Made in Heaven (50 page)

He leaned forward and helped himself to more wine. Then he gazed straight into her eyes in a way that Zannah found disconcerting. He seemed not to know what to say next, which was strange for him. If it had been anyone else sitting opposite her, she'd have said he was nervous. What did Cal have to be nervous about? He said, ‘I've been thinking, Zannah, and I want to ask you something, okay?'

As he spoke, he reached for her hand. Don't make too much of this, she told herself, trying to ignore the thrill that ran through her. What you're feeling is no more than ordinary pleasure at Cal's kindness. She knew this was a lie even as she was thinking it. She
was
thrilled. She couldn't help it. She still fancied him, but that was no reason to get carried away.

‘Ask me whatever you like,' she said finally. He was being kind, because he knew how she'd be feeling after breaking up with Adrian.

He said, ‘Will you marry me, Zannah?'

‘What? What did you say?'

‘I asked you to marry me.'

‘Why?'

‘What do you mean,
why
? Isn't it obvious?'

‘No, Cal, it isn't. Not a bit obvious. You want to marry me?'

‘I was married to you once, and I wish I still was. I've wished it for ages. I love you, Zannah.'

‘Oh, Cal, why didn't you say?'

‘You were with Adrian.'

‘That was only in the last year … '

‘I know. But that's … ' He sighed and went on, ‘It's been quite hard to live through, Zannah. I didn't say anything because, well, you'd made your mind up and I didn't want to spoil anything, but it's been tough seeing you so happy with him. I used to dread bringing Isis back because your face … You know what I mean.' For almost the first time since she'd known him, Zannah could see naked emotion in his eyes, the kind of emotion he'd always been at pains to cover up with a smile and a jokey remark. The shock made her catch her breath. She turned her hand in his, grasped his fingers and squeezed them tight.

‘Go on, Cal … tell me,' she whispered, leaning towards him, near enough to smell his skin: a smell she'd have recognized in the dark, in a crowd of people.

‘You were in love and it showed, and every time I saw it I wanted to obliterate it. Forget it at once. I couldn't … Shit, it sounds corny as hell but I couldn't stop dreaming about you. I thought I'd got over you but I hadn't. Not really. And all the time, as the wedding kept getting closer and closer I wished things could have been different.' He smiled at her. ‘And now you've broken up with him. So I'm asking you to marry me again. Will you, Zannah?'

‘Yes. Yes, I will.'

He was lost for words, Zannah could see. He looked down at the table, then raised himself a little from his chair and leaned over the space between them. He took her head between his hands and kissed her on the
mouth. ‘Darling Zannah,' he whispered while his lips were still on hers. She heard her name breathed softly into her mouth, and felt herself melting, dissolving.

Cal sat down again, and smiled at her. ‘I've wasted hours imagining this. I have missed you … I've
missed
you so much, Zannah.'

‘Me too,' Zannah said, as she sank back into her seat. ‘I didn't know I
was
missing you but I was.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, really. I can see I was now.'

‘So … ' He took a deep breath and grinned at her. ‘Let's order pudding and I'll tell you something else.'

‘Tell me you love me instead, Cal. Tell me again.'

‘I love you, Zannah. I love you all there is.'

‘And I don't think I've ever stopped loving you. Not deep down. I'm so sorry, Cal. I could have … '

‘Never mind that. I want to talk about the wedding. The one you arranged with Adrian.'

‘I'll have to cancel everything now. Maureen'll deal with the catering but the rest … I've got to do that.'

‘No, you must keep the whole thing exactly as you planned it. I'll fit in with that.'

‘With a marquee and flowers and a church ceremony and a traditional wedding dress and bridesmaids? You cannot be serious?'

Cal nodded. ‘I am. I'm especially keen on the bridesmaids. Isis says the whole day will be, like, soooo wicked. Her exact words. As far as I can make out, what we've got to do is uninvite Adrian's friends, invite mine instead and find some food from somewhere at quite short notice. And I'll have to hire a proper suit. Piece of cake. Piece of wedding cake.'

Zannah laughed. ‘God, Cal, you've always hated that sort of thing. You really must love me.'

‘Oh, Zannah, you have no idea how much.' That look was back, the burning gaze she'd seen before. Then he grinned at her, suddenly back to his normal self. ‘Right,
where's that waiter? Let's see if we can get hold of some baklava. And a bottle of champagne.'

*

‘Daddy, what're you doing? Why are you and Mummy cuddling like that?'

‘Isis?' Zannah sprang out of Cal's arms. After the champagne, they had made their way home and relieved Louise, who'd been babysitting. Now she and Cal were on the sofa, giggling and kissing like teenagers. They were nearly at the stage where … well, she was grateful that this interruption was happening now and not later. She patted her hair and tried to sound as though she had control of her breath. ‘What're you doing up, Isis? You went to bed ages ago.'

‘I had a bad dream. I'm sorry. Daddy, you're still here … why haven't you gone home?'

Zannah watched as Cal went over to Isis, who was standing on the stairs. She was carrying one of the toys that had lived on her bed since she was a baby: a pink rabbit that used to be furry but was now totally bald and missing one of its ears. She looked half asleep. He picked her up and brought her over to the sofa. He said, ‘We've been talking.'

‘It didn't look like talking. It was snogging. I've seen snogging. Mummy does it with Adrian sometimes.'

Zannah sat forward and said, ‘Isis? Are you properly awake? Can you listen carefully while I tell you something?'

‘Something bad?'

‘No … ' Zannah made a face at Cal over Isis's head and he went on.

‘Mummy and Adrian have broken up, Isis. They're not going to be married after all.'

‘But what about the wedding? Won't I be a bridesmaid? I wanted to so much. And what about Gemma?'

Zannah almost laughed. Nice to know that Isis had her priorities absolutely clear. She said, ‘No, there's
going to be a wedding. I won't be marrying Adrian, but you'll still be a bridesmaid. Gemma too.'

‘Good.' That seemed to satisfy her until suddenly, as though the thought had only just occurred to her, she said, ‘But there's no one to marry, Mummy, if you've split up with Adrian.'

‘What about me?' Cal touched Isis on the shoulder, to attract her attention. ‘Have you forgotten about me?'

‘But … you and Mummy split up as well, ages ago. I don't understand. What about Adrian? Who's he going to marry?'

‘I don't know about Adrian but your mother's going to marry me again, Isis. We're all going to live together. What d'you think of that?'

Isis looked from Zannah to Cal, then back to Zannah. Her face changed. Her lips began to tremble and soon she was sobbing. She flung herself into Cal's arms.

‘Icey, why are you crying? What's the matter?'

Isis pulled away from him and wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her nightie. ‘Is it true? Mummy? Daddy? Are you really …' She struggled to speak through her tears. ‘Will you come and live here, Daddy? With us?'

‘For a bit, I suppose, after the wedding. We'll have to find a house somewhere in the end. But we can think about stuff like that later.'

Zannah said, ‘Are you ready to go back to bed? Will you sleep better now?'

‘Can I have a drink?' said Isis. ‘And a biscuit?'

‘Why not?' Cal said. ‘We should celebrate. Apple juice and chocolate Hobnobs all round.'

As Cal and Isis went out to the kitchen, Zannah leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Isis is properly happy, she thought. She hasn't been like this all the time I've been with Adrian. She sighed, because there he was, in her mind again, and she had no desire to think about him at this moment when she felt
as though her life was suddenly, wonderfully, starting all over again. She, too, like Isis, was happy. The fears she'd had about the rightness of leaving Adrian were gone. Vanished into thin air. Still, a part of her shrank when she thought of what Maureen might be saying to her son at this very moment.

*

‘She's asleep,' Cal said, coming to sit down on the sofa again. ‘What did I do with my shoes, Zannah? It's late, isn't it? I ought to go home.'

Zannah watched as he peered down at the carpet. ‘They're by the door, Cal, but you shouldn't drive. We've had too much to drink. You can stay the night.'

He sat up and looked at her, saying nothing. Then he took her hand and held it, running a thumb over her palm, raising a kind of delicious gooseflesh on her arms. What would he do? What would he say? I want him not to go, she realized. I want him near me tonight. I want …

‘Are you sure?' Cal interrupted her thoughts. Zannah stood up and went to the foot of the stairs. Cal came to stand beside her. He put his arms round her and whispered in her ear, ‘What about Isis?'

‘Fast asleep,' Zannah whispered the words against his lips. ‘She won't wake up.'

‘What about the morning?'

‘What about it? It'll be fine … You're her dad.'

‘I've got to get going early anyway.' Cal sounded short of breath, as though he'd been running. His hands were inside her blouse, caressing her back, and he was kissing the hollows at the base of her throat. We're wasting time, Zannah thought. His fingers had found the fastening of her bra. ‘Let's go up, Zannah,' he murmured.

They stumbled together up the stairs to her bedroom. As soon as the door shut behind them, they moved towards the bed and Zannah sighed with pleasure. She lay on her back and the soft puffiness of the duvet rose
up round her. She closed her eyes and let Cal kiss her, and gradually her skin, her flesh, began to remember how it used to be. How it was going to be from now on. She wrapped her arms round him and he buried his face in her long hair and whispered her name, over and over again.

Gray lay in bed, aware of Maureen still sleeping beside him. When he had been a more junior member of the hospital hierarchy, he'd been full of admiration for those doctors or surgeons who routinely broke the worst sort of news to the loved ones of their patients. Telling someone that their child had died; their parent, their sibling, their spouse – how did they do it? Where did they find the words? More recently, there had been a couple of occasions when, distraught with grief, someone who'd been recently bereaved had asked to see him, trying to find out the answer to impossible questions like
why
and
how
. He'd always tried to concentrate on explaining the scientific detail as plainly and kindly as he could. If relatives knew precisely what had happened on the operating table, that was something. Very often a death was no one's fault. His words were not a consolation, but at least they were the truth. He dreaded facing anyone who was still raw with grief, whose eyes were red from crying, who was teetering constantly on the verge of hysteria, but he did it when it needed to be done.

And now this: he had to ask Maureen for a divorce. He'd been putting it off for some time and had tried to tell her on a couple of occasions before without success. It wasn't really comparable to breaking the news of a death. Divorce, though it was hard, was far less
of a trauma than bereavement, wasn't it? Particularly for someone of Maureen's temperament. She was an optimistic person and had a good opinion of herself. She was confident and efficient: not a candidate, surely, for pining? Even though he'd decided on this course of action long ago, the reality was hard. They'd been together for so many years and had so much shared history that the break would be painful. He, too would have regrets, but he loved Lydia and that was the difference. He had the hope that one day they would be together. Maureen would be alone. She would keep the house.

He had agreed, without saying a word to Maureen, to take up a job at the Whittington Hospital in London and intended to give in his notice as soon as he'd done this … broken up his life with his wife. Then he would find somewhere to live. He'd already looked up a few estate agents on the Internet. There was this advantage to leaving Guildford, too: he wouldn't risk bumping into Maureen in the street or at parties given by their friends. Her friends. Gray was sure of one thing: most of their friends would become hers. She'd been the one who cultivated people, invited them to parties and meals and they'd support her in the face of what would undoubtedly be seen as his treachery. He couldn't blame them, but he wouldn't miss them. He was pretty sure his colleagues wouldn't react like that. Several had married for a second time and they wouldn't cast him into the outer darkness, even though they might regret the fact that he was moving to another hospital.

She'll have all the money she needs, he thought. I'll see to that. Adrian'll be there to comfort her. The fact that the two of them were going to Barbados on the honeymoon tickets was a bit of luck. In a few weeks, Maureen would be lying in the sun. Gray thought that the sudden, unexpected announcement that Adrian and Zannah wouldn't be getting married after all was a
good thing. He wasn't certain how it would affect his plans with Lydia, but surely it ought to make matters easier. They wouldn't be related. They'd be unattached to anyone else, or to any other problems, and able to be together, alone, in a much more satisfactory way. The separation would be more … well, more separate. He imagined Maureen recovering quickly from their divorce, getting to know other people, branching out in all sorts of directions, but he realized that this was probably wishful thinking. She'd be hurt, and he was the one who'd be hurting her. He couldn't put it off much longer. I'll tell her at breakfast, he decided. That'll give us the whole day together if she needs to talk to me. Or I can go out if she wants to be alone. Yes, breakfast. He brought to mind again his colleagues, or policemen, or priests breaking bad news. There was only one way to do it: simply and quickly with no hesitation. He'd look her straight in the eye and speak.