Mother of the Bride

Jess, in a summer dress over leggings, bundled into the kitchen holding her coat above her head, dripping water all over the flagstone floor. Bassa, her supersized Jack Russell-mongrel-mix followed hard on her heels, tail wagging enthusiastically.

‘No, he’s had to work this weekend. We only got back late last night and he needed to get back on site. The company he’s working for are putting in some kind of new system in their new offices and he’s got to be there – that’s why we grabbed a few days away, while we could. I can see that I’m going to be an IT widow. God, that bread smells wonderful, are we having it for lunch?’

Molly nodded. ‘Uh-huh, and there’s homemade hummus, some tomatoes out of the garden, some cheese and a ham Nick boiled last night. Okay?’

‘Oh God, yes,’ Jess purred as she dumped the coat over a chair and then let Molly fold her into her arms.

‘Congratulations,’ said Molly, voice crackling with unexpected emotion as she pulled back to look Jess up and down. ‘I can’t believe my baby is getting married. Seems only a few months ago we were at the zoo feeding the llamas.’

Jess grinned. ‘It was only few months ago, Mum, remember? We went to do some sort of promo with the radio station?’

‘You know what I mean.’

Jess nodded. ‘It’s so nice to be home,’ she said in a little voice. ‘This week has been completely and utterly crazy. And it was really hard to talk on the mobile – I didn’t want to do all that “Can you hear me? You’re cracking up” thing –’

‘It’s fine and you’re here now, so I want to hear all about it.’

Behind them Bassa did a wet-dog shimmy and shake, covering everyone and everything with a fine spray of mongrel-scented water. Molly’s dog, Milo, a huge English mastiff, lifted his head to check out the new arrivals from the comfort of his basket by the Aga and then celebrated the fact they weren’t burglars by closing his eyes and letting out a loud snore. Bassa made a beeline for Milo’s biscuits while Molly indicated they should sit.

‘I’m so, so glad you’re here. We’ve got pink champagne on standby in the fridge – I was hoping that Max would be here too so we could share it while we have a chat about what you want to do about the wedding.’ Molly struggled to hold back the unexpected flurry of tears that threatened.

Jess grinned. ‘Oh, come on, we don’t have to wait for Max, do we? Do you want to open it or shall I?’

Molly rubbed away a stray tear. ‘First thing you need to learn about men is that they need to feel useful to feel loved,’ and with that she turned and shouted, ‘Nick? Jess is here, darling. We need a real man to come and open the champagne.’

And from somewhere deep in the cottage they both heard Nick laugh. ‘I’m on my way,’ he called.

‘The garden is looking wonderful,’ said Max, taking a sip of tea.

‘Yes it is, isn’t it? We’ve done terribly well with the mixed borders this year. It’s so nice to see you, Max,’ said his mother. ‘Seems like ages since you’ve been down. Such a shame Daddy is out at the moment. You really should have rung and let us know you were coming. He only arranged to go and play golf with Archie this morning…’ Daphne Peters let the silence fall and waited, in the way that all mothers wait, because she knew damned well that Max hadn’t driven nearly three hours out of his way just to admire the dahlias.

‘Actually, Mummy, I came down to tell you that I’ve asked Jessica to marry me,’ Max said, setting his cup and saucer carefully back down on the tea tray. ‘And she’s said yes.’

‘Really,’ said Daphne with a smile. ‘Well, that’s absolutely wonderful news, Max. Congratulations. And not before time. You know your father and I have been terribly worried about you. I’m so pleased. It’ll be lovely for you to be settled at long last. And she seems like a charming young woman. We both said so when you came for lunch – Daddy was most impressed. It’s just a shame you couldn’t have come down to see us together really. Couldn’t Jessica make it today?’

Max shook his head. ‘She’s working this weekend. And to be honest I thought it would be better if I told you myself. Obviously I’ll bring Jess over as soon as possible but I wanted to tell you on my own, rather than spring it on you unprepared.’

He lingered over the word unprepared. Daphne nodded; there was bound to be more.

‘We’re planning to get married in December.’

They were sitting in the conservatory, with its chintz-covered cane furniture and view of the carefully manicured lawns and lovingly tended gardens, where a mother duck was busy leading a waddle of tiny ducklings down towards the pond at the bottom.

Daphne topped up his cup. ‘December? Gosh, well, in that case, we’ll all have to get our skates on then, won’t we? I’ll ring Marjorie and see if she’ll make the cake.’ Max’s mother paused and watched him thoughtfully. ‘Rather a short engagement, darling. Anything else you’d care to share with me?’

Max looked bemused. ‘I thought I was sharing?’

Daphne Peters laughed. ‘I meant, should I ask Marjorie to make sure the top tier is a decent size? I’m a woman of the world, Max, these things happen.’

Max looked more puzzled. ‘Mummy, what are you talking about?’

‘For the christening, Max – it’s traditional to keep the top tier for the christening.’

Max stared at her as if she were speaking in tongues. ‘Right,’ he said slowly.

‘What I mean is, are you planning to make me a grandmother as well as a mother-in-law?’

‘Ah, children,’ he said with relief. ‘I presume so, eventually, but not straight away. Will you tell Daddy about the wedding for me?’

Daphne sighed; men. ‘Of course, darling. Presumably Jessica’s parents will be in touch so we can talk about the arrangements? You have met her people?’

Max nodded. ‘Yes, they’re nice. Divorced. Her father is in business, although I think he’s semi-retired now, remarried – and her mother is on the radio.’

Daphne’s expression brightened. ‘Really? Three or four?’

‘Nothing quite so grand, I’m afraid, it’s a local station. She’s some kind of presenter.’

Daphne nodded again. ‘Well, that all sounds very jolly. I don’t mean to pry, Max, but this hasn’t got anything to do with –’ She stopped short. ‘Well, you know.’

Max looked up from his cup and saucer and said obliquely, ‘With what?’

Sometimes Max and his father took obtuse to a whole new dimension, thought Daphne.

Jess held out her hand and wiggled her fingers so that Molly could inspect her engagement ring. They were sitting at the kitchen table and Nick was busy filling champagne flutes for a toast.

‘Oh, that’s really –’ Molly hesitated, cautiously feeling her way around for the right adjective. ‘Quite striking really,’ she managed after a few more seconds.

Jess looked down at it and then up at Molly and pulled a funny little face. ‘I know what you mean. It isn’t something I’d have chosen for myself, but it’s growing on me.’

‘Growing on you?’ Molly looked her daughter in the eye. ‘You haven’t told Max you don’t like the ring, have you?’ Jessica didn’t say a word, so tactfully Molly pressed on. ‘Jewellery is a really hard thing to choose for someone, even if you know them well. Most couples go out and choose the ring together. It is such a special thing; it would be nice to have something that you really love, don’t you think? I’m sure Max would understand. Men aren’t always great at picking things, you know what they’re like.’

‘What are we like?’ asked Nick, handing them their glasses. A corporate bunny all week, at weekends he dressed like a roadie for a rock band.

‘I was saying picking jewellery for someone can be tricky even when you know them well,’ said Molly.

Nick held out his hand and without a word Jess put her hand in it. He leaned in closer and took a long, hard look at the ring. ‘Umm,’ he said.

‘It looks like roadkill, doesn’t it?’ said Jess glumly. ‘The more I look at it, the more I hate it. How can I tell Max that I hate his engagement ring?’

Nick sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘The best way is to try not to hurt his feelings, so try something like, “You know, Max, your taste in totty is spot on, but to be perfectly frank your taste in jewellery is complete shite.”’

At which point Jess laughed, which was a great relief because for a few seconds there Molly was convinced she was going to cry.

‘No, what you need to say,’ Nick continued, ‘is that it’s a very beautiful ring but not the kind of thing that you would usually wear, and that you want something you can wear every day, so when you look at it you think of him. After all you’ve got to wear it the rest of your life.’

Molly raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed. This from a man who gets palpitations at the mention of marriage.’

‘Come on, I’m not the only one. Who was the woman who said she’d rather push needles in her eyes than get married again?’