The Guest List(67)

‘Look,’ Dad says, ‘sure, I’m not the best role model for this wedding stuff, I’ll be totally honest. I believe I have wife number one and number five here this evening. So I suppose you could say I’m a card-carrying member of the club … though not a very good one.’ Not very funny – though there are some dutiful titters from the spectators. ‘Jules was – ahem – quick to point that out to me earlier today when I attempted to offer some words of fatherly advice.’

Fatherly advice. Ha.

‘But I would say that I’ve learned a thing or two over the years, about how to get it right. Marriage is about finding that person you know best in the world. Not how they take their coffee or what their favourite film is or the name of their first cat. It’s knowing on a deeper level. It’s knowing their soul.’ He grins at Séverine, who positively preens.

‘Besides, I hardly felt qualified to give that advice. I know I haven’t always been around. Scratch that. I have hardly ever been around. Neither of us have been. I think Araminta will probably agree with me on that.’

Wow. I look towards Mum. She wears a rictus smile that I think might well be as taut as my own. She won’t have enjoyed the first wife bit because it’ll make her feel old and she’ll be livid at the suggestion of parental neglectfulness, considering how much she’s been enjoying playing the gracious mother of the bride today.

‘So in our absence, Julia has always had to forge her own path. And what a path she has forged. I know I haven’t always been very good at showing it, but I am so proud of you, Juju, of all that you have achieved.’ I think of the school prize-giving ceremony. My graduation. The launch for The Download – none of which my father attended. I think about how often I have wanted to hear those words, and now, here they are – right when I’m most furious at him. I feel my eyes fill with tears. Shit. That really caught me unawares. I never cry.

Dad turns to me. ‘I love you so much … clever, complicated, fierce daughter of mine.’ Oh God. They aren’t pretty tears, either, a subtle glistening of the eyes. They spill over on to my cheeks and I have to put up the heel of a hand, then my napkin, to try and staunch them. What is happening to me?

‘And here’s the thing,’ Dad says, to the crowd. ‘Even though Jules is this incredible, independent person, I like to flatter myself that she is my little girl. Because there are certain emotions, as a parent, that you can’t escape … no matter what a shite one you’ve been, no matter how little right you have to them. And one of those is the instinct to protect.’ He turns to me again. I have to look at him now. He wears an expression of genuine tenderness. My chest hurts.

And then he turns to Will. ‘William, you seem like … a great guy.’ Was it just me, or was there a dangerous emphasis on the ‘seem’? ‘But,’ Dad grins – I know that grin. It isn’t a smile at all. It’s a baring of teeth. ‘You better look after my daughter. You better not feck this up. And if you do anything to hurt my girl – well, it’s simple.’ He raises his glass, in a silent toast. ‘I’ll come for you.’

There’s a strained silence. I force out a laugh, though it seems to come out more like a sob. There’s a ripple in its wake, other guests following suit – relieved, perhaps, to know how to take it. Ah, it’s a joke. Only it wasn’t a joke. I know it, Dad knows it – and I suspect, from the look on Will’s face, he knows it too.





OLIVIA


The Bridesmaid


Jules’s dad sits down. Jules looks a wreck: her face blotchy and red. I saw her dabbing her eyes with her napkin. She does feel stuff, my half-sister, even if she does a good impression of being so tough all the time. I feel bad about earlier, honestly. I know Jules wouldn’t believe it if I told her, but I am sorry. I still feel cold, like the chill from the sea got deep under my skin. I’ve changed into the dress I wore last night, because I thought that would piss Jules off the least, but I wish I could have got into my normal clothes. I’m keeping my arms wrapped around myself to try and stay warm but it doesn’t stop my teeth chattering together.

Will gets to his feet to hollers and whistles, a few catcalls. Then the room falls silent. He has their total attention. He has that sort of effect on people. I guess it’s how he looks and how he is; his confidence. How he’s always totally in control.

‘On behalf of my new wife and I,’ he says – and is almost drowned out by the whoops and cheers, the drumming on the tables, the stamping of feet. He smiles around until everyone settles down. ‘On behalf of my new wife and I, thank you so much for coming today,’ he says. ‘I know Jules will agree with me when I say that it is a wonderful thing to celebrate with all of our most cherished loved ones, our nearest and dearest.’ He turns to Jules. ‘I feel like the luckiest man in the world.’

Jules has dried her eyes now. And when she looks up at Will her expression is totally different, transformed. She seems suddenly happy enough that it is hard to look at her, like staring at a lightbulb. Will beams back at her.

‘Oh my God,’ I hear a woman whisper, at the next table. ‘They’re just too perfect.’

Will’s grinning around at everyone. ‘And it really was luck,’ he says. ‘Our first meeting. If I hadn’t been in the right place at the right time. As Jules likes to say, it was our sliding doors moment.’ He raises his glass: ‘So: to luck. And to making your own luck … or giving it a little helping hand, when it needs it.’