Sunshine on a Rainy Day: A funny, feel-good romantic comedy. Bryony Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ wedding party bubbled on: speeches and toasts to us and to absent loved ones, tears, food and dancing, hugs and good wishes from some of Jack’s employees at Henderson’s, his shoe shop. All the while I was aware of Dad watching us, and Liz too, each wearing concerned faces when they thought no one was looking. My sisters were too busy to notice; flirting with the bar staff, even Esther, the Sensible One, hugging her toddler to one hip and ogling one of the hot barmen.

      Mum hugged me whenever she walked past, kissing me and saying how wonderful this whole day was, how perfect, how sorry she was that Grandma wasn’t alive to see it, but how much she would have loved it all – loved both me and Jack. Then she’d start to cry again, leaving Dad to come and steer her away and I would look at whoever I was with and laugh, loving my mum’s easy emotions.

      At one point I looked over to see Benni, my boss, on the dancefloor with Iffy, making wild jigging circles and calling out, ‘Chidinma! Philip! Get on here!’ as she tried to lure my parents into dancing too; Benni’s wife Gina sat with Liz, watching them all and laughing fondly, enjoying a night off from her and Benni’s twin boys. Later on, Benni and Iffy took the mic from the DJ to croon ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ at Jack and me. We joined in, far from embarrassed at their drunken serenade – it didn’t seem too different to an average night out for us. Liz was unusually quiet without her plus one; she’d not mentioned anything to me recently about problems between them, but maybe she’d thought the run up to today wasn’t the time. I wanted to return the countless favours of support and tact she’d given me over the recent months, but it felt like it would have to wait.

      Jack and I met occasionally throughout the rest of the reception party. We hadn’t wanted a first dance, so we mostly all danced together in a big group with our friends. I saw him at the bar; he kissed me while I was talking to his aunt. Then suddenly it was midnight, and our carriage awaited. I didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave the moment of this party, didn’t want to leave my sisters and our friends. I didn’t want this party to be over, to face what days and months and years came next. I loved Jack, but I didn’t want to start married life.

      A cheering crowd lifted us both up and carried us to our wedding car, driver Al looking more hangdog than ever, his vintage Triumph covered in foam and balloons. Whistles, hollers and cheers followed us back up the drive.

      ‘I’m sorry about your car,’ I shouted forwards to him. ‘About the foam and stuff.’

      He waved his hand over his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, love, it’s all covered by the costs. Cleaning’s part of the package – it happens every time.’

      Jack gave me a look.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Nothing. Nothing. Doesn’t matter.’ He sighed. And I’d done everything I could to act the happy bride today. ‘Did you have a good time, Zo?’

      I smiled at him. ‘When do I not have a good time at a party?’

      ‘Good. Me too.’

      At the hotel we were too tired to do much more than sign in, which Jack did with a flourish and a grin. When I looked at the sheet, he’d filled in Mr and Mrs Bestwick and I felt a different kind of exhaustion when he gave me a jokey wink. Up in our room, we lay on our bed, vases of flowers from friends and family all over the sideboard and dressing table, and I reached out and put my hand on the small of Jack’s back. Then, with the lights still on, fully dressed, we both fell fast asleep.

      The next morning we woke up to blinding light and sixty missed calls on my phone. We’d slept right through the bacon sandwich brunch for all our guests, and were being called by reception on the blaring landline to gently enquire whether we’d be checking out shortly or staying for another night. I was all for staying for another – hide away a bit longer, make the most of this massive bed and giant bathtub – but Jack reminded me that we’d blown our budget with even one night here. We’d debated for ages about whether to go home after the reception, back to the flat my parents had helped us buy, full of wedding presents that had already been delivered. But we’d thought we’d splash out because that’s what you do, right? You lose your mind and do everything that’s out of character and out of budget. And if for a moment you wonder if really that’s the right decision – to get outfits that cost more than a white tiger, and the hotel room that you won’t even notice because you were so tired and drunk and emotional you could have spent the night on a park bench and not noticed the difference – well, you just take a deep breath and repeat But It’s My Wedding, and stamp your feet to really get into the role.

      I stripped off my wedding jumpsuit and climbed into the shower, while Jack rang our families and packed up our stuff. By the time I’d got out, rubbed in some coconut oil and got into my favourite jeans, headscarf, soft sweater and Nikes, reception was calling again with a slightly less gentle enquiry. Jack said the Bacon Brunch had gone ahead without us at my parents’ place, and everyone had had a great time. Both his dad and my parents were fine, understood completely, and everyone sent their love.

      After finally managing to check out, wrapped in scarves and coats against the cold, we hit the Tube to discover that the only free seats were at either end of the row. Jack sat me down with the bags then turned to the man next to me.

      ‘Sorry, mate, would you mind taking the seat at the end? We only got married yesterday, and I’d like to sit next to my wife.’ He giggled a bit as he said the final word.

      The man beamed at me, saying, ‘Sure! Congratulations, guys!’ in a sunny Australian accent, but I’d already covered my eyes with my hands and was trying not to set the carriage alight with my blushes. It’s fine, I thought, it’s fine, he’s just being romantic, he’s just excited, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. One day I’m sure I’ll get used to that word. Wife.

      Everyone was watching us now, so I was too self-conscious to start up a conversation with Jack. We sat in a sleepy silence, holding hands, bags at our feet, watching everyone watching us. At Seven Sisters, we stepped out and heard someone call, ‘Good luck, newlyweds!’ and a few people in the carriage laughed. I squeezed Jack’s hand, trying to swallow my nausea.

      ‘Do you remember when we used to use actual words to talk to each other instead of hand actions?’ he said. That got a laugh out of me, and he said, ‘Thank god! I thought one of us might have had a stroke and forgotten English. Right. Lunch. Pub? Or home?’

      We chatted about the various options, and it felt like normality again, the two of us planning meals and making plans. In the end, we picked up bits for lunch from the shop on the corner, and by the time we’d got to our front door I’d forgotten completely about what was waiting for us inside.

      Boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff. Bedding, picture frames, coffee cups, lamps, a blender, an espresso machine, vases, cushions; piled up on our sofa, the floor, the kitchen counters, even balanced on the big hatch between kitchen and living room. Like the whole of the Generation Game conveyor belt had been carrying its load into our flat. Upstairs Jan, the neighbour above us in the top half of the house, had also left a bunch of flowers and a card for us at the door, and we added them to the pile like a tiny cherry on a huge, sprawling cake.

      ‘I’d forgotten this lot was here. Do you remember asking for all this stuff?’ I said.

      ‘Not really. That day was a bit of a blur. Remind me why we unpacked it all already?’ Jack was scratching his beard, wide eyed at everything filling our living room.

      ‘This cushion, though. I don’t even remember seeing it, let alone СКАЧАТЬ