‘That might work.’
‘We can always go inside the house for a while.’
‘No. I want to stay here.’
‘Are you sure?’
He looks down at my stomach.
‘The baby’s fine. I’m going to ride this one out.’
‘Fair enough, but I’m not leaving your side.’
Taking my hand, he turns to our guests, beaming his happiness at them, and leads me into the throng. We’re hugged and kissed and congratulated, one smiling face after another presenting itself in front of us while the rain gathers force outside, hammering against the tarpaulin until I’m struggling to hear what people say. Here and there, above the din, I catch a crack of thunder, and each time I hear it, it’s louder. With no regard at all for my wedding day, the storm’s about to pass right over our heads … and I’ve begun to tremble. I’d love nothing more than to hide under a table, but I think that might be a step too far. Instead, I tell myself I’m all grown up now. I can stay in control.
Clive approaches us.
‘We’re swapping the order,’ he shouts over the noise of the rain. ‘Official photos later when it’s cleared up outside. And they can’t serve dinner until it stops raining.’
‘That’s okay,’ I shout back. ‘Just keep everyone’s glasses topped up.’
‘Limitless champagne on empty stomachs,’ he laughs. ‘That should work well.’
With a mock salute, he marches off to liaise with the waiting staff.
He’s quickly replaced by Lucy.
‘We need to get you inside.’
‘Why?’ I demand.
‘Weather. Baby.’ She points at my stomach. ‘Quivering, pregnant mess.’
‘She’s coping,’ Dan reassures her.
But I’m not so sure about that. The trembles have already mutated into shakes.
‘I’m perfectly alright,’ I lie. ‘Go and get drunk.’
She stares at me, and then at Dan.
‘Suit yourselves. But don’t come running to me when she starts swearing.’ With a wave of the hand, she heads off to help Clive.
Another few minutes pass by in a whirlwind of chat. At some point, I thank Norman for the arch, and Betty for the cake. Jodie informs me she can spruce up my make-up. With a wink, Kathy tells us she’s bought ‘nice clean sheets’ as a wedding present. Bill asks us what we think of his Bermuda shorts, and Charles introduces me properly to his family. I do my best to focus, but it’s not easy. With my heart pounding and thumping, I’m half-listening to the storm, constantly gauging its movement, checking every now and then on the flapping marquee, the rain squalling in through the doorway.
‘That was beautiful, darling,’ Little Steve enthuses, clapping his hands together. ‘Just perfect. I cried like a baby.’
‘He did,’ Big Steve confirms, looking dapper in a black suit. ‘It was embarrassing.’
Thunder erupts nearby. Dan’s arms close around me. The children are screaming now, all apart from Damian who’s wheeling around like a maniac.
‘I’m glad you made it,’ I tell them, my voice cracking with anxiety. ‘I thought you’d be too busy terrorising Europe.’
‘Darling,’ Little Steve breathes, ‘we’ve been concentrating on France, but we had to shoot back for this. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Another thunderclap. Closer this time. I jolt again, leaning into Dan’s side. I hear the children screaming again. Through half-closed eyes, I watch as Damian jumps up and down on the spot, laughing at his brother.
‘How’s the painting going, Maya?’
‘Portraits,’ I gasp. ‘I’m working on portraits. Commissions.’
‘Big commissions,’ Dan adds quickly. ‘Don’t undersell yourself, Maya.’
‘We’ve popped into Slaters,’ Big Steve adds. ‘You’re doing wonders.’ He pats Dan on the arm. ‘Three floors fully functioning. And what’s this about a new gallery?’
‘I’ve got some land on the North Bank. We’re having plans drawn up.’
‘But you’re still running Fosters?’
‘Not for much longer. There’s a deal in the pipeline.’
‘I don’t know how you do it all.’
‘Lucy virtually looks after Slaters on her own. I’m collaborating with Gordon on the new place. He’s taking on a lot of the work for now.’
He nods over to where Gordon’s sitting at a table with Clive, Lucy, Lily and the mystery man. I have no idea what they’re discussing, but Lucy’s in fits of giggles. Lily, meanwhile, is busy knocking back a glass of champagne. As soon as she finishes, Lucy slides a fresh glass towards her. She’s clearly accepted her mission, and it looks like we’ll have a legless Lily before dinner’s served.
‘Who’s that chap with Gordon?’ Little Steve enquires.
‘Mark,’ Dan answers. ‘Gordon’s boyfriend.’
Little Steve’s mouth opens. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ Dan confirms. ‘He is gay.’ And before I can ask the obvious question, he’s already answering it. ‘He came out to his parents and risked everything.’ He turns to me. ‘Inspired by you, actually. Anyway, they’ve accepted it, albeit grudgingly. So it looks like …’
Another clap of thunder cuts short Dan’s explanation. It’s deafening this time, causing virtually everyone in the marquee to jump. I whimper, press myself into Dan’s chest and watch out of the corner of my eye as Damian pirouettes on the spot.
‘We’re all going to die!’ he shouts.
And with that, Layla’s boys begin to cry, Sophie’s daughter rushes into her mother’s arms and Ethan scoots under a table. Damian laughs at it all, and then shouts his warning one more time. My brain clicks into action. I may well be on the cusp of hyperventilating, but I’m not having that. Anger trumps terror, and before I know what’s going on, I’ve unpeeled myself from Dan’s grip, waddled across the marquee, and I’m pointing straight at Damian’s triumphant little face.
‘That’s enough,’ I snap. ‘Nobody’s going to die. Don’t say that. You’ll scare the others and it’s not fair.’
Silenced by my outburst, Damian freezes. I turn to the others, softening my voice.
‘It’s just a thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning. It can’t hurt you.
