Postscript (P.S. I Love You #2)(75)

During an illness, especially one such as his, there are few moments of light, and I didn’t want to be the one to block it out. I didn’t interrupt or interfere in his excited plans because I didn’t want to spoil his vision. Yet in staying quiet I certainly put his loved ones last. Just as I’ve done with my own. I check the time. They’re probably sitting down to eat. I’ve no idea what Gabriel is doing with Ava. Perhaps they’re sitting around for dinner with Kate and Finbar, and the idea of them playing a happy united family without me saddens me.

‘What do you think?’ he asks, modelling his black tuxedo. ‘It’s Murphy. Paul Murphy.’

I smile and adjust his crooked bowtie. ‘Most youthful father of the bride I’ve ever seen.’

He surveys the wedding reception room, impressed. ‘Holly,’ he grins, ‘You have surpassed yourself.’

The bride and groom’s choice of decorations are pink and silver themed, with pink peonies at the centre of every circular table of ten. The table linen is white and the chairs are covered in white fabric with pink and silver bows on alternating chairs. The head table is long and laid out banquet-style, facing the room, behind it is a stage where the band recently completed their sound check then left to give us our designated thirty minutes. It was the most time I could negotiate for no fee whatsoever.

‘You ready?’ I ask Paul, snapping him out of his trance, as he studies the room, absorbing the fantasy set-up of his daughter’s future wedding. Drinking it in and adding it to his memories, as though he was there.

‘Eh, yeah,’ he says, perhaps surprised by my brusque tone.

‘The head table is here.’

He follows me, slowly walking along the table, reading the names, perhaps imagining who will be seated at Eva’s wedding.

‘Father of the bride is here,’ I interrupt his thoughts. ‘I brought you a bottle of champagne. Non-alcoholic, because I know you’re not allowed to drink with your medication.’ I remove the bottle from my bag. I pop the cork, no nonsense, fill a glass that was also in my bag and hand it to him.

He watches me, silent.

‘It’s for your toast.

‘Is everything OK, Holly, you seem a little …’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he says, backing off. ‘If it’s because of yesterday, I apologise. Again.’

‘Thank you. We only have twenty minutes left before the bridal party arrive.’

‘Right. OK.’

He takes his place at the father of the bride’s position.

‘How much of the table do you want me to capture?’ I ask. ‘Zoom in on you and we could be anywhere, which defeats the purpose of this room. Zoom out and I capture the table and it’s obvious you’re at a table by yourself.’

He blinks. Looks lost.

I decide. ‘I can get the flowers in this way. On one, two …’ I give him the nod.

He lifts his champagne glass and grins. ‘Hello, Monkey Face. My darling Eva. I’m honoured to be here with you on your special day. You look so beautiful. And this man—’

I must make a face because he stops. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

I stop filming. ‘No. Why?’

‘You made a face.’

I shrug. ‘Ignore my face. Concentrate on your speech. Go again.’

‘My darling monkey face Eva. I’m honoured to be here—’

‘OK.’ I obviously did make a face because the same thing annoyed me the second time. I lower the phone. ‘Eva is a one-year-old now, I get that you call her monkey face, but do you think you’d be calling her that on her wedding day?’

He thinks about it. ‘It’s funny?’

‘She might not – remember – that you called her monkey face. This is going to be at least twenty years away.’

‘Right.’ He clears his throat. ‘My darling Eva, I’m so happy to be here on your special day. You look so beautiful in your dress—’

‘What if she’s not wearing a dress?’

‘Every bride wears a dress.’

‘In 1952 they did.’

He looks at me, confused.

‘She could be wearing a bikini on a beach, or in an Elvis suit in Vegas. You’ve no idea what she’s wearing. You’re probably going to appear on a screen in a room. People are going to be shocked. Moved. Confused. Imagine how Eva will feel. You sharing your sentiments is enough, don’t be too specific because if you get it wrong it will feel … off.’

‘OK. Yeah. Good point.’

He starts again. ‘Hello, my darling Eva. I’m delighted to be with you on your special day and even though I can’t be with you in person I’m raising a glass to you from the best seat in the house. I’d like to congratulate the groom. I hope this guy knows how lucky he is—’ His smile fades. Irritation. ‘What now?’

I stop filming again.

‘What if she doesn’t marry a guy?’

He rolls his eyes.

‘Think about it. She’s one and she may seem terribly heterosexual to you,’ I say sarcastically, ‘But she will change. If she’s marrying a woman, you saying this will actually spoil the entire wedding.’

I’m irritating him but he gathers himself and starts again.