It was Jamie and Ella’s honeymoon, and it was kind of Dan to think of them, I just wished he’d think of me sometimes. Like Ella, I’d always wanted a honeymoon in Italy. I remember discussing it excitedly with Dan and leaving the travel agents with a clutch of Italian brochures. We’d found a wonderful hotel among the primrose yellow and terracotta buildings stacked high on the hillside above Positano. A sea of bright buildings, rampant purple bougainvillea and that view – I could imagine the two of us on a balcony sipping wine, planning our future. We took the brochures back to Dan’s parents’ house, me fully expecting Joy to clap her hands and join in with the excitement, but she’d been slightly subdued, said it seemed expensive, and perhaps we should stay in the UK? I later teased Dan, saying that ‘Mummy didn’t want her little boy to go on honeymoon’。
Now, looking back, I don’t think I was too far wrong. I know, in the first few years, Joy found it hard to accept Dan had another woman in his life apart from her. I guess it was to be expected. Until I came along, she’d been used to having her two sons to herself.
Anyway, our Italian honeymoon wasn’t meant to be, because just before we were due to book it, one of Joy’s friends offered us her cottage in Devon for a week, as a wedding gift. As Joy pointed out, it would be rude to say no, and the money we’d have spent on Italy could buy us a lovely three-piece sofa. Dan agreed, and promised we’d go to Italy another year, so I accepted the kind offer from Joy’s friend graciously, while hiding my disappointment. As Dan’s parents had paid for our wedding at the golf club, I was grateful and didn’t want Joy to think I was behaving like a brat. The wedding was lovely –200 guests, a three-course meal, flowers from floor to ceiling and a dress to die for. I’d wanted a smaller, less expensive, more intimate occasion, but, as Joy said, ‘You only get married once, Clare – and we have a big family and a lot of friends, we want to do this for you.’
They even helped with the deposit on our first house, not too far from theirs – Joy liked to keep her boys close, and I think Dan being nearby paid for Jamie being away so much. We paid the price in a different way with regular, impromptu visits at the weekend or evenings, which rather curtailed those stolen moments of intimacy in the early years of marriage. Having Joy peer through the glass squares of the front door saying to Bob loudly, ‘I know they’re in,’ as we lay on the sofa together was enough to stop anyone mid-passion. ‘We just stopped by, we were going to the supermarket and wondered if you needed anything,’ she’d usually say as we opened the door. I think Joy needed the company, Bob was never really enough for her, so we would invite them in and make a cup of tea and talk to them. I did this out of politeness, but mostly to keep Joy happy – because that’s what we all liked to do.
And she was happy now. Even if Jamie had surprised her, the globetrotting, rebellious son had come back into the fold: both sons were back in her orbit – the family together at last.
I could hear them all now, the Taylors, their muffled laughter downstairs, as I lay on that king-sized bed, alone. A little later, the laughter was punctuated by clinking glasses, the awakening chorus of early evening. Joy would be starting on dinner and expect me to join her in the kitchen, so I brushed my hair and washed my face. I thought of Ella’s beautiful dress, her tanned legs, the way she lifted her hair to cool her neck, and looked through the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. What had seemed fine when I took them out of my case now looked frumpy, but I alighted on a pink cotton dress that I’d bought specially for the holiday. I’d loved it in the shop and imagined myself wearing it with a tan, which hadn’t happened yet because I’d been too busy with kids to sunbathe. I pulled it on over my head, remembering how slimming it had been when I tried it on. I wandered over to the mirror, and instead of a golden, slimline version of me, a hot, chunky, middle-aged woman in pink looked back at me. It hadn’t mattered yesterday, or the day before, but now Ella was here, I worried we’d be compared and I’d come out badly. I told myself I was being silly, and digging out an old silk scarf, I wrapped it around my head and tied it in a lose bow at the top. I could carry this off, I was sure. I’d seen one of my younger colleagues wearing her hair like this, and perhaps it was time I did something a little different with my look.
Whatever I told myself, the presence of this beautiful woman was putting me under pressure. She was bound to turn up for dinner in something fabulous with a full face of make-up. A scarf tied in a bow might be edgy, but it wasn’t enough, and coupled with my face, red from the heat and this morning’s sitting by the pool, I wasn’t at my best.