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Chapter 20
Catherine was officially married. The ceremony had been short and very sweet with lots of tears and much laughter. Jasper’s sister had read a Shakespearean sonnet and Si had recited an extract from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, which he’d been practising obsessively, of course, and had duly delivered to perfection, like one of his work presentations. Catherine had arranged for candles housed in lanterns to cover every available surface and Pauline’s suggestion that ivy and gypsophila be twisted around the tree trunks lining the perimeter of the terrace had made the decked area all dreamy and romantic. Léo’s face popped into my head and I pushed it out again as quickly as it had arrived. I couldn’t think about him now.
Once Catherine and Jasper had walked back down the aisle to rapturous applause (and a more upbeat piece of music), the guests began to stream out after them, peeling off from the front, row by row. First came Si, Roger and Pauline, who was in the Max Mara royal blue dress and jacket she’d been banging on about for weeks, her short, flicky hair coiffed to within an inch of its life, a fascinator placed precariously on top. Si winked at me as he went past before turning to shake the hand of a man I didn’t know on the other side of the aisle. Behind him were Jasper’s parents who were very blond and very elegant, and then the bridesmaids.
The reception was taking place in the hotel’s swanky restaurant which, handily enough, was about two feet away. By the time I stepped inside, the photographs were already in full swing, with Catherine and Jasper standing underneath one of the indoor trees, kissing for the camera.
I spotted Si immediately and made my way over, grabbing a glass of champagne on the way. How things had changed in the space of a day. Yesterday I was happily wandering around Italy imagining my future with the man I loved, and now I wasn’t so sure that I really knew him at all. The more I thought about it, the more I realised he’d taken on the ‘caring father’ role with me and that I’d let him. He did the same thing with Catherine. He liked being relied upon, the go-to person for problem-solving and disaster-averting. It was what made him tick, what made him feel powerful, I supposed, and honestly, I thought it might have been what had drawn me to him in the first place. I’d loved having someone to care about me, who wanted to look after me in a way my dad never had. But what would be better, I was starting to realise, would be to find out who I was, and what I wanted, first.
Si had his back to me and didn’t see me coming, so I touched his arm, sliding up next to him.
‘Hello,’ I said.
He was talking to a man who I seemed to remember was an uncle on his mum’s side. I’d met him once at Pauline and Roger’s house.
‘Hello, gorgeous. You made it, then,’ said Si, kissing me lightly on the lips.
His uncle gave me a hug and I made him laugh with my account of the disastrous journey and after a while he went off to find another drink, leaving the two of us alone. I looked around. It was perfect, just as Catherine had wanted. The restaurant was decorated with flowers and candles, and the tables were all set up with the marshmallow favours and the place cards that somebody else had written out.
‘Ceremony went well, didn’t it?’ said Si.
‘It was lovely,’ I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my feet already aching.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Han,’ he said.
He looked smart in his suit. Catherine had tried to strong-arm him into wearing Paul Smith, too, but once he’d seen the price tag, he’d swiftly declined. He’d chosen the navy French Connection one he wore to work instead, with a white shirt and a red tie.
‘How was Paris?’ he asked.
I looked down at my glass, swirling the liquid around. ‘Fine.’
He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and necked half of it in seconds.
‘You’re drinking?’ I said, surprised.
He nodded. ‘Just this once. As it’s a special occasion.’
I sipped slowly at mine; I didn’t think getting drunk was the best idea, given the circumstances. The room was full of chatter and the low rumble of laughter and the photographer shouting instructions and the celebratory clinking of glasses all around us.
‘You were better off out of it,’ he said. ‘I never want to see another napkin ring as long as I live.’
I looked sympathetic. ‘That bad?’
He nodded. ‘Afraid so.’
‘She seems to have chilled out now it’s all over,’ I said.
I could see them over Si’s shoulder, Jasper’s hands on her waist, the photographer snapping away, leaping about, trying to get the right angle, clambering precariously on top of an ornamental rock garden.
Alison walked past us with a glass of champagne in each hand, holding them precariously above her head as she made her way through the crowds.
‘The bridesmaids look stunning,’ I said, thinking this might be an opportunity to weave her organically into the conversation. We didn’t have to have it out right now, that would be inappropriate, but if I could just test the waters. Get a feel for what had been going on. He might even volunteer the information.
He grabbed another two glasses of champagne and handed me one. He was drinking much too quickly. At this rate he’d be out of it before the meal started.
‘It must have been a help having them around,’ I said. ‘Alison is chief bridesmaid, isn’t she? Hope she managed to keep Catherine calm.’
‘Not sure,’ he said, sounding vague.
