‘It’s a humanist ceremony.’
‘Okay,’ Jonah says, browsing the wall of records as he speaks, coffee mug in his hand. He’s barefoot and wearing a battered Rolling Stones T-shirt, like a rock star at a retreat. ‘Traditional or …?’
I shake my head. ‘No, more personal. Definitely not “Here comes the bride” or anything like that.’
Jonah rests his coffee cup on the low windowsill and takes a seat at the piano to knock out a few perfect bars of the wedding march. I curl my bare feet underneath me on his taupe-and-white-striped linen sofa and groan.
‘Don’t, it makes me nervous.’
He laughs and segues faultlessly into ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, raising his eyebrows at me in question. I look down into the depths of my coffee mug, caught unaware by emotion because there’s something painfully apt about the song. Too apt, so I shake my head.
‘The Beach Boys?’ he says.
‘I don’t think I know any,’ I say. When it comes to music, Jonah should really have been around in the sixties. He loves Elvis and the Stones, but he always comes back to the Beatles.
‘You know this one, surely?’ he says, playing the opening bars of something I instantly recognize.
‘I do know that,’ I say, reaching for the pad and pen I’ve got ready to make notes. ‘I like it. What’s it called?’
‘“God Only Knows”,’ Jonah says.
My shoulders sag. ‘Nothing God-related.’
‘It isn’t, really,’ Jonah says, but I’m not convinced.
‘How about something from the Beatles?’ he asks. I don’t think an occasion exists where Jonah wouldn’t think the Beatles to be the most appropriate choice.
‘“Help”?’ I smile.
He picks out the melody with one finger, coffee mug still in his other hand. There’s no place Jonah looks more at home than at a piano. ‘Maybe not entirely appropriate,’ he says. ‘“All You Need is Love”?’ He puts his mug down and plays the intro beautifully, but all I can see is the wedding scene from Love Actually.
‘I don’t want anything that reminds Freddie of Keira Knightley on our wedding day,’ I laugh.
Jonah grins too, aware of Freddie’s crush. ‘Fair enough,’ he shrugs.
‘Oh God, what if we don’t find anything?’ I say, scraping my hair up into a bun on top of my head.
Jonah chews the inside of his lip. ‘Can I try something?’
I nod, grateful for any suggestions.
He plays a few bars of something then stops, shakes his hands out and starts again. It’s another Beatles track I think, one I kind of know but not very well, so I really pay attention to the lyrics. He sings of bright stars in dark skies and of a love that will never die, and a tear slides down my cheek because it’s absolutely perfect.
‘I love it,’ I say at the end.
He nods. ‘It’s one of my favourites too.’
I reach for my notepad and write ‘And I Love Her’ down at the top of the list.
Thursday 20 June
‘It’s nice to see you again.’ Dee stands up and brushes a kiss against my cheek. ‘Thanks for coming, I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was a bit weird.’
She smiles, wary, and shoots me a self-conscious look from beneath her lashes. We’re in a cafe not far from my work. I was caught off-guard by Dee’s email this morning asking if we could meet for coffee; I’ve seen her out and about on several occasions with Jonah but we haven’t exactly built up a close, meet-for-a-natter sort of friendship yet. Here we are, none the less. I raise my hand in greeting when I spot her at a table in the corner and order a coffee. She stands and kisses my cheek quickly before I slide into the chair opposite hers.
‘How’ve you been?’ I ask.
‘Okay.’ She fiddles with the handle of her cup. ‘Busy at work.’
I smile as the guy from behind the counter places my coffee down, casting around in my head for something to say. I don’t find Dee all that easy to chat to without Jonah as a causeway.
‘I guess you’re wondering why I suggested this?’ she says.
I appreciate her directness. ‘A little bit,’ I concede, but I can’t stop myself from politely adding, ‘although it’s nice to catch up, of course.’ How very British of me; I just about manage to stop myself from remarking on the glorious weather.
Dee’s wearing a canary-yellow vest top and black leggings, her dark hair scraped severely back into a high ponytail. She has the look of someone perpetually on their way to the gym; she’d definitely be Sporty at