The Beard (34 page)

Sheila smiled. There was affection in Richard’s fatigue, but she didn’t relish the prospect of attending a wedding where she knew no one. This was especially true, given the fact that they’d be known as
‘the parents of the dumped boyfriend’. Anonymity was one thing but pity, quite another. The prospect of being introduced as Tom’s mother, only for people to register that he’d been betrayed by one of the attending family members was, perhaps, too much to tolerate.

Sheila felt sure that once she was in her room for the night, she could feign a headache. “I’d certainly appreciate being able to freshen up,” she smiled. “It was a very long drive.”

Adam stepped forward. “I’ll show you to your room,” he offered.

Tom looked at his parents. “Thank you for that, Judith,” he said courteously. She smiled apprehensively and nodded. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to host Tom’s parents, but she felt for them. It couldn’t be easy and she didn’t envy his mother’s position. Not only that, but she was afraid that Sheila may have one or two choice things to say to her daughter as the evening wore on. Having Tom’s parents, a free bar and the woman who’d cheated on their son all in the same place was a potent mix. Judith felt sure that Sheila would hold her tongue – purely on the basis that she was outnumbered. However, it wasn’t something of which she could be entirely sure.

“Hello!” Amy said, turning into the room wearing an entirely appropriate innocent white dress. Her bath-fresh face and eyes, which portrayed naivety rather than complicity, challenged Tom’s parents’ perceptions. They were meant to. Amy walked straight up to Sheila. “I’m sorry I was so long. It’s been such a crazy day.”

Sheila smiled. “Hasn’t it?” she said with a hint of irritation.

“First of all, can I just say that I’m sorry we’ve dragged you both here?” Amy said, careful to ensure that she and Tom were in it together. “We kept meaning to reply to your calls, but it’s been one thing after another, so sorry that you had to come all this way. Especially as it interrupted your holiday.”

“Holiday?” said Judith in shock. Michael looked at her, before reluctantly confessing that they’d been holidaying in Scotland when they heard the news. For Judith, this changed everything. This wasn’t just a mission of curiosity, this was a parents’ dash to their child’s side. That they’d been inconvenienced as much as she had put them on a level playing field. They do have a right to chastise Tom and Amy for this, she mused, before realising that she’d allow only a certain amount before intervening. “I’m so sorry,” she added. “I had no idea. Oh, my dears, how awful. Do you see what you two have done?” she said, momentarily getting angry on behalf of the league of the inconvenienced.

“We’re sorry,” said Tom. “Really.”

Amy stood by Sheila. “Look, there’s nothing I can say that’ll make this better. There’s nothing I can do. Really, I know that. But it’s not quite as simple as you think, and it’s not as straightforward as it appears.”

Amy was in an impossible position. She had two options: be thought of as a slut by both families and the assorted stragglers gathered in the drawing room, or out Tom. It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it was one of their own making.

Tom had refused to spill the beans, despite spending all day in a police station and being ridiculed in the national press as a man with a drug-running, adulterous girlfriend. He’d absorbed all of the pity, dressed as empathy, from those in the house. To do all of this and still remain true to their agreement was above and beyond the call of duty. Yes, she could save her reputation but, in so doing, she would potentially ruin his.

She had no choice and she knew it.

“Tell me, Amy,” Sheila said, her mood stiffening. “Did you love him?”

The room fell silent – a cold silence, where no one knew what would happen. Was this the opening salvo in an onslaught, or merely a direct question? Sheila was surely within her rights to ask, having seen her son’s reputation tarnished.

“Yes, of course,” Amy replied. “I still do. Your son is an amaz…”

“Not my son,” said Sheila with a clipped tone. “This man. This drug dealer with whom you had a relationship while going out with my amazing son.”

Everyone looked at Amy. Sheila had delivered the question with laser-like accuracy and devastating politeness. A protective mother – an angry mother – was now seeking answers. Amy glanced at Tom, who looked away. Was it too much to ask that he could save her one more time? To do so, he’d have to declare his sexuality to his parents, Amy’s parents, her family and, seemingly, the world. In one fell swoop, Amy would be reprieved (in part) and sympathy would swing behind her. In some sense, was now not the perfect time to do it? Then again, in one fell swoop, Tom’s parents would be denied grandkids and the
‘happy ever after’ they craved. His mother’s religious propensity wouldn’t benefit, either. As such, as easy as it would be to tell all, now was not the time. It was, however, time for Amy to return the favour. 

The tension shot through the room like a bolt of electricity. Seemingly, the temperature fell as an icy mood replaced the wrath of the hearth. Again, Amy looked at Tom.

“Mother, not now,” he said imploringly.

Sheila didn’t take her eyes off Amy. “No,” she said, “now.”

Everyone in the room considered something to say, anything to break the moment and free them both. It could turn nasty if not handled correctly. It was because of this that everyone sat in silence, examining the possible permutations their intervention could have.

Amy continued to stare back at Sheila. “Well... If you want the truth, yes, I think I did. I realised a while ago that I loved Tom as a friend. Just that. Sam was more than that. Well, I thought he was more than that. I told Tom about Sam some time ago.” Sheila was wrong-footed. Perhaps there was more to it than met the eye. She refrained from looking at Tom but, in some way, he already knew that she was. “Then we stopped seeing each other and started again. Which brings us to now. I know you don’t want to believe me, but your son is my best friend. We’ve talked and talked about this and, although it’s ended in a way that neither of us wanted, it was going to end anyway. I know you think I’ve betrayed your son, but trust me when I tell you that there was nothing to betray.”

There were so many statements bundled into Amy’s monologue that everyone spent time poring over each one. What did she mean by that? What was she alluding to? Was she just trying to shift the blame? It seemed that she was trying, craftily, to dodge the bullet. However, as Sheila stood there, she was struck by the simple fact that Tom remained by her side. Was he still in love or were they, as Amy suggested, best friends? Sheila wasn’t sure. Something wasn’t entirely right. She felt certain that there was more to the story than they knew.

Sheila nodded and smiled. “As you say, Amy, there’s a lot that I don’t know. I suspect there’s a lot that all of us don’t know.”

Tom sat rigid. He was sure no one was suspecting THAT, but he had to control the situation yet again.

“Let me show you to your room,” Judith said. “Richard, pour Michael another drink.” Judith walked to Sheila and gestured towards the door. Everyone in the room held their breath. It was obvious that Judith wanted to get Sheila on her own. Was this to be a fight? Would there be fisticuffs? The door closed behind the two women as they disappeared from sight and sound.

An eerie silence clung to the room. Everyone stayed still, as if a slight movement would set off a chain reaction.

“This is all your fault,” Adam said to Amy. It was meant playfully but, somehow, it wasn’t delivered as such. Amy turned and stared back at him.

“It’s not just Amy,” Tom added, seemingly faithful to the last. “But can we please, just for the rest of tonight, forget all this crap? Just for one night, can we just put today behind us? Can we please try to salvage something of the evening? I know we’re not the only ones, but we’ve had a really shitty day. What I’d like is to have a few beers, some food maybe, and a relatively early, peaceful night. Is that OK with everyone else?”

Everyone nodded in hearty agreement.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” asked Amy.

Richard and Michael looked at one another. “Probably,” said Richard with ill-deserved nonchalance. 

“I’d imagine so,” added Michael.

“So, let’s get you that drink,” Richard replied, the matter
over.

A
t that moment, Ash burst into the room. “Oh. My. God. Your mothers are in the pond in the garden, pulling each other’s hair out – it’s so
Dynasty
!” Everyone leapt to their feet and made for the door, truly terrified by what sight awaited them. “Only kidding!” said Ash, smiling and clapping. “They’re next door, chatting away.”

Tom was in no mood for any jokes and slapped Ash across the top of the head. Ash was about to protest when he saw a definite withering glance. “Not funny,” said Tom sternly. “Not funny at all.”

Ash looked affronted, his latest effort to get everyone smiling having fallen foul. “Get
her
,” he said under his breath. Adam looked at Ash and then at Tom, his wide eyes sending an unmistakable message.

Ash sauntered further into the room
and stood behind a chair for protection. “I just wanted to tell you that the disco has started, the buffet is coming soon and the bride started to cry when someone requested the DJ play a song by The Police – and before you shout, no, it wasn’t me. So, you can do one of two things – sit here and look like wet weekends or come with me and TRY to have some fun. Let’s be honest, it can’t be worse than this, can it?”

There was a moment of sanity within the room. Ash had a point – it couldn’t be worse than this, could it? So why not? Why not try to have a good time? It was just about possible that if they tried hard enough, they would.

“Come on, then,” said Richard, rising. “Let’s go and drink their scotch.” Everyone stood up and shook themselves down. “I’ll grab the women and we can all make our wedding debut together.”

“Let’s do it,” said Ash. “One big happy family!” Everyone turned to look at him, inhaling with diminishing impatience. “Oh, smile, why don’t you?” he said. “It’s not like your day can get any worse!”

Approaching the marquee, with its pyromania of coloured lights and sounds, all eight guests walked in silence. Husband linked with wife, cousin with cousin and friend… not with friend.

Richard, who led the party, paused momentarily outside. A blur of colour and sound emanated from behind two frosted French doors that led the way into the tented structure. What was on the other side? Who would be there? Would the presence of the eight new guests be welcome or not? In saying that his niece had requested their company, Richard had distorted the facts. In truth, she hadn’t. Feeling fairly bruised by the day’s activities and being overshadowed by her (more glamorous) cousin, Claire had indicated that they could join the party “if they liked”. It was hardly a ringing endorsement. Richard, however, had convinced himself this had merely been big-day jitters. Surely, they’d all be welcome now?

The sound of people laughing, chatting, drinking and general merriment was a stark contrast to their theme of the day. Th
ey stood, anxious to go forward yet determined to do so. The warmth from the canvas dome, with its welcoming sounds and sights, illuminated their faces as they stood in the dark. An early-autumn evening allowed for some crisp, clear air, which could almost have constituted a chill. Richard knew that there was no merit in procrastination – and besides, he’d soon be told to get a move on by those not wearing a jacket.

He reached out and
grabbed the handle, then paused as if having second thoughts. Just as Amy was about to say something, the door was pushed open and a burst of heat hit them all. It was a strange feeling, as they’d all wondered if they’d be greeted with warmth of any variety.

In they marched, proudly but nervously. Richard took a few steps in and stopped. Everyone fanned out either side of him, as they all realised that they’d made their entrance onto the stage. It wasn’t the surreptitious entrance that Richard h
ad imagined. The disco classic
I Will Survive
continued to play, as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared towards the stage. The room froze and every stood in silence as the soundtrack aptly captured the moment.

“Go on now
, go, walk out the door, just turn around now, ‘cause you’re not welcome any more…”

Still they all stood, as if in an identity parade, facing forwards, looking at the blank faces staring back. One face in particular, a woman in
a white gown, was scowling back at them. It was one thing to be upstaged by proxy, but quite another during the event itself. A few hundred inebriated faces stared back at them. Still the music played and still the room gawped in circus-like excitement. Roll up, roll up, the freaks are now in town.

“As long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive, I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give. I’ll survive…”

Edith walked towards the front of the stage from the dancefloor and began to applaud. Not sure why a band of misfits were being applauded, the DJ turned the music off. A lone handclap echoed across the cavernous space. The stage show looked uncomfortable, until another joined in and then another. Amy knew that this wasn’t for her. She grabbed Tom’s arm and led him down a set of stairs, away from the stage. The applause was for the day’s survivors, not the culprits. Before long, the room echoed to the sound of applause. Ash bowed and returned the hand clapping, grateful for his deserved adulation.