And then, just like in the movies, they both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and their eyes came together with unnatural intensity and they kissed. Well, they almost kissed. They couldn’t really, not in public, and both with other partners, and the dogs walking right next to them; even if the dogs probably wouldn’t report back, still it wasn’t right. But the dogs weren’t pulling on their leashes, or whining, or causing any impediment to the union of two sex-deprived, somewhat prosaic souls, who even a dog could tell would make a perfect couple. And solve one or two other problems at the same time.
Julie stared at Mark, miserable. ‘I’m getting married, Mark.’
He looked shaken. ‘Of course, I know that. I guess . . .’ He stopped, swallowed. ‘Maybe I hoped it wasn’t true.’
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
He shook his head. ‘It’s all such a mess.’
She took his hand and raised it to her mouth, pressing her lips to it.
‘So, when does it happen?’ He used the passive tense, unable to involve her in the actual doing of it.
‘The day after tomorrow.’
His face shifted, as if she’d slapped him.
She forced herself to speak. ‘It’s just last-minute jitters, Mark. This whole thing.’ She was still holding his hand to her face.
Mark composed himself. ‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘What else could it be?’
‘It’s all been planned through Bridal-360, my employer. They’ve art-directed the whole wedding.’ She paused, hoping he would smile and say something like, ‘Well, congratulations!’ or ‘Not if I have anything to do with it!’ But he didn’t say either. He said nothing, so she went on, blindly. ‘It’s all about spring. They’ve booked the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.’ She paused, her face a mask of dejection. ‘I’m very excited.’
He pretended to be studying a billboard opposite. She still held his hand and he didn’t want it back. ‘Of course you are. Well, then. That’s big news. Congratulations, Julie. I can’t lie, I kind of wish we’d met earlier, but I hope you’ll be happy. I hope you have a,’ he choked slightly, ‘a perfect life.’
A perfect life? she thought, slightly annoyed. She gave back his hand. How likely am I to have a perfect life? Who has a perfect life? Still, she supposed it was a nice thing to wish someone.
And then he turned and gazed into her eyes, and he took her hand and placed it over his heart. ‘If ever . . . well, if ever you change your mind . . .’
She closed her eyes.
He dropped her hand and walked away. Well, what had she expected? What else could he do? Turn back time? Demand a duel?
Julie stumbled home with the dogs, blinded by tears. When she opened the door, Jonathan’s brother James swung her into an enormous hug.
‘Here’s the blushing bride! So great to see you at last, Julie!’ He grinned, but almost at once was claimed by the dogs, who nearly toppled him in a frenzy of enthusiasm. Dropping down to the floor, he tried to fend off one wriggling animal, then the other, then both, pulling them close at last. ‘Oh, my fabulous dogs, come here! Ouch, down! I’ve missed you so much!’ To Julie and Jonathan, he said, ‘They look amazing. You’ve taken such good care of them.’ He was laughing and there were tears in his eyes. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
Jonathan’s look was hangdog-360. ‘Noah sings pig machine,’ he said.
A listless Julie glanced at James. ‘The dogs are very happy to see you.’
‘Don’t know how I ever left them.’ Sissy was still leaping at him like a bouncing ball. He ran her ears through both hands and she squirmed with delight. Then he turned to Julie. ‘But what have you done to my brother? He’s talking even more nonsense than usual.’ Despite the jollity of his tone, he seemed anxious.
‘The doctors feel fairly sure he’ll recover. They just don’t know when.’
‘But you’re going ahead with the wedding?’ James looked from one to the other.
Julie avoided both brothers’ eyes. ‘It’s all planned. I mean, the timing isn’t great, but it’s what we both want.’ She forced herself to face Jonathan. ‘Isn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘OK,’ said James. ‘I get it. Kind of a juggernaut.’
‘How’s Dubai?’ Julie asked. She found the effort required to make small talk painful.
‘Weird. They’ve just offered me a new contract. If I accept, I’m there for five more years.’ His expression was serious. ‘I’ve been looking at getting the dogs sent out. We’ve taken advantage of your hospitality far too long.’
Jonathan’s face collapsed. ‘Arbitrage flopsy bird. Moose elephant charge.’
Julie’s cheeks burned. She raised her hands to them. ‘I think he’s trying to say he loves them. And would rather you didn’t take them away.’
James looked at Jonathan. ‘Really?’
Jonathan nodded, slowly. The thought of the dogs leaving was intolerable to him. Once he married Julie he’d be totally alone.
James sighed. ‘I have to think about it. Of course it would be amazing if they could come with me, but the unhappy truth is that I work long hours and would hardly see them. And then there’s the heat. Still, I promised no more than six months and I’m a man of my word. I don’t want to impose on you.’ He paused, disconcerted at finding every pair of eyes in the room trained on him. ‘Let’s talk about this after the wedding.’ He patted his garment bag. ‘I’ve got my fancy suit and my best-man speech all ready to go.’
Julie looked stricken. She stood up and left the room. The brothers exchanged a glance. Safe topics seemed somewhat thin on the ground.
‘Weddings are stressful,’ James said, getting to his feet. ‘And it’s late. I’ll go check into my hotel and sleep off the jetlag. We’ll leave you alone until tomorrow’s dinner with Ma and Pa. My treat. Pick you up at seven-thirty? The hotel recommended a good Szechuan on Third.’
Alone together, Jonathan followed Julie into the bedroom, found her sitting on the bed and embraced her. ‘Parabola favours,’ he said and she sighed, turning in his arms to face him.
‘It’s not your fault, Jonathan. It’s just the pressure of it all. I’ll be fine.’
‘Osprey?’ He kissed her.
She searched his face. ‘I love you, Jonathan. Do you love me?’
‘Transport,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘OK, whatever that means. I’ll take it as a yes.’
Julie had a last-minute dress fitting the following day and Jonathan stayed home with the dogs. After lunch, he passed the time drawing pictures of hell while Julie busied herself with phone calls and emails. They exchanged few words, but when James buzzed up to collect them for dinner, they smiled at each other like comrades setting off to battle. Jonathan took Julie’s hand and together they descended the stairs.
The family dinner went off as well as could be expected, though Julie couldn’t always tell who it was who suffered from an inability to talk sense. Jonathan’s parents spoke in rhapsodically peculiar non-sequiturs that caused her to squint with confusion – she, who had lived for weeks with a man who made almost no sense at all.
Once the food arrived, Jonathan’s father tapped his glass for a toast. ‘So, a wedding,’ he began, raising his Chinese beer and holding it for an interminable half-minute before lowering it. ‘Will someone please pass the soy sauce?’ he said at last, and proceeded to drench a dumpling, manoeuvre it whole into his mouth and abandon the subject of matrimony altogether.
This was as close as anyone came to mentioning tomorrow’s momentous event. The rest of the meal was spent talking about the weather in Dubai, their parents’ new ride-on mower and how tragic it was that, having spent so much money feeding and clothing Jonathan all these years, he now had a life-wrecking speech impediment.
By the time Jonathan and Julie retired to bed that night, they had forgotten any objections to the wedding. They both just wanted it over.
Really? said Jonathan’s subconscious.
Shut up, h
e said.
27
The morning of the big day began with grey skies and drizzle and grew steadily grimmer.
‘Rain at a wedding is good luck,’ said Julie morosely, feeling damp even before they stepped into their limo. Lorenza sat beside the driver, controlling the door locks like a jailer.
‘Big day,’ she said, her voice flat. And then, as the dogs clambered in behind Julie and Jonathan, ‘Good God. Why are they here?’
Nobody bothered to answer.
Lorenza had a bad feeling and it wasn’t yet ten o’clock.
The Palm House at the Botanical Gardens had been magnificently prettified, festooned with palest pastel ribbons and bunches of wildflowers. It smelled of freesia and orange blossom. Every camera angle had been planned and a team of lighting technicians was busy setting up spots, arranging silks and securing electrical cords with gaffer tape. The bar was already serving lychee margaritas, and early guests wondering if they’d come to the wrong place (a movie set, perhaps, or a celebrity prize-giving) stopped caring after the first drink.
The more photogenic attendees were snatched away from the bar and posed together for pictures regardless of their relationship to the bride, groom or each other. Max, lugging the Deluxe Popcorn Master 5000 wrapped in brown paper, had positioned himself centrally so he could eye up the editorial assistants. Jonathan took him aside and handed him the dogs. They’d both been brushed and fluffed and blow-dried, had pale green and yellow ribbons wrapped around their collars and braided into their fur, and even Julie had to admit they looked festive.
Max took them but they stared after Jonathan with anxious faces as he disappeared into the crowd. Julie’s mother and her husband arrived straight from their flight from Hong Kong, ignored the bride and groom and introduced themselves to every member of the technical crew. Greeley appeared in a slim dark-orange velvet suit with a white shirt and white Chelsea boots, then sat quietly without a drink, politely declining all requests to be photographed.
James posed extensively for photos with his brother. The two looked handsome and stylish, which pleased the photographer who was jaded from shooting five employee weddings with sub-par bridegrooms. Under his breath, he cursed the whole concept of real people as subjects. Ni-ight-mare.
Pulling himself away at last, James sat Julie’s parents with Jonathan’s, a disastrous combination, but one he figured would bond them together safely like two pairs of faulty chromosomes.
The atmosphere was buoyant, thanks to the beautiful setting and the excellent free cocktails. High-definition live-streaming had begun, courtesy of four young film-school graduates and their camcorders, complete with built-in microphones and 12x zoom. Rain fell on the glass dome and ran down its side in sheets, creating a bubbly sort of feeling within, as if everything were happening underwater. For Jonathan, this added to the general sense of claustrophobia and he fought an almost overwhelming desire to make a face like a gourami and attach his lips to a window. Having no real experience of weddings, he had no idea how to react to his own; it was, he thought, not unlike being present at one’s own funeral, carried along by a momentum that seemed to have more to do with the guests than the corpse. Not corpse, bridegroom.
The bride, meanwhile, was sobbing as Lorenza put the finishing touches on her gown and Cody, from the camera crew, caught her unhappy face in close-up from across the dressing room.
The art director was unmoved. ‘If a single tear falls on the silk jersey, I’ll put an ugly-curse on your family that will last till the Second Coming,’ she growled. ‘Jade has already told me she’s at the limits of extreme foundation. And we’ll probably have to retouch smiles on to all the guests. I’ve been to lynchings more cheerful than this.’
‘I can’t go through with it,’ Julie sobbed, as Cody zoomed out gradually for the wide shot.
‘Yes, you can,’ Lorenza said. ‘We’ve got the cake, the flowers, the venue, the cameras . . . if you didn’t like that deranged misfit enough to live with him forever you should have told me ten years ago.’ Lorenza sent a burly production assistant to bring tissues. ‘We’re predicting a hundred thousand viewers around the world not to mention four spreads in the next issue. Your boyfriend may be psycho but he looks good. So get a grip.’
Julie’s eyes streamed. ‘I’ve met someone else,’ she whispered.
Lorenza froze. ‘No you haven’t.’
The bride buried her face in her hands.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus in a jerkin, you have. Well, congratulations. Your timing’s impeccable.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose this new guy would be willing to do the deed? How long have you known him?’
Julie blew her nose loudly. ‘A week.’
‘Too soon? Well, it’s far too late to pull the plug. We’re going through with it.’
‘I . . . I’m not sure Jonathan will agree to that. Especially once I tell him the truth.’
‘You haven’t told him?’
Cody closed in tight on Lorenza. He’d never seen an expression quite like the one currently adorning the art director’s face, and correctly imagined that his viewers would find it as fascinating as he did.
Julie shook her head.
‘Well, you’re definitely not telling him now. We’ll replace the justice of the peace with an actor. Tell your fiancé afterwards that the ceremony wasn’t real and you’re dumping him.’
Julie stared at Lorenza, who looked thoughtful. ‘Or you could go through with it, then get a divorce afterwards. We can get legal to draw up a quickie pre-nup. It’ll be infinitely simpler than dismantling the shoot.’
Julie made a noise like a cat caught in a door and Cody indicated to Lorenza that she should step closer to Julie for the two-shot.
‘YOU,’ Lorenza said, fixing him with a skewering stare. ‘If you don’t remove yourself from the planet now I’m going to flatten your eyeballs.’ She snatched the steaming iron from the wardrobe girl and advanced on him threateningly, which made for a brilliant close-up until Julie began to howl, requiring a reframe.
Lorenza turned back. ‘What? So it’s not nice. Boo hoo. It’s not exactly nice to ditch your fiancé for another man on the altar either. It is a man?’
Julie nodded through her sobs. ‘Can’t you get Helen and Ingy?’
‘With ten minutes’ notice?’ Lorenza had begun to look uncharacteristically frayed. ‘Not that it matters to me personally, but when exactly were you thinking of telling Jonathan?’
The bride’s face crumpled and Cody zoomed in slowly.
‘Right.’ Lorenza looked at her watch. ‘Let’s all think pleasant thoughts for now and leave these details till after the wedding, shall we?’
‘For God’s sake, Lorenza! I can’t marry him.’
‘Yes you can.’ Lorenza waved at the make-up girl. ‘Jade, we’ll need ten mgs of Valium, five pounds of ice and a trowel for the foundation.’
Cody crept forward until his lens nearly rested on Lorenza’s upper lip.
‘Get. Out. Of. My. Face.’ Lorenza’s voice climbed higher with each syllable, causing the wine glasses in the kitchenette to vibrate dangerously. ‘NOW!’
The cameraman retreated, still filming.
Max, who’d been trailing Jade since he’d first laid eyes on her an hour earlier, stuck his head into the dressing room. ‘When you’re finished with the bride,’ he said, flashing his most adorable smile, ‘you could work on—’
In one quick glance he took in all the assistants staring at their phones with horror, Julie’s red swollen eyes and blotchy skin, the retreating cameraman and the expression on Lorenza’s face.
Oh lord, he thought. Not good.
Dante and Sissy dashed ahead, past legions of wedding guests glued to their phones and the drama unfolding live on the Bridal-360 website. The dogs dragged Max to a curtain near the bar behind which they found his friend, eyes huge, lips pressed to the window.
Max composed himself. ‘Hey Jay, whatcha doing? I think you’d better have a chat with Julie before the whole Do
You Take rigmarole.’
Jonathan appeared happy to see the dogs. ‘Diblings!’
‘Hey, pal. Did you hear me?’ He took his friend’s elbow firmly and steered him in the direction of the dressing room, dogs flanking them like bodyguards.
A youthful Bridal-360 assistant attempted to bar their way. ‘No one’s allowed in without a backstage pass,’ she squeaked. ‘Sorry.’
Max, who was a foot taller and two feet broader than the assistant, repositioned her politely with a hand on each shoulder and pressed Jonathan ahead of him through the door.
‘Antwerp expedient,’ Jonathan said by way of apology.
Inside the room, Lorenza blocked all forward movement with the sheer weight of her fury. ‘The groom does not see the bride before the ceremony. We’re talking seven hundred years bad luck.’ She fixed Jonathan with an icy stare. ‘And lord knows you don’t need more of that.’
Max stepped forward. ‘They’ve gone live,’ he said calmly. ‘Everyone in the free world knows what’s going on except him.’
Jonathan, who had caught sight of Julie, pushed past Lorenza and followed his betrothed as she fled into the galley kitchen. The dogs trailed behind, and the four crammed into the tiny room together with Cody, who had managed to flatten himself against the adjoining wall.
‘Behemoth?’ Jonathan’s tone was pleading.
His bride-to-be took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘I’ve met someone,’ she said.
‘Spoiler,’ Jonathan said nervously. ‘Kickbox infanticide.’
‘Jonathan,’ she said. ‘I’ve met someone. A man. One I like a lot.’ The cameraman zoomed in on her right eye, from which a thin black rivulet of mascara and tears ran.
‘Mogadishu?’
Her tears came faster now. ‘Yes, more than you.’
Jonathan blinked. For a moment he didn’t understand how she could like some other guy more than him and still marry him in half an hour. It seemed wrong. ‘Lip?’ he said. ‘Underlay?’ and then an anguished, ‘FOE!’
She moved to hug him but he pulled away, reeling, as she tried to explain how it had happened, how she still loved him, how she hadn’t meant to get involved, how the last thing on earth she wanted was to hurt him, but that perhaps they’d been too hasty rushing into matrimony and that both of their chances of true happiness might be better with someone else. The cameraman, invisible in the intensity of the moment, scuttled in closer to crouch at their feet, filming upwards in classic horror-movie style.