Love Lies

Saadi provide me with, I’m not sure exactly what this wedding is like. Obviously, it will be beautiful, exquisite and gorgeous, that much is clear from the mood boards, samples and books that litter the many, many rooms of Scott’s house. It’s just that it has become hard to keep track of all the detail.’

‘Well, it is a twenty-four-hour event with one thousand guests,’ points out Ben.

‘Many of whom I’ve never met in my life, a few of whom Scott hasn’t met.’

‘All the more reason to impress them,’ says Ben as he carefully puts his knife and fork together and pushes his plate away. He flings his paper napkin over the chips to put temptation out of sight.

‘For example, I’m not sure what we decided to have for a starter. In the end, did we settle on the ballotine of foie gras marinated in white port, served on toasted brioche, or did we choose the ravioli of blue lobster and salmon, with a basil dressing?’

‘We chose the ballotine of foie gras.’

‘Really? And what is ballotine anyway?’

Ben laughs. ‘Oh, don’t worry. Put these details out of your head. That’s why you’ve employed Colleen. Anything you aren’t sure about will just be a lovely surprise on the day. It’s almost like being a guest. A guest and the centre of attention at once. What could be finer?’

What indeed?

Ben passes on dessert but I order banoffee pie. Just as I’m spooning the first delicious bite into my mouth, Ben asks, ‘Have you heard from Adam?’ Suddenly Coke and banoffee pie no longer seem enough; I could really do with a glass of wine.

‘No, why would I hear from him? We’ve said all we have to say to one another.’

This isn’t actually as true as I’d like it to be. I can’t count the number of times I find myself going over an imaginary conversation I want to have with Adam. Mostly these consist of me saying, ‘And another thing…’ How dare he warn me about Scott’s behaviour? How dare he imply that I’m rushing into this marriage? Oddly, these imaginary conversations bother me less than the other types of conversation that run through my head; the ones full of sweet memories rather than angry reprisals are much more distressing.

Plus there’s something I daren’t confess even to Ben.

I’ve been having a lot of sexy dreams recently. No doubt it’s my subconscious dealing with the lack of any conscious sex with Scott, and the other night I had the most sexy dream ever. This dream was full of deep back-of-throat groans as his hand worked his way over my body, his kisses trailing along behind. Starting at my neck,

The eyes were chocolate brown, not sparkling green. Adam!

The shock woke me from the dream instantly. Remembering it now causes me to blush again. It’s wrong. Wrong. I shouldn’t be dreaming of Adam! My heart was beating so fast with shame and panic it took me a good hour to fall asleep again. Of course this dream doesn’t mean anything. It’s just because Scott and I haven’t actually had sex that somehow my memories got muddled up in my fantasies. But still.

‘Is he coming to the wedding?’ asks Ben.

‘I’m not sure. As you know, Jess has invited him. I don’t know whether he’ll come. I don’t even know if she will.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She’s never threatened a no-show but clearly things between us are strained, which is horribly sad. Initially I thought she was a little bit jealous, but since my phone call with her, when she asked if she could bring Adam, I’ve been inclined to think the awkwardness between us is something altogether more complicated.’

This is the first time I’ve hinted to Ben that Jess and Adam may possibly be getting together. I’m not sure why I’ve found it difficult to broach the subject; maybe because we are always with other people or maybe because I don’t want to hear Ben say Adam and Jess were always destined for one another, that they make a perfect couple, and it’s none of my business who Adam dates now.

‘They’ll come,’ Ben says confidently, giving me a big reassuring smile.

The thing is I’m not sure if their attendance is something to smile about or not.

60. Fern

It takes a great deal of courage but I drag it from the depths of my toes and call Jess to ask her whether she is bringing Adam to the wedding. I try to kid myself that I need to confirm numbers, but this is a lie. So far, we have seven hundred and thirty-eight confirmed ‘yeses’ and one hundred and nine ‘regrets’, which leaves over one hundred and fifty people who have yet to reply. I can’t pretend that Adam’s attendance or absence will have a profound effect on the catering. No, not the catering. But I do need to know.

I call the flat. There’s no reply so I leave a short message.

‘Hi, it’s me. Erm, Fern. Just wondered how you guys are and if, erm, you’ve made a decision about, erm, LA and things. Who’s coming? I mean, have you decided, Jess, who you are bringing?’ I pause and then as an afterthought I add, ‘As your non-date.’

Bugger. I hang up. That wasn’t too clever a message. I wish I could delete it. I wanted to avoid sounding as though I was pairing them up but, at the same time, I was trying to sound cool in case they’re already paired. I think I failed on both counts. I hope to God Jess listens to that message before Adam does and that she deletes it. Surely fourteen years’ friendship has earned me that small mercy.

My phone rings back almost immediately. It’s the flat. Hurrah, Jess has listened to the message and is calling me straight back. Hopefully to confirm she is not bringing Adam.

‘Hello, Adam here.’

Those three words wound me on so many levels. One, he’s obviously heard the stupid message I left (how humiliating). Two, he thinks he has to introduce himself when he’s talking to me because he sees a certain distance and formality between us is required (however predictable this is, it’s sad). And three – three I don’t understand at all – I feel a weird physical blow low in my gut; his voice turns my belly to liquid. Damn, why did I leave such a pathetic message?

‘Hi Adam,’ I say as calmly as I can.

‘I picked up your message.’

‘It was intended for Jess, really.’

‘I know, but I figured you’d be doing numbers for the wedding and things and that you might need a quick response,’ says Adam.

This is unusually thoughtful of him. I had no idea he had any concept that RSVPs had a purpose at all. I’m so surprised by his consideration, I almost forget to lie. Almost.

‘Yes, that’s it. I need to confirm the numbers to the caterers.’ I cross my fingers on my left hand.

‘Jess said you’re OK with me coming to the wedding.’ There’s some hesitancy in his voice.

‘Of course, delighted.’ I nearly drop the phone as I cross my fingers on the other hand too.

‘Really, you don’t think it’s weird or anything?’

‘No, no, not at all. We’re all grown-ups.’ I kick off my flip-flops and try to cross my toes too. Yes, yes, it’s completely weird. He can’t be serious! He’s not really thinking of coming, is he? Surely he’d find it uncomfortable? Who wants to see their ex get spliced? Who wants to get married in front of an ex? It’s so civilized. It’s so passionless. It’s wrong. If he comes it shows he does well and truly have closure. If he comes it shows he really wants to please Jess.

‘OK, well, I’m a yes then. Count me in.’

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

‘Great, great, great. Any special diet requirements?’ I blather, in a pathetic attempt to hide my embarrassment and annoyance.

‘Er, no, Fern, we went out for four years and lived together for three of those, I think you’d have noticed if I was a vegetarian or lactose intolerant.’

‘Well, yes, but things change,’ I twitter mindlessly.