Bedtime Reads Read online

  I focus on a small group gathering in the garden. ‘That’s the bride or groom’s family arriving I suspect,’ I whisper as a small group begin to take their seats.

  ‘It’s not normal, is it? It’s too posy - too, oh look at us, we’re in love and we got married in the Caribbean,’ he says in a falsetto voice and although I laugh at his imitation of a newly wedded bride, I’m also irked.

  ‘Cynic.’

  ‘Come on, Frances, you’d hate it too.’ He reaches for my hand but I avoid his grasp and shake him off. My towel comes loose and I hold it across my breasts.

  ‘Are you going to moan about something all holiday or will we relax and have fun?’ I ask. Last night had been amazing. I thought he’d be tired and want to sleep. We’d both been a little drunk from our flight but he’d been flirty and then after dinner, relentless and powerful. In truth, I was still a little sore.

  ‘What do you mean? We are having fun, aren’t we? What more do you want? Sex on the Beach?’ His mouth turns into a naughty smile.

  ‘Talking of which, let’s go down to the bar for a cocktail and watch the wedding?’

  ‘I’m sure they water the drinks down. They couldn’t possibly use proper rum - a decent brand. It’s probably made locally, we saw enough sugar cane growing in the fields. I’m sure that’s why my head hurt this morning. It’s inferior stuff and they dilute it with-’

  ‘You seemed to like it enough last night,’ I smile.

  ‘We’d just arrived and I was thirsty.’ He looks back down over the balcony. ‘Oh god, would you really want to get married abroad? Christ, please tell me you wouldn’t Frances…’

  ‘I can think of worse places to get married than here. Look James, it’s idyllic: palm trees, sunshine, a beautiful beach and colourful gardens. What’s not to like?’

  ‘You’d probably want your family here too, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Are you proposing James?’

  ‘No, I’m just saying. It’s not for everyone. It wouldn’t be right for us, you know, if we decided one day that we might want to get married…’

  ‘I think some of my family would fly over. We could combine it with a holiday, like they’ve done.’ My gaze rests on the group below. A chubby man is sweating heavily in a white suit and he wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. He’s smiling at someone who’s hidden behind a group of palm trees and he’s bantering with another man who looks like his best man. ‘He seems happy, James. It’s a big day for them - it’s forever.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t wear a white suit,’ James mumbles. He turns away and picks up a discarded IT magazine.

  ‘White would suit you, so to speak,’ I smile and leaning over his shoulder I kiss his cheek. ‘You’d look very handsome.’

  ‘I might but look at that, all those people sitting on the beach, half-naked watching it all. It’s like a live Big Brother programme. You’d feel a right idiot performing in front of them all.’

  ‘They’re not naked. They’ve got swimwear on. Besides, what’s to perform? You’re not a film star. You’re getting married. And if you were in love, like that man down there, you wouldn’t care what anyone else says or thinks. It’s about you and your bride - the woman you marry - the woman you love.’

  ‘But they’d all be watching, staring and-’

  ‘Criticising?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘No more than they did last night when you spun me around too quickly on the dance floor.’

  ‘No-one noticed.’

  ‘What? That you let go and I was flung across the floor?’

  ‘My hand slipped.’

  ‘I thought you were going to say it was that cheap rum, the one that you had so much of, but instead it was your sweaty palm.’

  ‘So, you are still angry?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure people were watching us last night and probably thought you were drunk. People have a funny way of seeing things differently. Like you now, with them.’

  I turn my attention away from him and lean over the balcony. The groom and his best man have been joined by several other guests. ‘Shall we go down and watch from the bar?’ I suggest.

  ‘Watch the wedding?’

  ‘Why not. Come on, the sun will be going down soon and we can look at the sunset. It will be beautiful - and romantic.’

  James clears his throat and focuses on the magazine in his hand.

  ‘Well, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can stay here and just go down for dinner later.’ I sit down, cross my legs and pick up my book deliberately ignoring James but I’m curious and I take surreptitious glances through the balcony glass. A woman that I assume is the bride’s mother appears wearing a floppy white sunhat that covers most of her face.

  James looks at me. ‘Are you upset, Frances?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I promise. I told you when we started going out together that I have no expectations. I just want to hang out and have fun.’

  ‘I know but-’

  ‘I’m not like Claire. I’m not anything like your ex. We’re the complete opposite, James. I’m me. I’m very relaxed and laid back. I have no urgency to have a ring on my finger or to get married. Although, if or when it does happen - then I shall be happy because I won’t do it until I know I’ve met the right man.’

  ‘Aren’t I the right man?’

  ‘I haven’t decided.’

  He leans down and kisses my lips. ‘I’m sorry I’m sometimes grouchy. How quickly can you be dressed? We might make it down there before the bride appears.’

  Ten minutes later my high heels clip on the tiles as we cross the bar and I climb up onto the bar stool. From my vantage point I can see the wedding guest. The groom’s family have the same round faces, pink cheeks and smiling brown eyes.

  James leans on the bar and orders champagne.

  ‘Really?’ I ask taking a glass of the sparkling liquid.

  ‘We’re on holiday. We have to celebrate, Frances.’ His amber eyes twinkle and he places his arm across my shoulder and we clink glasses. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not us.’ He kisses my cheek.

  ‘Are you, really?’

  He laughs. ‘No. I’m a more traditional kind of guy. Local village church, that sort of thing-’

  ‘Is that what you planned before Claire left?’

  ‘Kind of-’

  Music suddenly comes out of the speakers. It’s louder than it should be and we grimace. The barman calls out and someone turns down the theme tune to Titanic but Celine Dion’s strong voice gusts dramatically around us like a simmering storm.

  ‘That’s not a good sign, ‘ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s doomed,’ I giggle.

  ‘I like this song.’

  ‘Really, James? I didn’t think you like that type of slush. Bet you hated the film?’

  ‘No. I actually liked it. It was-’ he pauses and when I look at him he isn’t looking at me but his eyes are focused on the optics behind the bar.

  ‘You’re missing the wedding. Turn around. The woman with the floppy hat over her eyes looks like the bride’s mother.’

  She’s standing with a younger woman who has dark hair and almond-shaped eyes - the best friend? They are looking anxious and excited waiting for the bride.

  ‘What do you think she’ll wear, James? Do you think she’ll have a white wedding dress? Wouldn’t it be funny if she wore black? No-one would expect that, would they?’

  ‘This really isn’t my thing,’ he says leaning on the bar. ‘I feel we’re intruding.’

  ‘Come on, look! They want us to watch. It’s all part of their special day. Look at them!’

  James won’t turn around. Instead he focuses on the barman and orders more champagne. The bar fills up and hotel guests watch the events unfold. Near the archway, a handsome, ebony faced priest waits in a white, burgundy and purple robe. He clutches a bible to his chest and his teeth shine in greeting.

  Sam Smith sings Stay with Me
. ‘I love this song,’ I say humming along, keeping rhythm with my toe. I hold out my glass to the barman who refills it for me while James glances at the beach but he turns away leaning on the bar. Beside us an older couple are swaying in time to the music and singing to each other.

  ‘Here comes the bride, wow! Isn’t she gorgeous? She’s radiant. Now, that’s how a bride should look!’

  Her short white dress is cut low over her tanned breasts. Her hair is braided like the locals and she carries a posy of white and blue flowers. Her smile seems as wide as the ocean and her excited happiness fills the pit of my stomach with warmth.

  ‘James, watch.’ I dig him in the ribs and eventually he turns around. ‘She looks so happy. Isn’t she gorgeous?’ I link my arm through his but his body is tense. ‘Let’s go to the reception and see if we can book an excursion or something to do tomorrow?’ I lean against his shoulder enjoying the strength of his broad muscular frame but I can’t take my eyes from the wedding scene.

  Her brother, who is giving her away, has the same dark eyes and full lips. Very slowly she turns and looks over her shoulder. She seems to take it all in; the sunset, the beach, the gardens and the bar. It’s as if she wants to remember this minute, this occasion, for the rest of her life.

  ‘It’s so important,’ I sigh and it’s like she can hear me and our eyes lock and suddenly she blinks and turns away. Disconcerted I exhale. I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath. ‘It’s very emotional, isn’t it, James?’ I nudge him. His body is hard and firm from his lunch-time training in the gym. He’s rigid like a solid statue and I nudge him.

  ‘James? Where do you want to go tomorrow? How about deep sea fishing, would you like that?’

  He doesn’t answer.

  The bride and her brother walk slowly between the chairs toward the priest and John Legend sings, All of Me. I know all the words so I join in, quietly whispering.

  The groom stuffs the handkerchief in his pocket and smiles at his future wife. I know it’s their wedding but it’s a day that I know I will remember - forever.

  ‘This is our song, isn’t it, James?’

  It had been out for a few months when we started dating. We’d met at an IT conference in London and after a long day of training seminars we’d gone to a pub and got a little drunk and James had sung it to me. He told me about his breakup and we spent hours talking. He never married Claire but she had kept their house and mortgage after they separated. Fortunately they never had children. Never got around to it, he said. Then she’d had an affair with a consultant at the hospital where she worked. I saw myself as his saviour and I stepped in and mended his heart. We dated a few months before I asked him to move in with me and he didn’t mention her after that. It had taken almost six months.

  I slip my arm contentedly though his and kiss his cheek. ‘I’m so pleased we came on holiday, James. We really need this break.’

  The groom moves from one foot to the other while his bride appears calm. I wonder what life they will have ahead of them. What fortune will shine upon them - perhaps children? The couple are speaking their parts in clear voices. The priest’s words: togetherness, love, tenderness and care are carried on the warm breeze and they wrap themselves around me like a protective aura and I beam happily.

  ‘Would you like a boy or a girl?’ I whisper.

  James’s voice is hoarse. ‘A girl.’

  ‘Why? So, that you can walk her up the aisle?’ I smile.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You will have to walk our daughter up the aisle when she gets married.’

  The bride and groom kiss. There’s spontaneous applause and family and friends gather around the newly married couple. James straightens his back. He looks tired. The jet-lag and hangover have caught up with him and he looks sick.

  Christina Perri sings A Thousand Years.

  ‘Great music choices, don’t you think? They’re all our favourites.’

  James rubs his forehead. ‘Let’s go. Come on, we’ll have an early dinner and go to bed?’ He takes my arm and I hop down from the bar stool and dodge the dancing couple but by this detour, our path crosses with the wedding party. They’re making their way to a table set with canapés and drinks and we are suddenly caught up in their emotion and laughter. A ripple of excitement travels through me and I think I’m the bride and that this is my day and these people are my family. I straighten my hunched shoulders and for the first time in my life I believe I’m slim, tanned, tall and beautiful. Not overweight, pale-skinned and hollow-eyed: too many late nights staring at a computer screen solving IT problems and eating junk food. Then suddenly I’m in front of the beautiful bride: face to face. Her freshness, her happiness and her aura of beauty are overwhelming but as she glides around me her smile fades and her aura of happiness dissipates into the cloudless Caribbean sky and a frown crosses her forehead. She stops. She is about to speak to me and I smile.

  ‘James?’ she says.

  He stands like a wooden soldier.

  ‘What the f-’

  ‘Claire,’ he mumbles.

  The groom’s chubby smile fades.

  ‘Oh my god!’ The bride’s mother with the floppy hat exclaims. ‘You’ve got a bloody cheek turning up here.’

  The bride’s brother pushes past the groom. His fist flies past me and he smacks James in the face.

  Blood spurts from his nose. I gasp and cover my mouth.

  In the confusion a man says, ‘Oh shit, you couldn’t make this up.’

  All Exclusive

  When Pete, my best-man, says, ‘Oh shit, you couldn’t make this up.’ I’m standing like a useless statue. To say I’m bewildered is an understatement. It’s my bloody wedding day and just a few minutes ago Claire was radiant and happy, promising to love me forever. Now she’s a mass of tears and incoherent words.

  Pete pulls Billy away before he can land another punch. He’s always been protective of his sister but to thump someone in public like that…

  The girl he’s with looks as shocked as me but she musters quickly. There’s blood flowing down the guy’s shirt and she drags him away toward the reception and the lifts without a backward glance.

  They disappear but I’m still reeling. I’m about to put my arm around Claire’s shoulders but she’s looking at her mother in that silent way they often use to communicate. It excludes me so I shove my hands into my pockets.

  When she dissolves into tears Barbara pushes me aside and takes charge. She leads Claire away and it’s Sheena who mumbles something about them going to the toilet, makeup and hair.

  My family fall away taking an agitated Billy with them and when they’re gone Pete slaps my shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go to the bar and have a drink.’

  I can’t move. My world has collapsed. I’m locked in my own world. It happens in a crisis. I go rigid and I can’t function. That’s why I was never a surgeon, or worked in A&E. I’m just a simple doctor.

  ‘You alright, Roger?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think, Pete. What just happened? Who the hell was that idiot on our holiday, at our wedding - on our bloody honeymoon?’

  ‘I guess Claire will tell you. She’ll explain.’ He pulls me beside him and I stumble. I have trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

  ‘Perhaps when she stops crying. She seems pretty cut up…’ I turn back unable to tear my gaze away from Claire who’s now on the far side of the bar. She’s with her mother but she is leaning against Sheena. It’s Sheena, her best friend, who is speaking and in control. Claire’s eyes are closed.

  I sigh.

  ‘Let’s get a drink and leave them to sort it.’ Pete grabs my elbow.

  Periodically Sheena glances over at us but she doesn’t wave and for the first time since we met, I don’t resent her being with Claire.

  ‘I feel a complete idiot and on top of everything, I’m too bloody hot.’ I slip off the white jacket that Claire insisted I wear and place it over the bar stool. It had been a good idea last May, standi
ng in Debenhams with the air conditioning on but now I am sweltering.

  We sit on stools and I feel the inquisitive gaze of the guests around me, the adoring fans who had watched us wed a few minutes ago on the beach have now been witness to this unsightly brawl.

  The older couple beside us give me a sympathetic smile. They were dancing a few minutes ago and I want to shout and tell them to bugger off but I don’t. I close my eyes and rub my head while Pete orders beer for us both.

  ‘What are they doing?’ I don’t want to turn around.

  ‘They’ve gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘For christsake, Pete. Where to?’

  He shrugs. ‘The bathroom?’

  ‘What about our lot?’

  ‘They’ve gone to our table.’

  ‘Do you think I should do something?’

  ‘Nah. They’re fine. They’ve got drinks. Let it all settle down and see what happens.’

  We sink our beer very quickly and when there’s still no sign of Claire, Pete orders another.

  ‘Someone will have to appear soon,’ I say. ‘Dinner is booked at eight. Who was that bloke, do you know him?’ I’d been bottling up the question but now I had to ask. Pete’s a decent guy. He’d give me the heads up on anything. He’s a straight-talker and even if the news was bad he’d tell you anyway. He has what patients call a good bedside manner. ‘Never seen him at the hospital, have you?’

  Pete shakes his head. ‘I don’t think he’s from the hospital.’

  ‘What did she say, exactly, do you remember what Claire said?’

  ‘I couldn’t hear very well.’

  ‘Billy must know who he is, where’s he gone?’

  Pete shrugs.

  ‘Maybe they’re getting a story together.’

  I wipe my forehead with my handkerchief, pleased that the sun has finally set. Even in the evening it’s still too humid for me and I sigh as the evening lights are switched on. The swimming pool changes from deep red to lilac and the garden shrubs seem wax-like and glisten under the lamplight. Only the invisible crickets are huddled together still shrilling and shrieking as if nothing’s happened.