Surprise Me(112)

So then I tried to prove that we could in fact live on my income (if we made a lot of changes) so the old stereotypes were dead. And if he was a real feminist he wouldn’t feel the need to be the breadwinner but could support the family unit in other ways. And Dan listened politely and agreed with everything and then said, ‘Actually, we’ve got a big new order coming in, so is it OK if I carry on contributing financially, just for the moment?’

Thank God.

I spray myself with Maze lily-of-the-valley perfume – a gift from Joss – then step into my shoes and head downstairs to find the girls peering at Dora.

‘I want her to talk,’ says Tessa, who has just seen Harry Potter for the first time. ‘Dora, talk.’ She addresses the snake bossily. ‘Talk.’

‘Talking snakes are not in real life,’ says Anna, glancing at me for confirmation. ‘Made-up things are not in real life, are they, Mummy?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘They’re not.’

I’m never going to tell them that my made-up friend came to life. They don’t need that kind of complicated, weird stuff in their heads. When they meet Joss, she’ll be Joss.

‘See you, Dora,’ I say, shepherding the girls out of the kitchen. I won’t say I’ve got fond of Dora, exactly, but I can look at her. I can kind of appreciate that she’s an amazing creature. Especially as I know she’s moving out of the kitchen. (Yes! Result!)

Basically, our whole garden is being revamped. The Wendy houses have already gone, and the girls barely noticed. Instead, we’re having a new outdoor room for Dan, all glass and wood, in which he’ll have his office and a special space for Dora. And we’re starting a vegetable patch.

‘If you’re such a bloody gardening expert,’ I said to Dan one night, ‘why aren’t we eating home-grown rocket every day?’ And he laughed and phoned up his mate Pete who does landscaping, and together they drew up a whole garden design. They even planned to put in some hardy annuals. Whereupon Dan suddenly remembered me trying to interest him in the garden before, and apologized for having been so distracted. He didn’t need to. I get it; he had a few other things on his mind.

Then we invited Mary Holland round to have lunch and help plan the herb garden. (Partly to show her – and each other – that there are no hard feelings or misunderstandings left.) It was great, because John looked over the fence from next door and started joining in the discussion. So then he came over, too. And we ended up with this rather high-powered gardening forum, all to discuss a tiny herb bed.

Since then, Mary’s been back to visit us a few times – she gets on well with Tilda, too. (‘I can see why you were worried,’ Tilda breathed in my ear, about five seconds after meeting her.) Meanwhile, Dan has taken to popping over to see John and talking about his work (whilst quietly making sure the fridge is full) and I do feel as though our existence has opened up a bit. We’re doing a bit less watching our past life on DVDs. A bit more building our own present life.

The girls can even have their own bedrooms now that Dan won’t need the study. (Except of course they don’t want their own bedrooms and wept when we mentioned it and Tessa wailed, ‘But I will miss Anna!’, clinging to her as though we’d suggested Anna go and sleep in the gulag.)

The car is waiting in the road, and as I shut the front door, I have a flashback to our wedding. Daddy leading me out of the house. Me looking like a Disney princess. Like so many things, it seems a lifetime ago. A different me. Today, there’s no one to lead me and the girls out of the house. There’s no one to ‘give me away’. I’m not a thing to be handed over, I’m a person. And I want to commit to another person. And that’s the end of it.

Quite nice to be in a posh car, though. As we glide along, the girls wave at passers-by, and I redo my lip gloss several times and run over what I’m going to say. Then, before I feel quite ready, we’re pulling up in front of Willoughby House. And even though I know this isn’t my actual wedding and I’m not a bride, and it’s really not a big deal … I still feel a whoosh of sudden nerves.

The driver opens the door and I emerge as elegantly as I can, and passers-by stop to point and take pictures, especially when Anna gets out in her Gruffalo costume, holding her bouquet. We’ve all got winter bouquets of eucalyptus wound round with ivy, which Mary dropped round this morning, together with a buttonhole for Dan. All from the St Philip’s Garden. She gave me a massive hug, and said, ‘I’m so, so pleased for you,’ and I could tell she genuinely meant it.

‘Come on, girls,’ I say when we’re all in place. ‘Let’s do it.’ And I push open the door to Willoughby House.

It looks phenomenal. There are flowers and greenery everywhere, cascading down the banisters and arranged in sprays. Guests are seated on gold chairs in rows, in the hall and through into the drawing room. Music begins and I process slowly between the chairs, up what is almost an aisle.

I can see lots of volunteers, watching with misty smiles, all wearing pastel hats. Dan’s parents are dressed up smartly and I beam at Sue. I had lunch with her a couple of weeks ago and apparently she and Neville have taken up ballroom dancing again. She seemed quite excited about it. Certainly they look a lot more relaxed today than they have for ages.

There’s Mary, looking gorgeous in a pale-aquamarine dress … Tilda, in a jewelled shawl … Toby and Michi … Mummy in a new pink suit, talking animatedly to Michi (probably selling her stacking rings). My heart catches as I see John, with his distinctive white, tufty hair, sitting on his own at the end of a row. He came. Even though Owen’s really not well these days, he still came.