Lottie couldn’t help smile at that.
Oh, Cora, I felt so much lighter watching her getting into the car after that, seeing her face clear of troubles as she waved at me before starting up the engine.
I hope I have helped. I hope they can see things right. Oh, Cora, how we love her.
And how I love you.
Teddy x
Chapter 29
Love is like throwing yourself out of an aeroplane – giddy, reckless, amazing – you just have to trust you’ll land safely
MAISIE, 81
I had basically spent the last forty-eight hours apologising to people and I was exhausted. Grandad’s reveal had made me feel so much lighter and I was excited about seeing Luke at Amy’s wedding. It was worrying to hear about Arjun and I was so grateful Luke was helping him on such a wonderful, positive project.
Picking up the phone I called Luke to make plans. It hadn’t been the big, tearful reunion I had in my head. It was a somewhat stilted conversation made worse by the fact he immediately launched into practicalities and I was distracted by trying to get a sesame seed out of my teeth.
‘So, Amy’s wedding – we’ll travel separately because you’re needed earlier.’
‘OK.’
‘I need to come and pick up my suit.’
‘OK.’
‘So I’ll do that on the morning of it and then get on a train.’ Aware I had said ‘OK’ too much already I plumped for, ‘Sure.’
‘Right.’
‘Right.’
‘Well, I’ll see you there then.’
‘OK.’ Gah. This was harder than it seemed. I should have said, ‘I miss you’, I should have said, ‘Luke, I’m a prize idiot, you’re awesome and I shouldn’t have pushed you into leaving and Grandad told me what you’ve been doing, which I think is fantastic, and I know Storm is just a Little Mermaid Wannabe who you aren’t sleeping with and I wuv you so baaaaaadddd’, but I said nothing, just sat, scraping at my teeth and feeling tongue-tied.
‘Sleep well.’
‘You too,’ I said miserably, waiting for him to hang up first.
Chinese takeaway abandoned, sesame seed from tooth removed, I swept around the whole flat ensuring it was spotless. Although I wasn’t going to be in the flat when he returned at least I knew where he was going to be. In a careful round hand (so many emails and texts meant my handwriting still surprised me), I spent an age composing a letter for him. That had been Amy’s idea. Her big plan. And she was always right. So with no excuses, no explanations, I just sat and wrote a simple letter outlining how sorry I was, how much I cared for him and how I missed him and hoped he could forgive me. It felt like the most weighty, important envelope in the world as I tasted its rank, salty edges and sealed it shut. Placing the small box that contained cufflinks I had engraved with his initials on the top of it I stood back. A small gesture for him to find.
Leaving the house early on the morning of Amy’s wedding, her mum’s car waiting for me in the street outside, I laid out his dry-cleaned suit and put the two items on the top. Nerves fluttered inside me as I stared back at my offering, and then I pushed through the door carrying bags and hangers with me as I clattered down the stairs to help my best friend get married.
Five hours later I was standing outside a church in a small village in West Sussex where Amy’s parents had retired, wearing a blush pink chiffon maxi dress and trying to herd errant pageboys and flower girls into some kind of order. The guests had all filtered inside and we had arrived in a car just ahead of Amy and her father. Amy’s sister Natalie was bent down negotiating with Tom, who had refused to give up his Spiderman figurine in favour of a basket of rose petals. A full-scale row was ensuing and it was eventually deemed acceptable that Spiderman would be making an appearance too.
Amy drew up in the car outside and as she appeared through the lychgate with her dad I couldn’t wipe the big grin from my face. She looked spectacular, the lace overlaying the satin making her dark skin look even smoother, her eyes glittering as she looked at the church ahead. The cream veil lifted in a passing breeze as if she was a Disney princess. The photographer was snapping from every angle. Even Tom had stopped scowling.
Moving down the aisle, clutching tiny hands on either side and trying not to scan the pews for Luke too obviously, I felt grateful to be there. Amy and I had shared champagne as the make-up artist had done her hair and make-up and everything had seemed comfortable and relaxed. She had laughed over the blue lace garter I had given her, insisting on wearing it underneath her dress. Now Pachelbel’s Canon in D was playing and I was walking down the aisle, staring straight ahead, leading the rabble of children like a well-dressed Pied Piper.
Will looked grey as he waited for his bride and I tried to give him a reassuring smile before slinking into the pew opposite him. He turned, caught sight of her and his face relaxed, colour flooding back into his cheeks.
Smoothly stepping forward to take the bouquet from Amy, the strong scent of roses and sweet peas wafting round me, I saw him. He was standing at the end of the third pew back looking straight at me, his navy blue eyes trained on me as I bit my lip and tried to drag my eyes away and focus on the Order of Service in my other hand. I could feel the beats of my heart hammering through my chest and hoped he liked the way my hair was done, the dress. For the rest of the service I was aware of him, tantalisingly close but so far away, trying to detect his voice among the hymns and promises, eyes swivelling to him in the silent moments. Always his eyes flicked over to me too and I found myself glowing inside, desperate to see him, to feel his arms around me, to know things were going to be all right.
As he reached to smooth his hair I saw a flash of silver and knew, with a grin, that he was wearing the cufflinks I had left out for him. Reminding myself I shouldn’t get too excited, he might just be being friendly, I tried to keep my gaze neutral and not stare back at him too much. The service seemed to go on for ever and I was considering leaping over pews one and two to get to him. I needed to know. I needed to know now. Amy had chosen hymns with lots of verses and I started to pray the organist would play double tempo, get that beat going, get us out of there. I almost forgot to hand over the bouquet at the end and tripped down the aisle after Amy, clutching Will’s brother’s arm, craning my neck over my shoulder to see that Luke was watching me leave.
Loitering by the doors, holding out a basket of confetti for people to take, I could see him slowly moving towards me, in the shadows of the church interior. He was talking to some girl with an enormous peacock-style fascinator and had yet to notice me in the doorway. I practised my surprised-to-see-you-smile, which felt strained as the minutes ticked by and an older couple in front of him had paused to tell the vicar the sermon had been good. Yes, yes, it had been excellent, well done, I’m sure he knows, let’s keep this queue moving, people, some of us have lives to live and boyfriends to see. This was the moment. He emerged blinking into the sunshine and as he passed me he reached his hand into the basket.
‘Luke, hi,’ I said softly.
‘Lottie.’ His voice was loud as he spilled rose petals around my feet. ‘God, sorry.’
The queue was still moving and a bald man behind Luke was leaning his grubby paw into my basket. Luke seemed to be swept away in a tide of bodies and that had been our big reunion. My body wilted with the anticlimax.