Surprise Me(48)

‘Dan, you are coming to the ceremony?’ Mummy says, suddenly turning to us.

I nudge Dan, who looks up and says, ‘Oh. Yes.’

He could sound more enthused. It’s not every day your late father-in-law is honoured by a whole hospital scanner suite being named after him, is it?

‘When I told the reporter everything that Daddy had achieved in his life, he couldn’t believe it,’ Mummy continues tremulously. ‘Building up his business from nothing, all the fundraising, hosting those wonderful parties, climbing Everest … The journalist said his headline would read, “A remarkable man”.’

‘It wasn’t exactly “from nothing”,’ says Dan.

‘Sorry?’ Mummy peers at him.

‘Well, Marcus had that massive windfall, didn’t he? So, not quite “nothing”.’

I glance sharply round at Dan – and sure enough, he’s all tentery. His jaw is taut. He looks as though he’s sitting here under total duress.

Whenever I spend time with Dan and Mummy, my sympathies constantly swing back and forth between the two, like some wild pendulum. And right now, they’re with Mummy. Why can’t Dan just let Mummy reminisce? What does it matter if she’s not 100 per cent accurate? So what if she romanticizes her dead husband?

‘That’s lovely, Mummy,’ I say, ignoring Dan. I squeeze her hand, simultaneously eyeing her warily to see if she’s going to start blinking. But although her voice is a bit trembly, she seems composed.

‘Do you remember the time he took us to Greece?’ she says, her eyes lost in memory. ‘You were quite little.’

‘Of course I do!’ I turn to Dan. ‘It was incredible. Daddy chartered a yacht and we sailed round the coastline. Every night we’d have these fantastic candle-lit meals on the beach. Crabs … lobster …’

‘He invented a new cocktail every night,’ adds Mummy dreamily.

‘Sounds fantastic,’ says Dan tonelessly.

Mummy blinks at him, as though coming to. ‘Where are you going on holiday this year?’

‘Lake District,’ I say. ‘Self-catering.’

‘Lovely.’ Mummy gives a distant smile, and I sigh inwardly. I know she doesn’t mean to look disparaging, but she doesn’t really get our life. She doesn’t understand living on a budget, or keeping the girls grounded, or taking pleasure in simple things. When I showed her the brochure for a French campsite we went to once, she blanched and said, ‘But, darling, why don’t you hire a lovely villa in Provence?’

(If I’d said, ‘Because of the money,’ she’d have said, ‘But darling, I’ll give you the money!’ And then Dan would have got all prickly. So I don’t ever do that.)

‘Oh, look.’ Mummy points at the screen. ‘Daddy’s about to make that funny little joke before you go into the church. Your father was always so witty,’ she adds wistfully. ‘Everyone said his speech made the reception, absolutely made it.’

I feel a movement beside me on the sofa, and suddenly Dan has risen to his feet.

‘Sorry,’ he says, heading to the door without meeting my eye. ‘There’s an urgent work call I should make. I forgot earlier.’

Yeah, right. I kind of don’t blame him. But I kind of do blame him. Couldn’t he put up with it for once?

‘That’s fine.’ I try to sound pleasant, as though I’m not aware he’s just totally invented this call. ‘See you in a moment.’

Dan leaves the room and Mummy looks over at me.

‘Oh dear,’ she says. ‘Poor Dan seems a little tense. I wonder why?’

This is how she often refers to him: ‘poor Dan’. And she sounds so patronizing – even though she doesn’t mean to – that my pendulum instantly swings the other way. I must stick up for Dan. Because he has a point.

‘I think he feels … he thinks …’ I trail off, and take a deep breath. I’m going to tackle this, once and for all. ‘Mummy, have you ever noticed that our wedding DVD is quite focused on, well, Daddy?’

Mummy blinks at me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Compared to … other people.’

‘But he was the father of the bride.’ Mummy still looks perplexed.

‘Yes,’ I press on, feeling hot and bothered, ‘but there’s more of Daddy on the DVD than there is of Dan! And it’s his wedding!’

‘Oh.’ Mummy’s eyes widen. ‘Oh, I see! Is that why poor Dan is so prickly?’

‘He’s not prickly,’ I say, feeling uncomfortable. ‘You’ve got to understand his point of view.’

‘I do not,’ says Mummy emphatically. ‘The DVD represents the spirit of the wedding perfectly, and, like it or not, your father was the centre of the party. Naturally the videographers chose to focus on the most entertaining character present. Poor Dan is a lovely chap, you know I love him to bits, but he’s hardly the life and soul, is he?’

‘Yes he is!’ I retort hotly, although I know exactly what she means. Dan is really funny and entertaining when you get to know him, but he’s not out there. He’s not going to sweep three women on to the dance floor all at once while everyone cheers, like Daddy did.

‘What a ridiculous thing to mind about,’ Mummy says with just a trace of disdain in her voice. ‘But then, poor Dan is a little sensitive, especially about Marcus and all his achievements.’ She sighs. ‘Although … can one blame him?’ She’s silent for a moment, and her face becomes softer and more distant. ‘What you have to remember, Sylvie, is that your father was a remarkable man, and we were lucky to have him.’