embarrassed smile, as though it was alien to him to admit to any real feelings.
‘Have you asked her?’
‘Not yet. I’m nervous.’
I squeezed his hand. ‘She won’t be able to resist you. Who could turn down a bloke who has a signature dish of toad-in-the-hole and knows how to make the best gin and tonic?’
‘She has seen me behave like a total dickhead, though.’
‘Everyone has seen you behave like a dickhead, Cory. But we all still love you. Just keep the percentages on your side.’
He took a step back and said, ‘You know what decided me, Jo?’
‘What?’
‘I’ve seen what shit you’ve gone through, what a struggle things have been and how you – and Patrick – but mainly you, let’s be honest, have kept it together and been there for both kids. You didn’t just throw your toys out of the pram, you hung in there. And I know I’ve always taken the piss out of you both for being square and steady, but I envy you.’
Cory. This man who historically defaulted to football and where he was going golfing whenever an uncomfortable emotion threatened to surface.
‘You envy us? With, and I think I’m quoting, “our parochial little lives”?’ I asked.
He nudged me. ‘That’s not fair. That’s out of context. You were having a go at me for not settling down, telling me that in old age all I’d have to keep me company was the clap and Jim Beam.’
Lulu was approaching. Out of the corner of my mouth, I said, ‘Let me know when I need to start growing a pineapple for my hat.’ A great burst of joy spread through me. ‘Delighted for you.’
He whispered. ‘Can you believe that I actually want kids?’
I waved him away. ‘In a minute, I’m going to call an ambulance. Catch you later.’
I beckoned to Patrick across the room. He came over and kissed me on the cheek. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m okay. Better than I thought.’ I filled him in on what Cory had said about Lulu.
‘Brave woman, that she is,’ he said.
I could see he was delighted. ‘Don’t tell him I told you. He hasn’t asked her yet.’ I changed the subject, feeling a bit guilty for spoiling Cory’s surprise. ‘Phoebe and Victor seem quite the celebrities,’ I said. They were holding court, surrounded by the rugby lads, Victor’s friends from Cardiff, and girls clamouring for selfies with them. I was so glad his old friends had come, even if his granddad was too frail to travel. We’d agreed to visit him at Easter.
Patrick clinked his glass against mine. ‘Thank you.’
Before we could have an extra little moment, the sort that in marriage you need to stop and admire like a butterfly on buddleia before something else needs your attention, Patrick nodded towards the door. ‘Here come the Ku Klux Klan.’ Faye and Lee with Andrea and Rod. Patrick grumbled. ‘Amazing what a free glass of Blossom Hill can do to foster racial equality.’
‘Victor wanted them here,’ I said.
‘It shouldn’t be up to the eighteen-year-old to be the bigger person. Why does it fall to the boy with the least amount of life experience to set an example to the people with the most?’
‘If we all followed that train of thought though, no one would ever learn anything from anyone.’ I grabbed Patrick’s hand and pulled him over towards them. A tiny jerk of resistance, then resignation. ‘Evening, come in. Welcome to our family celebration. Grab a drink from one of our serving elves.’
Three of them bolted with relief towards Kai, who was passing with a tray of wine, but Rod hung back. ‘Owe you an apology for the night of the accident. Got a bit heated without knowing the facts. All came out in the wash a bit later. Not my finest moment.’
Patrick looked like he was going to shake his hand, then changed his mind at the last minute. ‘Thank you. Try not to be a racist idiot in the future.’ And with that, he walked off, leaving me grimacing, watching the shock wash over Rod’s face of receiving an insult rather than delivering one.
I stood there determined not to apologise for Patrick. Because he was right. It nearly killed me to suffocate my need to be liked. With a great surge of triumph, I managed to say, ‘If someone had spoken to your son or daughter like that, you’d feel like Patrick too.’
Rod blinked in what – leaning on my new-found Jasmine-variety of optimism – I chose to see