‘Yes, don’t worry, nothing too complicated.’
Phew!
‘It’s just a nice way to connect our families and add a modern twist.’
‘Great! I’ll see you there then, lovey.’
Enya made her way back along the secret path and turned right into the marquee. A few of the tables were occupied by young people, sipping drinks as they took in the view. It could have been any swanky venue on the Riviera, as sunlight warmed the space. It did something to her, seeing her parents, her sister and Frank sitting there all dressed up, waiting for her, waiting for Aiden. It gave her an emotional jolt in the way that something or someone familiar in an alien landscape often does. She hadn’t banked on this high level of sentiment hovering so close to the surface.
‘Nu-urse!’ Angela called loudly, making Enya wish she’d never agreed to the dress that made her look like a matron. ‘I’ve finished!’
A man on an adjacent table laughed loudly. Enya tutted; the last thing she wanted was for Angela to find an audience, understanding that there’d be no quieting her if that were the case.
‘You can cut that out. If it wasn’t for you and your intervention, I’d be wearing cerise or tangerine right now,’ she whispered when close enough.
‘You look lovely, darling. Give your mother a kiss.’
Enya did just that, holding her mum close, inhaling the familiar scent of her, and noting that her sister had been right, their mum did look old.
‘Hey, Dad.’ Her lovely dad stood and with misty eyes looked her up and down as he always did after any time apart, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there, he missed her that much.
‘Ignore your sister, you look lovely.’ He hugged her tightly.
‘I always ignore her.’ She took a seat at the table.
‘This is some place,’ Angela widened her eyes and sipped what looked like a cocktail of some sort, ‘how much do you think it’s worth?’
‘I really don’t know, Angela, perhaps you should ask Trish.’ She pulled a face at her sister and hoped her sarcasm might shut her up.
‘I just had a quick look on Zoopla,’ Frank spoke with his eyes on his phone, ‘closest I can find in the postcode went for two point four million last year, but it didn’t have as much land and the house didn’t look as fancy.’
Angela made a whistling noise.
Enya felt her face flush red and was about to make her thoughts known when Trish appeared. She looked lovely in a teal coat dress with a delicate feathered fascinator to match.
‘There you are, Enya!’
Enya gave Angela a withering look, silently encouraging her to keep schtum, as whatever she might want to say about her online house snooping was not anything Enya wanted to hear. Today or any day, come to think of it.
Angela seemed to understand and closed her mouth.
‘Trish, this is my family, Aiden’s auntie and uncle, and his nan and grandad.’
‘How lovely to meet you all! A proud day for us all!’ She smiled at each of them in turn and it made Enya feel even more uncomfortable at how they had been discussing the value of her house. ‘We can have a proper chat later, but right now I think we’re required by the bride, and in a short while everyone will be asked to go to the side garden and grab a seat, as that’s where they are having the actual ceremony.’
‘And it’s all legal, is it?’ Frank spoke directly. ‘I didn’t know you could just get hitched anywhere, in my day if it wasn’t done in front of a vicar or at the local registry office then it just wasn’t legit.’
‘Oh, I can assure you it is all very legit.’ Trish nodded, her mouth smiling, her eyes not so much. ‘They are doing the legal bit on Monday at the registry office, no one is going, just them and two friends as witnesses, so don’t worry, we’ve thought of everything.’
‘Did you know about this?’ Angela looked at Enya, who prayed she wasn’t going to make a scene.
‘I did.’
‘So, what are you saying, no aunties at theactualwedding?’
Enya swallowed her desire to scream, remembering quite clearly a conversation when Angela had declared her horror at the prospect of a registry office wedding,‘one of those awful dos where they nip up the registry office and we all shove fifty quid behind the bar of a grotty pub with a sticky carpet...’She let her eyes sweep the magnificent setting, where a small army of staff in the standard uniform criss-crossed the vast space. They carried trays of fluted glasses, ice buckets full of champagne, some held trays of dainty canapés, while others gave directions, directing newly arrived guests to the side garden and the marquee where they were invited to grab a drink and take a seat. Not a sticky carpet in sight.
‘Thisisthe actual wedding, Angela. And you’re here, as am I. On Monday it will just be Iris and Aiden and their two friends, a quick ceremony, in and out, and then I think they’re planning a pub lunch.’
