The man waiting for Evelyn is tall, with thick grey hair and a slight tilt to his body. As he turns, William can see his left leg is at a strange angle.
‘There he is!’ Evelyn whispers, as if surprised to see him.
‘He must hate me,’ William whispers back, conscious of the smiling vicar they are heading for.
‘Nonsense,’ Evelyn says, ‘he’s not that kind of man.’
They’ve arrived. Frank nods at William lightly and smiles. Then his eyes land on Evelyn and William is left in no doubt that this man is in love with his mother. Not until she has slid her arm from William’s and reached out to take Frank’s hand does she let out a sob; a short, wild cry. Frank puts his hand on her back, and she breathes in and straightens. She looks across at William and winks.
Without her, he feels horribly unanchored, exposed. Quickly, he slips into the space next to Gloria. They both look straight ahead as everyone sits.
‘Welcome, all of you, to this joyous event,’ says the vicar, opening his arms, ‘the wedding of our beloved friends, Frank and Evelyn.’
So close to Gloria after all these weeks, he breathes in her perfume, the fresh shampooed smell of her hair, and his stomach flips. William doesn’t need to turn towards her to see the difference. Doesn’t need to look. He simply knows. Gloria is pregnant.
‘This wasn’t deliberate. I promise.’ Gloria puts her hands on her rounded stomach.
The graveyard is littered with confetti. Frank’s family have been summoned for the photos, and Gloria has accepted William’s invitation for a quick walk. Later, he will describe the service as an out of body experience. Standing next to her during the hymns, he was stabbed by unexpected moments of joy so intense and physical he had to channel the surges of energy into his singing. The first time, verse two of ‘Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven’， he made the vicar physically jump. Martin joined in so it wasn’t just him who drew attention. He didn’t understand how this thing he’d never wanted could make him so happy. Maybe it was simply being next to her again.
‘I believe you,’ he says now, hands in his pockets to fight the impulse to hug her, put his fingers through her gorgeous hair and touch her changed form.
‘Well, good. I’m glad that’s straight.’ She still won’t look at him properly. ‘And I’m pleased you and Evelyn have talked,’ she says after a pause, ‘at long, bloody last.’
He nods. ‘Yes, at long bloody last.’ Their feet crunch on the gravel pathway for a few steps.
‘I wasn’t going to let her be cheated out of being a grandmother as well as a mother.’
‘You did the right thing. You’ve always been better than me at that.’
‘You big pillock, William.’
He expects a smile to slide across her face, but there isn’t one. She’s angry. Of course she is. Wives aren’t like mothers. They can stop loving.
‘How are you?’ He gestures at her stomach and, even though she’s unhappy with him, there’s an involuntary flutter of elation in his own belly.
She shrugs. ‘I’m dealing with it.’
Pink and white scraps of confetti skitter across a gravestone in front of them. A burst of laughter comes from the church. They’ll need to go back soon. He wants to hold Gloria’s hand, which hangs, elegant, by her side, still with her wedding ring on, he notices. His mother and Frank are walking towards the car.
A fresh breeze rolls confetti across the gravel and over Gloria’s cream shoes. She kicks her foot to shake it off. In front of the church, Evelyn is climbing into the lovely old car as Frank holds the door, with a smile splitting his face. The door clunks shut and the car drives away past a crowd of waving people.
On impulse, William reaches out for Gloria’s hand, but she shakes her head. A gust of wind cools his face. There are more clouds than blue sky now. Looking across at Gloria’s stately, heavy form, he suddenly knows exactly what he needs to do next. And he so wants her to be with him when he does it.
‘Gloria?’ He stops walking and is grateful that she stops too, and for the first time, looks him in the eye.
‘What?’
‘I’m going to Aberfan. Will you come with me?’
‘That’s what you’ve got to say to me, is it?’ Her eyes are ferocious; he notices how tightly she’s gripping the handles of her bag. ‘Only I’d wondered whether you might ask me how I’ve managed since you’ve been gone thinking I’m going to be a single mother. I thought maybe you might ask me about that, William!’