Читать книгу The Pieces of You and Me - Rachel Burton - Страница 23

Kew Gardens is probably the most beautiful place in London to get married. I couldn’t believe Gemma was having her wedding here after organising so many for other people. And I couldn’t believe I wasn’t going to be well enough to enjoy it. I don’t know how I made it through the wedding ceremony.

As if she knew how I was feeling, Caitlin put an arm carefully and quietly around my waist as Gemma and Mike said their vows – if it hadn’t been for that I think I would have passed out. Thanks to her, I don’t think anyone noticed. She had a word with the photographer too, who did all the photos that I was needed for as quickly as possible.

‘Why don’t you go and talk to Rupert,’ Caitlin said. ‘No harm in catching up if you feel well enough?’

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of myself, remembering what Mum had said to me – to just take today as it comes, enjoy myself. I smiled at Caitlin and walked away from her towards Rupert.

I’d seen him during the ceremony, standing next to Mum. He was wearing a grey suit and purple tie, a white shirt with a matching buttonhole. Mum had been right – he did look handsome. I’d only seen him in a suit once before, at his graduation, and I was suddenly hit by a sensation of how much time had passed, of how much of each other’s lives we’d missed. He’d caught my eye as Gemma and Mike were signing the register and winked at me. My stomach had flipped over.

Rupert was sitting on a bench outside the Orangery and I sat down next to him. Kew looked so beautiful in the summer light and I thought about how lucky we were to be able to enjoy Gemma’s wedding here, how lucky she was to work in the most beautiful place in London. While Caitlin had been busy working her way up the nursing ranks to Junior Sister and I had been a cadet journalist, Gemma had surprised us all. After flunking out of her A levels, she’d managed to scrape through a management course before moving to London. She worked at various hotels before landing a job in the Operations team at Kew Gardens. Ten years later and she was Operations Manager, in charge of all the events at Kew from live music festivals to weddings, including her own.

We sat on the bench and Rupert talked while I listened. He had just come back from a conference in America and was excited about it. I thought he hadn’t noticed that I’d left the talking to him but just before we went into the Orangery, where we would be eating, he asked me if I was all right, his hand gently finding mine.

‘I’m tired,’ I said. ‘I didn’t sleep well last night – it’s been so hot.’ He looked at me oddly. ‘How are you?’ I asked, noticing dark smudges under his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him.

‘Jet-lagged,’ he said. ‘But not too tired to dance later, if you’d do me the honour.’ He grinned at his own formality and I noticed a blush colour his cheekbones, just as it had done when we were teenagers.

‘That would be lovely,’ I said.

‘I’ll see you after the dinner then,’ he said, dropping my hand. It felt empty when he let it go.

I spent most of the meal watching Mum and Rupert out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she was talking to him about, wondering what she was telling him. They were both laughing too much for it to be anything serious.

I started to feel better as the day went on and when Rupert walked over to me after Gemma and Mike’s first dance, taking my hand to lead me onto the dance floor, I felt happy for the first time in a long time. Dancing with Rupert felt significant somehow, for both of us. As we danced, his hand on the small of my back and my arms around his neck, it felt like something that was meant to be.

When the song finished Rupert looked at me, his hand still on my back, drawing me close to him.

‘Shall we get some fresh air?’ he asked.

I nodded, my mouth suddenly too dry to speak. Caitlin caught my eye as we walked past, raising her eyebrows. ‘OK?’ she mouthed. I nodded once.

We walked away from the Orangery towards the Waterlily House. Twilight was just starting to disappear behind the horizon and the shadow of Kew Palace loomed behind us. I remembered all the times that I’d sat behind the Orangery with Gemma, drinking tea and sharing pieces of cake whilst she was on her lunch break. We’d talked about everything behind the Orangery over the years – from Rupert leaving and Dan arriving to the first time she met Mike and the day she got engaged. It felt as though everything was coming full circle here tonight.

I had missed visiting Kew Gardens when I was ill and had tried to go once a week as soon as I had been able to again. It was a long journey from Highgate to Kew but it was worth it for an afternoon in the Botanical Gardens. There had always been something magical about this place.

We sat on the first bench we came to, side by side, our thighs touching as they had done in the pub in York.

‘I used to look for your by-line in the Observer,’ he said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

I told him I was a freelance writer, that my articles rarely had a by-line. I told him that working on a paper hadn’t suited me.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asked then.

‘Nothing,’ I replied. I’d been enjoying myself. I hadn’t thought anything was wrong.

He sighed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘You’ve been ill, haven’t you?’ he said.

I didn’t reply. I hadn’t thought that this was the reason he’d brought me outside. I wondered for a moment if Mum had said something.

He turned his head to look at me. ‘You’re so pale, Jessie, and so tired all the time. I’ve seen the way Gemma and Caitlin worry about you – even on her own hen night Gemma was concerned about you. What’s going on?’

Even after all these years he still knew me as well as I knew myself. I couldn’t lie to him, but I couldn’t tell him either. I couldn’t stand the questions, the cynicism. I couldn’t bear it if Rupert turned out to be one of those people who didn’t believe me. So I told him half the story.

‘I had glandular fever a few years ago,’ I said. ‘It took a long time to clear up, much longer than normal and it left me exhausted and not really able to work.’ I stopped, unable to work out the look on his face.

‘Is that why you went freelance?’ he asked.

‘I’m doing much better now,’ I replied, not really answering his question, not sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

‘Glandular fever,’ he repeated slowly to himself. ‘But you’re OK now? Honestly?’

I nodded. ‘Honestly. I still get tired easily and Gemma hasn’t been the easiest bride to handle.’

‘I can imagine.’ He smiled.

‘She’s worn me out.’

He laughed softly and looked away again sitting back up, leaning against the back of the bench.

‘There is something else,’ I said.

He didn’t reply, waiting instead for me to speak.

‘I told you Mum lived near me but that’s not true. I live with her. I moved in with her when I got sick and I haven’t moved out yet. I know that’s a bit sad …’ I wasn’t sure why I was so embarrassed about it.

‘It’s not sad, Jessie, it’s lovely.’ As he looked at me, I remembered the fractured relationship he always had with his family, how much time he spent with my mum and dad and how he had always wished he could be closer to his own parents. I was lucky and sometimes it’s hard to see ourselves from other people’s perspectives. Sometimes it’s hard to forget about how things used to be and concentrate on how they are now.

I let my gaze linger on his profile, the line of his nose, the fall of his hair, the shadow of his stubble. How much had he changed? What did he see when he looked at me? He was the same but different, as though he was carrying a heavy weight that hadn’t been there ten years before. We all carried baggage that hadn’t been there a decade ago though; it was what we were like underneath it all that counted. Did any of us ever change?