Made in Heaven (42 page)

A camera phone shone silver in his hand. Could it be that Adrian hadn't owned one until now? No, apparently he had, but this one was clearly the latest model.

‘Take a picture of me, Adrian. I want to see it. Please, please.' Isis was excited and pushed herself closer.

‘Hang on a mo, Isis,' said Adrian, sounding cross and clutching his present to his chest in what seemed to Emily a rather childish reflex. ‘I'll take your picture in a minute. Sit down for a sec. I want to get a shot of the whole scene.'

He sprang up and went to stand at the window. Everyone froze, transfixed by the sight of a camera. ‘Right … Don't move. There you go!'

He walked around after taking the picture, showing everyone the result of his labours. To give him his due, Emily thought, it wasn't bad. He'd got everyone in except Ma. Zannah, Isis, Pa and Charlotte were smiling. She herself didn't look as dreadful as she sometimes did in photos. The tree was as sparkly and, garish as it was in real life.

‘You're not in the shot, Joss,' Adrian said.

‘I don't mind, really,' said Ma, turning her face away from the camera, which Adrian was now pointing in her face. ‘I hate being photographed. And especially not now … I look … I'm not ready, honestly.'

‘Nonsense,' said Adrian and clicked. ‘There you go! Lovely shot.'

Ma was flustered. Adrian showed the picture to Pa, who announced that it was terrific and that Ma looked ‘a treat'.

‘Now me, Adrian. Please. You promised.' Isis was jumping up and down.

‘Okay, okay! Anything to stop you nagging!'

Adrian didn't sound as light-hearted as he should have done and Emily glanced across at Zannah to see whether she had spotted this exchange. Of course she had. Her sister would notice the smallest detail right across a room. She was frowning. Emily didn't fancy Adrian's chances of getting through the day without a row.

‘There you go, Isis. How d'you like that?'

He sounded more friendly. Isis said, ‘Can you print it out for me? Later, on the computer.'

‘No problem,' said Adrian. ‘Now, watch out, everyone. I'm going to see if it works. I'm going to send these shots to my mother in South Africa.'

He did a bit of fiddling with buttons on the silver face, then said proudly: ‘There they go. And, what's more, I'm expecting some back from her any minute. We gave one another matching presents.' He smiled at Zannah.

Ma stood up and said, ‘I've got to check the turkey.'

She left the room rather quickly. Emily thought she'd caught panic on her mother's face and followed her. No one else was bothered. They were all too busy with their presents.

‘Ma? Are you okay? Is anything wrong?'

‘No, not really. I'm a bit annoyed, though, to have my photo beamed to South Africa so that Maureen can gloat about how awful I look in comparison to her. You wait, she'll be dressed up to the nines in the one she sends back.'

‘You look fine to me, Ma.'

‘I suppose so,' she said, sounding unconvinced. ‘It's just that I'm not even properly dressed yet. I don't really relish being photographed in this state.'

‘Don't worry about it, honestly. No one takes that
kind of photo seriously. They just delete them and move on to the next thing. And maybe Maureen'll have pulled a horrible face. She's just the sort of person who mugs in front of the camera.'

Ma bent to open the oven door. She basted the turkey with its own juices and replaced it before she answered. ‘I'm sure you're right, Em. Silly, really, to be so vain at my age. I'm going to put on some make-up now. Can't believe Adrian won't be taking photos as we're tucking in to Christmas dinner.'

That's the spirit,' Emily said. It was only after her mother had gone upstairs that she realized what was behind her mother's unwonted vanity. It was about Graham Ashton, she was quite sure. He'd be seeing those photos too. Even though Ma had promised she was never going to see him alone again, it must still be flattering at her age to have a man declaring his love, and she'd be less than human if she didn't want to look her best.

*

‘Have a look at this, Graham!'

Maureen's voice sounded too loud in his ear but it was Christmas Day so he smiled and said, ‘Adrian's sent you a pic already, has he?'

‘It's the Gratrixes' lounge. It's rather a mess but it's hard to judge properly. They've obviously been opening presents. Still, that tree's a bit of a disaster. I'm surprised. Zannah should have been allowed to do it herself. That's probably Joss trying hard and not getting it right. I'm not at all sure her talents lie in an artistic direction.'

Gray stared at the small screen. There they were, smiling, happy, and Lydia wasn't in the picture. Perhaps she'd stepped out of the way. It was perfectly possible that she wouldn't want to have her photo beamed across the world to him.

‘Here's a picture of Joss herself … and this one's the
dining room before they sit down to eat. Good old Adrian! I did ask him specially to take one of the table. It looks all right, doesn't it? Old-fashioned, of course, but very nice and traditional. I like the centrepiece. There was something not unlike it in Martha Stewart's Christmas book. Joss is pale, isn't she?'

Maureen had passed him the phone and he gazed at Lydia's picture. She
was
pale. There was a hunted, anxious look about her, and no wonder, with Adrian pointing the camera at her when it must have been the last thing she was expecting. Still, it was a photograph of her and the only other image he had was the jacket photo from
The Shipwreck Café
. They'd been mad not to send one another photographs over the Internet. He wondered how he would be able to transfer this, his first sight of her for a long time, to his own email. He said, ‘Nice pictures, aren't they? Send them to my email and I'll get them printed out for you if you like when we get home.'

‘Will you? How lovely! Thanks, darling.'

She fiddled with her phone for a while and Gray leaned back against the cushions of the sunlounger beside the pool. He was having a much better time than he'd expected. Mostly this had to do with seeing Jon again. He'd forgotten how well they got on; how restful it was to be with a son who loved him sincerely and wasn't constantly judging him. Ever since he and Maureen had married, Gray had been aware of Adrian contrasting him with an ideal, never-seen father and finding him wanting. This evening, they'd be having Christmas dinner here in the hotel with Jon and his girlfriend, Lynne, and Gray knew Maureen would take pictures of the occasion to send to Adrian's phone. It couldn't be helped and a part of him wanted Lydia to see him. Let her think he was having the finest time in the world and getting over her nicely. He smiled to himself at how often the camera lied. It was true that
here, at this distance, it was easier to forget about Lydia for hours at a stretch, but then something would remind him of how much he loved her. Whenever they lay beside the hotel pool, Gray closed his eyes against the dazzle of the sun on the turquoise waters and imagined that she was next to him.

Maureen wasn't waiting for Christmas dinner. She was taking a photo of him now, as he lay there. He opened his eyes and smiled straight at the camera. He said, ‘I hope you've got the pool in. The umbrellas, the table and so forth.'

‘Absolutely. You look fine. Now it's your turn. Take a couple of me and we'll send them straight away. I don't want Adrian to have to wait till tonight to see how lovely it is here. What a good time we're having.'

Dutifully Gray took a couple of shots of Maureen, who was looking particularly sleek and happy. When he'd finished, she called over his shoulder to someone walking behind them. ‘Hello? Excuse me, I wonder if you'd mind? I'd love a photo of me and my husband to send to my son. Would you mind taking it?'

The hapless hotel guest who'd been landed with the task did it with rather too much enthusiasm for Gray's liking. ‘Ach, that's lovely … Cuddle up now! Put an arm round her, man! That's right. Terrific. I think I'll take another. Turn to look at her … Yah, that's great. Fabulous. Have a look!'

He held out the phone so that Maureen could check the shots. They're marvellous!' she said. ‘Thanks so much. It's very kind of you.'

‘My pleasure.' The man wandered off and Gray closed his eyes again.

‘I've just sent them to Adrian,' Maureen announced.

‘Fine,' he answered. Would Adrian show the photos to everyone? He and Maureen had appeared radiantly happy and together. Would that cause Lydia pain? Part of him hoped it would but mostly he flinched at the
thought of how she might feel. He wished he could phone her this minute and say:
It's not true. None of it. It's just a show. I wish I could be with you
.

*

‘Best Christmas dinner ever, darling,' said Bob.

‘You say that every year.' Joss took a sip of wine.

‘It's true every year,' said Charlotte.

‘I don't want any of my sprouts,' said Isis. ‘Can I leave them? Can I get down?'

‘Not yet, sweetheart. There's pudding still to come,' Zannah said.

‘I don't like pudding. Can I get down?'

‘Go on, then, if you must. It's better than having you grumbling away down there at your end.' She wasn't exactly irritated, but Joss could tell that Isis was getting excited and that would only lead to Zannah being cross with her later.

‘Who wants more roast potatoes?' said Bob. ‘I know I do.'

Emily stood up. ‘I want to drink to Ma,' she said, ‘and say thanks. Not just for a lovely Christmas dinner but also for a really amazing Christmas present, which you might not all know about.'

‘Em, please,' said Joss. ‘That's between me and you girls.'

‘No, I think everyone should know. Ma is sharing some of her Madrigal money with me and Zannah, which is more than nice of her. Thanks, Ma.'

‘It's a pleasure,' Joss said.

‘I tried to talk her out of it,' said Bob. ‘I said she ought to keep the whole lot, but she wouldn't hear of it.'

‘Can we change the subject, please?' Joss said. She'd decided to give her daughters five hundred pounds each almost as soon as she'd received the cheque. Zannah, she knew, from the relief and delight on her face as she'd opened the envelope, would probably use it for
something specific, her wedding dress perhaps. She'd told Joss that it wouldn't cost more than a thousand pounds. She'd explained about her savings and her special fund, but since she was a teenager, Zannah had been so clever about fudging, concealing and downright lying about the cost of things that Joss didn't believe her. With the bridesmaids' dresses, fifteen hundred could be considered a bargain. What Emily would spend her share on, she didn't know.

‘Look, everyone!' Adrian said, as Joss was cutting the Christmas pudding. ‘My mother's sent some photos from South Africa.'

‘Fantastic,' said Zannah.

‘Let's have a look,' said Bob. The silver rectangle was passed round the table and finally reached him. ‘God, what amazing definition. Must see about getting one of these, Jossie. I could send home photos of the desert when I'm away. Here, have a look, darling.'

He held out the phone so that she could see it and helpfully scrolled through the pictures for her. A couple of Maureen in a swimsuit, irritatingly glamorous. Good figure. Good skin. She seemed to be shining. Suntan oil, Joss thought, but she took in the gold chains round the neck, the manicured hands and the smile, lipstick carefully on, even though Maureen was by a pool, for heaven's sake. She was meant to be swimming, not at a cocktail party. There was a shot of Gray, looking slightly away, almost in profile. Then one of him staring straight at the camera. Joss's heart thudded in her chest and seemed to be growing, expanding to take up all the air so that every breath she took was difficult. She closed her eyes. Gray. At that precise second, she would have given anything, anything, to transfer those two images to her laptop. To make them hers. She wanted to skip the jolly games they'd be playing after lunch, run to her study, stare at the screen and kiss his picture, like a soppy sixteen-year-old. She had to clench her hands
under the tablecloth and smile inanely to deflect the sharp glance she could feel Charlotte giving her across the table. I'm not cured, she thought. I'm as bad as I ever was. I want him. I want to be with him. At that point, she was almost ready to stand up and announce to the lot of them that she was leaving, going to be with Gray, however it might affect other people's happiness.

Then Bob clicked through to the next shot, and everything changed. There was Gray again with his arm round Maureen and they looked … they looked happy. They looked like lovers. They looked together. Joss felt nauseous. She couldn't bear to think of them like that. They couldn't – Gray couldn't – put on such a show of marital bliss unless it was at least partly true. Maybe he still thought of her sometimes. Maybe in the dark hours of the night he regretted the way he'd walked out on her, but here was the proof that he was perfectly composed. He was unmarked by the experience. He didn't seem to be suffering in the very least. He appeared carefree.

South Africa was only a couple of hours ahead of Britain. What were they doing now? Would they make love tonight, all cosy and comfortable and happy after Christmas dinner with the wine flowing? I must stop, she told herself. I must stop thinking about it. She wished she could do what Isis had done and ask to get down from the table. As it was, she had to go on sitting there, eating Christmas pudding which might have been baked cotton wool for all the pleasure it was giving her.

*

Technically, Boxing Day was already here. It was three o'clock in the morning and Joss was wide awake. The whole house was full of people: Bob in their bed, Zannah and Adrian in Zannah's old bedroom, Em in hers, Charlotte in the real spare room and Isis on the divan in Joss's study. She'd gone downstairs at about two, after lying staring at the ceiling for hours, using
all the relaxation techniques she could remember, and trying to block out the sound of Bob's rather snuffly light snores. Nothing helped. Her head was full of rags. That was what it felt like: someone in there stirring up everything and leaving it in chaos.