only one who would listen calmly; who would think of a solution rather than lecturing.

  But the phone had remained silent. Isobel hadn't called back. Now Milly's hand tightened around her champagne glass. She couldn't stand this niggling, secret panic. On the way over to Pinnacle Hall she'd sat silently in the car, gathering reassuring thoughts around herself like sandbags. Alexander would never remember, she'd told herself again and again. It had been a two-minute encounter, ten years ago. He couldn't possibly remember that. And even if he did, he wouldn't say anything about it. He would just keep quiet and get on with his job. Civilized people didn't deliberately cause trouble.

  `Milly?' Simon's voice interrupted her thoughts and she jumped guiltily.

  `Hi,' she said. `Did you send your fax all right?'

  `Yes.' He took a sip of champagne and looked more closely at her. `Are you OK? You're looking tense.'

  `Am I?' She smiled at him. `I don't feel it.'

  `You're tense,' persisted Simon, and he began to massage her shoulders gently. `Worrying about the wedding. Am I right?'

  `Yes,' said Milly.

  `I knew it.'

  Simon sounded satisfied and Milly said nothing. Simon liked to think that he was in tune with her emotions; that he knew her likes and dislikes; that he could predict her moods. And she'd got into the habit of agreeing with him, even when his assertions were wildly inaccurate. After all, it was sweet of him to have a go. Most men wouldn't have bothered.

  And to have expected him to get it right all the time would have been unreasonable. Most of the time she herself was unsure exactly how she was feeling. Emotions shaded her mind like colours on a palette some lingering, some momentary, but all blended together in an inseparable wash. Whereas Simon's moods seemed to march through him, distinct and uniform, like a row of children's building blocks. When he was happy, he smiled. When he was angry, he frowned.

  `Let me guess what you're thinking,' murmured Simon against her hair. `You're wishing it was just the two of us tonight.'

  `No,' said Milly honestly. She turned round and looked straight up at him, breathing in his musky, familiar scent. `I was thinking how much I love you.'

  It was nine-thirty before Harry Pinnacle strode into the room. `My apologies,' he said. `This is unforgivable of me.'

  `Harry, it's utterly forgivable!' exclaimed Olivia, who was by now on her fifth glass of champagne. `We know what it's like!'

  `I don't,' muttered Simon.

  `And I'm sorry about earlier,' said Harry to James. `It was an important call.'

  `That's quite all right,' said James stiffly. There was a slight pause.

  `Well, let's not hang about,' said Harry. He turned politely to Olivia. `After you.'

  They slowly made their way across the hall, into the dining room.

  `All right, sweetheart?' said James to Milly as they sat down round the magnificent mahogany dining table.

  `Fine,' she said, and gave him a taut smile.

  But she wasn't, thought James. He'd watched her knocking back glasses of champagne as though she were desperate; watched her jump every time the phone rang. Was she having second thoughts? He leaned towards her.

  `Just remember, darling,' he said in an undertone. `You don't have to go through with it if you don't want to.'

  `What?' Milly's head jerked up as though she'd been stung, and James nodded reassuringly.

  `If you change your mind about Simon-now, or even on the day itself-don't worry. We can call the whole thing off. No one will mind.'

  `I don't want to call the whole thing off!' hissed Milly. Suddenly she looked close to tears. `I want to get married! I love Simon.'

  `Good,' said James. `Well, that's fine then.'

  He sat back in his chair, glanced across the table at Simon and felt unreasonably irritated. The boy had everything. Good looks, a wealthy background, an annoyingly calm and balanced personality. He quite obviously adored Milly; he was polite to Olivia; he was thoughtful towards the rest of the family. There was nothing to complain about. And tonight, James admitted to himself, he was in a mood for complaint.

  He'd had a grisly day at work. The engineering firm in whose finance department he worked had undergone restructuring in recent months. Endless rumours had that day culminated in the announcement that there would have to be four junior redundancies in his department. The news was supposed to be confidential but it had obviously spread: as he'd left the office, all the younger members of the team had still been hunched dutifully over their desks. Some had kept their heads down; others had looked up with scared eyes as he passed. Every single one of them had a family and a mortgage. None of them could afford to lose their job. None of them deserved to.

  By the time he'd arrived at Pinnacle Hall he'd felt unspeakably depressed by the whole thing. As he had parked his car he had made up his mind that when Olivia asked how his day had been, he would, for once, tell her the truth. Perhaps not everything straight away, but enough to make her concerned; enough to make her realize what a burden he was struggling with. But she had not asked and a certain pride had stopped him from volunteering his story; from admitting to her his vulnerability. He didn't want his wife turning her mind to him as if he were just another one of her charity projects. Abandoned ponies, handicapped children, a miserable husband.

  He should, thought James, be used to Olivia by now. He should be used to the fact that she was not very interested in him; that her life was full enough of other concerns; that she paid more attention to the problems of her chattering girlfriends than she ever did to him. After all, they had managed to carve out a stable, workable life together. If they weren't soul-mates there was at least some sort of symbiosis between them. She had her life and he had his and where they
overlapped they were always perfectly amicable. James had resigned himself to this arrangement long ago, had thought it would be all that he ever needed. But it wasn't. He needed more; he wanted more. He wanted a different life, before it was too late.

  `I'd like to propose a toast.'

  Harry's voice interrupted James's thoughts and he looked up, frowning slightly. There he was. Harry Pinnacle, one of the most successful men in the country, and his own daughter's prospective father-in-law. James was aware that this alliance made him the envy of his peers and knew that he should be pleased at Milly's future financial security. But he refused to rejoice in the fact of his daughter becoming a Pinnacle; refused to bask, as his wife did, in the fascinated curiosity of their friends. He'd heard Olivia on the phone, dropping Harry's name into the conversation, assuming an intimacy with the great man that he knew she did not have. She was milking the situation for all it was worth-and her behaviour made him curl up with shame. There were days when he wished Milly had never met the son of Harry Pinnacle.

  `To Milly and Simon,' declaimed Harry, in the gravelly voice which made all his utterances sound more significant than everyone else's.

  `To Milly and Simon,' echoed James, and picked up the heavy Venetian glass in front of him.

  `Simply delicious wine,' said Olivia. `Are you a wine expert as well as everything else, Harry?'

  `Christ, no,' replied Harry. `I rely on people with taste to tell me what to buy. It's all the same to me.'

  `Now, I don't believe that! You're too modest,' exclaimed Olivia. James watched in disbelief as she reached over and patted Harry intimately on the hand. Just who did she think she was? He turned away, slightly sickened, and caught Simon's eye.

  `Cheers, James,' he said, and raised his glass. `Here's to the wedding.'

  `Yes,' said James, and took a huge gulp of wine. `To the wedding.'

  As he watched everyone drinking his father's wine, Simon felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He coughed and looked up.

  `There's someone missing here tonight,' he said. `And I'd like to propose a toast to her.' He raised his glass. `To my mother.'

  There was a slight pause and he was aware of eyes darting towards the head of the table. Then Harry raised his glass.

  `To Anne,' he said gravely.

  `To Anne,' echoed James and Milly.

  `Was that her name?' said Olivia, looking up with flushed cheeks. `I always thought it was Louise.'

  `No,' said Simon. `Anne.'

  `Oh well,' said Olivia, `if you say so.' She raised her glass. `To Anne. Anne Pinnacle.' She drank from her glass, then looked at Milly, as though struck by a sudden thought. `You're not planning to keep your own name, are you, darling?'

  `I don't think so,' said Milly. `Although I might stay as Havill for work.'

  `Oh no!' exclaimed Olivia. `Too confusing. Just be Pinnacle through and through!'

  `I think it's a good idea,' said James. `Keep your independence. What do you think, Simon? Would you mind if Milly stayed Havill?,

  `To be honest,' said Simon, `I'd prefer it if we shared a name. We'll be sharing everything else.' He turned towards Milly and smiled. `But I'll be sad to lose Milly Havill, too. After all, it was Milly Havill I fell in love with.'

  'Very touching,' said James.

  `Would you consider changing your name to Havill?' said Harry, from the end of the table. Simon looked at him steadily.

  `Yes I would,' he said. `If Milly really wanted it.'

  `No!' exclaimed Olivia. `You don't, do you, darling?'

  `I don't suppose you would have changed your name for Mum, would you, Dad?' said Simon.

  `No,' said Harry. `I wouldn't.'

  `Yes well,' said Simon tautly, `the difference is that I'm prepared to put my marriage before everything else.'

  `The difference is,' Harry said, `that your mother's maiden name was Parry.' Olivia laughed and Simon shot her a furious look.

  `The point is,' he said loudly, `names are irrelevant. It's people that make a marriage work. Not names.'

  `And you, of course, are an expert on marriage,' said Harry.

  `I'm more of an expert than you! At least I haven't screwed mine up yet!' There was a short silence. The Havills all looked at their plates. Simon gazed at his father, breathing hard. Then Harry shrugged.

  `I'm sure you and Milly will be very happy,' he said. `We can't all be so lucky.'

  `It's not a matter of luck,' retorted Simon angrily. `Luck doesn't come into it!' He looked at James and Olivia. `What would you say makes a successful marriage?'

  `Money,' said Olivia, then laughed brightly. `Only joking!'

  `It's communication, isn't it?' said Simon. He leaned forward earnestly. `Sharing, talking; knowing each other inside out. Wouldn't you agree, James?'

  `I'll take your word for it,' said James, and took a swig of wine.

  `You're absolutely right, Simon,' said Olivia. `I was actually going to say communication.'

  `I'd put sex above communication,' said Harry. `Good sex, and plenty of it.'

  `Well, I wouldn't know much about that, either,' said James drily.

  `James!' exclaimed Olivia, and gave a tinkling laugh. Simon gave James a curious look, then glanced at Milly. But she didn't seem to be listening to the conversation at all.

  `What about you, Harry?' Olivia was saying, gazing up at him through her lashes.

  `What about me?)

  `Aren't you ever tempted to marry again?'

  `I'm too old to marry,' said Harry shortly.

  `Nonsense!' exclaimed Olivia gaily. `You could easily find yourself a lovely wife.'

  'If you say so.'

  `Of course you could.' Olivia took another sip of wine. `I'd marry you myself!' She gave a little laugh.

  `Very kind of you,' said Harry.

  `Oh no,' said Olivia, waving her glass in the air. `It would be a pleasure. Really.'

  There was a choice of puddings.

  `Oh!' said Olivia, looking from lemon mousse to chocolate torte and back again. `Oh dear, I can't decide.'

  `Then have both,' said Harry.

  `Really? Would that be all right? Is anyone else going to have both?' Olivia looked around the table.

  `I'm not going to have any,' said Milly, pleating her napkin nervously between her fingers.

  `You're not slimming, are you?' said Harry.

  `No,' said Milly. `I'm just not very hungry.' She managed a smile at Harry and he nodded pleasantly back. He was basically a kind man, thought Milly. She could see it, even if Simon couldn't.

  `You're as bad as Isobel!' said Olivia. `Isobel eats like a little bird.'

  `She's too busy to eat,' said James.

  `How is she?' asked Harry politely.

  `She's great!' said James with sudden animation. `Forging ahead with her career, travelling the world ...'

  `Does she have a boyfriend?'

  `Oh no,' James laughed. `She's too busy doing her own thing. Isobel's always been an independent spirit. She's not going to get tied down in a hurry.'

  `She might,' objected Olivia. `She might meet someone tomorrow! Some nice businessman.'

  `God help us,' said James. `Can you really see Isobel settling

  down with some dreary businessman? Anyway, she's far too young still.'

  `She's older than me,' said Milly.

  `Yes,' said James, `but the two of you are very different.'

  `How?' said Milly. She looked at her father. The tensions of the day were throbbing unbearably inside her head; she felt suddenly on edge. `How are we different? Are you saying I'm too stupid to do anything but get married?'

  `No!' said James. He looked shocked. `Of course not! All I mean is that Isobel's a bit more adventurous than you. She likes taking risks.'

  `I've taken risks in my time!' cried Milly. `I've taken risks you know nothing about!' She broke off, and stared at her father, breathing hard.

  `Milly, don't get upset,' said James. `All I'm saying is that you and Isobel are different.'

/>   `And I prefer you,' whispered Simon to Milly. She gave him a grateful smile.

  `Anyway, James, what's wrong with businessmen?' said Olivia. `You're a businessman, aren't you, and I married you.'

  `I know, my love,' said James tonelessly. `But I'm hoping Isobel might do a little better than someone like me.'

  Later on, as the pudding plates were being removed, Harry cleared his throat for attention.

  `I don't want to make a big thing of this,' he said. `But I've got a bit of a present for the happy couple.'

  Simon looked up defensively. He'd bought a present of his own to give Milly this evening and had planned to spring it on her while they were all drinking coffee. But whatever Harry had bought, it would undoubtedly be more expensive than the ear-rings he'd chosen. Surreptitiously he felt for the small leather box, safely in his pocket, and wondered whether to leave it for another day a day without competition from his father. But then a small wave of indignation rose through him. Why should he be ashamed? Perhaps his father could afford to spend a bit more than him but then, what did everyone expect?

  `I've got a present too,' he said, trying to sound casual. `For Milly.,

  'For me?' said Milly confusedly. `But I haven't got anything for you. At least, not anything to give you tonight.'

  `This is something extra,' said Simon.

  He leaned over and gently pushed Milly's blond hair back behind her shoulders, exposing her little pink ears. As he did so, the gesture seemed suddenly erotic; and as he stared at her flawless skin, breathing in her sweet, musky scent, a proud desire surged through him. Sod the rest of them, he thought Olivia with her unbearable smugness, Harry with all his cash. He had Milly's divine body all to himself, and that was all that counted.

  `What is it?' said Milly.

  `Dad first,' said Simon, feeling magnanimous. `What have you got us, Dad?'