A Proper Family Christmas (23 page)

The photographer – a friend of a friend – halted the whole party on the steps of the building so that he could take a group photograph. As the photographer arranged the tableau and Annabel tried to sink into the background she heard someone – another cousin – exclaim, ‘Oh wow, an Aston Martin! Is that the wedding car?’

‘No,’ hissed Mark’s boss Jim. ‘The bride came in my Mercedes.’

‘Oh,’ said the cousin. ‘That’s a pity. That’s a right proper car there.’

Annabel pinched the bridge of her nose and whispered to Richard, ‘We’ve got to wait until everyone else has left the car park. We can’t be seen getting into the Aston.’

Ronnie had printed out instructions on how to get from the register office to the pub for the reception, though in reality, apart from Chelsea’s boyfriend, the Buchanans were the only people at the wedding who did not already know the King’s Head. Going to the King’s Head for the first time was a rite of passage for anyone who grew up in the Bensons’ hometown. It was where Mark, Ronnie and Chelsea had all had their first (illegal) drinks, arming themselves with fake ID, though the landlord back then wasn’t really a stickler when it came to drinking age. And neither, thankfully, were the local police, who had far better things to do than nick sixteen-year-olds for getting wasted on snakebite.

The King’s Head was the kind of pub where you could order snakebite without blushing. It was not, however, the kind of pub where you could say Cabernet Sauvignon without raising eyebrows, as Richard discovered when he went up to the bar. The red wine on offer made vinegar seem a preferable tipple. Richard soon bowed to pressure from his new ‘father-in-law’ Dave and accepted a pint of lager instead.

Annabel was on water, of course, though she had possibly never wanted to get blasted more. What she would have given for a bottle of champagne. Or even a bottle of cider. When Dave asked why Annabel wasn’t drinking she said it was because she would be driving back.

‘Fair enough,’ said Dave. ‘If I had an Aston, I wouldn’t let anyone else drive it if they’d had a drink this year.’

Richard went to the buffet and filled two plates with food.

‘Is it all brown?’ Annabel asked.

‘Be nice,’ Richard reminded her. ‘The cake looks good.’

The Buchanans’ gift to the newlyweds was placed on a table by the cake with all the others. The ‘cake’ was in fact a tower of cupcakes. They were iced in the colours of Coventry City FC. Jacqui and Ronnie had made them. At the appointed time, the newlyweds stepped up to the cake table and made a big show of cutting a very small cupcake in half with a ceremonial sword that had hung above the bar in the King’s Head for years (except for one memorable night, when Jason Collerick – Harrison’s uncle – fetched it down and threatened to cut off his own brother’s head after a fierce argument over who should buy the next round). Anyway, that afternoon the sword was used for much more peaceable purposes. The newlyweds posed for photographs and then Jack and Sophie helped to hand the cupcakes round. Annabel took one for Izzy at Jack’s insistence.

‘They’re going to open the wedding presents next,’ said Jack. He was very excited. ‘I can’t wait to see what they’ve got.’

Annabel agreed. Though for different reasons.

‘They’re opening the presents now?’ she mouthed at her husband when Jack and Sophie had moved on to the next table. ‘In front of everybody?’

It wasn’t what happened at any of the weddings Annabel and Richard had attended. Richard shrugged.

‘Well, I suppose at least we’ll get to see what Ronnie really thinks of our gift.’

As the wedding guests ate their cupcakes and wandered to the bar for top-ups, Mark and Ronnie set upon the gift table. They enthused over tea towels and an apron that was printed with a naked lady’s torso. They went into ecstasies over a coffee machine. They were effusively grateful for a beer-making kit.

‘Though this present isn’t really for the bride,’ Ronnie complained.

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Mark. ‘You drink way more beer than I do.’

Finally, Ronnie picked up the Buchanans’ gift. Annabel squirmed just a little. Though she had pretended otherwise, she had actually put a great deal of thought into the gift she’d chosen for her newly found sister and right at that moment she felt as she had done at school, when the English teacher picked up her homework book with the intention of reading an extract aloud to the rest of the class. The awful possibility that no one else would think the work was any good left Annabel paralysed with fear. Ronnie read the label.

‘To Ronnie and Mark, with best wishes for a wonderful future together as Mr and Mrs Edwards, from Annabel, Richard and Izzy Buchanan.’ Ronnie smiled at Annabel. It seemed as though the entire room turned to see who Annabel was, though Annabel doubted there was anyone who didn’t know. Jacqui had already made sure of that. ‘We’re going to be Benson-Edwards, actually,’ said Ronnie. ‘So we can be all posh like you.’

‘It’ll take more than a name change!’ shouted the best man.

Ronnie went as if to shake the present.

‘Only joking,’ she said. ‘I ought to be careful. I bet this is something good.’

Ronnie began to pull away the sticky tape. It was fairly easy to get into the package. Annabel prided herself on being especially good at gift-wrapping. She’d once even taken a day-long course in wrapping, back when she was heavily pregnant with Izzy.

‘Oooh,’ said Ronnie, as she revealed the first corner of the drawing’s gilded frame.

The guests all seemed to strain towards her to find out what was so good.

‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ said Mark. ‘Thank you. We really appreciate that.’

Mark seemed genuinely pleased with the gift. Annabel felt her shoulders sag in relief.

Ronnie turned the frame round so that the guests could see the print inside. Annabel was struck once again by how special that little picture was. She almost wished she’d kept it for herself. But she was sure that Ronnie was as delighted by it as she had been when she spotted it in the window of the shop in Pimlico. It was such a delicate rendering of a young girl. She hoped that Ronnie too might be struck by the resemblance to Sophie. Annabel was going to point it out but then Ronnie said:

‘This is really great. Thanks very much. We’ll be able to put one of our wedding photos in this.’

And Annabel realised with horror that Ronnie didn’t even realise that the picture was the gift. She thought the Buchanans had given her a frame!

Richard coughed. Annabel was about to say something. That beautiful print. That carefully chosen picture. It was worth five hundred pounds! And Ronnie thought it was just some random image to be replaced by a wedding picture. But Richard had reached over and was squeezing her thigh, quite tightly. Annabel glanced at him.

‘Don’t,’ he mouthed.

So all Annabel said was, ‘I’m so glad you like it.’

And she had to leave it at that.

‘Now for the entertainment,’ Mark announced. ‘Ronnie, you know you are the love of my life. From the moment I first saw you smoking behind the bike sheds at school—’

‘I never smoked!’ Ronnie insisted.

Laughter from the guests who had known Mark and Ronnie for years suggested otherwise.

‘All right. Let’s rephrase that. From the moment I first saw you doing your homework in the library, I dreamed that one day you would be my wife. That day has finally come and because I’m a man of few words—’

‘Whatever, Dad,’ said Sophie.

‘Because I’m a man of few words, I’m going to celebrate our love with a song. Jack? Bill? Are we ready?’

Granddad Bill and Jack sailed into the middle of the room on Bill’s wheelchair. Jack was carrying a CD player. He jumped off Bill’s lap and placed it on the cake table.

‘Tonight,’ said Mark, ‘ladies and gentlemen, we are the “Two and a Half Tenors”.’

Jack, Bill and Mark took a quick bow.

‘A-one, a-two, a-three …’ Jack counted. Then he skipped to the CD player and pressed ‘play’.

‘Well,’ said Richard, when the entertainment was finished. ‘You’ve never lived until you’ve heard ‘Nessun Dorma’ played on spoons …’

A little later, Jacqui came over to join them.

‘What was your wedding like?’ Jacqui asked.

‘It seems like such a long time ago,’ said Annabel. ‘But it was wonderful.’

What would her wedding have been like if she had grown up with the Bensons? Would Granddad Bill have serenaded her with burps in front of Richard’s extremely grand relations?

‘We had a marquee in the garden,’ she continued. ‘I had three bridesmaids. One was Kate, my best friend from college. The other two were distant cousins of Richard. They were only little girls. Seven and nine. They wore floral dresses to match my bouquet, which was made of peonies. I’ve always loved peonies.’

‘Oooh, lovely. I’ve always like peonies too. Isn’t that funny?’

Jacqui seemed keen on pointing out the likes she and Annabel had in common.

‘Mum made my dress,’ Annabel continued.

‘Did she?’

‘She’s a very talented seamstress. She was always making clothes for me and my dolls. I still have the dress tucked away in a cupboard. I’ll never get into it again but I thought that perhaps Izzy might like it.’

‘I’d love to meet her,’ said Jacqui. ‘Sarah. Your mum.’

Annabel paused. She didn’t know what to say to that.

‘I mean, I’d like to have the chance to thank her for looking after you. If I had known what a lovely family you’d gone to, I’d have been a lot happier all these years.’

Annabel had a flash of sympathy for Jacqui then.

‘Yes. Well, you certainly couldn’t have chosen a better set of parents. I have been very well loved. I never wanted for anything and I can honestly say that, on top of being a great mother, Mum is one of my very best friends. I’ve been blessed.’

Jacqui blinked as though trying to stave off some tears. Without thinking, Annabel reached out and squeezed her hand. So far, since that first meeting at the Ridgeview, she had avoided any physical contact with any of the Bensons as far as she was able. With Jack it was impossible – he was always launching himself at her for a hug – but with the adults, Annabel had largely succeeded in keeping her distance.

But now, just for a second, Annabel could actually feel something of Jacqui’s pain, rather than the anger and disappointment that had characterised her feelings for her birth mother thus far. That it should have happened then, at Ronnie’s wedding, over a plate of sausage rolls, was odd, but it was definitely there. Annabel knew what Jacqui meant. How awful must it have been? Annabel could not imagine entrusting Izzy to a stranger. Knowing that Sarah was with Izzy while she and Richard were at the wedding was a huge comfort, even now that Izzy was almost seventeen.

‘I don’t blame you,’ said Annabel. ‘For what happened. You did your best for me and, as it turned out, I couldn’t have had a better upbringing and a happier childhood. I’m grateful to you for that.’

Jacqui nodded and they might have gone deeper still but they were soon interrupted.

What seemed like hundreds of people dropped by the table in the next hour, all hoping for an introduction. Jacqui had not been shy about telling people how Annabel had suddenly come back into her life. Annabel heard plenty of bitching about her maternal grandparents, who would have had to eat their words if they’d seen how little Daisy had turned out. Private school! Oxford!

Annabel was tempted to point out that if she had stayed with Jacqui and Dave, both of those would almost certainly have been out of the question. Eventually, she knew she had to get out of there, before she did say something upsetting. This was not the right moment for it.

‘We’d love to stay longer but we’ve got to get back home for Izzy,’ she told Jacqui.

No one could argue with that.

‘Should we say goodbye to Ronnie and Mark?’ Richard asked.

Of course they should say goodbye to the bride and groom but Annabel wasn’t sure she wanted to. It would mean inserting themselves into another group of strangers – possibly more relatives. Annabel was feeling tired thanks to the baby and the effort of making so much small talk for so long. It was bad manners not to say goodbye but …

‘They’re busy,’ said Annabel. ‘They won’t notice us slipping off.’

However as they started to make their way towards the door, Ronnie did spot them and she shouted right across the room.

‘Wait!’ she said.

Annabel froze. There was nothing worse than being caught in an act of rudeness. She turned to the bride with a smile.

‘You can’t go yet.’

‘Izzy—’ Annabel began.

‘I know. But I’ve got something to give you first. Where is it, Mark? Quick.’

Mark went over to the bar. The landlord handed him an envelope, which Mark passed to Ronnie so that she could give it to Annabel.

‘We had a collection. Every time someone went up to the bar, we asked them to stick a quid in the jar. Not to pay for their drinks, because obviously we’re covering that this afternoon, but to give to you. So you can give it to the Kidney Foundation.’

Ronnie gave Annabel the envelope.

‘There’s about five hundred quid in there,’ said Mark.

‘Most of it’s ours,’ shouted the wife of the best man.

Jacqui joined them in the centre of the room now.

‘Everyone was really sad to hear about Izzy,’ she said. ‘Everyone wants to help in whatever way they can. You can give it to someone at the hospital, can’t you? They’ll know the right person to pass it on to.’

‘And there’s going to be more,’ said Ronnie. ‘We got given two coffee machines so we’ve asked for one of them to go back to the shop so that you can have the money instead. Same with the pressure cooker. I’m never going to use that. Even if I am a married woman now.’

‘Better hope it wasn’t stolen,’ said someone nearby.

‘Thank you,’ said Annabel. ‘This is really … it’s really something.’

Ronnie opened her arms to give Annabel a hug. Annabel let herself be embraced. She was glad of it, in fact, because her eyes were filling up. She felt a hundred emotions all at the same time and one of them was guilt. The generosity of the wedding guests she had not wanted to spend time with was real and overwhelming. These were good people.