Читать книгу Mother of the Bride - Kate Lawson - Страница 7

‘Hello? Hello, Dad, can you hear me?’

In a cottage on the Somerset coast, Jess was curled up on an enormous floral sofa that dominated the tiny sitting room of the place Max had rented for their romantic break. Despite it being summer it was chilly and Max had lit the fire. Mobile phone pressed tight against her ear, Jess was straining to pick out her father’s voice amongst a sea of static.

‘Puss?’ said a familiar voice. ‘You there?’

‘Dad? Dad? Is that you? How are you?’

‘Fine. We got your email. Congratulations. Sorry if the line’s a bit strange but I’m using some sort of internet phone thing that the chap here’s rigged up for me. I just wanted to let you know that we’re delighted. Aren’t we, Marnie? Absolutely delighted – couldn’t be more pleased for you. Presumably you’ve already told your mother?’

‘Yes, I rang her a little while ago,’ said Jess, enunciating every syllable in case he missed some important detail, her finger wedged in her other ear so that she could concentrate on his voice. Max was watching her from the armchair pulled up at the other side of the hearth.

Her father sounded as if he were a million miles away.

‘How’s the holiday going?’ she asked.

‘Fine. I’ve had Delhi belly and Marnie has come out in some sort of a rash – we’re having a lovely time,’ he said, without a hint of irony.

‘So where are you?’

Jess heard him turn away from the phone and say, ‘Where are we again?’

Her father, Jonathon, had an innate distrust of all things foreign and when Jess and Jack were small had refused to take them anywhere abroad for holidays and only begrudgingly travelled there for business – there being anywhere other than Britain.

After her parents had split up and Jonathon had married Marnie they had come to a compromise, based on the two of them taking frequent cruises, which Jess suspected was acceptable only because her father felt that cruising wasn’t so much travelling as moving a little piece of England closer to all those countries Marnie was so keen for him to see.

‘We’re somewhere in…’ He hesitated as if waiting for a prompt. ‘Croatia.’ He made it sound like the outer reaches of the Horsehead Nebula. ‘We went to see some thing this morning and I think Marnie’s planning to go and see more things tomorrow. But anyway, never mind me. You and Max – it is Max, isn’t it? Well done, I’m really pleased. We’re really pleased. Obviously we’ll need to talk about the arrangements for the wedding and what your plans are when I get back. I want to see the cut of his jib and all that – make sure his intentions towards my little girl are honourable.’

Jess winced at her father’s idea of a joke.

‘So, have the pair of you set a date yet?’

‘We were thinking maybe Christmas – well, December anyway.’

‘Ah, right. December? So not that far away then. Have to get your skates on with the planning. You say you’ve spoken to your mother?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘Not much but I’m sure we can sort it out between us.’ Jess put her hand over the receiver. ‘Do you want to talk to him?’ she mouthed to Max.

Max shook his head. Meanwhile her father was saying, ‘I’m sure you’re right, Puss, and your mother has always been good at that kind of thing. Okay, well, look, why don’t the two of you come over as soon as we get back home? Not quite sure when that is – I’ll ring you. Lost all track of time, you know how it is with holidays.’

Jess smiled as they said their goodbyes; what her dad meant was that he didn’t know when they were due home because Marnie had made all the arrangements.

‘Are you going to ring your mum and dad now?’ she asked, waggling the phone in Max’s direction after she had rung off.

He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I was thinking that maybe we should go back to bed. I could light the fire in the bedroom. What do you think?’

Jess smiled. You didn’t need to be much of a mind-reader to work out what he meant. ‘Or we could just huddle together for the warmth,’ she said, all innocence.

‘Sounds like a plan, be terrible to freeze to death in the middle of the summer, wouldn’t it?’ Max purred as he kissed her, which made her heart do that funny, fluttery, skip-a-beat, horny thing.

‘Are you going to ring your mum and dad later?’ asked Jess, as Max took her by the hand and led her up the steep, winding stairs.

‘I was thinking that maybe we ought to go round and tell them. They’re a bit old-fashioned about that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, okay,’ said Jess as he started nibbling at her neck and unbuttoned her shirt. ‘What sort of thing?’ she started to ask, but the words got lost as he kissed her harder and pulled her down into a great billow of duvet, bolsters and pillows.