Happily Ever After (46 page)

“Can you explain to me what the point of this is?” she hissed to the man standing next to her at their table, waiting to sit down. “Who are you?”

“No idea,” he said unhappily. “Well, I’m going out with Amy—” He pointed at the large bridesmaid on the top table. “My name’s Joe. But in this, I’m someone called Mr. Hurst. I don’t even know what that means.”

“He’s in
Pride and Prejudice
. He sleeps a lot, don’t worry,” said Elle, holding up the eye mask to show him. “This could come in handy.”

“Jesus, this is stupid,” Joe hissed. “I hate this bloody fuss. Why can’t we just have some food and some drink and go home, eh?”

“I’m with you, Joe,” Elle said with feeling. “I. Am. With. You.”

“Hello hello,” said a voice behind them. “Good-o, I’m next to you.”

She turned around again. “Oh. Jeremy. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so over the moon to see me,” said Jeremy.

“Sorry,” said Elle. “This is Joe.” She stepped back. “Joe, this is Jeremy. He used to work with the happy couple.”
The happy couple. They’re married. Libby is married to Rory. Jeremy is sticking a thin mustache on because we are at their themed Jane Austen wedding.
“Mr. Wickham?” she guessed.

“Oh yes,” said Jeremy wolfishly.

“Who’s he?” asked Joe. “I’m an idiot, I don’t know any of them.”

“The villain,” said Elle. “And don’t feel bad. It’s showing off and it’s really duff. And ridiculous.”

“She’s just jealous they’ve stolen her idea for her own wedding,” said Tom, stroking his sideburns with pleasure as he sat down next to Jeremy. “Hi, Jeremy, nice to see you again.” He turned to a girl on his other side, a friend of Libby’s from home who Elle guessed must be Jane Fairfax, by the fact that she was next to Frank Churchill and had been given a miniature piano.

“Hi, I’m Tom, nice to meet you,” he said. He looked at her place name. “Hi, Maya.”

“I fucking hate Jane Austen,” said Maya. She ground her teeth. “This is fucking stupid.”

Pretending to be putting something in her bag, Elle covertly watched Tom’s profile as he talked politely to Jane Fairfax, smiling as he poured her some water. His hair curled, just slightly, behind his ears, at his neck. He was so different from the cold, distant man he’d been the first time she’d met him. He was more relaxed these days, happier, more himself, she supposed. But there was still something about him that meant
he held her—and everyone?—at arm’s length. She wished she knew what it was.

The footman reappeared.

“Please raise your glasses… Mr. and Mrs. Sassoon!”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and Libby and Rory stood up and bowed. Libby gave a small wave, smiling at them all as she did. Elle clapped politely, but the rest of the table—the most disgruntled people in the room, it was obvious—could barely muster a single clap between them. Maya clutched one arm with the other and stood like a moody teenager. Jeremy was checking his phone and half-clapping. And next to her, Joe snorted. “Who does she think she is, the bloody Queen of England?”

Tom raised his eyebrows and smiled across at Elle. She smiled back, each knowing what the other was thinking. She chewed her finger, trying not to laugh.

“Please take your seats,” said the Master of Ceremonies. “Before the wedding breakfast is served, Mrs. Sassoon will now read a poem she has written.”

“More champagne,” said Jeremy hastily, reaching down and producing two bottles from underneath the table.

“. . . THE OTHER THING
about Libby that’s so wonderful is that she really cares about people,” Annabel intoned, crushing the pages of her speech again so that they crackled loudly against the microphone. “When I have been down, she has been amazing to me as a friend, you know? She’s a really special person. And that’s why she and Rory are going to be so great together?”

A polite round of applause rippled slowly across the airless ballroom. Annabel licked her lips and swallowed, turning another page of the speech. She bent over and took a sip of water.

From their position in the corner at the back, craning right to see the speeches, Joe—who was practically Elle’s best friend by now—turned back to Elle and whispered, “What’s up with this one, then? Is she in love with the bride or what?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy smoothly. “Got the hots for her. Follows her round like a puppy.”

“It’s an amazing day for them and for us to be a part of,” Annabel went on, both hands clutching the speech. “It’s also a great day for the book trade to have two people so passionate about books joining together as one to continue their love affair with themselves and with books—er—” she faltered, “with books.”

“God help me,” Jeremy said, sotto voce. He nudged Elle in the small of the back. “Check out Felicity’s expression.”

Felicity was ramrod straight in her chair, one side of her lip curled up, totally still.

“Those of us who were on the epic hen weekend in Newcastle”—here Annabel paused, clapped a hand over her mouth, and giggled again, like a geisha—“have sworn ourselves to secrecy! About the teddy bear we will say no more!” The other bridesmaids, apart from Amy, laughed hilariously.
Elle gritted her teeth, then noticed Felicity was doing the same. “All I
can
say is, ‘Hammertime!’” She held her hand over her mouth until her nervous hysteria had died down. The guests waited, mostly stony-faced.

Annabel looked down at the rest of the speech. “Anyway, so—Libby, I’m really really happy for you, and look I’m so so sorry? About the mistakes in the order of service?” she said in a rush. “Here’s to the happy couple, Libby and Rory, yay, cheers!”

“I’m going out for a fag,” said Jeremy, standing up, as the rest of their table clapped, and Annabel plumped herself down next to a stony-faced Libby. “Come with me?” He jerked his head towards the open door, not three feet from where they sat. Elle looked round nervously. Would someone notice?

Over at the top table, Rory stood up, and tapped the microphone lightly. “Hello?” he said.

“Sure,” said Elle, getting up. She caught Tom’s eye as she did. He looked at her, questioningly, and she paused.

“In the time-honored tradition of these things,” Rory began, “let me begin by saying that my wife and I…”

“Let’s go,” she said, and she and Jeremy slipped away.

Outside, Jeremy handed Elle a cigarette, and Elle, who didn’t really smoke but who enjoyed one occasionally—and now was as good a time as any—accepted it gratefully, still aware that she was being rather naughty.

“Here you go,” said Jeremy, leaning against the wall of the building. He lit Elle’s cigarette. “Thanks.” Elle inhaled deeply. Rory’s voice, amplified by the microphone, crackled in the silence of the hot afternoon.

“The first time I met Libby, I… well, I don’t remember it, I confess,”
he said, to laughter and applause.
“The great love story of Rory and Libby is that we began as friends. We worked together for several years, though I must also confess that I always found her
extremely attractive. But the truth is, I was too chicken to do anything about it. I felt, and rightly so, that she was too good for me.”
There was a pause.
“I’m sure many of you would agree.”

Elle stared into the distance, at the newly green oak trees lining the edge of the park. She scrunched up her eyes in the sun, and bit her lip. Inhaling the cigarette had given her a head rush. She realized she must be a bit drunk. She couldn’t take it like she used to.

“I know about you two,” Jeremy said.

“Oh,” said Elle.

“Know it’s in the past. Jus’ was thinking this must be weird for you,” he said, and Elle knew he was a bit drunk too.

“I am happy for them,” she said quietly. “It’s only…” Stinging tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s strange, hearing some stuff. I was… I did love him. Big part of my life, it was. But he and Libby are perfect for each other,” she finished.

“Too right they are,” Jeremy said, and he laughed sardonically.

“It’s just odd being a guest at the wedding. When you dreamed about it for so long, even if you were a different person, and it was years ago. Sounds so stupid. I was stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Jeremy tapped his cigarette ash onto the smooth flagstones. “You were pretty adorable back then, you know, Elle.”

“Hardly,” said Elle. “But thanks.”

“S’true,” said Jeremy. “I had a bit of a thing for you, with your crop and your long legs, head in the clouds but always looking so worried about everything. And you got pissed really easily. It was cute.”

“
You
had a thing for
me
?” Elle grinned, wishing her younger self was here to hear this.

“Oh, yeah,” said Jeremy. “For about a week, yeah.” He nodded seriously.

“A whole week?” said Elle. “That’s pretty long for you.”

“I know. I even thought about making a move, when we went over to Bookprint, but you were all silent and weird by then. Makes sense, I suppose. Then you were off. Poof!” He raised his hands in the air, showering himself with ash. “Shit,” he said.

Rory’s voice floated into the pause that followed.

“She has made me the man I wanted to be… the person I think I’m supposed to become…”

Elle shook her head, trying to block out Rory’s voice, and stubbed her cigarette out, feeling a bit sick. “Jeremy, I had a crush on you that you wouldn’t believe. We all did. If you’d tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to…” She trailed off. “I don’t know. But I would have done it.”

Jeremy raised one eyebrow. “Very interesting indeed,” he drawled. “And you and Tom? What about him?”

“What do you mean?” Elle was blindsided.

“Well, what’s going on with the two of you? You arrive together, you’re all buddy-buddy.”

“Nothing’s going on, seriously,” Elle said. She shook her head.

“I thought he was living with that hot Caitlin girl and the baby. I dropped them off in their road last year after an event at his bookshop.”

“What?” Elle scratched her neck, trying to look casual. “Oh, yeah.” Tom had said they were living together, hadn’t he?

“Yeah,” said Jeremy. “Remember it ’cause it was a weird address. Yorkshire Road, Richmond. And there’s a Richmond in Yorkshire, too. You see, it’s confusing.” He nodded, his head almost lolling.

“Oh,” said Elle. “I didn’t know that.”

She shrugged, helplessly, trying not to seem concerned. “Well, that’s good. Strange, eh! Yorkshire Road, Richmond!” she said, keeping her voice level.

“We should go back in,” Jeremy said. He patted her shoulder. “You’re lovely.”

She stared at him. “Gosh, you remind me of someone, and I can’t remember who it is.”

“José Mourinho, some people say,” Jeremy said promptly, trying to look modest.

“Who?”

He stared at her in horror. “God, you vile American girl. Go back to New York. José Mourinho? Only the greatest manager we’ve ever had.”

“Who’s we?”

“Good grief.” Jeremy stubbed out his cigarette. “He’s finally finished, you can go back in.” He pushed her towards the door and Elle followed him gratefully, realizing what he’d done.

As they reentered the ballroom, people were clapping and they slipped back into their seats virtually unnoticed, Elle squeezing Jeremy’s shoulder as they did. She looked up to see Tom’s eyes fixed on her as she sat down.

OK?
he mouthed.

Sure,
she mouthed back, shortly, annoyed at his concern and feeling childish for being annoyed. She wasn’t the hysterical ex-girlfriend at the wedding, she had this under control. He had Caitlin and their daughter in a nice flat in Richmond. And she—she was fine. He nodded, and turned away.

AFTER THE MEAL
came the disco. Elle looked for Tom, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. By now it was after nine, but it could have been three in the morning; Elle had lost all sense of time. Her glass kept getting refilled. At some point, she and Jeremy started dancing, and she danced through the pain of the beautiful Kate Spade coral heels. Then suddenly “Beautiful” came on, and ten couples leapt onto the floor, as if they’d been hanging around for a slow song. Jeremy held out his arms, and Elle walked towards him.

“Come here,” Jeremy said, and she swayed with him, knowing she must be pissed—she’d never swayed to a slow tune on a dance floor before, not unless you counted the leavers’ disco at her primary school when she was ten, with her and Imran dancing to “Careless Whisper.”

“It’s so good to see you, Jeremy,” she said, into his neck. “You’re so nice. Always was.”

“You too, Elle,” Jeremy said. “Lovely.”

He had his hands on her waist, and he moved one onto her bottom. She did the same, and they danced like that for a minute, turning round and round. Elle started to feel a bit dizzy, and she was aware from some of the dirty looks they were getting that they were intruding on other couples’ dancing areas. She patted Jeremy’s back.