‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said, looking away, feeling a heat rise in my cheeks. ‘I’m hardly an expert on these matters.’
I wasn’t sure how we’d got on to this subject.
‘You and Tom work together?’ I said, desperate now to change tack.
‘We used to. We were at uni together and when we left we both went to work for the same bank in the city. It was a mad time. We worked too hard, played too hard, and probably did most things to excess.’ He laughed and I conjured up a mental image of them both; partying, living life to the full, two young men at the top of their game. ‘Three years in that job was more than enough for me. When I’d made enough money I quit. Tom’s still there though, he rode the storm out.’
‘Oh right. So what is it you do now then?’
‘I’ve an art gallery in town. The Woodland Studios? I represent a few artists locally and nationally, and sell online too. I paint a bit myself too when I get the time, which I have to admit isn’t that often these days.’
‘So quite a change from what you were doing before then?’
‘Yep. Completely different. Now I’m doing something I really love.’
I took a sip from my glass of white wine, resolving to make it my last. I was just teetering on the edge of that nicely fuzzy-headed mellow stage and knew that any more might tip me over into the ‘a-step-too-far’ stage, and I wasn’t sure Alex was ready for that. I gave him a sneaky sideways glance, hoping he might not notice, but our eyes met for a split second and a warm sensation filled my chest. Too late, I was definitely on the squiffy side of mellow now.
So I had no idea if Alex was a sophisticated hard-edged city type or a creative arty type, or more probably a compelling mixture of both. Whatever he was, and despite his dodgy views on marriage, I think I liked him. He had an air of authority about him, a quiet self-assuredness that radiated from his body. A confidence that came from knowing he was good at what he did. He had an artist’s hands too, I noticed; long expressive fingers that moved in an oddly compelling way as he spoke.
‘What do you do then?’ he asked casually.
I work in a garden centre.
The words caught at the back of my throat, refusing to come out. I’d never been embarrassed to say them before, so why I was hesitating now I didn’t know. Instead I opted for the glorified version, hating myself for doing so and wondering why I was even bothering. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was out to impress Alex.
‘I’m a buyer – luxury goods, gifts, for a large store.’
‘Ah, okay,’ said Alex, looking suitably satisfied with my answer. He had this weird way of nodding in silent approval when I answered a question, as though he was secretly interviewing me for a job, one I didn’t know I’d even applied for. He was just about to ask me something else when Nana Gladys interrupted. She turned around, a big smile on her face.
‘So can we expect you two lovely young people to be next?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Will you two be getting married next?’ she said, just at the moment when a complete silence fell around the table and all eyes turned to look at us.
‘Ah well,’ said Alex, giving Gladys the benefit of his warm genuine smile. ‘As much as that is a very tempting proposition, Jen and I have only just met today so I think it might be a little bit too soon to be talking along those lines, although you never know.’
A ripple of laughter ran round the table.
‘What do you say, Jen?’ He fixed his gaze upon me, his blue/green/brown eyes shining with mischievous intent and I looked away – not wanting him to see the flush of heat colouring my cheeks. He leant in closer, whispering in my ear. ‘Weren’t you just saying you thought that might be a good idea?’
‘Stop it,’ I hissed, turning my attention back to Gladys.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, laughing.
Admittedly it was hot in the restaurant, but now Gladys was blushing like a teenager, showing the tell-tale signs of a rush of heat spreading up from her neck to her cheeks. I’d only known Alex a matter of hours, but I suspected he might have this effect on a lot of women.
‘I could have sworn you two were a couple. You look so right together. Don’t they make a lovely couple, Betty?’
‘Oh yes they do. Lovely.’
Thankfully, saving us any more embarrassment, Angie and Tom were making signs to move at the other end of the table and the attention was deflected onto them where it should most rightfully have been.
It had been the most wonderful wedding breakfast. We’d had mouthwatering desserts of croquembouche and lemon posset, followed by a selection of continental cheeses. Angie’s father had stood up and said a few words and if he’d harboured any bad feeling towards Tom then he certainly didn’t show it. Tom gave a heartfelt speech which had most of the women in the room close to tears. He talked of his love for Angie and how he was the luckiest man on the planet to be given a second chance with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. No one in that room could have been in any doubt as to Tom’s complete and utter devotion to his bride, or Angie’s to her groom as her eyes shone with love and affection.
‘Thank you darling, I love you so so much,’ Angie said, grabbing me for a hug, as the bride and groom went round the room saying their goodbyes.
‘Oh, and I love you too! Have a fabulous honeymoon. Take lots of piccies. I need to see what paradise looks like.’
‘I will, I will and I’ll call you just as soon as I get back.’
In a shower of confetti, we waved Tom and Angie off as they climbed into the back of a waiting taxi ready to speed them off to the airport, and I was left with a funny feeling of regret, relief and happiness all rolled into one.
‘Are you two coming back to ours for a cup of tea?’ Even Diane, Angie’s mum, was getting in on the act now, talking to Alex and me as though we were a proper couple.
‘That sounds like a lovely idea, thank you, we’d love to,’ said Alex, putting an arm around my shoulder, answering as if we actually were one. Not that I minded in the least, it was just what I needed at the moment, a lovely cup of tea.
After three cups of tea, two shortbread biscuits, a slice of fruit cake, and a long and interesting chat with Gladys and Betty about Taylor Swift, her extensive back catalogue, her fashion high-fives and faux pas, plus the ins and outs of her love life which I knew nothing about but the sisters seemed to know everything about, I decided I really ought to go and do something to make myself useful. I rounded up some dirty plates and took them into the kitchen.
Alex was sitting on a kitchen stool, idly looking at his phone. He’d lost his jacket now and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, his tie loose around his neck. He looked relaxed and totally at ease, putting away his phone in his pocket when he saw me.
‘So what time do you think the dancing starts?’ he asked.
I laughed. His sense of mischievousness and fun shone in his eyes in a way that played havoc with my sensibilities. It had been a day of excess; the never ending glasses of champagne and wine had made me lightheaded, the delicious and abundant food had filled my tummy to the point where I thought I would never need to eat another thing again and the whole emotion of the occasion had made me thoughtful and fanciful. I glanced at my watch, it was definitely time to be going home.
‘Ha,