Love is like throwing yourself out of an aeroplane – giddy, reckless, amazing – you just have to trust you’ll land safely
MAISIE, 81
I had basically spent the last forty-eight hours apologising to people and I was exhausted. Grandad’s reveal had made me feel so much lighter and I was excited about seeing Luke at Amy’s wedding. It was worrying to hear about Arjun and I was so grateful Luke was helping him on such a wonderful, positive project.
Picking up the phone I called Luke to make plans. It hadn’t been the big, tearful reunion I had in my head. It was a somewhat stilted conversation made worse by the fact he immediately launched into practicalities and I was distracted by trying to get a sesame seed out of my teeth.
‘So I’ll do that on the morning of it and then get on a train.’ Aware I had said ‘OK’ too much already I plumped for, ‘Sure.’
‘Right.’
‘Right.’
‘Well, I’ll see you there then.’
‘OK.’ Gah. This was harder than it seemed. I should have said, ‘I miss you’, I should have said, ‘Luke, I’m a prize idiot, you’re awesome and I shouldn’t have pushed you into leaving and Grandad told me what you’ve been doing, which I think is fantastic, and I know Storm is just a Little Mermaid Wannabe who you aren’t sleeping with and I wuv you so baaaaaadddd’, but I said nothing, just sat, scraping at my teeth and feeling tongue-tied.
‘Sleep well.’
‘You too,’ I said miserably, waiting for him to hang up first.
Chinese takeaway abandoned, sesame seed from tooth removed, I swept around the whole flat ensuring it was spotless. Although I wasn’t going to be in the flat when he returned at least I knew where he was going to be. In a careful round hand (so many emails and texts meant my handwriting still surprised me), I spent an age composing a letter for him. That had been Amy’s idea. Her big plan. And she was always right. So with no excuses, no explanations, I just sat and wrote a simple letter outlining how sorry I was, how much I cared for him and how I missed him and hoped he could forgive me. It felt like the most weighty, important envelope in the world as I tasted its rank, salty edges and sealed it shut. Placing the small box that contained cufflinks I had engraved with his initials on the top of it I stood back. A small gesture for him to find.
Leaving the house early on the morning of Amy’s wedding, her mum’s car waiting for me in the street outside, I laid out his dry-cleaned suit and put the two items on the top. Nerves fluttered inside me as I stared back at my offering, and then I pushed through the door carrying bags and hangers with me as I clattered down the stairs to help my best friend get married.
Five hours later I was standing outside a church in a small village in West Sussex where Amy’s parents had retired, wearing a blush pink chiffon maxi dress and trying to herd errant pageboys and flower girls into some kind of order. The guests had all filtered inside and we had arrived in a car just ahead of Amy and her father. Amy’s sister Natalie was bent down negotiating with Tom, who had refused to give up his Spiderman figurine in favour of a basket of rose petals. A full-scale row was ensuing and it was eventually deemed acceptable that Spiderman would be making an appearance too.
Amy drew up in the car outside and as she appeared through the lychgate with her dad I couldn’t wipe the big grin from my face. She looked spectacular, the lace overlaying the satin making her dark skin look even smoother, her eyes glittering as she looked at the church ahead. The cream veil lifted in a passing breeze as if she was a Disney princess. The photographer was snapping from every angle. Even Tom had stopped scowling.
Moving down the aisle, clutching tiny hands on either side and trying not to scan the pews for Luke too obviously, I felt grateful to be there. Amy and I had shared champagne as the make-up artist had done her hair and make-up and everything had seemed comfortable and relaxed. She had laughed over the