Chapter Thirty-Two
The following weekend Ginny and Gus were making a rare train journey up to the big smoke for Ginny’s birthday. They were planning on taking Annie out to the theatre and had invited Lucy and Rory to join them. Lucy wondered whether their biennial trip to London had arrived a little earlier than usual, suspecting that it was probably connected with enormous curiosity on both their parts to meet the by-now famous Rory. Especially since Annie had not stopped raving about him during Ginny’s nightly telephone calls ever since their dinner in the studio the previous week.
Rory couldn’t wait to meet Lucy’s parents and was excited about their evening together. He wasn’t a massive fan of musical theatre but was more than happy to make an exception to spend the evening with her family. Gus was treating them all to dinner afterwards at a French restaurant in the West-End. They were going to see Ginny’s best-loved musical, Lloyd Webber’sThe Phantom of the Opera, and Lucy spent the whole week looking forward to it.
Rory’s friends had all written charming thank you letters after the dinner party, singing Lucy’s praises and thanking them both for such a fun and spoiling evening, promising to invite them back for a return meal soon.
During the week, Rory and Lucy spent most of their evenings together in the familiar routines they had established as a couple. On Thursday they stood side by side brushing their teeth before bed. As Rory put his toothbrush back in the holder, he asked her whether she was around in the first week of March.
‘I should think so,’ said Lucy. ‘How come?’
‘Would you like to meet my folks?’ asked Rory. ‘I really want you to.’
‘Are you kidding?’ asked Lucy. ‘I wouldloveto!’
‘I think it’s unfair that I am going to have met Annie, Ginny and Gus by the end of the week and none of my family have had the chance to meet you. They’re all dying to lay eyes on the famous Lucy Johnston! What would you say to a weekend jaunt in Ireland!’ suggested Rory.
Lucy couldn’t think of anything she would rather do. She was thrilled with the way things were going between them; it felt like every piece of the puzzle was falling into place. Meeting each other’s families would be the icing on the cake.
That Friday evening they celebrated Valentine’s Day, until recently Lucy’s worst day of the year. Not anymore. Rory cooked Lucy a romantic, candlelit meal and they exchanged cards with heartfelt notes written inside. Lucy felt closer to him than ever and loved him for spoiling her so much; he made her feel like the luckiest woman alive.
Saturday was a drizzly, damp day; a day for winter warmers, leather boots and duffle coats.
‘I don’t want to go outside in this,’ Lucy sulked, looking out of the window.
Rory mimicked his mother Trina scolding, ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothes,’ as he zipped up his oversized waterproof jacket and pulled on his beloved Caterpillar boots.
Having travelled underground into central London, Lucy and Rory emerged from the tube and bowed their heads as if in prayer as the misty rain sprayed their faces. Rory unleashed the catch on his enormous umbrella, which sprang into a full arc above their heads, protecting them from the elements as they trundled through the throngs of Saturday night drinkers that flocked to Soho each weekend. Gus was waiting for them, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he stood at the entrance to the theatre like an off-duty security guard. Spotting his daughter as she approached, he roused himself from his thoughts and stepped down from his vantage point to greet them.
Having kissed Lucy, Gus turned towards Rory held out his hand and gave him a firm handshake, saying, ‘Rory, lovely to meet you’ as he did so.
‘It’s very good to meet you too, Gus,’ said Rory. ‘I see London’s pulling out all the stops for your visit!’ he joked, gesturing at the water that was gushing along the gutter.
‘Yes, I know! We don’t seem to have the best of luck with our wonderful capital, it would appear. I would hazard a guess that eighty percent of our trips up to London have been exactly like this, while there’s nothing but blazing sunshine back home in Cornwall!’ said Gus as he showed their tickets to the doorman. ‘Sod’s law I suppose!’
‘Poor dad,’ consoled Lucy. ‘How was the train journey?’ she asked.
‘Oh, fine, fine thanks, darling. It only takes four hours you know, it’s so much faster than driving!’ marvelled Gus.
‘That’s what I’ve been telling you for years! It’s so much more comfortable too,’ said Lucy. ‘I can’t bear the thought of driving down there now; sitting in traffic on the motorway for double the amount of time it should take!’
They climbed a flight of stairs, admiring the framed pictures of actors and actresses that lined the walls, before arriving in the opulently decorated bar. The seats were covered in red crushed velvet and gold light fittings mimicking chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Annie and Ginny were waiting at one of the tables with a bottle of prosecco and five champagne flutes full to the brim. They both stood up as they entered the room, two matching grins mirrored each other on both of their faces, so similar despite one being slightly more wrinkled than the other.
‘Darlings!’ cried Annie as she held out her arms to embrace her granddaughter and her ‘beloved’, as she called Rory. ‘So lovely to see you both!’ she said, kissing them both on each cheek.
‘Annie, I see you’re looking gorgeous as ever!’ replied Rory. ‘And you must be Ginny,’ said Rory, turning to face Lucy’s mother with his most charming smile as he, in turn, kissed her on the cheek.
‘I certainly am. It’s lovely to meet you at long last,’ simpered Ginny. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from both Lucy and my mother… I feel like I know you already!’
‘I hear many happy returns of the day are in order?’ asked Rory.
‘Yes, happy birthday Mum,’ said Lucy. ‘Let’s have a toast.’
They clinked glasses and drank to Ginny’s good health, making small talk about the weather, the journey from Cornwall, Tiggy and Rufus, and how much they were all looking forward to the show.
At the five minute warning, Lucy and Ginny nipped to the loo to spend a penny. Embarrassingly Ginny shouted, ‘SUCH a gorgeous man!’ at the top of her voice the minute they turned their backs on the others, firmly within Rory’s earshot; subtlety was certainly not her forte! They dried their hands in the blade hand dryer that suctioned the water from your skin in seconds as though you were shoving your hands inside a Hoover, a novelty for Ginny who declared that it was very space age. Lucy was fairly sure that these inventions had reached the south-west coast but they apparently had not come to Ginny’s attention as of yet. She loved to associate anything remotely modern with the city and often said ‘city folk’ were far too ‘technological’ for their own good.
As the two minute bell rang, they made their way into the Grand Circle to sit down. Lucy loved the murmuring chatter of the theatre, the atmosphere was always tense with anticipation as everyone took their seats, nothing to do for the next three hours except to sit back, relax and be entertained. As the curtains rose, the familiar strains of Lloyd Webber’s music rose from the orchestra and swelled up to the rafters of Her Majesty’s Theatre. Lucy was swept away.
