The Witness at the Wedding

Three

“Hi, it’s Gaby. I spoke to them.”

Not expecting the phone call, Carole couldn’t think what her future daughter-in-law was talking about.

“My parents,” came the explanation. “I’ve talked to them about us getting together.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Their lunchtime conversation in the Crown and Anchor came back.

“I suggested us meeting in London. Hope that’ll be all right with you?”

“Yes, fine. Halfway.”

“Well, Harlow’s a bit nearer London than Fethering, but…”

“It’s not a problem. When did you have in mind?”

“They could do next Tuesday. Rather make it lunch, if it suits you. They’re not very keen on going back on the train late.”

“Lunch on Tuesday would suit me very well,” said Carole, wondering for a moment how old Gaby’s parents were. There had, of course, been talk of her father’s pension. But then again, Carole herself had a pension. And she too would try to avoid late-night trains if she could.

“Haven’t worked out where yet, but I’ll give you a call in the next couple of days.”

“Fine,” said Carole, already starting to feel nervous at the prospect of the meeting ahead.

“I’ll be there, of course, but I’m not sure whether Steve will be able to get away from work. Everything seems pretty frantic there at the moment.”

“Well, be nice to see him if he can. But if he can’t, he can’t.”

Another potential cause for disquiet loomed up in front of Carole. “Erm…will you be inviting David to the lunch?”

Gaby sounded surprised. “I hadn’t intended to. I mean, he has already met Mum and Dad.”

Yes, of course he would have done, thought Carole with another pang of jealousy. “But I could invite him, if you like?”

“No, no. No need at all,” came the hasty response. “Well, I’ll really look forward to meeting your parents. I’m sorry, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned what their names are.”

“Oh, haven’t I? No, you’re right, I probably haven’t. Well, they’re Marie and Howard.”

“Marie and Howard, right.”

“And they’re…” Gaby hesitated, uncertain how to put the next bit. “They’re very…quiet. I mean, not flamboyant people. They live a sort of…” no other adjective offered itself “…quiet life.”

“That’s fine. So do I.”

“Yes, but I mean even quieter than yours. I – ” But the words wouldn’t come to describe exactly what Gaby was trying to say. “You’ll know what I mean when you meet them.”

“Fine. As I say, I’ll look forward to it,” said Carole with even less conviction than she’d had when she last used the words. “Oh, by the way, I gather you’ve talked to Jude.”

“Yes.”

“Good. How is the back now?”

“Much better, actually. I almost feel a bit of a fraud. It’s always better in the evening. Steve and I have had a good dinner at the hotel and I’m feeling more relaxed.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“In fact, I’ve rung Jude, and cancelled our appointment in the morning.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” There was a silence, as if Gaby was about to say something else.

“Well, I’d better be getting on,” said Carole. “That is, unless there was anything else.”

“No. No…Well, just…”

“What, Gaby?”

“Carole, please be very gentle with my parents, won’t you?”

Which, to Carole’s way of thinking, was an extremely odd thing to say.

Carole had spent the rest of the following day putting it off. Gulliver had no idea why he had had an extra-long walk that afternoon, but he was delighted anyway. By the evening, though, Carole knew there was no escape. She’d made the decision and she had to go through with it.

Carole Seddon had an almost photographic memory for figures and especially phone numbers. She could still remember most of the numbers she had dialled regularly during her Home Office career, and at home never resorted to the use of the storing facility or quickdial on her phone. There was one number, however, to which she had never given houseroom in her mind, so she was forced to look it up in her address book.

He answered straightaway.

“David, it’s Carole.”

“Ah yes. Stephen said you might be calling.”

So the stage management had been busying away on both sides of the divide. His voice, even in the few words he had spoken, opened a Pandora’s box of unwelcome emotions, but Carole pressed on. This was just something that had to be done. “I’m meeting up with Gaby’s parents next Tuesday.”

“Yes…erm. So I gathered.”

She always forgot about the ‘erm’ until she heard it again. David’s erm was a nervous tic. He uttered very few sentences that didn’t contain at least one. Carole remembered the agony of anticipating its inevitable appearance, like waiting for the second shoe to fall. He hadn’t seemed to do it when they first met, at least not so much. But when their relationship soured, as David became more nit-picking, the erm-rate increased. It was like a symptom of his fastidiousness, a necessarypunctuation while he selected his next word. Carole had forgotten how much the erm had infuriated her.

“Well, I was thinking,” she soldiered on, “if I am going to meet Marie and Howard – ”

“You won’t find them any problem,” David reassured her. “They’re…erm…well, they seem to be very good people.”

Good? If ever there was a word that damned with faint praise, thought Carole. “What are they actually like, David?”

“Well, it’s…erm…They’re difficult to describe. But you won’t dislike them. They’re not difficult or…erm…” But this erm failed in its function. David didn’t seem able to find a word that encapsulated the Martins.

Carole’s anxiety about the following Tuesday’s encounter increased. But even that wasn’t as distasteful as the task she was about to perform.

“David, we’ve been apart for quite a long while now…”

“Yes,” he agreed cautiously.

“…and we’re both grown-up people…”

He didn’t deny this.

“…so I’m sure we would be able to meet up now without any particular animosity.”

“Oh, yes, I’m…erm…I’m sure we could.”

Carole felt she was floundering. The breezy words she had planned to say to him didn’t seem to be coming out right. She tried to get control of herself and as a result sounded too forceful when she announced, “The point is that we’re definitely going to meet on the fourteenth of September, when – for both Stephen and Gaby’s sakes – we really must present as united a front as we can.”

“Oh, certainly.”

“And no petty animosities between us must be allowed to spoil their big day.”

“I couldn’t…erm…agree more, Carole.”

“So I was thinking we ought to meet before then – just to talk – clear the air.”

Again the words came out too aggressively. Carole knew she sounded hectoring, the archetype, in fact, of the nagging wife. But David didn’t seem fazed by her manner.

“I was…erm…going to suggest the very same thing myself,” he said.

“Good. Well, do you want to fix a time now?”

“Erm…”

She remembered another infuriating habit of her ex-husband’s. He was very bad at making arrangements on the hoof. She had always had to plant the idea of a social engagement, then give him a little time to assimilate it. A few days later, once he had taken the suggestion on board, he would then raise the subject himself and be ready for the fine tuning of dates and times.

Wishing to give him time to go through this essential routine, and by now desperate to get off the phone, Carole said quickly, “Think about it. Get back to me after Tuesday, when I’ve met the Martins.”

“Yes. I think that would be…erm…a good scheme.”

“Fine. I’ll hear from you then then. Goodbye, David.”

At least, Carole thought as she put the phone down, the idea has been broached. I have reestablished contact – that was always going to be the most difficult one.

But ‘difficult’ is a relative term. She wasn’t actually looking forward to the subsequent contacts that would inevitably follow.