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Chapter 18
“I know it’s short notice, but can I bring Toby with me to the christening as a plus one?” I ask Charley later that week.
“Of course!” she replies. “We’d love to meet him.”
I’ve been struggling to find a suitable christening present for Amelia and, in the end, I landed on the idea of a nice set of photos that I could give them. I’d found some sites online where you can upload pictures and make an album, so my plan was to ask Toby for some tips to make sure the photos weren’t too awful. He surprised me by offering to come and take them himself and, despite my protests that I didn’t want to take advantage of him, he eventually persuaded me to let him. We did at least agree that I would cover the cost of the album. He also suggested we frame a few for them to have at home, which I thought was a lovely idea.
I have mixed feelings about the upcoming christening. Charley has sent me the order of service and there are some vows I have to make about renouncing evil and turning to Christ, as well as promising to ensure Amelia is brought up to become a Christian. I’m happy enough to say the words, but I have to confess that I’m not particularly religious. I’m not an atheist; I just don’t think God and I have a lot to say to each other. At school we had to go to chapel every morning, which wasn’t too bad as the services were pretty short and I quite enjoyed singing the hymns. On Sundays, however, we had longer services, often with visiting speakers who would drone on for hours about their pet cause or charity. They were unbearably dull, and the hard wooden pews would make my bum go to sleep. Since then, I’ve rather enjoyed having Sunday mornings to myself without God muscling in. If I’m not travelling, I sometimes go out for breakfast, buying the Sunday broadsheet I write for on the way and enjoying a few sections over a poached egg on toast and some strong coffee.
I arrive a little early on the day of the service, and Toby isn’t quite ready when I ring the bell, so he invites me up to the flat to wait. This is the first time I’ve been in here since the day he moved in and the transformation is amazing. The sitting room ceiling has been re-plastered and he’s redecorated in warm, light colours. The biscuit-coloured carpet also adds to the feeling of airiness in here, and there are pops of colour from the artwork on the walls and the large squishy sofas. The obligatory flatscreen TV is mounted on the wall, with speakers and all sorts of other man paraphernalia beneath.
The bedroom door is ajar, and I stick my head around it. Toby is rummaging in his wardrobe, with a towel around his waist. “Am I OK to have a look around?”
“Help yourself!” he replies.
I walk into the kitchen, which now features sleek, modern units. It’s a little more sterile and masculine than I would choose, but it’s still a very pleasant room. I run my fingers over the granite worktops, which feel cool and smooth to the touch. Toby evidently doesn’t do ‘cheap and cheerful’. Out of curiosity I open one of the drawers. There isn’t much in it apart from a few utensils. I push it shut and it closes softly, as if it’s cushioned from behind. There’s a small round table in there with two chairs, and I find myself imagining Toby and a boyfriend having breakfast together at it. The bathroom now contains an expensive-looking white bath suite, with bright lighting and a powerful sounding extractor fan. I doubt very much that you’d get steamed up with that thing whirring away.
“What do you think?” Toby asks from just behind me, making me jump.
“Bloody hell, Toby, you gave me a fright!” I say, turning to face him. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt and a red and blue striped tie, and his aftershave is woody and spicy.
“It’s amazing,” I continue. “You must have spent a fortune!”
“It wasn’t cheap, but having waited so long for my own space, I wanted it to be right, do you know what I mean?”
I think of the effort I put into my flat when I first moved in there, and nod. “Show me the rest then,” I tell him.
The second bedroom has been re-purposed as a study, with a desk, filing cabinet, and swivel chair. There’s a bookcase with hundreds of well-thumbed books on various aspects of photography, and the walls are adorned with framed photographs. A powerful-looking computer sits on the desk. In the master bedroom the single mattress on the floor has gone, replaced by a wooden-framed king-size double bed with crisp white bedlinen and matching bedside tables with lights. The revamped en-suite bathroom has a lingering aroma of Toby’s aftershave.
“I’m particularly pleased with this,” Toby says, indicating the mirror in the en-suite. “It’s heated, so it doesn’t steam up. I got the idea after the first place we stayed when we went to Courchevel. I came out of the shower, couldn’t see a damned thing in the mirror and thought ‘there must be a better way’. A bit of internet research led me to this.”
“I think it’s probably a man thing,” I laugh. “I just rub my mirror with the towel.”
As we drive to the church, I fill him in on the other people who are likely to be there. The other godparents are Ed’s sister, Lily, and Charley’s brother, Simon. Both sets of parents are also coming, as are quite a few of their friends. The church is the same one that Charley and Ed got married in, which is a nice piece of continuity. The only downside is the vicar, who was a rather decrepit old man with yellow teeth and terrible breath. I hope he’s going to be strong enough to be able to hold Amelia without dropping her.
The church is already full when we get there, but we have reserved seats at the front with the family. I can just make out faint organ music above the hubbub of chatter. Amelia seems to be loving being the centre of attention and grins toothlessly at everyone. I introduce Toby to Ed and Charley, and also to Charley’s parents, John and Christine.
“I hope you’re coming back to ours afterwards,” John says to Toby. “We have enough to feed the whole of Kent from what I can see!”
“Nonsense,” Christine retorts. “I just wanted to make sure that nobody was hungry, and you always end up with more people than you think you’re going to have at these things.”
“I’d be delighted,” Toby says to them. “If you’ve been slaving away over a hot stove it would be terrible to have anything go to waste.”
John laughs. “The only thing she’s been slaving over is the menu! She was on the phone to the caterers as soon as the date was set.”
A hush falls over the congregation as the vicar comes out of the vestry and walks over to the desk at the front. I do a slight double-take as she’s not only a woman, but appears to be barely older than me.
“What happened to the old guy?” I whisper to Charley.
“He retired, thank goodness. This one is really lovely. Ed and I like her so much we’re talking about coming regularly.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Ed’s got this whole ‘pillar of the community’ bee in his bonnet, and also there’s a crèche for Amelia when she’s older.”
The vicar welcomes everyone warmly and makes a particular fuss of Ed, Charley and Amelia. I’m glad to discover that the hymns are all familiar to me from my school days, and I sing along lustily, drawing amused side glances from Toby. When we get to the actual baptism part, we all gather around the font and say our vows, before the vicar takes Amelia and carefully pours the water from the font over her forehead. Amelia looks surprised but doesn’t cry. We’re then sent back to our seats and the vicar takes Amelia on a sort of victory lap around the church, introducing her to various people in the congregation before returning her to Charley.
When the service is over, Toby asks the vicar if she would mind re-enacting some of the baptism so he can take pictures, and she gladly agrees. Toby also takes pictures of Amelia with her parents, grandparents and godparents. It feels a little bit like a wedding, and I worry that Amelia will get bored and start crying. Thankfully, he’s quick and efficient and the whole thing only takes a few minutes.
