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“Have to watch your tongue,” said Jason giving her leg a pat.
“How are the wedding preparations going?”
“The wedding dress I can’t describe, as I don’t want John to know. A secret.” Andrea leant towards Gemma and whispered, “Ivory.”
Gemma put a finger to her lips.
“Andrea is being very traditional,” commented John. “Church wedding, the works. Her parents have given up on her older sister ever marrying her long-term partner and pulled out all the stops for Andi.” He sniffed the glass of white wine then picked up the bottle from the ice bucket to examine the label.
Gemma’s fork hovered in front of her mouth. “Church wedding. That will please Mum and Dad.”
“Yes. Our local parish church. We’ve had to go to the odd service. Grin and bear the boring sermons, chuck money into the collection, shake hands, and that kind of stuff. The vicar is old school.” John frowned.
Andrea glared at him from across the table. “You may not have any faith, but I do.”
“Our parents didn’t push it on us, did they, Gem?” He cocked his head.
“No. Sunday school for a while, and then I insisted on tennis lessons on Sunday mornings, and that was the end of religion. John rebelled the moment the vicar called him a sweet, angelic boy!” Gemma laughed.
“Did it for me, that. Calling me an angel. I was embarrassed, especially when Mum blurted it out in front of all my mates in the playground.” He joined in Gemma’s laughter.
“She did it on purpose, you know. You’d given her a mouthful that morning over breakfast.”
“You and your memory. You could only have been six or seven!” John glowered. “Gemma and Dad could recount reams of football scores; impressed my mates no end.” He poked at his pasta, shaking his head.
Jason refilled John’s empty wine glass. “It’s not a great surprise. Good memory runs in your family. But, Gemma’s never been one for football.” He raised an eyebrow.
“She didn’t watch the games. Just the final score programme. She would reel off the scores at school to impress the boys. You were thirteen or something? I was in sixth form by then, preparing to go to college.”
Gemma blushed. She hadn’t realised John had guessed at her little game of attention seeking.
“Standing there, surrounded by your troop of admirers, with your waistband turned over to make your skirt shorter!” He flashed her a grin.
“John.” She cringed, flushing.
Her brother waved his knife in the air, forming the shape of a curvy female. “She was a looker from the moment she hit puberty, Jason. Mum wanted to lock her in her bedroom at night. I told her I would look out for you, didn’t I, Gem?”
She sighed. He certainly had done. Until he left home, she hadn’t been allowed to go to parties without him or discos, not even the school-hosted events. She had resented his role as watchful chaperone terribly. Her friends called him her nighthawk, and teased her remorselessly. She tried to escape him and gone to great lengths on certain occasions. Telling her mum she was going around to her friend’s house then sneaking off to sit on the swings in the local park where the boys gathered with their girlfriends. Her first kisses happened in that playground, with her back against a tree and arms looped about a sweaty teenage neck. A disappointing affair.
To her despair and ignoring the frantic shakes of her head, he continued to unveil her past “You would sneak out. Even told Mum you were going to see Gran once and headed off to the park instead. Mum rang Gran to tell Gemma to come home and found out she wasn’t there. Caught her red handed. Grounded you for a month. Another time, you did something similar. She docked your pocket money.” John chortled.
Gemma pushed her plate back, her appetite gone. Throughout the humiliating recounting, Jason had listened intently.
Andrea giggled. “Gemma, you naughty girl! Can’t say I was any better.” She pursed her lips. “Use to tell my mum I was at my aunt’s house. She was so trusting, and I got away with it for weeks before she sussed out I was at my boyfriend’s.”
“And it’s us boys who get the bad reputation!” John finished his last mouthful. “Really yummy, this. Time for dessert?”
“You boys aren’t expected to be chaste, though, are you!” Gemma pointed out.
Jason waved a waiter over. “Dessert menu and more wine,” he said in his perfunctory fashion.
“Mum worried about you, Gem. She always did and always will. She made me feel really guilty if I didn’t keep an eye out for you. Told me I was a bad brother for letting you run off with the local boys.”
“I know. I overheard the conversations, John.” Gemma sighed. “It was futile, though. You went off to horticultural college, and I had my freedom. Dad didn’t mind; he didn’t worry. In fact, he would drop me off at parties on the way to his Friday night bridge club. He didn’t tell Mum; gave me money for taxis or buses home.” Gemma pretended to read the menu as she realised she had revealed, too.
“I didn’t know that! You two were always in cahoots. Sly girl.”
“If I promised not to get drunk and to stick to my curfew, he would let me.” She shrugged. “He trusted me.”
