A Bit of a Do (46 page)

‘Thank you very much.’

‘You’re wondering if I mean that.’

They were standing beside the remains of the meal. Sandra Pickersgill was clearing away. Twice, Rita threw her thoughtful glances. Sandra felt that Rita knew.

‘These things are hard to tell,’ said Rita. ‘I think I choose to believe that you mean it.’

‘Oh good,’ said Liz. ‘You don’t think I’m a total bitch, then?’

‘That’s a very strong word, Liz. Total.’

Liz gave Rita a long, cool look, then laughed.

‘Your friend Betty thinks I’ve planned it all,’ she said.

‘What do you think?’ said Rita.

‘I think … you’re absolutely right, I don’t think I really know … can one know about oneself, do you think, let alone about other people? … I think maybe I did plan it without really knowing. I do think I love Neville, though. People think we should have waited longer, but our hearts couldn’t wait. Nothing could bring Laurence back, and I find that I don’t believe he’s there, watching, anywhere. So, why pretend? I feel we’re getting too old for pretence.’

‘I feel that too.’

‘And the sooner we got married, we felt, the better for little Joscelyn. The young are more important than the dead.’

‘How is he?’

‘Blooming. Neville’s as proud of him as if he was his own.’

‘He … er … he doesn’t … er …?’

‘Oh, come on, Rita. No more pretence. No more evasion. Say what I know you’re thinking.’

Simon was approaching, desperate to latch onto somebody’s conversation and avoid the risk of another confrontation with Andrew Denton.

‘He doesn’t look like Ted, does he?’ said Rita.

‘Oh dear,’ said Liz. ‘I’m very much afraid he does. A tiny, pink, dribbling, almost bald Ted.’

‘The mind boggles,’ said Rita.

Simon turned away, and had to sit down again. His mind was boggling, too. Supposing, one day, Arthur Denton noticed that his baby was a miniature, bald, dribbling version of the estate agent he had met at Liz and Neville’s wedding.

Elvis and Paul were bearing down on Rita. ‘My God!’ she said. ‘This looks like a deputation.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Liz, and she moved off to see if Simon was all right.

‘Mum?’ said Elvis. ‘Can we have a word?’

‘You think I’m making a fool of myself with Gerry.’

‘Well … we’ve nothing against him as a person,’ conceded Elvis.

‘Which he is,’ said Rita. ‘As you’d know. Being a philosopher.’

‘He seems quite nice, as far as that goes,’ said Paul. ‘But … he’s so young, Mum. We’re thinking of you.’

‘Because we love you,’ said Elvis.

‘He is young,’ said their mother. ‘And I’m so old.’

‘No! Of course not,’ said Elvis. ‘You aren’t old. But … I mean … he is young … isn’t he?’

‘Oh yes. Terribly. He’s so young and Harvey’s so old.’

‘All we mean is, Mum,’ said Paul, ‘it’s all very well now, but will he still love you when you’re …’

‘… old and wrinkled?’

‘No!’

‘Oh dear,’ said Rita. ‘I wonder what reason you’d find to disapprove if I was marrying somebody of exactly my own age.’

‘Mum!’ said Paul.

‘Marrying???’ said Elvis.

‘You’ve talked me into it,’ said Rita. ‘I’m marrying Gerry. He doesn’t know yet.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she shouted.

Silence fell quite rapidly. Rita stood with her back to the table where they had eaten. The others gathered round. Simon still looked pale, and took care not to be too near Andrew Denton.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Rita. ‘I think we’d all like to thank Neville and Liz for inviting us to this very enjoyable wedding, and for giving us such a lovely do, we all like a bit of a do, and this was no exception, and I’m sure we’d all like to wish them every possible happiness.’

‘Hear hear,’ said Gerry Lansdown, and there was warm applause.

Monsieur Albert scurried in, sensing an approaching compliment. Ted and Sandra followed more slowly.

‘I think we ought to thank Monsieur Albert and his staff for the excellent meal and service,’ said Rita.

‘Hear hear,’ said Gerry, and there was warm applause.

Monsieur Albert beamed. Sandra tried to put her arm round Ted, and he fended it off angrily.

‘You sound as if you’re in the House of Commons already, Gerry,’ said Rita. ‘I wonder how I’ll enjoy being an MP’s wife.’

‘Rita!’ said Gerry.

‘Yes,’ said Rita. ‘As soon as my divorce comes through, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to marry Gerry.’

There were murmurs of surprise and delight. Nobody looked more surprised, and also more delighted, than Gerry Lansdown. Paul and Elvis looked chagrined. Jenny seemed thrilled. Ted looked astounded, and definitely not delighted. Sandra gave him a look that was as dry as a rock cake, and he rapidly managed to look fairly delighted.

The little gathering broke up again, and congratulations were offered to the happy couple. Paul went through to the bar and examined the little stone town above the Dordogne, where the white-haired old man was still crossing the road.

He was damned if he’d approach Jenny again, and risk another snub. Ever. Oh God! What right had that old man to cross that road so happily? What right had the mellow, arcaded town to be so
beautiful? What was the point of love, if it made you hate?

‘Paul?’

She had come to him. He almost stopped breathing. He turned slowly, trying to look calm and aloof, trying to hide his thumping heart.

‘I’m glad for your mother,’ she said.

‘Oh yes. So am I.’ Once he had promised never to lie. What had life done to him? What had he done to himself?

‘And Carol’s marrying Elvis. It’s all a bit overwhelming.’

‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ His heart was racing. What could these overtures mean? ‘I’m glad.’ That at least wasn’t a lie. But that was the one she doubted.

‘Are you?’ she said.

‘Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be? Carol never meant anything to me.’

‘Ah!’

‘I mean, in
that
way. I mean, I like her as a person. As Elvis’s fiancée. But not in … you know … that way.’

‘Ah.’

The silence between them was probably quite brief. To Paul it seemed endless.

‘Quite a day all round,’ he said feebly, at last.

‘Yes.’

‘A brief escape from the world’s problems.’

More silent seconds slipped slowly by. They stood as motionless as the white-haired old man. Was Jenny waiting for him to say something, something which he might never be able to say, if he didn’t say it now. He hesitated, preparing his approach. It was important that he should be at his most seductive. His whole life might depend on it. ‘I mean,’ he began at last, ‘in the context of religious wars, terrorism, imprisonment without trial, deeply divisive and unjust social and financial policies, famine, racial oppression, the destruction of the environment, the increasing gap between rich and poor, the imminence of the nuclear holocaust, and the ruthless, violent and totally unjustified suppression by both superpowers of the freedom of political choice in Afghanistan and Nicaragua …’ She was nodding her agreement. He felt that he’d done it. ‘… in the context of all that, one silly one-night fling doesn’t seem that important, does it?’ he said. ‘I
mean, Amnesty International wouldn’t bother with it.’

‘Perhaps with the world like it is, it’s all the more important not to do these things,’ said Jenny.

He swallowed, hoped she couldn’t see his leaping Adam’s apple. ‘I’d never do anything like that again,’ he said.

‘Yes, but don’t you see?’ wailed Jenny angrily. ‘I’d never ever be sure ever again, would I?’

‘I’d make you sure. I’d never leave your side ever again. I’d be a perfect husband.’

The seconds dragged by. He longed to be able to see into her brain. Looking at a person, standing there, it was impossible to understand how things could go on, at all, in brains.

‘We may as well give it a try, then,’ she said.

The beribboned limousine stood waiting. Neville and Liz Badger emerged into the afternoon shade, followed by Rita, Gerry Lansdown, Simon, Paul, Jenny, Elvis, Carol Fordingbridge, Andrew Denton, Arthur Badger and Monsieur Albert.

Jenny kissed Liz and Neville. Paul kissed Liz. Rita kissed Liz and Neville. Simon kissed Liz. Liz and Neville got into the car. Paul kissed Jenny. Rita kissed Gerry.

‘No point in being left out,’ said Elvis gruffly, and he kissed Carol.

The car drove off, unencumbered by old tins. The guests and Monsieur Albert waved.

Arthur Badger turned to Monsieur Albert, and thanked him with a prolonged volley of almost immaculate French. ‘
Merci, monsieur
,’ said Monsieur Albert, trying to look as if he’d understood.

‘Goodbye,’ said Andrew Denton to Simon. ‘Don’t show my wife round any more houses.’

‘I won’t,’ said Simon Rodenhurst with feeling.

‘I believe we’ll be happy,’ said Neville Badger, hoping that his words would make him feel happier.

The limousine slid smoothly up Moor Street into Tannergate, turned right, and passed the heavily scaffolded abbey church, where less than fourteen months ago Jenny had married Paul.

‘Good. I hope we will, too,’ said the second Mrs Badger.

‘Jane thinks so, too.’

‘Oh Neville!’

‘Oh, I know she’s dead, but, you see, I do still feel that she’s with me. I can’t help that.’

They swung down Westgate, past the heavily scaffolded frontage of the Angel Hotel. Liz remained silent. Neville wondered if she was upset.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want to have secrets from you.’

Liz patted his hand, but didn’t look at him.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’d have married me if she didn’t approve.’

‘Happy?’ said Gerry Lansdown, as they sped south towards Hind-head and his potential supporters.

‘What a question,’ said Rita.

‘Listen with me,’ pleaded the cake-loving Sandra Pickersgill.

‘All right,’ said Ted.

The sun was streaming into the yard, helping to rot the food in the bins and plastic bags. Soon they’d go home. Ted didn’t want to. He wasn’t feeling up to what Sandra would expect of him.

Sandra removed her headphones. Two bars of what sounded to Ted like cacophonous rubbish rang out. A rat scurried away, terrified. The music stopped.

‘We’ve got an urgent report from our motoring unit,’ boomed Dave-Boy Yarnold, the popular Radio Gadd disc jockey. ‘It’s for drivers heading towards Langstone-on-Gadd and Ecclesedge. The B6879 to Langstone-on-Gadd and Ecclesedge is covered in chickens just below Upper Mill. That’s right. I said chickens! Apparently they’ve escaped from a battery chicken farm and are running around all over the place. So drive those lorries carefully, or you may end up with an instant cock au van.’

‘That’s Rodney,’ said Ted. ‘He’s done it!’

He thought that the next record sounded quite nice. Sandra switched it off in disgust.

‘Cheer up, Ted,’ she said, putting her arm round him. ‘It’s a happy day.’

‘Is it? It wasn’t happy for her ex-husband.’

‘No … well …’

‘Poor Laurence. Nobody ever thought he felt anything.’

‘Well, there you are. That’s it.’

‘What?’

‘Life. You never know what people are thinking inside those heads.’

A mangy grey cat entered the yard. Ted threw a catering-size tin of meadow-fresh mushrooms at it, and it fled.

He hoped Sandra didn’t know what he was thinking, inside his head. He was thinking that he just didn’t know what to think.

‘Don’t be morbid,’ she said. ‘Don’t think about him. Everything else has turned out right well.’

‘Has it?’

‘’Course it has. I mean the happy couple are happy, obviously, and so are your Elvis and Carol. And it’s worked out really well for your Paul and Jenny. It’s even worked out for the chickens.’

‘Has it?’

‘’Course it has. Freedom’s important. I think so, anyroad.’

‘I’m not sure if it is for chickens.’

Sandra hesitated before continuing. An autumn wasp hovered around them. Ted swatted it angrily. Why should it pick on them, in this cornucopia of decay? It floated lazily away, drunk on fermenting food. Sandra found the courage to continue.

‘It’s happy for Rita and Gerry, too,’ she said. ‘It is, Ted. Face it. It is.’

‘I just don’t see it, Sandra,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but … I mean … I don’t.’

‘You don’t see it because you never appreciated what you had till you didn’t have it.’

‘All right, but … I mean … whichever way you look at it, love … I mean, it is. Isn’t it? Ridiculous.’

‘Love is ridiculous.’

‘Yes.’

Sandra slid her left leg across his legs, and kissed his cheek. Her breath had the sweet stickiness of a wasp’s breakfast.