Amanda's Wedding (38 page)

‘No, you didn't. I'm sorry. I should be a more graceful loser.'

‘Oh God, it's me that's the loser. I've lost everyone, you know. And Fraser isn't going to want to see me. Look at all the shit he's got on his plate. The last thing he's going to want to do is pick up with one of Amanda's buddies. In fact, he's probably over at Amanda's right now, apologizing and planning the whole thing all over again.'

‘I doubt it.'

‘So, please, don't make me have to lose you as well, by saying that I used you. Because I promise I didn't. Or, if I did, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry.'

He looked at me suddenly. The twinkle was back, if a little dimmed.

‘Did you …' he started. ‘Did you ever even consider it?'

‘Every day,' I said, almost truthfully.

He smiled.

‘Come here,' he said, and pulled me to him. We hugged one another for a long time in the front of the car.

Eventually, we pulled apart.

‘What are you going to do now?' he said.

‘I really want to go home. Are you going back to London?'

‘Actually, my mum's gone to the reception. So I'd better go and see everyone, especially as I'll be the only male McConnald around. It's a flak-taking exercise.'

‘Do you think your mum was pleased?'

‘Pleased? She'll be delighted. She'll be even more delighted to be over there drinking champagne and eating vol-au-vents at Mr Phillips' expense.'

‘He can afford it. Ehm, could you give me a lift to the station?'

‘It'd be my pleasure.'

Angus put me on the slow train back to London. He stood on the platform waving until the train pulled away, the sunlight glinting off his hair. I watched him until he grew tiny, then out of sight, then sat back in my chair with a sigh.

The woman opposite was staring at me strangely. Straining to see in the filthy train window, I realized I still had blood all over my head and mascara running down my face. Nice.

Suddenly, I realized I couldn't go back home; I was barred for Linda's big secret project. Jesus! Oh, fuck it. I didn't care if she was entertaining the Coldstream Guards in there, it was my home and that's where I had to go now. It wasn't my fault that I'd been to an imploding wedding. I'd stay in my room all day. Linda could cope.

I looked for a handkerchief in my pocket, before realizing that I was still wearing Angus's coat. God, the sweetie. It smelled reassuringly masculine, and there was indeed a handkerchief. It was embroidered in the corner with F.A.M. It was Fraser's, not Angus. I felt a bolt go through me. This was his. I clasped it like the most precious stone. I put it to my nose, but it only smelled of laundry, which I suppose in some ways was quite a relief. I dabbed a little at the blood and the mascara.

The woman opposite me leaned over. She was about fifty and a bit wholemeal-bread-looking – she was wearing lots of shawls, shoes that looked as though they'd been hewn from wood, and had thick wiry hair. She was attractive, in a fifty-ish kind of way.

‘I'm psychic, you know.'

Oh God. Nutter on the train! Just when I needed it least. I looked around the carriage for help, but everyone was studiously ignoring us – of course! This was a British train, what could I have been thinking of?

I nodded dismissively to her and wished I had a newspaper to hide behind.

‘I'm picking up very strong vibes from you.'

‘What, vibes that I don't believe in psychics?' I said, trying to smile politely and get her to shut up.

She smiled. ‘Well, that's OK. Lots of people don't. I have trouble myself, some days.'

I stared out of the window fixedly.

‘There's trouble in your life.'

‘Yes, well, that's probably a good average for everyone.'

‘It's OK,' she said. ‘Alexander loves you. Go to him.'

I sat bolt upright.

‘What did you say?'

‘I said, he loves you. Go to him.'

‘No, no, no. You don't understand. Did you say Alex? He's a total pig. Are you by any chance a reverse psychic? Are you Australian?'

‘No,' she said. ‘Sometimes I get the message and I have to pass it on. I can tell it meant something to you. So, there it is.'

‘It meant complete crap to me.'

‘Well, sometimes that's what your head says when your heart says different.'

‘No, sometimes that's what mad people say when you meet them on the train,' I muttered sullenly.

The psychic sat back, satisfied that her work was done, and I stared out the window, thinking furiously.

How on earth could she have known about Alex? I wouldn't put it past him to have set it up, the slimy little toad. But how could he have known I'd be on this train … this carriage? I shook my head fiercely to clear it and tried to concentrate on something else, anything else.

Like Fraser. As if the dam had burst, the lifting of the embargo let it all come flooding in. My angel in the snow. Striding like Mr Rochester from the church – I hadn't actually seen him do that, but I imagined it that way. His lopsided grin, his gentle eyes, his ready laugh … as London gradually came into view, through the suburbs and the railway stations. I couldn't possibly … well, I'd thought … but it was his wedding day, for Christ's sake. I couldn't hope to – I mean, he was probably trying to patch things up. After all, he'd turned up, hadn't he? Half an hour late, but he'd been ready and willing to get married.

Probably not the best time to ask him out.

At Waterloo, I moved through the crowds like I was swimming underwater. I knew I looked beyond ridiculous in my pretty dress and ruined face, but I didn't care. I just wanted to go home, pure and simple.

I caught a cab back to the flat. The street was quiet. It was bitterly cold, but inside Angus's coat I felt warm. I could, I supposed, go back to bed. Ignore the day altogether. It might be the sensible thing.

I crept up the stairwell and knocked quietly on the door before unlocking it with my key. Linda was there in an instant.

‘I'm sorry!' I said through the door. ‘I'm really sorry. The wedding went really wrong, and I didn't have anywhere else to go … Please, can I come in?'

Linda opened the door a crack and regarded me suspiciously.

‘I might have known this would never work,' she said dolefully. But, reluctantly, she opened the door and let me in.

‘Thank you!' I said gratefully. ‘I'll keep out of your way, whatever you're doing, I promise. In fact, I'll go to bed straightaway and stay there until you say I can come out. In fact, probably longer.'

‘It's OK,' she said. ‘You might as well go join your friend in the kitchen. We've been having a nice chat.'

Friend? Chat? I had no idea who she meant. Suddenly very nervous, I walked towards the kitchen door. Maybe Fran had returned early from her little adventure. Despite everything, I wouldn't mind her around to talk to just now.

Slowly, I opened the door – and the sight that greeted me surprised me so much that I couldn't say a thing, for once.

It was freezing in the kitchen – the window was open, as were the fridge and the freezer doors, I noticed. All
around the large room stood different model animals. There was a giraffe, a pelican, a wallaby – all large, and lovingly fashioned. They were brown, and so delicately made, that they appeared about to fly off, or gallop – as if they had been caught in filigree for an instant in mid-motion.

The kitchen table had been brought back in. Fraser was sitting at it. He looked tired and drawn, but he smiled at my amazement.

‘Aren't they stunning?' he said. I nodded.

‘I rather think your flatmate hides her light under a bushel.'

I turned to Linda.

‘You did these?'

She blushed furiously and shrugged.

‘What are they made of?'

‘Chocolate.'

I span in amazement.

‘All these are chocolate? Like Topics and Flyte and stuff?'

‘I sculpt,' she said shyly. ‘They're being picked up today for an exhibition. I practise small, but you have to put them together really quickly, otherwise it melts. And now it's hardening off. They're picking them up soon.'

‘Jesus!' I looked around at the edible menagerie. ‘They're absolutely gorgeous.'

Linda smiled. It was such a rare sight to see that I grinned right back. Then Fraser grinned at me. In an apologetic, lopsided kind of a way. It was like the reverse ending of
Reservoir Dogs
.

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my shoes. I moved closer to him. We were gazing at each other as if we'd been hypnotized.

I sat down opposite him at the table.

‘You can eat the tortoise, if you like,' said Linda shyly. ‘It came out wrong.'

‘Thanks,' I said, ‘but it's too beautiful to eat. Well, for a tortoise.'

And I kept gazing at Fraser. Realizing something was up – poor Linda, could I never let her be at home in her own house? – she retreated.

There was a silence.

‘So?' I said flippantly.

He hung his head.

‘So, you were right all along?' he said.

‘No, that's not what I was asking … That was a “So, what happened?” so.'

He looked at me.

‘You know, I never wanted to get married.'

I arched my eyebrows at him.

‘Really, I didn't. It all happened so quickly … and after we got engaged, I started to realize … just how wrong it was. With a little help from you and my brother, of course.'

I looked down. ‘Huh.'

‘And the wedding was arranged before I'd had a chance to blink. I felt … well, we were betrothed. I'd made her a promise. It would have been wrong to break it off, just because I'd changed my mind.'

‘No, it would have been kinder. In the long run.'

‘Maybe. Anyway, every time I tried to bring it up,
she'd brush over it. Said we'd be fine.'

‘I don't think that it was necessarily only you she wanted.'

‘No, me neither.'

He sighed.

‘I sat up all night last night. I don't even believe in God, but I nearly started to. Just for someone to give me guidance.'

‘Medieval knights used to do that.'

‘I know. It's very sore on the knees.'

‘And? Didn't it help?'

‘No. I sat there for ages, dozed off, woke up again – for hours. And then, by about eleven o'clock, I just thought: it's too late now. I'm a big cowardly bastard and I have to take what's coming to me. It was my punishment for not facing up to it earlier.'

‘Huh.'

‘And I didn't think she'd – well, do what she did. I thought she'd wait, and bollock me for being late.'

‘She must have known deep down as well.'

‘I suppose so. Ouch.'

‘What?'

‘Nothing. I just feel “ouch” every time I remember those things she said. Oh, and poor you!'

He touched my head and I suddenly became very conscious of what a fright I must look.

‘Oh, no, it didn't really hurt. I just got scratched by the thorns.'

‘She could have had your eye out.'

‘Well, you know … anything to help.'

He smiled, and stroked the scar tenderly. I shivered.

‘But, apart from that,' he said, ‘I think she did me a favour. I got out of it, and it was nobody's fault.'

‘Well, except for the fact that it was
your
fault.'

‘Yes, God, you're right, aren't you? It was completely my fault. I suppose what I mean is, I'm glad I'm not the one who came across as a heartless bastard. Because I'm not one, really. Well, I don't think I am.'

‘I don't think you are either.'

His hand still rested on my forehead.

‘Why did you come round here?' I asked.

‘To see you,' he said simply.

‘Oh.'

He looked down and took his hand away.

‘You and Angus … I'm sorry, I know it's completely none of my business, but is – was – well, anyway, there's not anything going on, is there? He said there wasn't, but I thought he might be trying to spare my feelings. He's like that.'

‘I know,' I said. ‘And no. There never was, really. I was … well, I hope I didn't hurt him. I think one of the reasons I liked him – not the only reason, because then I really, really liked him, you know, I think he's brilliant … But, well, I think, well, he kind of reminded me of you.'