Laurieand Sasha approached more sedately.The Dagenham relatives werespilling in, dressed to the nines, proudly self-conscious inrosebuds and new hats.Charlie emerged from the crowd.“Laurence,”he said, coming up to shake his hand and then Sasha's.“Did you doall this?All these extra flowers, and the little corsages in theporch?”
“They're just a few things.”
“Well, Mrs G's thrilled about them.Is that Chelsea Boy Fivetuning up on the green?”
“I'm afraid so, yes.”
“You're a good, generous lad.Though she might want to marryyou instead when she finds out.”
Lauriechuckled, blushing.“You'll have to stop calling her Mrs G, won’tyou, once she’s...”
He stopped.Christ, he couldn't remember.No—he didn'tknow.Charlie had alwaysjust been Charlie to him.The driver, the handyman—more of a fatherto him than Sir William, for nineteen years.And Laurie didn't knowhis name.
“She'll be a lovely Mrs Trent,” Sasha cut in smoothly, takinghis arm.“Come on, both of you.She's looking around for herbridegroom.Laurie, you're meant to be ushering for Charlie's side,and they're all here.”
Gratefully Laurie retreated.Charlie, who hadn't noticed thelapse, grinned at Sasha with the evangelical fervour of a man who'dfound his path and wished to share it.“You're both grand lads,” hedeclared.“And men can do it too now, can't they—this marriagelark?You should.You and Laurence should get hitched.Then I canbuy roses for you.And get you back for the Chelsea BoyFive.”
“Laurie's idea, not mine,” Sasha murmured, watching Lauriegreet the Trent relatives as if he'd spent his whole life doingnothing but set wedding guests at their ease.His smile would haveeclipsed the sun.Mrs G, still clutching Clara, was gazing at himwith utter devotion.“Maybe one day, Charlie.You neverknow.”
***
After the ceremony, Laurie met his sister again.She was backin the churchyard, once more using her favourite headstone as abarre.She was serious now, though.Laurie recognised theinward-looking stillness of her face.First position through tofifth.Repeat, repeat, with clockwork precision, a girl on amusical box.Laurie knew enough to see that she was good.Gravitywas letting go of her.Her extensions were limber and light, andthe dragon had no need to worry about herpointe:as Laurie watched, shesuddenly sprang up onto her bare toes.The clockwork fell away fromher like a worn-out scaffold and she launched a passionatearabesque.
Laurieapplauded softly.“Brava.That was beautiful.”
It tookher a moment to notice him.Laurie wasn't offended—it would havetaken her a moment to notice a nuclear strike, and her comedown,her transformation, was desperately familiar to him.“Thank you,kind sir,” she said, then hitched herself with childish awkwardnessonto the ivy-wreathed wall.“Come here and talk to me.Where'sSasha?”
“Helping set up for breakfast in the marquee.Where'sDracinsky?”
“Flirting.”Clara leaned forward and pointed through the archof the lych-gate.Sure enough, there was the dragon, her scales andfangs in abeyance, chatting animatedly to one of Charlie'sbrothers.“It's her one weakness.And don't go all aristocratic onher, Laurie—she isn't neglecting me.She's a good escort.She’smore than that—she guards me like some kind of soldier.”
Laurieopened his mouth to protest, but decided against it.He had beenabout to rip a strip off the poor woman for deserting her post, andClara could see through him like glass.“All right.Why are you outhere again?”
“I blame Jane Eyre.We were supposed to finish our run in NewOrleans, but Jane has the Americans transfixed.”
“The minx.”
“That's right.We got such packed houses that we've beeninvited up to Seattle, then over to New York if we're good.IfJane's good.So I have to practise.”
She waspickled in Laurie's mind at age eight, a frail scrap lost in thelabyrinth of the Mayfair house, Sir William the minotaurthreatening darkness behind her.She had only just turned elevennow.But she had travelled halfway round the world, survived formonths beyond the reach even of Laurie's dubious parenting.She haddanced in front of thousands on her own.And her pragmatism wasfamiliar to him too.“I see,” he said, coming to sit beside her onthe wall.“Are you all right, Jane Eyre?Are you a neglected childstar with no home affections or values?”
She snorted.“I wish.Last time I was home, Aunt Elise offeredme my own wing of the Languedoc chateau if I'd give up my tour andgo to live with her.Mrs G and Charlie are fitting up a room for mein their new house.Not to mention mypied-a-terrewith you and Sash, and achoice of ten bedrooms at Ma's any time I want to go backthere.”
“Okay.Fair enough.”
“But being on my own, Laurie—being away from everything, Imean—I've had time to think.I can see some things now that neverstruck me before.I can see how hard it must have been for you,living the way we did.”
Laurieshifted uncomfortably.“I wasn't sure how much you remembered.Neither one of us has to think about all that, you know.We bothgot out—got new lives.”
“That's just it.I love my new life, and I know it was you whosaved me from my old one.”She put out a hand.She was a precise,unsentimental creature.She said just what she meant, and hergestures had a solid-gold sincerity: Laurie, startled, returned hergrasp and listened.“I know now that you brought me up.Not Ma,certainly not the old monster.Just you.You were only ten when Iwas born, and you took all that on.You saved me.”
“Rubbish,” Laurie said hoarsely.The lilacs and the sunshinewere trying to blur in front of his eyes.He didn't need this, notnow.“Didn't we save each other?Anyway, think how it would havebeen for me without you—growing up in that bloody hothouse worldall on my own.”
Her drylittle grip increased.They sat in silence for a moment, then shelooked at him sidelong.“Hothouse, eh?Don't tell me you've startedreading reviews.”
“No, of course not.Sasha edits them for me, tells me anyuseful bits.”
“He never told you that one.”
