Made in Heaven (55 page)

The head had been super-kind and given her tomorrow off to do things like going to the church to see the flowers were in order. Like talking to Genevieve the caterer about last-minute things. Like transporting the dresses and the rest of the paraphernalia to Clapham. Like reminding Cal to pick up his wedding suit. Zannah hoped very much she wouldn't burst out laughing as she walked down the aisle towards him. When she'd gone with him to try it on, she didn't quite recognize the man who stood in front of her, and she'd gasped to see him so respectable. He'd even arranged to have a haircut without being nagged. They'd fixed up accommodation for Cal's mum and her cousin from St Ives and Cal's childhood friends. Now they'd arrived, she had
to check they were okay with where they were staying. Finding them beds had been a major operation. Cal had arranged it, rung up friends, booked b-and-bs, sorted them all out brilliantly. Still, however well organized you were, there was always the possibility of something going wrong.

Something was up already. Pa had decided to stay the night with Cal and Mattie at their hotel instead of at Charlotte's. Why was that? Had he and Ma quarrelled? What about? She wanted to know but dreaded the answer, so she hadn't mentioned it when she'd spoken to him. He'd sounded okay, but he was good at hiding things. I must speak to Ma tonight, she thought. She'd been at Charlotte's since the weekend, but things had been so frantic that they hadn't had more than a couple of hurried conversations and Ma was always hard to make out on the phone. You could never tell what sort of mood she was in.

Someone was knocking at the staff-room door.

‘Come in,' Zannah said. Marcella and Colm from Year Six were standing there. Marcella said, ‘Please, Miss, can you come with us?'

They made their way to the hall and the children held open the doors for her. Zannah stepped in and there was the whole school, clapping and whooping. Everyone was dressed up in party clothes. The head said, ‘Ready, children?' and then came the sound of the piano plinking out a few notes. Suddenly, they were all singing: ‘
Happy Wedding to you!
' to the tune of
Happy Birthday
. … ‘
Happy wedding, Mrs Ford, happy wedding to you!
'

Everyone, Zannah could see instantly, had worked tremendously hard. All round the hall paper flowers in shades of pink, mauve and fuchsia were taped to the walls and to every bit of furniture. There were thousands and Zannah wondered, how long ago they had started to make them. The girls had pink bows in
their hair and the boys had mauve ribbons worn as ties. Someone had been doing things with the office shredder and confetti in large quantities was being thrown at her, and when the singing was over, some of the little ones came running towards her and hugged her legs.

‘Thank you!' she started to say.

‘We've got a present for you, Miss,' That was Finn, one of Isis's friends, almost hidden behind a bunch of pink and white roses. Marcella gave her an envelope, curtsying as she did so. Zannah's eyes were full of tears. ‘I had no idea,' she said. ‘This'll be my best present, I know. You're all … Well, it's lovely of you to do this for me and I'm very grateful.'

‘You have to open it, Miss,' Colm said. ‘You have to see what it is.'

She tore open the envelope. Inside, there was a voucher for four people to go on the London Eye and a music token for twenty-five pounds.

‘That is fantastic! I've been longing to go on the Eye … and I don't know what I'll buy with the token, but I bet you'll all have your suggestions. Thank you so much. I'm … I'm so surprised by this!'

The head clapped her hands. ‘Now, children, line up please. The dinner ladies have made us a special wedding lunch. Mrs Ford? Will you lead the way, as you're the bride?'

Zannah handed her flowers to Claire, who bore them off to the cloakroom, and set off for the school canteen, with Isis, Gemma, Finn, Marcella and Colm following close behind her. The confetti, it seemed, was never-ending. Pieces of coloured paper were still falling into her hair and all over her clothes.

Joss was so deep in thought that she didn't see Zannah till she was standing next to her. She leaped to her feet, and Zannah said, ‘Ma? Is anything the matter? What on earth are you doing in the marquee at this hour of the night?'

‘I could ask you the same thing. You're the bride, supposed to be getting your beauty sleep. I didn't think anyone else would be awake. I couldn't sleep and I wanted to have a look before … well, before tomorrow.'

‘Today. It's after two. I'm the same. I wanted to see it while it was … I don't know. Untouched. I'll always remember it like this. It's beautiful, isn't it, Ma?'

‘Yes it is. I want everything to be perfect for you.'

‘But, Ma, what's the matter with
you?
I'm not so selfish that I haven't noticed you've been … well, not yourself. You're not ill, are you? Please tell me it's nothing like that.'

‘No, no, nothing like that at all.' Joss put out a hand and touched her daughter's shoulder, to comfort her. Even in this light, she could see that Zannah had turned white. ‘Let's sit down. I did promise your father I wouldn't say anything before the wedding but I think … '

‘Say anything about what?'

‘Let's sit down, darling.'

Zannah pulled out two of the chairs that had been brought in by the marquee men. The cloths were piled up on the buffet tables, waiting to be unfolded; the crockery and cutlery were lined up under muslin and there were baskets of sugared almonds beautifully wrapped in ribbon-tied bundles of silvery tulle waiting to be set out beside each plate. The flowers would be arriving at dawn. Joss sat down opposite her daughter. ‘I like the way this marquee looks in the dark,' she said. ‘I like the emptiness and all this cream and gold. Tomorrow it's going to be decorated and full of chattering people and noise and … Well, it's good to see it before that happens.'

‘You're making small-talk, Ma. Just tell me, okay?'

‘Your father had an email from Maureen. A horrible, horrible email.'

‘What did it say?'

‘Among other things, that I'd been
screwing her husband for years
. Which isn't true. I didn't … I haven't … I promised you girls. I've not been in touch with him since November. Then he turned up at a reading I did and … '

‘You've started seeing him again.'

‘No. I haven't. He wanted to, but I said I couldn't … I couldn't do it to Bob and you and Em. I didn't tell you the whole truth, back in November. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to think badly of me. I'm so sorry … it was cowardly. I simply … well, I didn't want to rock the boat. Not then. I feel differently now.'

Zannah said, ‘Oh, Ma, how awful! For both of you. I feel so bad now. Guilty. It's our fault. We hadn't any right to tell you what we wanted you to do. It's your life and we were just thinking of ourselves: how our lives would be affected by what you and Pa did. I think we're the ones to apologize. And I never said anything, not even to Em, but I always sort of suspected that there was more to it than you told us. I allowed myself to
be deluded because there was so much going on. I'm sorry, Ma, that you've had to go through this alone. And I'm sorry for Pa too. What happened when he got the email?'

‘We had a row. I told him I was still in love with Gray … He's left Maureen, you know. They're getting a divorce. The email, I think, was her way of hurting me because she was hurt. And also getting back at all of us, for what happened with you and Adrian.'

‘Are you and Pa going to get a divorce?'

‘God, Zannah, you don't need this now! I truly didn't want to spoil tomorrow. I was going to tell you later, after the wedding. I can't live with him any longer.'

‘But Ma, don't you love him? Not even a bit? Poor old Pa!'

‘Of course I do! You can't live with someone for more than thirty years and have children with them and not love them. He's been good to me, but he's been … Well, you know your father. He's in his own world for much of the time. He doesn't … he doesn't really
see
me any longer. He doesn't … Oh, God, I'm not telling you all this, Zannah. You're his daughter. I don't want to come between the two of you. I know I'll be hurting him, but I can't … '

‘I understand, Ma. Really. If you stay with him, then
you'll
be miserable. You have to go for what'll make you happy. I believe that. I don't think
anyone
ought to sacrifice herself. Or himself.' Zannah leaned forward and put her arms around her mother. ‘He'll be all right, you know. Em's going to Egypt with him, and Cal and I will take Isis up there lots and lots. Isis adores him and he'll always be her grandpa. He'll get over it. And you should tell Em about this too. She might think Pa's being hard done by, but she'll be okay with everything in the end, I promise. Don't worry, Ma.'

‘I
am
worried, Zannah. I can't help it. I don't know
how I'll tell Bob. Or when. I only know I'm going to do it. Very soon. I'm determined about that.'

‘Have you spoken to Graham?'

‘I don't know if he'll even want to speak to me after the last time we met. You see why I couldn't sleep, don't you?'

Zannah laughed. ‘I suppose so. But we should both try, don't you reckon?'

‘Yes. I'll be okay, I think. I wish I'd spoken to you earlier.'

‘Me too. Still, I'm glad you have now.'

Zannah stood up and took her mother's hand as they walked into the house together. Joss turned to lock the French windows behind her, glancing at the marquee which loomed ghost-white against the dark sky. She closed her eyes and made the sort of wish she used to make as a child: Please. Please let Zannah be happy and let me be happy too.

*

‘Good morning! I hope I'm not too early?' Alex, the photographer, was standing on the doorstep. Charlotte was ready for him. Even after the disturbed night she'd had, she was up before six. She'd dressed in a respectable house-coat, determined not to put on her wedding outfit till the last possible moment. The breakfast things were laid out in the kitchen, and the agreement was that everyone would help themselves when it suited them.

‘No, not at all,' she said. ‘We're all up. The flowers arrived a few moments ago. Maya's in the marquee, setting out the table decorations. The bouquet and the bridesmaids' posies and the buttonholes for the men are in the larder. Do just look around wherever you like. I'll tell Zannah you're here. She'll be down for a bite of breakfast in a moment, I'm sure.'

‘I'll go out to the marquee, then. Take some shots of the tables and so on. Please try to forget I'm here. Really. I don't need any looking after.'

‘Good. That's excellent. And do help yourself to breakfast or coffee or anything else you'd like.'

‘Thanks. The house is beautiful and so's the front garden. I bet the back's even better. I'm going to have a look.' He disappeared out of the French windows.

Isis came into the hall, still in her pyjamas. ‘Hello, Charlotte. Isn't it a lovely day? I'm so excited. Can I go and look in the marquee? Alex is here. I saw him.'

‘He won't want you getting in his way, dear. Why don't you come with me and I'll get you some breakfast? Where's Gemma?'

‘Still in bed. She's coming in a minute, she says.'

Charlotte led the way to the kitchen. ‘Sit down, Isis,' she said. ‘You'll need something inside you or your tummy will rumble all through the service.' She put a bowl of cereal on the table and handed Isis a spoon.

‘Will it?' Isis asked. ‘Really?'

‘Yes, indeed. Eat up.'

‘Can't I wait for Gemma? Or Grandma?'

‘No,' said Charlotte. ‘You'd better eat up now. It's going to get very crowded and busy in here later on. Lots to be done before we set out for church.'

*

Joss looked out of the window in Edie's room from which she could see most of the garden. She'd gone back to sleep for a couple of hours after her conversation with Zannah, but her eyes felt as though they were made of lead. Thank goodness a professional make-up artist was doing their faces this morning. Bright sunshine slanted across the grass, which Val must have brushed and combed for days to make it so smooth and green and velvety. The azaleas, the wisteria, the ceanothus: every shrub and flower looked as though it had been put in place by a set-decorator. The leaves fluttered a little in the small breezes that blew through the trees. Seven o'clock. Only four and a half hours to go to the service. Just over three and a half hours till the procession. Joss
hadn't been too keen on that idea, imagining everyone soaked and dripping, under umbrellas. That's my pessimism, she thought. Zannah had been quite sure that the weather would do what she wanted it to, and it had.

She turned to look at her outfit for the day, hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Back in March, when she bought it, she'd thought perhaps it might be too severe, too plain for a wedding, but last night, when she tried it on to show the girls, they'd both said she looked wonderful and she'd decided to believe them. The dress was a sleeveless silk sheath in the most beautiful dark peacock blue, and there was a collarless edge-to-edge jacket to go over it. With it, she intended to wear the pearls that had belonged to her mother: three long strands, joined together in a clasp at the back. Her hat, more of a decoration really, was small and black and Joss intended to take it off at the first opportunity. And there was her bag, lying innocuously on the chair by the door: a velvet envelope in the same colour as the dress. She thought of the piece of paper with Gray's handwriting on it, hidden in one of the inner pockets. It's like a small grenade, she thought. I don't have to pull the pin, but if I do … She pushed the thought away, unwilling to consider it with so much else going on. Later. There would be time enough.