The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,10
driver father and a shop assistant mother from Durham, Meg Wynne had set about early to reinvent herself. As a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl she worshipped the princess of Wales, knew the names of all the best designers, and dreamed of the day she would travel with Louis Vuitton luggage, wear Armani and Versace, and have closets filled with Chanel shoes and Prada handbags. She devoured fashion magazines and used them to carefully plan her escape from working class to first class.
She instinctively knew she would have to find a way to get into the orbit of the people she aspired to join, and this meant finding a suitable career that would put her in all the right places and in touch with all the right people. Bright and talented with an innate sense of colour, proportion, and design, she easily won a scholarship to Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design where she graduated top in her class. And since she was moving to London where no one knew her anyway, she thought that would be a good time to change her name from the simple Sandra that her mother had chosen for her, to Meg Wynne, which she thought would grant her more acceptance in the world she was about to join.
Snapped up after graduation by a high-end London graphic design firm, she met fashion-magazine editors and advertising and public relations creative directors. Her world expanded to include international contacts and, as she became more polished and sophisticated, with the help of an acting coach, her accent went from Durham to Duchy. She sought out the best cosmetic surgeon in London and redefined her body. She learned about table manners and paid attention to the smallest detail of everyday etiquette. Let other women be common and vulgar. She would be elegant, sophisticated, and professional. Her designs at work were award-winners, but in the end, her best design was herself.
Of course, this upward mobility came with a price. She shed friends and lovers along the way as they outlived their usefulness. This she did without regret or remorse as she set about finding the man who could take her life to the next level or, even better, the level above that.
While she accepted that a lifestyle on the Beckham scale was probably beyond her grasp, she did think that a man who came with a large, beautiful house, a generous income, and a title was not too much to ask for.
And when she met Emyr, she decided that two out of three wasn’t bad and who knew? One way or another, the title could always come later.
When he asked her to marry him, she accepted without hesitation. She knew that he loved her, would be devoted to her, and would always give in to her. When he suggested she might like to have his mother’s engagement ring, she said that was so thoughtful and sweet, but really she would prefer something more modern in platinum from Cartier.
When he asked if she would mind if they married at his home in Wales, she was glad to agree. She had come too far, and accomplished too much, to have her wedding in Durham, with all its ugly, embarrassing, working-class associations. It was bad enough that her parents would be coming to the wedding in Wales, but if they weren’t invited, or for some reason didn’t go, eyebrows might be raised and questions asked.
Her timid, withdrawn mother, she knew, would be so socially overwhelmed by the scale of events surrounding the wedding that she would be more than content to hover silently in the background, hoping no one would notice her or speak to her. But her father was another story. How would she manage the situation if he drank too much, got loud and boisterous, and started shouting the odds?
When she tucked her arm through Emyr’s as they turned to join their guests inside, she caught a glimpse of her parents across the entrance hall. Her father’s flushed face, as he raised his glass to take a long drink, worried her. I’m going to have to have a word with him about that, she thought. I can’t let him ruin this night. Earlier, she had left instructions with the serving staff that her father was not to be offered anything alcoholic to drink, but that if he asked for something, it should be well watered down and slow to arrive.
Dinner was announced, and the members of the party made their way to