Page 67 of A Midlife Marriage

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‘Well then.’ Standing at the far end of the Heritage room, Chloe held a black binder, with a gold crest, her face frozen in cheerful panic. ‘This has never happened to me before,’ she said.

Kay managed a weak smile. It felt like the polite thing to do. There were only four of them left in the room now, herself, her father, Alex and Helen. Caro was outside, talking to her brother and his wife. Tomasz’s two friends had left. Libby had gone to call her father and arrange a lift home.

‘Anyone have any suggestions?’ Chloe grinned.

This time Kay didn’t smile. The woman was relentless, like a stand-up comedian continuing with an act that was obviously failing. Besides, she didn’t have any suggestions. The situation hadn’t happened to her before either, or anyone else in the room. And certainly not to Caro, who had been dignity personified. Who had come in and made her announcement, no drama, no crying, just a simple explanation, which didn’t go into particulars, but did contain sincere apologies. It had been a superb display of calm under pressure, and she was proud of her friend. Very proud.

Smoothing down her poncho/cloak, Chloe turned to look at the clock. ‘It’s OK for everyone to sit as long as they want,’ she said. ‘The room is free all morning. Unless,’ she laughed, her head jerking awkwardly, ‘anyone else wants to get married!’

Stunned, Kay looked up.

‘Sorry!’ Chloe waved a hand. ‘Forget I said that.’ Her eyes were wide with astonishment as if she too, couldn’t believe what had come out of her mouth. ‘I’ll um …I’ll just go see …’ And she was gone, through a side door, exiting stage right.

Kay leaned back, her hands in her lap as she looked up at the elegance of the oak panelling and the decorative scrolls of the cornice plasterwork, the ceiling rose, from which hung a tiered crystal chandelier. It was a nice room to sit in, to wait, as they were doing, while Caro had some space to explain further to her brother. Explain what, Kay couldn’t guess, and as she thought this, she frowned. Helen, she was thinking, hadn’t even seemed surprised.

‘Mum.’ Alex nudged her.

Kay turned.

‘What about Grandad?’

‘What about him?’ Instantly her eyes flickered past Alex, to the next seat where her father sat. ‘Is he OK?’ He’d been so breathless after that stumble.

‘He can get married. He’s given notice.’

She blinked. ‘I know,’ she whispered, which should have been the beginning and the end of the conversation.

Unperturbed, Alex leaned in. ‘The registrar just asked if anyone else wants to get married.’

‘It was a joke, Alex.’ Kay kept her chin down and her eyes focused straight ahead as she spoke. This wasn’t a fairground. Taking turns. Who’s next? Your turn, my turn. But how to explain that? How to explain to a boy who had always experienced the world in straight lines, that there was an infinityof shapes in-between? Wobbly lines of inappropriateness, wavy lines of doubt, great circles of assumptions and huge squares of prejudice, influencing decisions, sculpting lives, manipulating behaviour. How to tease out the nuances, make it clear, again, that most of the time what people said, wasn’t what they meant. That you couldn’t trust the world enough to take it at face value. This was the boy who had once asked her if miniature daffodils grew in a minute. How to pollute such a beautiful mind?

‘We’re all here,’ Alex persisted. ‘Except, Lizzie, but we can call her.’

Kay turned.

‘I even have my suit on.’

Her lips pursed, the corners of her mouth curling as she gave up and laughed. He did have his suit on, which didn’t mean anything in her world, but made perfect sense in his. And whose world trumped? Whose world got to make the rules? Caro was going home. Once she had finished taking to her brother, she was going home. Which left Alex in his suit, and her father in his suit, and herself in a dress that had cost the best part of two-hundred pounds, and shoes that would leave her limping for weeks. All here to witness a marriage when there was no longer a marriage to witness, when, in such a short time from now, her father would marry in a room with an aertex ceiling and fluorescent lighting, where the only witnesses would be those who were paid to be there. And more, he would be marrying a woman she admired, a woman who had once ordered a wedding bouquet that she never got to hold. Slowly, she looked across at her father. He sat fingers entwined as he rubbed his thumbs together. She leaned back, thought for a moment and turned the other way, to Helen

‘Ask him?’Helen said.

Kay startled. ‘You heard?’

‘I heard.’ Helen nodded. ‘And sometimes I think Alex has more sense than any of us.’

The words were little pillows of air, they filled Kay’s chest, they made her heart swell with pride. Sometimes, she had thought the same herself, that her boy did have more sense. The easiest way, the path of least resistance in keeping himself and everyone else happy, that had been his one and only life-plan. ‘What about Caro?’ Her whisper dragged, hoarse with emotion.

Helen dipped her head. ‘I’ll talk to her, but she said she wants to be alone.’

‘OK.’ And although the situation – in her world – felt absurdly inappropriate, she leaned across Alex, into his world, and tapping her father on his arm said quietly. ‘I’m just thinking.’ She paused. ‘Actually, Alex was thinking, if we could possibly arrange it, do you think Lizzie would prefer to get married here? Today?’

For the longest moment her father didn’t speak, and Kay watched as he raised his chin and looked around. ‘It is a nice room,’ he said eventually, nodding at the chandelier.

‘Oh, Dad.’ She reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘Should we ring her? See what she says?’

‘I’ll wait,’Caro had said, after Helen had floated the idea, launching it as tentatively as a paper boat. ‘I think it’s a lovely idea. Lizzie can have my bouquet.’

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