The Christmas Surprise
Page 65
Even though the hall was still buzzing with gossip, suddenly Roy Blaine himself stood and cleared his throat. Pamela banged her glass loudly to get everyone to stop talking, and people did finally turn round.
‘Welcome to my party,’ he started. There was scattered and quite puzzled-sounding applause. ‘And make sure you floss after all that cake, it can really get in the spaces between your teeth and cause abscesses if left untreated.’
There was a long pause. Rosie wasn’t sure if he thought this was a joke or not. He didn’t really do jokes. Pamela was looking up at him with the fervour of a political wife at a party conference.
‘So, now that I’ve finally managed to escape the coils of that witch …’
He paused for longer this time, and Rosie realised to her horror that he did actually think that was a joke and they were all meant to laugh, though thankfully nobody did.
‘… I can celebrate my freedom … with you, my dear friends.’
There was a kind of embarrassed murmur round the hall. Pamela ran her hand lightly up and down Roy’s arm. Across the hall, Rosie heard Lilian cough, loudly and clearly, on purpose.
‘So let’s all raise a glass …’ said Roy, which everyone, by now getting quite confused, was happy to do as the champagne kept on flowing.
As they did so, there was a noise at the end of the hut, and the door crashed open. Standing there, her cheeks very pink, both from the cold and from every eye in the room being on her, was Laura, Roy’s absent wife.
Roy’s face drained of all colour. Without even turning round, he shook Pamela’s hand off his arm, and swallowed, hard. There was a deathly silence in the room. Laura looked around, and several of her friends, slightly in their cups, raised their glasses and said hello.
Slowly, watched by everyone, her face pinker by the minute, she marched up to the top table and stood right in front of Roy, who was gripping his glass so hard it looked like it might shatter. Rosie glanced across at Lilian and was delighted to see she had lost her uncomfortable expression from earlier, and was looking increasingly perked up with all the lovely gossip. Tina clutched Rosie’s hand, eyebrows raised.
‘So,’ Laura said quietly. ‘You never take me out. You never socialise with me. You never host parties. You are no fun. You never buy champagne. You never do anything nice. And the SECOND I leave …’ She put out her hand to indicate the happy, heaving room, and shook her head. ‘You’re a cruel and despicable man, Roy Blaine.’
Roy seemed struck dumb. Laura looked him up and down, nodded quietly, then slowly turned to go.
‘Wait,’ croaked Roy as she began making her way across the hall. ‘LAURA! I LOVE YOU! I’VE BEEN AN IDIOT! I CAN CHANGE!’
There was a long, long pause. Rosie glanced at Pamela’s face. It was white and taut with anger.
Laura froze, and closed her eyes.
‘I mean it. I MEAN IT!’
Roy held up one of the bottles of champagne.
‘I won’t make you clean the swimming pool any more!’
‘He really needs to shut up about that damn swimming pool,’ whispered Stephen.
‘This is not the time for you to comment on things people don’t know to shut up about,’ whispered Rosie back. She was grateful to Laura for taking the spotlight off them, but she was still going to have a lot of mopping up to do.
‘Laura …’
Roy’s voice was cracking. Then, amazingly, he started to sing.
‘Tell Laura I love her …’
It was such an unlikely, pretty little song he sang, and, to Rosie’s amazement, he had a lovely voice: a deep baritone that rang out through the hall. A tear gradually stole its way down Laura’s cheek. Tina went and put her arms around her, then gently turned her round.
Roy stood there, two glasses in his hands.
‘I’ve been such a shit husband.’
‘And such a shit,’ some wag piped up from the tables.
Laura nodded dumbly.
‘I miss you so much,’ Roy said.
‘So much you threw a party?’
‘I hoped you’d hear about it.’
‘You know, I always did love champagne. But with you it was like waiting for a special occasion that never, ever came.’
Roy held out a glass.
‘Can I change that?’
Laura took a step forward.
‘I don’t know.’
Roy’s hand was shaking.
‘I will try.’
Laura stepped forward once more and tentatively reached out and took the glass. Everyone clapped and roared as she clinked it against Roy’s and they both took a sip. Then Roy, amazingly, jumped over the table – knocking over Pamela’s glass as he went, and not even noticing – took Laura into his arms and kissed her, their teeth clanging together.
‘Well,’ said Rosie, stunned.
‘Fuck this,’ said Pamela, and, largely unnoticed, she marched out of the hall, her stilettos clattering on the wooden floor. The band immediately struck up a happy reel, and finally Jake and Tina got to take to the floor for their first dance.
Much later – she had taken to dancing to avoid the many awkward questions that would doubtless take up much of her time over the next few days – Rosie found herself picking up Apostil, who had been sitting watching the dancers absolutely fascinated, swaying his head to the music and being bounced and jiggled by everyone who came by. She decided it was time to get him home for his bath and bed, before he got overtired. She asked Stephen – who had decided to deal with the situation by drinking rather more – if he’d like to stay, but seeing everyone dancing arm in arm, and Cathryn rounding up the old folk, who were complaining mightily (except for Ida Delia, who had fallen noisily asleep at the table and was snoring loudly with her mouth open, despite Dorothy prodding her and telling her to stop), he decided to come too.
It took them about forty minutes to get round everyone to say goodbye, and Rosie found herself overwhelmed by the levels of love, drunkenness, community and consideration in the warm room; such an outpouring of happiness for the newly-weds, concern for themselves, and extraordinary, jolly bonhomie. It was how, she told herself, she would always remember Lipton.
‘Best wedding ever,’ she whispered in Tina’s hair, which had come completely undone from its posh do and was flying wildly about her shoulders. Her immaculate make-up was also running down her cheeks, and Emily and her friends were taking turns wearing the headpiece and the veil. Of her bouquet there was no sign.
‘Welcome to my party,’ he started. There was scattered and quite puzzled-sounding applause. ‘And make sure you floss after all that cake, it can really get in the spaces between your teeth and cause abscesses if left untreated.’
There was a long pause. Rosie wasn’t sure if he thought this was a joke or not. He didn’t really do jokes. Pamela was looking up at him with the fervour of a political wife at a party conference.
‘So, now that I’ve finally managed to escape the coils of that witch …’
He paused for longer this time, and Rosie realised to her horror that he did actually think that was a joke and they were all meant to laugh, though thankfully nobody did.
‘… I can celebrate my freedom … with you, my dear friends.’
There was a kind of embarrassed murmur round the hall. Pamela ran her hand lightly up and down Roy’s arm. Across the hall, Rosie heard Lilian cough, loudly and clearly, on purpose.
‘So let’s all raise a glass …’ said Roy, which everyone, by now getting quite confused, was happy to do as the champagne kept on flowing.
As they did so, there was a noise at the end of the hut, and the door crashed open. Standing there, her cheeks very pink, both from the cold and from every eye in the room being on her, was Laura, Roy’s absent wife.
Roy’s face drained of all colour. Without even turning round, he shook Pamela’s hand off his arm, and swallowed, hard. There was a deathly silence in the room. Laura looked around, and several of her friends, slightly in their cups, raised their glasses and said hello.
Slowly, watched by everyone, her face pinker by the minute, she marched up to the top table and stood right in front of Roy, who was gripping his glass so hard it looked like it might shatter. Rosie glanced across at Lilian and was delighted to see she had lost her uncomfortable expression from earlier, and was looking increasingly perked up with all the lovely gossip. Tina clutched Rosie’s hand, eyebrows raised.
‘So,’ Laura said quietly. ‘You never take me out. You never socialise with me. You never host parties. You are no fun. You never buy champagne. You never do anything nice. And the SECOND I leave …’ She put out her hand to indicate the happy, heaving room, and shook her head. ‘You’re a cruel and despicable man, Roy Blaine.’
Roy seemed struck dumb. Laura looked him up and down, nodded quietly, then slowly turned to go.
‘Wait,’ croaked Roy as she began making her way across the hall. ‘LAURA! I LOVE YOU! I’VE BEEN AN IDIOT! I CAN CHANGE!’
There was a long, long pause. Rosie glanced at Pamela’s face. It was white and taut with anger.
Laura froze, and closed her eyes.
‘I mean it. I MEAN IT!’
Roy held up one of the bottles of champagne.
‘I won’t make you clean the swimming pool any more!’
‘He really needs to shut up about that damn swimming pool,’ whispered Stephen.
‘This is not the time for you to comment on things people don’t know to shut up about,’ whispered Rosie back. She was grateful to Laura for taking the spotlight off them, but she was still going to have a lot of mopping up to do.
‘Laura …’
Roy’s voice was cracking. Then, amazingly, he started to sing.
‘Tell Laura I love her …’
It was such an unlikely, pretty little song he sang, and, to Rosie’s amazement, he had a lovely voice: a deep baritone that rang out through the hall. A tear gradually stole its way down Laura’s cheek. Tina went and put her arms around her, then gently turned her round.
Roy stood there, two glasses in his hands.
‘I’ve been such a shit husband.’
‘And such a shit,’ some wag piped up from the tables.
Laura nodded dumbly.
‘I miss you so much,’ Roy said.
‘So much you threw a party?’
‘I hoped you’d hear about it.’
‘You know, I always did love champagne. But with you it was like waiting for a special occasion that never, ever came.’
Roy held out a glass.
‘Can I change that?’
Laura took a step forward.
‘I don’t know.’
Roy’s hand was shaking.
‘I will try.’
Laura stepped forward once more and tentatively reached out and took the glass. Everyone clapped and roared as she clinked it against Roy’s and they both took a sip. Then Roy, amazingly, jumped over the table – knocking over Pamela’s glass as he went, and not even noticing – took Laura into his arms and kissed her, their teeth clanging together.
‘Well,’ said Rosie, stunned.
‘Fuck this,’ said Pamela, and, largely unnoticed, she marched out of the hall, her stilettos clattering on the wooden floor. The band immediately struck up a happy reel, and finally Jake and Tina got to take to the floor for their first dance.
Much later – she had taken to dancing to avoid the many awkward questions that would doubtless take up much of her time over the next few days – Rosie found herself picking up Apostil, who had been sitting watching the dancers absolutely fascinated, swaying his head to the music and being bounced and jiggled by everyone who came by. She decided it was time to get him home for his bath and bed, before he got overtired. She asked Stephen – who had decided to deal with the situation by drinking rather more – if he’d like to stay, but seeing everyone dancing arm in arm, and Cathryn rounding up the old folk, who were complaining mightily (except for Ida Delia, who had fallen noisily asleep at the table and was snoring loudly with her mouth open, despite Dorothy prodding her and telling her to stop), he decided to come too.
It took them about forty minutes to get round everyone to say goodbye, and Rosie found herself overwhelmed by the levels of love, drunkenness, community and consideration in the warm room; such an outpouring of happiness for the newly-weds, concern for themselves, and extraordinary, jolly bonhomie. It was how, she told herself, she would always remember Lipton.
‘Best wedding ever,’ she whispered in Tina’s hair, which had come completely undone from its posh do and was flying wildly about her shoulders. Her immaculate make-up was also running down her cheeks, and Emily and her friends were taking turns wearing the headpiece and the veil. Of her bouquet there was no sign.
