Page 68 of Road Trip to the Riviera
I’m longing to see Summer in her dress, but her mother’s commandeered her and I want to give them this special time alone.
But I feel the fizz of excitement knowing that after today, I’ll have a daughter as well as a son; that my little family is growing. Even if it does mean I have to wear the title ‘Gran’. Other than the connotations of the word, I’m lucky to be a young grandmother. I’ll get to know this child on a whole different level; have the energy to be with him or her in a way I might not have later.
Mum hasn’t mentioned the term ‘great-grandmother’ but she’s probably wrestling with similar thoughts.
It’s hard not to think about Dad today, too. I know he’d have loved to be here. In truth, he’d have loved to be anywhere with us – he wasn’t always into big events, but he lovedfamily gatherings, however they came about. I wonder if Mum is thinking about him too, but decide not to ask. She’s clearly applied an inordinate amount of mascara and I’m not sure whether it’s waterproof. Instead, I reach and squeeze her hand. She looks at me. ‘What was that for?’
‘Love you, Mum.’
She nods. ‘Well, yes. Thank you.’
I’m about to say more when the door opens and there’s Hal. He’s wearing a grey suit that complements Louis’s, neatly fitted and topped with a matching burgundy tie. He’s ditched his usual battered trainers in favour of some neater black shoes with bright white soles. For once, he’s even styled his hair and it sits closer to his head, damp with water or gel.
I’d known Hal was handsome, of course. It’s impossible to be with him and not notice how women react to him. Adèle at the cider tasting seemed smitten; the pretty waitress at one of the bistros we stopped at addressed all her questions to him; even the nurse at the hospital had seemed to bat her eyelashes more when he was around. I get it: he’s handsome. Yet for a moment, looking at the man who has helped me raise our child for the last twenty-two years, I’m taken aback. I’m reminded briefly of those ‘nerd makeover’ movies from the nineties where the girl takes off her glasses, gives her hair a brush, and suddenly all the boys see her in a new light.
Surely I’m not that shallow.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Does this look OK?’
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘Very nice.’
When he smiles at me, I feel a shiver of something pass through me, as if over the difficult years of child-rearing I’d forgotten to see Hal as a man, and a man I once loved, and saw him as an inconvenience, a work partner, someone who was helping to raise my son. But this journey has changed that, Irealise. It’s impossible to be in close proximity with someone for as long as we have and not see them for who they are.
‘Thanks,’ he says, fiddling with his tie. ‘Right, I’ll go check on Louis.’
I nod.
‘Sarah Hopkins!’ I hear. Glancing up, I see Mum watching me, a glint in her eye.
‘What?’ I protest, sounding all of fifteen.
‘I saw the way you were looking at that man. I think someone’s got a little crush.’
30
HAL
I’m sitting at the front next to Sarah and Vivian when I start to feel a bit sick. I think it might be nerves. Ridiculous, really, as I don’t even have much to do with the actual ceremony. All I have to do is sit and watch, as far as I’m aware.
Louis stands at the front, looking fidgety and nervous. I long to straighten his collar at the back, adjust his tie. But he’s got Greg there to do that. I’m surplus to requirements. It’s weird. Sometimes, I’ll admit, when Louis was younger, I’d feel a bit tired when it came to my weekend with him. I’d want to see him of course, but I’d also wonder if I had the energy for it. I probably longed for the days when he’d become a man and I wouldn’t have to read him bedtime stories, or play football in the park when my back was giving me gyp. Careful what you wish for – people are right when they say it all passes in a flash.
The registrar, an English-speaking lady whom Vivian knows from some sort of coffee morning she goes to, has arrived. She’s about my age, dressed in a navy suit. She says something to Louis and he nods.
Moments later, Louis catches my eye and gives a little grin, and I’m filled with a feeling I can’t explain. It’s happiness, Ithink, but there’s sorrow there too. And a relief that there’s still this bond between us even today.
There’s classical music playing from somewhere, but I can’t see the source. It’s gentle, relaxed and complements the summer day.
They couldn’t have picked a better one. It’s been thumping hot the last week, but today it’s a little cooler – still sunny, but comfortable. Nobody’s fiddling with their collar or taking off their jacket.
The music abruptly stops, then a soft love song begins to play. I think it might be something by Ed Sheeran – not always my first choice of artist, but this one’s actually pretty good. And one by one we all stand up, then turn to see Summer and her father making their way towards us.
Summer’s chosen a simple white dress with thin straps that falls to the ground in waves. Her hair is gathered up, and someone’s taken the time to weave white flowers through it. She’s clutching a bouquet of white and burgundy roses. She’s beautiful. I steal a glance at Louis and see his eyes glisten with held-back tears. And I feel proud that I’ve helped to raise a son who knows how to love.
I’ve been to a few weddings over the years, often in churches, and the speed of this ceremony surprises me. It seems to be over in an instant and I wonder whether it’s because it was genuinely shorter than some, or because I’ve been properly focused, listening to every word that’s spoken.
And then everyone’s clapping and whooping and Louis kisses Summer tenderly. I reach for Sarah’s hand and give it a squeeze and she looks at me, her eyes full.
‘That’s our boy,’ I say to her.
