Did The Earth Move? (25 page)

Eve had to laugh at this: 'Sex in the lotus position!'

'Try it. It's a challenge,' Jen cackled back at her, then added: 'You're going to be fine, you silly moo. Call the vet.'

'No, no. I couldn't.'

'Call the vet,' Jen said again.

'It's Nils. Why do we keep calling him the vet?'

'I don't know, it sounds much dirtier. What's Dennis's wife like anyway?'

'She's OK . . . she's the kind of wife Dennis should have: businesslike, groomed, confident, runs her own company... has driven her daughters to drugs,' she couldn't help adding, a tiny bit gleefully.

'Really?'

'Well, I don't know. Anna said they've been in rehab, but for all I know, it could have been chocolate addiction, you know Americans. I'm being a bitch, I've only just met these people.'

'Are you glad it's not you? Married to Dennis, living in the States, running your own company and whatever else?'

'Yes,' Eve said, without having to think about it.

'Well, that's OK then. He hurt you all really badly but it's turned out OK.'

'You're right,' Eve said finally. 'I think we're doing a good job.'

'We're doing the best we can. What more is there?'

There was a pause in which they both smiled and felt the warmth of each other's affection, acknowledged each other's support over the years, through the happy times and through the really tough times.

'What are you wearing to the wedding?' Jen asked then.

'Oh wait till you see it!'

'When?'

So they made their arrangements to meet up and finally said good night.

Eve tiptoed into the children's room and smoothed covers, patted hair and kissed cheeks.

Anna had fallen asleep with her book open in her hand: it was her well-worn copy of
Families and How to Survive Them.
Eve had to smile at that. She gently eased it out and put it down on the bedside table.

She went into the kitchen and did her chores, then made tea. In a life full of little rituals, this was one of Eve's favourites: the gentle
whump
the tea caddy lids made when she pushed up the latches with her thumb, ahhhhhh, the smell of the tea – her own mix, two-thirds Earl Grey, one part Darjeeling – the rustle of the leaves when she dug in, and the clank of the spoon as she stirred the boiling brew round her favourite old teapot.

When the cup was poured – yes a little blue and white porcelain
cup,
with saucer and teaspoon, for private tea drinking – she took it through to her bedroom, turned on the gentle orangey sidelight and got undressed, letting her clothes fall into a heap at her feet until she was naked.

It wasn't a bad body for 42, little breasts with solid nipples, a stomach with soft skin but firm muscles underneath. She ran her hand down from her belly button to the quiff of hair on her pubic bone and twirled it in her fingers for a moment. Mummy muff . . . that still made her smile.

She opened the door of her wardrobe now and took out the dress she had chosen for Tom and Deepa's wedding. She slid it off the hanger and smoothed it over her head down onto her naked body.

It was perfect. A below the knee, cream coloured, crocheted dress. Pure 1970s with sleeves that flared out from the elbow and an on the bias thing going on which made it slither over her hips and thighs. It was secondhand of course, vintage in fact. From the kind of shop she popped into on the odd occasion to buy presents: cutesy little handbags, brooches or scarves.

It was the first time she'd bought a dress there. A whole dress. But this was her son's wedding after all. They'd also kitted her out with a big floppy straw hat and a crocheted bag. She had just the right shoes, which she strapped on before taking a long look at herself in the mirror. It was just what she wanted, Faye Dunaway with pink highlights.

This was how the dress should be worn, with nothing underneath. But when she'd shown it to Anna like this, there had been a horrified reaction:
'Mum!! Nipple alert, nipple alert!'

So she would wear glossy beige underwear underneath. One didn't want to upstage the bride by causing any sort of nipple sensation.

She couldn't help herself from thinking that she could get married in this dress . . . this was the perfect outfit for foxy forty-somethings to take their vows.

Oh listen to me ... Did she really think she'd be a bride again, fall for that romantic dream? Only youth and optimism, like Deepa and Tom, could go for that now. Well, well, sip of tea. Stop being so bleak. Who knows what lies around the corner? Didn't life always throw up the biggest surprises just when she thought she knew exactly what was ahead?

Eve was finding it hard to resist touching the sculpted buttock moving up and down within arm's reach of her face. The muscle tone was incredible: curved, hollowed, sinewed with steel. That was lap-dancing for you, night after night of doing squats in high heels, you got the bottom of an Olympian Greek.

'Don't let her sit on your skirt,' Tom was shouting in her ear, in an effort to be heard above the belting music: 'You'll never get the fake tan off.'

'You do the money thing . . .' Eve shouted back, 'I'm too nervous.'

'Na-ah. You have to do that. I'm a married man ... almost.' Tom grinned at her and took a drag on his cigar.
Cigar?
How much had they drunk for Tom to be smoking a cigar?

There was a glass of something pink and pretty in her hand. She took a sip and had absolutely no idea what it was, but... gorgeous. She took another sip.

The dancer's long fake brown legs were on either side of her knees now and she was shaking a minuscule triangle of sparkle bikini in front of Eve's face. Eyes fixed on this little silver triangle, Eve wondered if she should really have accepted an invitation to Tom's stag night.

It'll be cool, Mum,' he'd assured her. 'Everyone's coming.'

Everyone consisted of about three tables full of a very eclectic crowd: young Tom-types from work, medical student friends of Deepa's and then a lot of 'Tom-friends' – the office sandwich lady, a variety of neighbours, that kind of thing. His wedding was going to be very interesting.

She slipped a rolled-up tenner into the dancer's hand rather than her bra or stocking top or . . . well. . . anywhere else. And now Denny was asking her if she was OK and she felt as if she was answering in slow motion.

'I'll be fine ... drunk a bit too much.' She tried to smile but her face didn't seem to want to obey instructions.

'Dennis. Now he's a bit of a wanker,' Denny said and took a big swig from his glass.

She put hers down on the table and told herself once more not to pick it up again. 'So you spotted that then,' she said.

Denny sent a wobbling smoke ring up into the air above them.

'Well. I don't know ... I hardly know the guy. He's very into his work, isn't he?'

'Who is?' Tom leaned into the conversation now, breathing cigar smoke all over them.

'Dennis,' Eve explained, trying not to cough.

Tom launched straight into the booming Dennis voice he'd been rehearsing: 'Boys, things are so hot for me right now – look out. Don't touch... smokin'. I'm moving into so many new markets, I can't keep track of them all.' Tom waggled his cigar and winked.

'And Mum,' he added, 'will you please just tell him where to get off when he starts annoying you? You don't have to sit there and take it for us, OK?'

'Right.' She was glad of the blessing.

'What
exactly
does he do?' she asked then, shouting it into both of their ears in turn.

'No idea,' said Denny as Tom shrugged his shoulders. 'Financial services .. . consulting . . . Tom and I talked to him all evening about his work and we're still none the wiser.'

'Do you think you'll go and visit him some time? In the States?' Eve wanted to know.

'Yes,' Denny replied.

'Definitely,' from Tom.

'But please don't move there.' She grabbed for both their arms and bit her lip so that she didn't burst into drunken babbling tears.

'Shall I get you some water or Coke or something?' Denny asked her. 'You're looking a bit funny.'

'Water's a good idea,' she said.

So Denny got up, leaving her snuggled against Tom. She waved his cigar smoke away and asked: 'Still happy about marriage?'

'Yeah ... I think so,' he grinned at her. 'The wedding's going to be great. Deepa has everything planned down to the most annoyingly tiny detail. I would quite like to turn up on an elephant or something mad just to surprise her.'

'Please, not an elephant!' Eve said. 'I won't be able to get Robbie away from it. But, Tom . . . marriage?' she had to ask. 'You're definitely ready for the big M?' It was only four days away now. She had to be sure he was sure.

'I think so,' Tom replied, smiling at her seriousness. 'Hey – if we don't like it we can always get divorced.' Waggle of cigar.

'You're just saying that.' She felt a bit shocked ... but in a way, why shouldn't he see it like that?

'Well, yes and no . . . nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mum.' And then he surprised her with: 'So, why didn't you and Joseph get married?'

She tried to shrug the question off: 'Oh ... I don't know. Just as well. I'd be a double divorcee now, wouldn't I?'
Would I? Should we have? Nothing ventured, nothing gained...

Denny came back with a tray of bottled water and glasses just in time to hear Tom say: 'I always imagined myself happily partnered up with children, at some point, so maybe that's why I don't feel too freaked out about it.'

How had she imagined the future? she wondered. She'd always said she didn't like what Joseph was growing into, but what had she expected? Him not to grow up at all, not to make the slightest change from his 22-year-old self?

'Have I told you about my promotion?' Tom had their full attention now. 'Yeah – it's great. I'm going to take charge of a new system we're developing
and
I'm getting a profit share if it takes off.' Big, excited grin.

'Oh my God,' Denny was groaning. 'You're not only going to be married before me, you're now going to be a multimillionaire as well. I can't cope with this.'

He laid his head on the table and pretended to cry.

'Den! It's just another little step up the ladder, really.'

Denny lifted his head and held out a hand for his brother to shake: 'Mate, I'm really pleased for you, honestly. Now can you and your ever expanding wife please think about getting a new home, so I can buy you out of your old one?'

'Yeah, that's the next plan . . . And not in Chingford either. I think we're sticking with Hackney. We both like it there, so why change? We're a bit young to go out to the burbs.'

'He's so grown-up, Mum.' Denny lit a cigarette as consolation. 'At this rate, Anna will be married before me.'

'Anna!!! Married!' Eve laughed, and took a deep sip of water. She was feeling a bit better already.

'The poor man,' she added. 'You realize he'll have to undergo three years of analysis with the shrink of her choice before she'll be able to agree.'

'Has Patricia ever been in touch?' she asked then, hoping her little adventure with Denny's girlfriend had never come to light.

'Pretty Patsy and the head of her modelling agency are currently holidaying in his yacht off the coast of Sardinia.'

'Do you miss her?'

'Not really, it's just that I always imagined myself with my own modelling agency and yacht.'

'Poor Denny.' Eve laughed and reached over to stroke his head, which was back down on the table again. 'It's OK. The girl in the silver bikini is heading this way again.'

They bumped along in the Peugeot through the open gate and into the bright green field. Anna and Robbie were giggling with excitement on the back seat, but Eve was worrying about her boxfuls of food in the boot and willing them to have survived the journey.

She'd expected a field, but this was just perfect. The perfect field! Close cropped emerald grass, eye-wincing sunlight... She followed the rope fence into the parking area, trying to tear her gaze from the adorable pink and blue marquee, the wooden open air dance floor decorated with bunting, plastic palm trees and big bunches of flowers.

Up on the brow of the hill, 300 or so yards away, seats were set out in a big semicircle, ready for the service.

The sky was blue, there wasn't a breath of wind, it was only 12 noon but it was obvious the weather was going to be superb.

Once she was parked, Denny bounded out of the tent to meet her.

'Mum! Hello! The fridge is misbehaving, Deepa's having "practice contractions" or something, no-one has any idea where Tom is . . . Otherwise it's all perfect!' He gave her a little kiss on the forehead as Anna and Robbie tore past them to go and check out the venue.

'What?!! What do you mean no-one knows where Tom is?' was her reaction to this spate of news.

'Well, we don't. He wasn't in the flat when I got up this morning. His mobile is off. I can't get hold of him and neither can Deepa.'

Denny gave a little shrug: 'We're not worrying about it just yet, OK. We've still got—' he glanced at his watch, 'hours.'

'I've got all the stuff in the boot. And what else does Deepa want us to do?' Eve asked.

'I have my instruction book.' Denny took a thick roll of typed pages out of his back pocket and smoothed it open. 'See!'

She saw pages and pages of information along with sketches of where to put flowers, how to arrange chairs, where to tie ribbons ...

'She was here earlier doing the cake and folding millions of napkins, but now she's gone home for a rest,' he explained.

'Was she worried about Tom?'

'Not really, but it's hard to tell with her. She's like a mad thing about the wedding anyway. Are you worried?' he asked.

'Very ...
Can I borrow your phone?'

'Yup, but let me take these.' He started to unload all the boxes and Tupperware dishes from the boot of the car.

'Is the fridge going to be OK? Otherwise, I should take them back – or we should think of something else.'

'I think it'll be OK.'

She felt nervous, fussy, slightly crazed ... realized this was mother of the groom nerves with bells on because the groom was AWOL.

She punched in Tom's number and clicked through to his voicemail. For a moment, she hesitated about what to say: 'Tom, this is your mother. Will you please phone us? Or at least phone Deepa... just let us know that everything is OK.'

Then she hung up, wondering if she should have been a bit sterner. What was he doing? Trying to give everybody a heart attack?

She made her way to the beautiful tent, all Barbie-pink, draped and dreamy inside with fairytale spindly gilt tables and chairs.

'Oh, it's wonderful,' she told Denny, still fluttering with nerves that Tom was going to blow this whole thing apart.

Rows and rows of champagne glasses were lined up beside cutlery and vivid pink napkins. All the tables were decked with little gold stars, trails of glitter and big, messy flower arrangements – bright pink roses scrambled in with sunflowers and a tangle of ivy.

Deepa's touches were everywhere: in the kitschy paper windmills dotted about, the sari-clad Asian Barbie kissing a T-shirted Ken on the enormous white and pink cake. It was fabulous and, more importantly, it was so
them.
They were going to get the wedding they had wanted... so long as Tom turned up.

Anna and Robbie were already racing up and down the wooden floor holding hands, pretending to dance.

'What else can I do?' Eve asked Denny.

'Not a lot. We've been here since 8a.m. We just need Tom.' He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 'Come and see the view from the hilltop.'

He took his mother and the two children up the path to the semicircle of chairs set out for the ceremony. It was a small hill on their side, but from the top the land fell away steeply on the other side and a great carpet of landscape opened out in front of them with dark green woods, small villages, church spires, red roofs. In the strong sunshine, they could have been in Italy; this was how beautiful Kent could be, occasionally.

'Oh wow,' she said. I'm going to cry already and it's still four hours to go.'

'I know, me too,' Denny smiled.

'Is Tom OK?' she asked him. 'Did you see him last night?'

'Yeah, he went out with some friends and came in just after eleven. He seemed fine . . . normal. Well, nervous, but OK.'

Denny put an arm round her and she forced a smile.

'Maybe we should just go home, get dressed up and be back here nice and early. I'm sure he'll turn up – in his wedding jeans.'

'No!'

'I've no idea. He's kept his wedding outfit very quiet.'

'Not much else we can do,' she agreed, and taking in the dark circles under her son's eyes, she added: 'You really need some sleep, Denny.'

'I know ... but not today.'

'Do you really think he'll turn up?'

'Yeah. Why not? They're a good couple. I hope it works out for them.' So casual. Kind and genuine, but casual. What more could you say at weddings these days? You hoped it worked out, at least for a while, and that they made each other happy, at least for a while, and that if they divorced – which was at best 60/40 at any wedding, now – you hoped they would be amicable and have some really good times to remember.

'Mum, why isn't the vet invited?' Denny asked as they headed down the hill.

'Ah .. . It's too big a day really ... And we're ... I think we're on a go-slow,' was the best explanation she could come up with. 'I've had too much other stuff going on, really.'

'I see,' Denny said, but he felt a bit sad for his mother.

'So, who am I sitting beside?' Eve asked. 'Joseph, by any chance? Has Anna nobbled the seating arrangements yet?'

'No, no. You're beside Deepa's very attractive, mature,
single
uncle. I have no idea what that's about,' Denny smiled.

'Neither do I, I'm sure.'

Back at home, in between washing down children, ironing outfits, polishing shoes and fiddling with her hair, she kept trying Tom's mobile. No reply. Just voicemail. It was hard to know what to leave: stern messages? Sympathetic messages? She left both, then decided to speak to Deepa.

But her mother answered the phone and told Eve that Deepa was asleep.

'Is she OK? Not worried at all?' Eve clucked.

'Worried? No? She's very happy, very relaxed. What's to worry about?'

Hmmm. That either meant all was well on the Tom front, or that Deepa hadn't shared the information that her fiance was nowhere to be found.

'I hate my hair!' Anna returned from the bathroom where she'd gone to inspect her bridesmaid's ribbon-trimmed bun looking dangerously tearful.

'Well what do you want? I'll try and do it whichever way you like.'

'Just a ponytail. Nothing fancy.'

'Are you sure Deepa won't mind? She asked me to do it the other way.'

'I don't care.' Big sulky huffy face. 'It's bad enough having to wear this stupid sari.'

'You look adorable in the sari,' Eve fibbed. Fuchsia pink and gold had turned out to be a very bad choice for Anna. She looked like a vampire victim.

It was one o'clock, time to cram into the car, crank the fan on full blast against the heat and head back to the wedding venue again, praying that Tom would show up.

When they arrived, there was only one other car already in the parking area – Denny's. But as they climbed out, she could see Denny, all handsome and suited, coming down the field towards them, waving.

'He's here!' she made out. 'Wait till you see him!'

They hurried along to the other side of the marquee, directed by Denny.

'Oh Tom!' was her first reaction.

'Aaaaaargh!' Anna gave a half-scream.

Her son was standing in front of them in a white, high-collared Teddy boy suit with a blue frothy shirt and the first short back and sides haircut he'd had since he was 13. He looked amazing. Transformed. And he knew it. He was grinning at them.

'Sorry, Mum,' he said, giving her a big smile and then a hug. 'I didn't mean to freak everybody out. I just looked at myself in the mirror this morning in the outfit I was going to wear and thought "nah". This is major. I'm going to get married. I'm going to be a dad. I need change.'

'All this time I've been panicking about you, you've been shopping and having your hair cut!!'

'Well, I was thinking too. Walking and walking ... thinking.'

'And what have you thought?' She was trying to be stern but you couldn't with Tom, he was young, a bit daft, but so kind at heart.

'I think it's going to be cool.'

'Cool? Cool?! Well so long as it's going to be cool . . . that's all right then.' Her arms were crossed and she still didn't feel she'd had the satisfaction of being angry with him.

'And I've rewritten all my wedding vows. Everyone's going to blub, guaranteed.'

'No way,' Anna told him. 'It's all sentimental guff.'

'Anna! You believe in all that stuff! Don't even try and pretend that you don't. Anyway, isn't Mum looking fantastic?' Tom said.

I'm very grumpy with you,' Eve replied. 'Don't try and wriggle out of it.'

'You're gorgeous,' he smiled at her. 'I
luuurve
what you're doing to your hair!'

Anna and Robbie giggled and it was no use, she was going to have to cool down and let Tom off.

This was his wedding day after all.

'Come on... time for the first bottle of the day.' Denny went to raid the marquee fridge.

What they managed to chat and joke about as they picnicked in the sunshine on the grass – polishing off the sandwiches, fruit and cake Eve had brought, along with two icy bottles of champagne – she couldn't remember.

Well, apart from Tom's: 'Egg sandwiches! Mum! I can't eat them ... the groom can't have egg breath.'

'It's OK. I came prepared,' Anna had told him, fishing in her big black rucksack. 'I have Tic-Tacs just for you.'

She watched her four children laughing and teasing each other, her heart feeling like it might actually burst with pride, and tried to push away the thought that this was an ending. The next time they had a family picnic, Deepa and her baby would be there to share it. That was nice, not sad, surely? So why was it making her feel so upset?

The first guest to arrive, shortly after 3p.m. was Joseph. He pulled up in his silly little car, which she didn't think suited him at all. He was too tall for it. He boinged out like a character in a pop-up book, dressed in white linen and alone ... by the look of things. He was smiling at them, waving and carrying a big, wrapped parcel, which he hugged up against his chest as Anna hurtled into him.

Eve looked at Robbie, who hadn't run down to meet him but was standing up on the rug then jumping up and down with excitement.

'That's my daddy, Jofus, that's my daddy, Jofus,' he was saying over and over again, which was cracking them all up.

Joseph kissed everyone, even Denny and Tom, and Robbie was scooped up for a hug. 'So, how are you Tom?' Joseph asked.

'I'm cool.'

'Of course. Very. Love the shirt... And how's the missus?'

Tine . . . about three and a half weeks to go, we're cutting it a bit fine. But she's great.'

He handed over the parcel and before Tom took it off to the marquee, Joseph added: 'There's another little present I want to talk to you about, when we get a moment . . . before the service, OK?'

'OK, you really shouldn't have, you know.'

'Yes I should!'

Joseph sat down on the rug beside them, Anna tucked under one arm, Robbie coming over to play with his shoelaces.

'So Evie, the first one is flying the nest. How are you coping?' He was smiling at her. And she was trying hard not to notice how well he looked.

'I'm fine, absolutely fine. Just don't make me cry again. I may as well not have bothered with make-up.'

'Where's Michelle?' Denny asked. 'Is she OK?'

'Errrm . . . lots of apologies, but she couldn't make it. She's put her back out.'

'Oh, poor thing. What did she do?' Eve hoped this sounded sincere, but really she couldn't have been more relieved that Michelle wasn't coming.

'Oh... at the gym or something,' Joseph batted the question away and patted Anna's hair. 'You look lovely,' he told her.

'D'you like it?' she smiled. 'I'm Deepa's mini me.'

They laughed at this.

'So... I'm looking forward to meeting Dennis.' Joseph turned to Eve and gave her a smile.

'Ah ha!' she said. 'Well, you'll have to tell me what you think.'

He nodded at her and raised his eyebrows.

A convoy of cars was heading for the field now. It was time to fold up the picnic rug, brush themselves down and start the ceremonies.

Eve wanted to give Tom one last hug and sidled up to him.

'Well, this is it, then...' She stroked the newly shorn hair at the back of his neck. He looked into her brimming eyes.

'Are you ready?' she asked.

'Yeah.' He put a hand on her shoulder and drew her in for a hug. 'Are
you
ready?' he asked back.

'I think so,' she managed, her cheek pressed tightly against his jacket. 'I'm so proud of you,' she told him. 'Sorry,' she sniffed, 'I didn't realize how hard this was going to be.'

'You'll be fine,' he told her. 'Yes. We love you,' she said. 'Love you too,' he said and gave her a blokeish pat on the back.

Then it was time to mingle, welcome the guests and show people to their seats. Jen and her husband Ryan were walking up the hill towards them with Terry and John in tow.

'My God, your boys look gorgeous,' Eve said as Jen hugged her. 'And I love your hat.'

'How are you coping, you old bag?' Jen asked. 'You look like you've been blubbing all afternoon.'