A Christmas Wedding(30)

I sigh. ‘You don’t need to keep apologising.’ My voice sounds leaden.

He stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets and hunches his shoulders.

‘You really want me to come?’ I find myself asking.

He glances up at me. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay,’ I say.

What the hell have I got myself in for?

I end up buying new make-up as well as clothes, then insist we go back to Alex’s so I can get ready properly. My nerves intensify dramatically on the short drive to East Finchley, where Jo and Brian live. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to this. I stare out of the window with longing as we pass an Underground station.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Alex warns. ‘They’re expecting you.’

‘Eek!’ I reply with a gulp.

He smirks and reaches across to take my hand.

I’m so nervous the electric shock this time barely registers.

Alex ushers me up the garden path. ‘I promise you they’re lovely.’ He presses the doorbell while I fight the urge to bolt.

A squeal comes from somewhere deep in the house. ‘Jo,’ Alex murmurs. Then the door whooshes open to reveal her husband.

‘Bronte!’ Brian exclaims, greeting me like an old friend as he sweeps me up in a hug. A second later he’s replaced by Alex’s sister.

‘I’m so happy to meet you at last!’ she gushes, beaming from ear to ear. She’s a bit taller than me with shoulder-length dark hair swept up into a tousled bun.

Alex’s dad is a tad reserved, tall and slim like his son with a chiselled jawbone and a perfectly straight nose, but he offers me what feels like a genuine smile as he shakes my hand and retreats.

Alex’s mum, Clarissa, however, with her startling, all-too-familiar blue eyes, greets me very amiably.

‘It is so lovely to meet you,’ she says, clasping my hand in both of hers. ‘Alex has told me a lot about you.’

It takes all of five minutes for my nerves to dissipate. Alex wasn’t lying. I’m among friends, not enemies.

The day is a revelation. Some of Brian and Jo’s friends from their NCT group turn up with their little ones, and Alex and Jo’s aunt and uncle also join in the celebrations. Clarissa takes me under her wing when Alex is called away to repair a broken toy, and I feel oddly at ease in her company.

The warm feeling that has been expanding inside me is threatening to burst by the time we leave that afternoon. I feel better and more at peace than I have in years. I turn to look at Alex in the driver’s seat.

‘Thank you,’ he says, glancing at me.

‘No, thank you.’

He gives me a quizzical look.

‘I feel like a weight I didn’t even realise I’d been carrying has lifted from my shoulders.’

Have I done it? Have I finally laid the past to rest?

We drive past East Finchley Tube station and it occurs to me that I should be getting out.

‘You want to come back to mine for a bit?’ Alex asks.

‘I should head to Polly’s,’ I tell him hesitantly. ‘I need to get my bags and say goodbye.’

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘Alex, you don’t have to do that.’

‘I want to. Honest. I’ll take you to your hotel.’

‘No! It’s too far, I’ll jump on a train.’

‘Let me,’ he says. ‘Please.’

‘Are you sure?’

He glances at me. ‘I’m sure.’

I feel strangely reluctant to leave him, too.

It takes over an hour to get to Polly’s, but we talk the whole way, and the atmosphere in the car is light and lively. I feel drunk with happiness after the day we’ve had.

‘I really like your mum,’ I say.

‘She liked you, too. I knew she would. She gave me so much grief about letting you slip through my fingers.’

I stare at him, bewildered. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I just wish you could’ve met Ed this trip. Properly, I mean, under better circumstances. He feels bad about the way he spoke to you.’

I pull a face. ‘It was understandable.’

‘Maybe when you’re back at Christmas,’ he says.

‘I don’t know if I’m coming back yet.’

‘You are.’ He’s jokily confident.

Polly is in the middle of bedtime madness, so she’s happy to keep our farewell brief, assuming that I have a taxi waiting outside on the street for me. I shake my head at Alex as he makes to get out of the car to help me with my suitcase.

‘You didn’t tell her I gave you a lift?’ he asks when I’m back beside him, cheerfully waving out of the window.

‘No. Sorry. She would’ve given me shit about it.’

‘Oh.’

I belatedly realise how this must make him feel. His friends and family are willing to have a fresh start, but mine aren’t?

‘It’s only because I’m not going to get a chance to bring her up to date before I leave,’ I tell him. ‘You understand, don’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ he says.

But I’m not entirely sure he does, and the journey to my hotel is more subdued.

Finally he’s pulling into a space in the hotel car park. He switches off the ignition and we sit there in the darkness, in silence, as the seconds tick by.