‘Just because I know my own mind,’ he’d said to Imogen.
‘I like that you know your own mind,’ Imogen had said cuddling up to him. ‘But, just this once let’s do it their way. It will make them happy and they are offering to pay.’
Henry had felt he’d had no choice. The wedding preparations began in earnest and the guest list grew bigger by the day. The rain had been a disappointment. They had hoped for a scorching hot day.
‘You always get lovely weather in June,’ Imogen’s mother, Cynthia, had prophesied.
It had poured for the entire day.
Someone had rushed out with an umbrella. Henry had heard all the commotion and again had thought ‘Poor Imogen’. But when she’d finally arrived at his side, she had not been in the least bit wet and had looked quite radiant in her flowing white wedding dress, her hand clutching a crimson and white bouquet.
‘Here we are,’ she had whispered.
‘Yes,’ he’d smiled. ‘Here we are.’
So, there they were, standing in front of many strangers, making promises to each other.
Later, the hall had buzzed with excited chattering. Then, Henry and Imogen had entered, and applause had spread around the room making them both blush. They sat in front of a bouquet of red roses and Henry thanked everyone. Of course there had been many presents, which had been very useful. It meant writing lots of thank you notes but Imogen had been very happy to do that. They were well suited. They had the same morals and the same dreams. They had both immediately agreed on their first date that children had no part in their lives
‘They are a financial burden and a great stress on a marriage, don’t you think?’ Henry had asked over a drink at the local wine bar.
‘Oh yes,’ Imogen had agreed. ‘I want to travel and do all sorts of things.’
‘Difficult with children,’ Henry had agreed.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
It had been their first date, but Henry always made sure to get things straight. He saw little point in spending too much time with someone if his or her views weren’t compatible with his. Supposing things got serious and then he discovered they felt differently to him. It would be quite difficult to pull away and not break one’s heart. Henry never wanted his heart broken. He had hoped very much that Imogen would not break his heart for he had wanted her right from the moment he had first set eyes on her.
They had met at a jazz club. Henry could never recall why he had been there. He had never much liked jazz. It had been smoky and hot in the basement. People smoked in public places then. Musicians had improvised on stage amidst a blue haze. As the sax, sweet and soothing, played in the background, Henry spotted Imogen at a corner table. Immediately, he knew she was the one, before he knew anything about her. She was his destiny. Their eyes had locked across the smoky air and they both knew. It was as if they had never been strangers. She was studying, she told him over a Bacardi Breezer. She had doubts, though, about continuing. University life was not what she had expected. When she threw it all in, her parents blamed him. He wasn’t what they’d hoped for. A chap with a degree was what they’d had in mind.
‘I didn’t want to go to university,’ he told them. ‘I wanted to work. You can work your way up. You don’t need a university degree to do that.’
‘Education makes a difference. People look up to you,’ Imogen’s father had said.
Henry thought that was a lot of rubbish. Most of the educated people he knew didn’t have an ounce of common sense. Besides, one day he wanted to buy his own house. You couldn’t do that, he told them, not if you’re paying off a student loan.
Their first dance at the wedding had been a Viennese waltz. Henry had expertly led Imogen around the dance floor. They had both liked ballroom dancing then. Of course, like everything, with the passing of time their love of dancing had diminished. More important things began to claim their lives. But Henry remembered that dance as though it were yesterday. Imogen’s chiffon wedding dress rustling as she twirled in his arms, her cheeks red from the cheap Prosecco, and her skin slightly sweaty from the heat. Henry had later learnt to discern good champagne and every year on their anniversary, they would share a bottle that Henry had spent hours choosing.
‘We couldn’t do this if we had children,’ they congratulated themselves.
Henry now looked longingly at the wedding dress and wondered sadly, why his devoted wife of eighteen years could not see him, but a woman he had known for barely a few months, could.
Henry turned from the bridal shop and continued on to the greengrocer’s. He could see the rosy red apples displayed in a box under the shade of the awning. Imogen often brought home Pink Lady apples, but Henry preferred Red Delicious. He imagined that Imogen got muddled sometimes.
‘It’s easily done,’ he’d told her.
‘I thought it was Pink Lady you liked,’ she had said, a hint of resentment in her voice.
Henry had decided not to mention it again if she brought home the wrong ones.
There were a few customers in the shop and it was easy for Henry to slip in when one of them opened the door. He was disappointed to see that the woman behind the till wasn’t Imogen. He saw a blue overall, similar to the one Imogen wore, flash past in the back room of the shop.
‘Imogen,’ he called.
Realising that no one had heard him, Henry ventured out the back. A tinny radio was playing 80’s music. He recognised Evelyn, Imogen’s co-worker. She was arranging flowers. Beside her was a mug emblazoned with a photo of Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding day. The inside of the mug was tea-stained and Henry shuddered. That should be cleaned out with bleach, he thought. That was no way to treat royalty. He stared at Evelyn’s pink hair which he was sure had been purple the last time he’d seen her.
‘Have you seen Imogen?’ he asked.
