A Terrible Kindness(95)

Norma makes a quick curtsy, then her face creases in distress. ‘Dear Lord, all I want is for you to have time on your own, but the car’s about to pull up!’ She looks at William. ‘You’ll come with us, won’t you? In the car, I mean?’

‘I’d be honoured – and late if I didn’t; I’m on foot.’

Evelyn stands. ‘Right then, Norma!’ The business is back in her voice as she waves her fingers in the air to dry them. ‘Where’s that daft little purse you insist I have to use as a handbag?’

‘Here.’ Norma steps into the hall and comes back to slide a small silky bag on a chain over Evelyn’s hand.

‘Well, how about this for a wedding present, eh Norma?’

‘Thank heavens for waterproof mascara,’ says Norma, grinning.

‘And quick-drying nail varnish,’ Evelyn adds.

There’s a gentle tap at the door.

‘It’s the driver,’ Norma says. ‘Nice job on the nails, William!’ She darts out to the vintage cream Rolls-Royce and stoops at the window to talk to the driver. ‘You two sit in the back,’ she calls, straightening up and running round to the other side to get into the front passenger seat.

Once they pull away, Norma starts chatting loudly to the driver.

‘So,’ Evelyn says, as the car descends the lane’s steep incline, ‘you do know this wonderful wife of yours is going to be there?’ Now they’re minutes from the church, William feels a thrill at the thought, but tries to ignore it. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, but you owe her one more conversation.’ Evelyn suddenly looks out of the window and William sees they’ve arrived. ‘I have to say, William, much as I love you, your timing could have been better. We’re there already!’

‘Well’ – Norma twists round to face them – ‘one way of having a bit more time to yourselves would be if William walked you down the aisle.’ She looks, triumphant, at Evelyn, then William. ‘What do you say to that, then?’

He can see the leap of joy in her face as Evelyn turns to him.





63




The church porch smells of dusty paper and cold stone. Norma has taken her seat at the front after making sure there’s a space for William.

‘What music are we walking in to?’

‘Vivaldi. Four Seasons.’

‘Nice, which one?’

‘Winter, violin concerto in F minor.’

‘Classy!’

‘What would you expect?’

‘Mum?’ He looks straight ahead.

‘Yes, son.’

‘I love you the most. Always have.’

There’s a puff of breath, then she squeezes his elbow. Evelyn slides her arm from William’s and stands directly in front of him. ‘I need you to tell me one more thing, William.’ Her gaze on him is steady and serious and it makes his stomach pitch.

‘What?’

‘Do I have lipstick on my teeth?’

‘No.’ He laughs. ‘You’re all clear.’

Once the music starts, there’s a rustle of bodies as people stand, and although it’s a small church, he’s shocked to see that every single seat is taken.

‘Blimey!’ he says.

‘Plenty of time for you to get to know this crowd,’ she says, as if reading his mind. ‘Your lot are on the front row, left-hand side.’

And there they are; Martin, a head and shoulders above everyone else, having a good look round. Next to him Howard and Robert, and next to them, nearest the aisle, chestnut hair, straight-backed: Gloria.

Racing pulse, walloping heart, wet palms.

‘I’ll have my mind on other things for the rest of today,’ Evelyn mutters through a smile, nodding at people as they start their solemn, in-time-to-the-music walk. ‘You concentrate on Gloria.’

He feels suddenly helpless, terrified at the approach. Unknown, smiling faces like a field of exotic flowers. Howard twists round and catches William’s eye, then nudges Robert who also turns and then whispers to Gloria. William braces himself, but she doesn’t turn.

The man waiting for Evelyn is tall, with thick grey hair and a slight tilt to his body. As he turns, William can see his left leg is at a strange angle.

‘There he is!’ Evelyn whispers, as if surprised to see him.

‘He must hate me,’ William whispers back, conscious of the smiling vicar they are heading for.

‘Nonsense,’ Evelyn says, ‘he’s not that kind of man.’

They’ve arrived. Frank nods at William lightly and smiles. Then his eyes land on Evelyn and William is left in no doubt that this man is in love with his mother. Not until she has slid her arm from William’s and reached out to take Frank’s hand does she let out a sob; a short, wild cry. Frank puts his hand on her back, and she breathes in and straightens. She looks across at William and winks.

Without her, he feels horribly unanchored, exposed. Quickly, he slips into the space next to Gloria. They both look straight ahead as everyone sits.

‘Welcome, all of you, to this joyous event,’ says the vicar, opening his arms, ‘the wedding of our beloved friends, Frank and Evelyn.’

So close to Gloria after all these weeks, he breathes in her perfume, the fresh shampooed smell of her hair, and his stomach flips. William doesn’t need to turn towards her to see the difference. Doesn’t need to look. He simply knows. Gloria is pregnant.