‘I can’t wait to show you all the bits and bobs we’ve pulled together. We’ve got cake samples, the lemon is my favourite, but then I love all things lemon, sashes for the flower girls, tablecloths and napkins, which Mum and I can’t agree on, buttonholes, place-card holders, and there’s a menu for us to look at and I need to confirm the photographer.’ Iris clasped her hands and smiled, calmly enthusiastic, it would seem, when it came to the impending nuptials. ‘I don’t know how people string out the planning for a wedding for a year or longer. Three weeks or so is plenty if you’re willing to pay!’
Enya studied the face of her future daughter-in-law, looking for clues. Was she a little red-eyed, either from an emotional or disrupted night just spent? It was a relief to find that she looked as fresh as a daisy. And the way she held out her hand for Aiden to take as they walked back to the house together suggested that whatever he had said about Holly’s pregnancy, he was most certainly forgiven. She was happy for him. For them all. If Iris had reactedbadly and it had caused ripples or worse, it would have felt like the cruellest blow. All that heartache and disruption for nothing, everyone’s happiness, Aiden’s included, cut down to a nub, never again to grow with quite the same abundance, how could it? Her head swam at just how complicated it had all become.
‘I can’t wait.’
She matched the girl’s energy, understanding that it was not Iris’s fault that she had walked in at the third act, where Holly had been centre stage since curtain up. Not her fault at all. And for Iris to be so inclusive, so considerate, was every mother-in-law’s dream, the alternative too horrible to consider.
‘Come through! Thought we’d start with tea.’ Trish led the way as they moved en masse towards the vast white box of a house, where huge windows gave sight of the immaculate gardens and the view from the back.
‘Oh, my goodness!’
It really was the most extraordinary property, putting her in mind of an art gallery. She felt Trish’s eyes on her face, clearly excited to take in her reaction to the space, which was almost cathedral-like. A vast, marble-floored cavern with white steel beams running across the roof in lieu of rafters and grand, modern chandeliers hanging down like an art installation themselves. There were no obvious walls that she could see, the staircase cleverly hidden via a box to the front that led to the upstairs rooms.
‘I like your home very much. The softness of it... the cushions, linens, worn wood, glass, rounded chairs, lots of circles and tactile pieces. No sharp edges.’
His words made much more sense to her now.
The house was zoned with a white kitchen area at one end, and a huge fireplace that looked more spaceship than inglenook as it dangled from a white tube going all the way up to the roof. Deep-pile white rugs were strategically placed on the floor, andwhite bookshelves, home to hi-tech or funkyobjets trouvés, but as far as she could make out, no books. Two oversized white leather chairs with matching footstools were positioned to face the rear of the building, and this was where her eyes were now drawn.
‘This is magnificent.’ Enya shook her head at the wonder of it, looking out over the patio where a pink powder-coated table and seating for twenty was dwarfed by the garden beyond.
The house, its fixtures and fittings, might not have been to her taste, there was nothing sweet, cosy or indeed cute about it, but from this vantage point on top of the ridge, the park-like garden dropped away down the hillside, and it was as if the property were perched on a mountain top, with the wide sweep of the valley below. Dotted with full and ancient trees, it was like peering through clouds at the world below, the stunning countryside bisected by the River Avon, which sparkled where the sun danced on its surface. And the city of Bath itself, sitting in beautiful symmetry like pale Lego bricks with red roofs, nestling in the distance. The soaring Gothic arches of Bath Abbey rose into the skyline, and she could only imagine what it might look like after dark when the honey-coloured street lamps and the interior lights of all who lived below would glow like the dying embers of a fire, and just as hypnotically.
‘It’s why we bought the place. The view.’ Trish spoke with a pride that was not overt or conceited, but rather with love for the spot she called home. ‘There was an old house on the plot, a grotty thing really, all creaky stairs and dusty corners.’ Enya caught Aiden’s eye, wondering if he, like her, might think that creaky stairs and dusty corners would be preferable. ‘Took us six years to finish the build. Would have been a lot quicker were I not married to a perfectionist.’ Trish rolled her eyes.
‘WhereisDad?’ Iris asked, looking around as if he might be wearing all white and they’d lost him against the marble background.
‘Three guesses!’ Trish threw her manicured hands in the air and walked towards the kitchen, where an island, at least fifteen foot in length, housed a couple of stove tops, one gas, one halogen, and what looked to be a wood-fired grill and a small sink. Everything looked pristine. Enya remembered then that Trish didn’t use the kitchen for cooking. She had thought at the time that Trish was joking.
‘Not the boat!’ Iris sounded exasperated.
‘He said he had a couple of jobs that needed doing urgently, he’ll be back in time to fire up the barbecue, don’t worry.’ Trish winked at her daughter.
‘It’s like having a demanding sibling who takes the lion’s share of his attention.’ Iris laughed, and they all tittered, but there was a low hum of pain behind her words. Enya understood his desire to halt the move into the flat until after the wedding, dismantling things gradually. Iris would of course take it hard. The thought of the girl learning that there had been any kind of fascination between him and her future mother-in-law was utterly unthinkable. She was glad she’d nipped it in the bud when she had.
‘She’s my escape, the place I go to stop everything coming to a head. I’ve been buying time for us as a family, nothing more. Because pulling the plug on our marriage is not something I consider lightly...’
Enya, in truth, felt nothing but relief, even with his words in her thoughts; an hour or so’s grace before she had to face the man who occupied space in her head was most welcome.
‘Aiden, can you go and put the awning up, sweetie?’ Trish spoke to him with affection, indicating a closeness that made Enya feel a little excluded. While she wondered where to stand, whether or not she should take her bag off and where she might place it, knowing it would sit like a burgundy splat on this pale, pale landscape, her son strode confidently out of the back of the house. He pressed abutton that controlled a wide sail-like covering, which appeared like magic and cast the spacious patio in shadow.
‘Thought we’d have tea outside,’ Trish added.
‘That sounds lovely.’
‘There’s a side garden, Enya, an orchard.’ Iris pointed in the general direction. ‘It’s flat and has a clearing. We thought it perfect for the ceremony under an open-sided marquee, just in case the weather is rubbish – we’ll pretty it up, of course, with fairy lights and flower arches and whatnot – and then all round to the back garden with the doors fully open so the reception can happen out there or in here, people can wander, plenty of seating, bistro tables, candles in jars, flowerseverywhere!’
‘Tell Enya about the swans!’ Trish laughed.
‘Yes, swans!’ Iris pulled a face. ‘Mum thinks swans on the lawns, just wandering, something to amuse the guests.’
‘Well, that sounds lovely,’ she repeated, and cursed her nerves, which not only curtailed her vocabulary but also made her overthink every word. Truth was, she felt a little overawed by the overt display of wealth, uncomfortable in a way that was alien to her, and unsure of her role in the very grand wedding plans. She wanted to feel part of it, wanted to show willing, but the way the three interacted, her son walking around the house as if he had been doing so forever, the ease of affection between the trio, relationships already established when this was only the second time she had met Iris in person... She felt empty and a little surplus to requirements, awkward. This the exact situation when being able to exchange a knowing glance with Jonathan would have made all the difference. Just a look that saidin tune, in sync, one team.
A darling retriever came padding over, tail wagging, before falling down into a heap on the warm floor.
‘Ah, this must be Fishstick!’ She bent down and stroked the handsome large head of the dog.
‘Huh! Who told you his name was Fishstick? I always introduce him as Sticks!’
