The Witness at the Wedding

Nine

If any support were needed for Gaby’s assertion that her parents should have nothing to do with the wedding planning, the engagement party provided it. The venue was another chain hotel, almost indistinguishable from the one in which Carole and David were staying, and the function room booked for the event made the Avalon Bar look sexy. Clearly all arrangements for the food and drink had been left to the hotel’s banqueting manager. While Marie and Howard Martin’s hearts were undoubtedly in the right place, they had very little experience of – or aptitude for – entertaining.

As Carole entered the room (the Caledonian Suite, with sad plaid on the walls), she wondered what phone calls must have been exchanged between Gaby and her mother over the event. She now knew that her son and fiancée’s tastes ran to the lavish, so she wondered how they were reacting to this charmless venue. One look at the strain on Gaby’s face provided the answer. The girl had not wanted to interfere. Her parents had taken the unusual step of initiating a party; advice on how to do it would only have upset them. Their daughter had to bite her lip and let the event be done their way. In both Gaby and Stephen’s eyes glinted the insecure energy of people determined to make the best of a bad job.

Carole’s fears of arriving on the dot had been avoided, but they arrived only just after the dot, and she was surprised to see how many people were already there. She knew about thirty had been invited, and most of them must have checked in at six thirty sharp.

Howard Martin was wearing exactly the same suit as he had done in the London restaurant, but Marie had clearly made an effort for the occasion. Perhaps a rather misguided effort, though. The print of pansies and violets on her dress drained what little colour there was in her face, and its tight high waist drew attention to the shapelessness of her body. As ever, the thick glasses blurred the features of her face. And yet she had the potential to be a pretty woman. With the sparkle of youth and energy, Gaby could look stunning, but her mother seemed deliberately to avoid making the best of herself. Again, Carole got the strong impression that Marie Martin found the world a very frightening place.

Oh well, the evening had to be got through. Although she’d arrived with him, Carole tried to look as though David had nothing to do with her, as she strode across to greet Howard and Marie. They were standing awkwardly to one side of the entrance, as though in a truncated reception line. Neither had adrink or seemed to regard their role in the proceedings as anything other than to be greeted.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Carole was encouraged to ‘have some of the nibbles’. These were being listlessly handed round on a tray by an anonymous blue-waistcoated waitress, but neither the soggy smoked salmon on soggier bread nor the desiccated vol-au-vents with unguessable fillings held much appeal. Carole was relieved to be whisked away by Gaby and Stephen to get a drink from the bar. Her son instantly blotted his copybook by saying, “It’s great to see you and Dad together again.”

There was a bit of confusion with the anonymous barman (clearly both hotels got their staff from the same anonymous employment agency). Having failed to take on board that the guests were not supposed to be paying for their drinks, he had been charging everyone. Stephen put the barman right on this detail and then felt obliged to go round to explain the situation to those who had already parted with good money for his future in-laws’ hospitality. Gaby negotiated for Carole a welcome glass of white wine (slightly less welcome when she felt how warm it was to the hand), and then said, “I must introduce you to my brother.”

Anyone who’d met Howard Martin would have known that Phil was his son. He was probably about the same height, but being more slender, seemed taller than his father. And, in spite of gelled, spiked-up hair and silver earrings, he looked like someone from an earlier generation; his face bore the pinched look of post-war austerity. He was dressed in a shiny grey suit over a black satin shirt. A silver necklace gleamed at his throat. The bottle of Becks from which he took frequent swigs looked diminished in his huge hand. Carole couldn’t work out whether it was just his height, but something made Phil Martin look menacing.

Gaby introduced her. She was not overtly affectionate to her brother, but seemed at ease in his company.

“Hello, Phil. Gaby’s told me lots about you,” said Carole, knowing she sounded over-effusive.

“Not everything, I hope.”

Phil’s voice was unvarnished Essex, unlike his sister’s laid-back mediaspeak. Carole wondered whether they’d had the same education, and, if so, at what point Gaby had decided to get to work on her vowels.

“Not everything, no,” Carole replied, suddenly remembering that the young man she was speaking to had a criminal record. “But she told me you lived in – Hoddesdon, is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you work in a warehouse?”

“Yeah. Checker.”

His pride in the word echoed that which his mother had shown in the restaurant.

“Mm.” Carole tried to think of supplementary questions about working in a warehouse, but nothing sprang to mind. Jude, she felt sure, could instantly have elicited fascinating details about a checker’s lifestyle. “Well, we’re all delighted about the wedding,” she went on uncontroversially.

“Yeah. Well, Sis has landed on her feet all right, hasn’t she? I gather your son’s loaded.”

Carole wasn’t quite sure of the proper response to this. Phil seemed to be being a little ungracious, and that perception was not dispelled, as he went on, “Relief all round, actually. Gab’s no spring chicken. Didn’t think anyone’d ever take pity on her.”

“Oh, shut up, Phil.” But Gaby spoke automatically. Her brother’s words didn’t seem to worry her at all.

“And you’re not married yourself, are you?”

“No way. Had girlfriends, of course – don’t get me wrong, nothing funny about me – but no way I’m going to get tied down.”

“Right.”

“Have too much of a good time with my mates. You know, we all got bikes. I’m saving up for a Harley.”

“Are you?” said Carole, as though she had a clue what he was talking about.

“Yeah, rather save up for a Harley than save up for a deposit on a three-bed semi.” He grunted out a laugh, as though this were rather a good joke.

“Mm.”

“Got to enjoy life while you can, don’t you? You’re a long time dead.”

This was not an exact reflection of Carole’s own philosophy of life, but she nodded nonetheless, and scoured her brain for something else to say. She might be wrong, but she couldn’t somehow envisage her son spending a lot of time with his brother-in-law in the future. She hoped this wouldn’t lead to tension between Stephen and Gaby.

The potential conversational impasse was saved by the arrival of a newcomer, who received a much more affectionate greeting from Gaby than her brother had. Even before he was introduced, Carole felt certain she was meeting the famous Uncle Robert. He was a shortish man, not much taller than his sister Marie, with soft white hair puffing out from a central bald spot. His suit was casual but well-tailored, and he carried himself with a confidence lacking in the older generation of Martins. The huge hug that Gaby gave him demonstrated that he was very much the favourite uncle. It also emphasized the family likeness. Uncle Robert shared the energy and sparkle that Gaby radiated, but which seemed to have bypassed her mother.

“Robert, this is Steve’s mum.” Carole got a frisson of referred pleasure from Gaby’s use of the word.

“Carole, that’s right, isn’t it? I’m Robert Coleman.”

Her hand was taken in a firm grasp, and his brown eyes twinkled as he looked her in the face. Unlike his sister, he anglicized his name, pronouncing its final ‘t’. “Heard a lot about you from young Gabs, and it’s a great pleasure to meet you.”

“You too.”

“And you’re from – Gabs did tell me – South Coast somewhere, isn’t it?”

“Fethering.”

“Of course. I know exactly where you mean. I grew up in Worthing.”

“That’s right. Marie said you were there for a short while.”

“Yes.” He seemed to readjust his memory. “Isuppose it was only a short time, really. But a lovely part of the world.”

“Oh yes,” Carole agreed automatically. She was sometimes guilty of ambivalent thoughts about where she lived, but it was certainly better than Harlow.

“And you’re retired, is that right?”

Gaby had gone to greet new arrivals and Phil had drifted off to get another beer. David was in a knot of people around Stephen. But Carole didn’t mind being isolated with Robert. He was a man who knew that one of the big ingredients of charm was appearing fascinated in the person you were with, and in everything they had to say. For Carole, being at the receiving end of this treatment was an unusual and pleasant experience.

“Yes, retired from the Home Office,” she replied.

“Ah, my old employers.”

She looked at him quizzically. “I’m an ex-copper. Did twenty-five years. Desk jobs, not on the beat.”

“Really?”

“Took early retirement at forty-five. They offered me a good package. Yours must have been an early retirement too.”

Carole didn’t know whether this was just a manufactured compliment, but she didn’t dislike it. “Yes, a bit early. And, when you were in the Force, did you work…er…” she managed to avoid saying ‘in this God-forsaken hole’ “…out here?”

“Yes. First job out of Hendon Police College was in Billericay, and I spent my whole career in Essex.”

“Mm.” Carole felt she ought to say ‘How nice’, but couldn’t. “And are you having a lazy retirement of golf and fishing?”

He grinned. “Don’t think that’s really for me. Always like to be doing things. And, particularly since my wife died – well, I don’t want to have time on my hands. I’m a JP, though, and that keeps me pretty busy.”

Carole did a quick memory check about policemen becoming Justices of the Peace. Any serving officer would be disqualified, but after two years of retirement an ex-policeman was eligible to serve on the Bench.

“Oh, I’m sure that keeps you very busy. Still, must be very helpful for the other magistrates, having someone with your specialist expertise.”

“Yes, I like to think I have some understanding of the criminal mind.”

“Always useful to have someone around who can do that. So, as an ex-policeman, what did you make of that rather strange burglary at Gaby’s flat?”

As soon as the words were out, Carole realized she shouldn’t have said them. The incomprehension in Robert Coleman’s face showed that he had never heard anything about the break-in, and too late she remembered how unwilling Gaby had been for the police to be notified.

She tried to backtrack. “Oh, I’m sorry. If you don’t know about it, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now presumably you know everyone who’s here tonight? I’ve just – ”

But she wasn’t allowed to escape that easily. “Carole, you can’t stop there. You mentioned a burglary at Gaby’s flat.”

His voice was firm and authoritative. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done, but you did, and neither of us can pretend it hasn’t been mentioned.”

“No.” She felt like a reprimanded schoolgirl.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, I don’t know very much. Just what Stephen told me.” Quickly, she ran through the few details she had.

“So nothing at all taken?”

“Nothing obvious, apparently. But, as I say, I’ve had all this at second hand.”

The twinkle had gone from Robert Coleman’s eyes. He was taking the news very seriously indeed. “And Gaby’s personal papers were disturbed?”

“That’s right.”

“Hm. I’m going to have to talk to her about it.”

“Well, do apologize to her for my telling you about it. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m very glad you did tell me. Maybe I should have a word with her…” He made as if to move away.

“But not tonight. This is her engagement party, after all.”

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Not the moment. They’re not going back to London tonight, are they?”

“No, they’re staying in a hotel. And then Gaby said something about going to her parents for coffee tomorrow morning.”

“Right. I’ll talk to her then.”

“Ah. You having a good time, Carole?” asked a painfully familiar voice behind her. “Good evening, I’m…erm…the groom’s father. David Seddon.”

“Robert Coleman.” The men shook hands formally. “Well, you two must be very proud of your young man.”

“Oh yes. We…erm…certainly are.”

“Yes. Though I should point out that we’re actually divorced,” said Carole clumsily.

“Right.” There was a silence. The intimacy between Carole and Robert, weakened by her mention of the burglary, had dissipated completely with David’s arrival. “If you’ll excuse me – I have to say a few words about the happy couple – must just check through my notes.”

After he had gone, ex-husband and ex-wife looked at each other. “That was…erm…Gaby’s uncle, was it?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sure we’ll get to know them all very well, as the…erm…years go on.”

“Yes,” said Carole. She felt suddenly very low and miserable. All she wanted to do was to rush out to the sanctuary of her Renault, and find the anonymous haven of her hotel. Or, even better, drive straight back to Fethering.

“…and, though Gabs may have come a bit earlier than expected when she was born, she certainly hasn’t rushed into marriage. Indeed, I don’t think I’m the only one who was beginning to think it’d never happen. For my generation, you see, a girl who’s reached thirty is automatically on the shelf. Still, all good things come to those who wait – and, of course, the best wine takes a long time to mature, so I like to think that Stephen has certainly got the pick of the cellar. He’s got my favourite niece, and in my book, that makes him a very lucky man. And Gabs is a lucky girl too. From what I’ve seen of Stephen, he seems a very mature and sensible young man, who I’m sure will curb Gaby’s worst excesses – ”

“You’ve got a bloody cheek, Uncle,” Gaby said through the ripple of raucous laughter.

“So all I want to do is to ask you all to raise your glasses, to say to Gaby and Stephen – many congratulations on your engagement, and we wish you many years of happiness together.”

“Gaby and Stephen!”

Marie Martin had been right. Her brother was a good public speaker. And yet, as he went through the motions of his oratory, Carole thought he seemed distracted. The minute the toast had been taken, the bonhomie dropped away from his face, to be replaced by a dour sternness. She wondered if it was the news of Gaby’s burglary that was preoccupying him.

Stephen, who – like his mother – was not a natural public speaker, made a perfectly adequate, if over-formal, thank you, particularly expressing his gratitude to “Marie and Howard for laying on this splendid party.” He wasn’t so hypocritical as to praise the venue. Carole watched Robert Coleman. He clearly wanted to get to Gaby, but the knot of congratulatory guests around her made that impossible, so he moved across to her brother. Phil had to bend down to listen to his uncle’s earnest whispering.

Throughout the party, Marie and Howard had hardly moved from their greeting position by the entrance to the suite. They stood nervously, as if, rather than being the hosts of the occasion, they were guests who didn’t know anyone. Howard sipped away at a glass of beer, but Carole hadn’t seen his wife take a drink all evening. Howard’s face was blank; probably the hubbub in the room made it impossible for him to hear anything.

Stephen came to join her, and she could see the strain of the occasion in his pale blue eyes. “All seems very jolly,” she said, in the teeth of the evidence.

“Yes. Not exactly how Gaby and I would have done it if it’d been our choice, but…very generous of Howard and Marie.”

“Oh yes. Very generous.”

“And, if it’s done nothing else, I must say I’m really pleased that it’s brought you and Dad together.”

The words were out before she could stop them – a waspish “Only geographically.”

“Yes, but…it will be all right for the wedding?” he asked anxiously.

“Of course it will, Stephen. We’re both adults, and we’re well enough brought up to know how to behave.”

“I’m aware of that. I just hoped that, maybe, by seeing more of each other, you might – ”

“Stephen, if you’re hoping there’s going to be some rapprochement between your father and me, forget it.”

Carole found she was speaking more angrily than sheintended. “We’ll not disgrace ourselves at your wedding, but after that we will go back to the only relationship between us that has ever worked – in other words, not seeing each other.”

“I’m…erm…rather sorry to hear you say that, Carole.”

Damn. She hadn’t heard David creeping up to join their conversation. Quite what she should say next was something of a challenge. There was no danger of their having a stand-up row – neither of them had ever been any good at stand-up rows – but Carole couldn’t think of anything she might say that wouldn’t sour the minimal atmosphere of the engagement party. She certainly wasn’t going to take back what she’d just said.

Her dilemma was solved by a sudden commotion over by the door. She looked across to see Howard, Robert, Phil and Gaby looking down in horror at the fallen figure of Marie Martin. They were frozen in surprise for a second, then Gaby knelt down to help her mother up.

As Carole moved towards them, she heard Marie murmur, “It’s all right. I don’t want to make a fuss. It’s just the heat.”

Gaby held her arm firmly around her mother’s waist and looked at her anxiously. Carole felt she was probably intruding into something private, but she couldn’t walk away now. Looking up at her, Gaby said, “Mum does get these fainting spells sometimes.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Just enjoy the party.”

“This was bound to happen some time.” It was Howard Martin who spoke, and he didn’t sound as though he was referring to his wife’s collapse. He looked firmly at his brother-in-law, as he went on, “I knew he was going to come back. I’ve talked to him.”

“What?” Robert Coleman sounded in deep shock.

“On the phone. I’m going to meet him tomorrow.”

“Here in Harlow?”

“Yes. He’s in the area. He deserves to have his say.”

“Doesn’t deserve anything,” Phil said viciously. “He has no rights.”

This intriguing conversation was stopped when Marie’s knees once again gave way. Phil rushed forward to help his sister support their mother’s slack body.

“We must get her home,” said Gaby. “I’ll take her.”

“No, you can’t,” her mother moaned. “This party’s for you. You can’t leave the guests.”

“Well, Steve could – ”

“No, it’s his party too. Oh, I’m sorry to spoil everything.”

“You’re not spoiling everything, Mum. Dad, shall I call for a cab?”

“You’ll be lucky. When I tried to book one for later, they said they hadn’t got anything all evening. Some big conference, I don’t know…”

“We’ll find someone to drive you back.”

“Well, I’m only on the bike,” said Phil.

“And I walked here,” said Robert.

“I’ll do it,” Carole announced. “I’ll drive you home, Marie.”