Daughters (40 page)

Quite soon she was ready. Catching up her hat and bag, she gave herself a critical appraisal in the long mirror and left the room.

Up at Membury, she searched for Bill. ‘God knows where he is,’ said a harassed Sarah. ‘Please don’t distract him. I’m going to have trouble enough getting him ready on time.’ She looked up from the list she was checking. ‘Someone’s got stuck at the station. I’m trying to find a free taxi and I need to change. Was it important?’

Well, yes and no.

Balancing carefully on her high heels, Lara made her way to the sunken garden. A constant stream of cooks and waiting staff shot up and down the drive at high speed and criss-crossed the garden. She spotted the woman from yesterday. ‘How’s Katie?’

‘With her father. Long may she stay there.’

On reaching the myrtle, she looked round for Bill, failed to sight him. As she wielded the secateurs she had borrowed from the gardener’s shed, a delicious green scent was released.

She laid the sprigs by the front door and went upstairs.
She would have liked to cut the myrtle with him, but the agreement, the accord, had been the important thing.

Eve’s bedroom was chaotic. The bed was heaped with clothes and boxes wept tissue paper. Towels nested on the floor.

Eve was having her hair done in front of the mirror by Angie, her
über-
smart hairdresser, who had driven down from London. At Lara’s entrance, Eve looked round. ‘There you are.’

‘Hi, Lara.’ Jasmine had taken up sentry duty by the window. ‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘Is that the Clarks? They’re early. What are they doing up here instead of at the church?’ She paused. ‘She’s wearing a terrible outfit and he looks a bit sloshed.’

‘Oh, my God,’ said Eve. ‘It’s really happening.’

‘Just keep still,’ said Angie, sticking in a hairpin. She bent down and switched on a pair of hair tongs.

The two little flower-girls raced up and down the corridor outside the bedroom. Their mother could be heard saying, ‘Calm down, the pair of you.’

‘Should I go and help?’ Lara pointed at the door.

‘No, their mum says to leave well alone. She’ll cope.’

‘How did the rehearsal go?’ Lara broke the cool silence that had fallen.

‘Bit nervy,’ said Eve. ‘Andrew didn’t turn up until the last minute. Duncan had a bit of a problem hunting him down.’

Jasmine kept her back to them. ‘You can rely on Duncan,’ she said.

Dressed in her creamy white ruffled dress and satin
sash, Daisy, the youngest flower-girl, burst into the room. She looked like an angel but she certainly wasn’t one.

‘Why did you choose sandals?’ asked Lara.

‘Thrift,’ said Eve. ‘They can wear them afterwards. Contrary to appearances, Dad and I have tried to keep expenses to a minimum.’

Lara noted the emphasis on ‘Dad and I’.

‘Nearly ready,’ said Angie, approvingly, as she made the final adjustments to Eve’s hair.

Daisy spotted the tongs and dived towards them. Lara executed a lightning manoeuvre, retrieved them – and burned a finger. ‘Ouch.’

Daisy’s mother appeared in the doorway. ‘Is she being a nuisance? She is. I’ll take her away.’

Daisy disappeared.

‘There,’ said Angie. Eve stood up. Her hair was caught back, and streamed from a knot on the top of her head.

‘Lovely,’ said Jasmine.

‘Beautiful,’ said Lara.

Jasmine took Eve’s place in front of the mirror and Angie set to work. Eve removed her dressing-gown, revealing her lace underwear. With an effort, she said, ‘Can you help me, Lara?’

She was thin, so thin. One push, one gust of wind, and Eve would be gone. ‘You must eat up on honeymoon,’ Lara admonished her, and cupped Eve’s cheek. ‘Promise.’

‘That’s what I said too,’ said Jasmine.

Eve stared at her with big cool eyes. ‘I will.’

‘Evie?’

‘Lara?’

There was no yielding in Eve’s tone.
You’ve made your bed …
she was saying. Lara removed her hand.

Sliding the under-dress off its hanger, she eased it over Eve’s head and laced her into it. Eve waited patiently while Lara made the adjustments. As promised, a rose had been embroidered on to the bodice, a tiny, raised furled bud and thorn. Eve touched it gently. ‘So lovely.’

Angie was manipulating handfuls of Jasmine’s hair and pulling it back in a similar fashion to Eve’s. ‘Now the dress,’ commanded Jasmine from her perch.

Lara eased it out of the protective calico cover in which it hung limp and lifeless.

‘So exciting,’ said Jasmine.

Angie suspended her labours to watch.

A doll-like Eve submitted to Lara’s ministrations as the dress was eased into place.

A transformation took place. As they watched, the limp material came alive, flowing down and out behind Eve, turning into a thing of beauty and subtlety. All three women were transfixed. Eve had become … what? A magical creature. The bride of Lara’s dreams. A girl at a crossroads.

‘Shoes?’ Lara hunted among the tissue paper and boxes on the bed. Eve lifted her dress, held out a foot.

Her hair done, Jasmine rose and vacated the position in front of the mirror. ‘Angie will put the veil in place.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Oh, Evie … you are lovely.’

‘Come on, come on …’ Maudie dialled up Skype with a slightly shaky hand.

America was hot, she had learned, but absolutely
freezing inside the highly air-conditioned buildings. As a result, she spent her new life peeling sweaters off and on, and she was freezing now. But, so far, that was the only thing of which she could possibly complain. Otherwise she had found the place where she belonged.

Everything was on such a generous scale here. The college meals. The weather. The freshmen events. In contrast, her life in the UK (as she now viewed it) had been a cramped waiting room in which she had been trapped for too long. Nick didn’t agree:

That sort of rubbish so is not cool or interesting. I’ll prove it to you when I come over.

Since he didn’t have a penny, his coming over would not be any time soon. Whether she was relieved or sad, she could not decide.

Predictably, Alicia was thrilled:

I knew you would flourish. Everyone needs to get out of their box, and you’re so smart. Remind me to put you in touch with Jackie. She’s my next project. Clever just like you. She could go far.

Slight flash of jealousy. She, Maudie, was one in a long line of students whom Alicia would nurture. That was what teachers did.

She checked her watch. On time to the second.

And, to the second, the connection was made and there was Jasmine in her dress – a replica of Eve’s but shorter, and in dusky, tea-rose pink.

‘Jas, you look wonderful. Where are you?’

‘Can’t you see the stripes? In the sitting room. We reckoned it would be easier for Evie to talk to you in here.’

‘I miss you.’

Jasmine’s beautifully made-up lips parted in a sweet smile. ‘We miss you too. You look so glossy and happy … and American. It’s all going fine. Eve’s on her way. Lara’s helping her down the stairs.’

‘How is she?’

‘Unnervingly calm and thin.’

Maudie fingered the sleeve of the sweater she had draped round her shoulders. ‘Did you ever talk to her about what I saw?’

The face on the screen remained pretty bland. ‘Not really, Maudie. I thought it best not to.’

Skype deceived one into thinking an exchange was more intimate than it was. Maudie couldn’t assess from Jasmine’s slightly blurred expression whether she was telling the truth or not.

‘And Duncan?’

Jasmine frowned. ‘Actually, that’s finished. I told him to go. But no one knows. OK? Not a word.’

‘Don’t be silly. You two are welded at the hip.’

‘Can’t talk about it,’ said Jasmine. ‘I’ll ruin my makeup. Anyway, here’s Eve.’ She blew Maudie a kiss. ‘We’ll talk soon. Think of us.’

‘Jas!’ she called. Jasmine’s face reappeared. ‘The dress. It’s a really nice pink.’

Think of us.

Jasmine was replaced by Eve – who had turned into a
bride.
The totem. The symbol
. She must research it some time.
The meaning and significance of the bride figure.
It would be a good route into a study of feminist literature, which she and Alicia had been discussing on email.

‘Hello, Maudie. Here I am. Almost at the church. It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?’

‘Good luck!’ she cried.

As so often – actually, she thought, always – with these occasions, the conversation verged on the banal. Maudie longed to ask the important questions.
Are you happy? Are you sure?
But, almost for the first time in her life, she found that the straightforward questions were too difficult to articulate and her tongue was curbed. She struggled with disappointment as they exchanged information about the weather, airports and departure times.

‘You look so beautiful,’ she said at last, resorting to the tried and tested.

Eve glanced down at the dress, and the hand wearing her engagement ring smoothed a length of veil falling over a shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ She looked directly into the screen and her eyes seemed enormous. ‘Thank you for calling.’

Maudie was surprised by the lump in her throat.

Almost as an afterthought, Eve said, ‘I’m wearing the garter, Maudie.’

After the contact was severed, Maudie sat quietly for a few minutes, assaulted by acute homesickness. She should have been with her sisters. She
should
have been with her family at such an important moment. What on earth was she doing in the US? Of course, the grass was always greener on
the other side of the fence but her regret felt deep and genuine. A sob rose into her throat. She sat and contemplated what she was missing and how, once again, she had managed to put herself in the position of the outsider.

Was that going to be the way her life ran? For a few more minutes, she contemplated her existence as the outsider, never quite belonging, never fully fitting in. It was a pleasurably painful examination – and the tragedy of it all was immensely appealing.

A text flipped into her phone: ‘Coffee? Like NOW, Lindy.’

Home? Here? The future? Her thumb swung into action. ‘With you in 10.’

She shut down the laptop, let herself out of the room, and ran down the stairs. Already the memory of her sisters was fading. (In fact, deep down, she was growing to believe more and more that to put yourself through a wedding was incredibly old-fashioned politically and culturally, especially for a woman.) Anyway, regrets were wasteful. This led her logically to the notion that one day she would be dead, and the idea that she would no longer be out in the world enjoying it outraged her.

By the time she hastened out into the hot sunshine, all thoughts of her sisters had vanished.

For a second or two, she stood still to inhale the air of the Land of Opportunity, before loping in the direction of the coffee shop.

Of course she was happy here. Happier than she had ever been.

Two wedding cars drew up in the drive.

Time to go.

Outside, the flower-girls were being given a last-minute tutorial in their duties by their mother, aided by Bill. Holding a basket, he marched up and down. ‘How’s this, girls?’ and reduced them to giggles. Nobody held out much hope that it would work.

Lara picked up her hat – wide-brimmed, with a single rose as decoration – and sat down to put it on in front of the mirror. Then she snatched up her bag and went downstairs.

Eve was standing in the hallway watching the departures.

‘Is Sarah ready?’ Lara asked. She and Sarah were in the second car.

‘She’s outside.’

‘Right.’

‘You’d better go,’ said Eve.

‘Good luck.’

‘Thank you, Lara.’

This was not how it was meant to be.

‘Eve,’ she said desperately, ‘please don’t. Not on your wedding day.’

Eve lifted the dress carefully as she turned to Lara. ‘I can’t forget what you did,’ she said. ‘I can’t. It’s made me feel quite differently about you. I’m sorry, but it’s true. If you loved me, like you always said you did, and I believed you, you wouldn’t have done something so cruel …’

Lara’s mouth was dry and her stomach churned. ‘Eve, whatever I do is to protect you. Always, always. You can’t
possibly think that I would do anything willingly to hurt you.’

‘I’m marrying Andrew, and you tried to drive a wedge between us … I’ll never understand why you did it.’

‘But you will,’ Lara cried. ‘If you ever have children.’

Eve shrugged, and the veil undulated down her back. ‘Sometimes it’s best to leave things alone.’ She sent Lara a hard little smile. ‘It’s the therapist, isn’t it, Lara? They can never let well alone.’

Lara bowed her head. ‘If that’s what you want to believe.’

It was too late to repair the breach. Any minute now, Eve would go to her wedding, carrying her angry thoughts of Lara. Patients often questioned:
Why me?
Or
Why has my family been singled out?
And Lara would spend time convincing them that their particular sorrows/mishaps/sins were pretty much the same as everyone else’s. (It was the old mantra: how they dealt with them would single them out.) Now, she had been reminded at first-hand.

Bill loped up the steps and stuck his head through the front door. ‘Lara, Sarah’s waiting for you in the car.’

Lara said, ‘I’m not going to leave you on this note.’

‘I’ll see you in the church, Lara.’

‘Is this how we’re going to say goodbye on your wedding day?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, in a low, obdurate voice.

‘Eve, where’s your bouquet?’

Eve pointed to the long box on the table. Lara drew out the bridal bouquet – white peonies and roses with just a
hint of blush pink. Its beauty, a tremulous, perishable beauty, was unquestionable.

The myrtle cuttings were by the door where she had left them. Very carefully, she inserted a sprig between a peony and a rose.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Eve, sharply.

Lara explained.

‘No,’ she cried. ‘I don’t want you meddling.’ She snatched up the bouquet. The cool, determined bride had been replaced by an angry, spitting girl. ‘Take it back, Lara.’ The myrtle was pinched between finger and thumb. ‘Take it back.’