Page 74 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

Six months later…

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Ray Charles

HALLELUJAH, I LOVE HER SO

A strange thing happens when a couple elopes. In many ways, their wedding and their honeymoon become a singular entity. At least, that’s how David and I saw it. While we were in Las Vegas we thought we should really be in Las Vegas, which resultantly meant two things: We both came home having vowed never to drink again – a promise that didn’t last as long as a week – and we came home decidedly richer than we were when we left, thanks to a big win on a card game that we didn’t entirely understand. Neither of us really needed anything extravagant, though. Independently, we both already had everything we needed, and when our respective belongings came to be shared belongings, we soon found that if anything we had too much – of everything. So like responsible adults – off the back of an impulsive trip to Las Vegas to get married – we put our unexpected windfall into a bank account and – less like responsible adults – we soon forgot about the money entirely. It wasn’t until we were nearing our wedding anniversary – a date that we seldom remembered and celebrated even less often – that David had a bright idea.

(Having finished a draft of his Great British Novel, he was full of “good ideas” these days just itching for somewhere to go…)

While our friends were always keen to parade their love in a series of annual celebrations, held specifically to remind everyone that yes, they were still married, and no, they hadn’t yet answered the heady calls of divorce proceedings, there were many people who didn’t even know when David and I had gotten married, exactly – touchy though that particular subject became, in light of… well, everything. Nevertheless, two months before our wedding anniversary David’s good idea was to sit me down and say, ‘Patti, how about a party?’ And despite myself, I agreed with the man. This year, more than any other year, it felt as though there was something for us both to celebrate. So David and I, husband and wife, visited venues, met with caterers, and did everything we possibly could to make this as wedding-y a celebration as we could manage – as though our official reception was rolling around, albeit a few years too late.

David even got himself fitted with a new suit – and nearly died of shock when I did the same.

‘You’re wearing a suit to our wedding celebration?’

‘Yes, David.’ I neatened up the collar of my shirt. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No, I just thought…’ His sentence died out and he started to laugh instead. David crossed the small space between us in the dressing rooms of the tailors and he pulled me into a tight squeeze. ‘Patti, I love that in all these years of marriage, you’ve never stopped surprising me.’

‘Oh, don’t be so sentimental.’ I pushed him away playfully but then added, ‘You’ve never stopped surprising me either.’

He started to hum along to himself as he stripped out of his wedding clothes – ‘Oh, I love her so…’ – and climbed back into the corduroy trousers and jumper he’d been wearing when we arrived. ‘Get yourself dressed, woman,’ he said. ‘I want to take my wife for lunch.’

‘We’re at the caterers again this afternoon,’ I reminded him, and he shrugged.

‘A light lunch, then. It’s like stretching before exercise.’

* * *

We’d booked hall space in a hotel that was, conveniently, stumbling distance from home. When we’d pencilled in the date with them, we’d requested the silver and gold decorations package and now, stepping into the room, it appeared that no expense had been spared when it came to those decorations. I wasn’t altogether sure whether David and I were celebrating our marriage or welcoming foreign dignitaries into the country for the first time. It was clear that everyone had taken our “dress to impress” code seriously, too, because one by one the guests filtered in adding sparkle, crisp shirts, and bow ties to the space.

‘Patti, good grief, you wear a suit better than David!’ Janet announced when she saw me; though David was buzzed from the pitcher of cocktails we’d had between us at home while we were getting ready, which meant he didn’t dignify her with a response. ‘And this place looks bloody fantastic,’ she said, taking a good look around the room. ‘Why don’t you celebrate your wedding more often?’

‘Because we can’t afford to,’ I joked.

Janet slapped my arm. ‘Patti, don’t be absurd. You can’t afford not to.’

Soon there came Ella and Nora – also dressed to match, though in floor-length red gowns – followed by Gerald, who David and I both noticed was there alone, sans wife. We were rude enough to comment on it when we were left alone for a quiet minute, but not quite rude to have asked Gerald whether the inevitable had finally happened – that would likely come later. There was a growing queue of people after those familiar faces, too: Mary and Kris with a K; Keith, without a boyfriend, which was practically unheard of; Christopher and Ethan; Olivia; and Beatrice. No sooner had I been to refill our glasses and then appeared Sophie, Gwen, and Bill!

‘You came!’ I announced, two-gins loud, when I saw him.

‘Oh, Miss Patti, I wouldn’t miss it. You two’ – he cupped my face and David’s shoulder in each hand – ‘you two are a wonder.’

‘Does Bill know?’ David asked from the side of his mouth when Bill was out of earshot.

‘No, I don’t believe Bill does. Frankie!’ I turned to greet the next guest and, while it was and had been a joy, I realised that I was dangerously close to feeling like the grieving family member at a funeral, shaking hands with everyone who’d been kind enough to turn up. ‘Must we stay at the entryway the entire time we’re here? I want to work the room.’ I shimmied my shoulders as I spoke. ‘I need to show off my threads.’

‘Work the room? Show off your threads?’

‘You’re the one who asked Alexa to teach me slang, David!’

‘Well remind me to ask her not to when we get home!’

While David was distracted by yet another guest, I did my eventual sweep of the room – though I wasn’t sure whether there was something specific I should be doing to show off my threads, exactly. But I still walked with an air of confidence that I couldn’t remember feeling before. Whether it was the suit, the booze, or the entirely altered outlook on life – as though I’d had some sort of midlife crisis, condensed into the space of just a few months – I wasn’t altogether sure. Either way, though, I found it was easier to carry myself around this party than it had been at others. Maybe that’s because David and I know how to throw a party, I told myself. Or maybe it was because something had changed…

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