Craig was going to help finalize the plans for my wedding and I wasn’t to worry?
‘For real.’ She gave me what was supposed to be a reassuring look and poured herself a glass of water. ‘I know we went a little off schedule yesterday, but really, things aren’t so bad. We have all the clothes, and the catering is all arranged, and most everything else is booked. It’s just finishing touches.’
As long as I lived, I would regret not having a camera trained on my mum’s face when Jenny referred to the previous day as ‘a little off schedule’.
‘I just think I’d feel better if we helped out today?’ I threw Alex a desperate look, but he wasn’t having any of it.
‘No way,’ he replied. ‘I have a whole day planned, and there’s no way you’re getting out of it. Jenny totally has this. And your mom is here to make sure everything goes according to plan.’
‘Yes,’ Mum agreed. ‘For God’s sake, go on out. I need at least half of you out from under my feet. I’m not running a youth hostel.’
‘See?’ Alex stood up and held out a hand, picking my crutches up with the other. ‘You got your marching orders, kid.’
Against every instinct in my body, I let Alex drag me out of the front door and into the front garden, where he took a set of keys out of his jeans pocket and beeped the lock on my dad’s car.
‘My dad gave you his car keys?’ I was gobsmacked.
‘Sure.’ Alex opened the passenger door for me. ‘Is that weird?’
‘Has he seen you drive?’ I asked, too pissed off to actually get in the car.
‘No?’
‘What a bastard.’ I would be having words with Mr and Mrs Double Standards when we got home. I clicked my seat belt in angrily and looked up at him. ‘Actually, have I ever seen you drive?’
‘Get ready for something special,’ he said, shutting the passenger door and scooting round to the driver’s side. ‘I’m kind of awesome.’
‘You do know what side of the road we drive on here? And you can drive manual?’ I asked. Alex did not dignify my questions with a response. ‘Just checking.’
‘Angela, I have driven crappy old Transit vans up and down this country of yours in the snow, in the rain, in the fog and, God forbid, in blazing sunshine. I think I can get your dad’s very sensible and not at all falling apart Ford Focus to the zoo without too much trouble.’
‘We’re going to the zoo?’ I squealed, forgetting all about my hateful parents and their antiquated, sexist driving ban. ‘I love the zoo!’
‘You don’t say?’ Alex backed the car out of the driveway, smiling, and flicked on the radio. ‘You do not say.’
I did love the zoo. I loved it so much that Alex had bought me a season pass to all of New York’s zoos for Christmas. As far as I could tell, there really was only one reason to go to the Bronx, and it wasn’t to watch baseball, it was to hang out with a polar bear. Jenny liked to complain that zoos were cruel, that animals should be out in the wild, but since she had more than one fur coat in her wardrobe, I’d suggested she keep her yap shut on the subject. And while the Bronx Zoo was wonderful (and the Central Park and Prospect Park zoos would do in a pinch), nothing beat London Zoo, and I was so happy that Alex had picked it for our last unmarried date.
‘Take that, Mark,’ I thought to myself. So much for Alex not knowing me well enough.
We walked arm in arm around the enclosures, holding our breath by the hippos, narrating the lazy lions and generally avoiding the bug house. I hated spiders and Alex didn’t care for anything he might feasibly have to kill in our bathroom, which, given that we lived in New York, ran the gamut of cockroach right through to crocodile. We were relatively safe with the Komodo dragons. I hoped. My knackered ankle meant we had to take the day slowly and include lots of sit-downs. The massive quantities of ice cream I consumed weren’t directly related, but they definitely made me feel better. It was a perfect day. The sun was warm but not burning, and since it was a Thursday, the zoo wasn’t too busy. I held tightly to Alex’s hand, having abandoned my crutches in the car park − they didn’t go with my outfit in the slightest − and we talked about pointless things that didn’t really matter as the hours ticked by. Yesterday’s drama was just a faint memory, mostly thanks to the painkillers, and all my worries about the wedding vanished. It was just me and Alex and a couple of dozen squirrel monkeys, like normal. Like it should be. Give or take the squirrel monkeys.
Once we’d done a complete circuit, doubled back to say goodbye to the red pandas and plundered the gift shop, Alex went back to get the car and we tootled up the road, climbing higher and higher above London town.
‘Primrose Hill?’ I asked, as we pulled up and parked. ‘We’re at Primrose Hill?’
‘Yeah. I figured you’d been here before, but where else in London beats it for a picnic?’ Alex leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. ‘And I have one hell of a picnic.’
‘I’ve actually never been here,’ I admitted, climbing out of the car carefully. My injuries were starting to ache. Time for more pills. ‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s terrible. They should take away your passport,’ Alex admonished, pulling a huge wicker basket out of the boot of the car. I pressed my hand against my mouth and tried not to cry. He’d actually got a wicker basket. He looked concerned. ‘What?’
‘Where did you get that?’ I pointed at the picnic basket. ‘I know it wasn’t in your backpack.’
‘No, I cheated.’ He took out a second bag that clinked promisingly. ‘I borrowed it from Louisa’s husband while you guys were out yesterday.’
My boyfriend was the best. And in two days, he would be my husband. Eek.
‘Are you OK to walk a while, or do you need me to carry you?’ he asked. I pondered his question for a moment, not sure whether he was joking or not because I really did want him to carry me, but before I could clamber on board he started walking away, much to my disappointment.
By the time we reached the top and spread out our blanket, I was ready to hit the deck and neck all of the pills. Instead, I just took the prescribed two and collapsed onto my back, my skin drinking up the smooth, milky sunshine. Primrose Hill was one of those London things I had read about in the magazines but had never actually experienced myself, like Mahiki and Harvey Nicks. I knew it existed because celebrities went there, but I imagined there was some sort of Harry Potter-esque spell around it designed to keep out simple muggles like me. Besides, Mark hated going anywhere in London in the car. And he hated going north. And he hated going anywhere he considered ‘sceney’, which covered pretty much everywhere from the Ivy to Wagamama. Basically, he hated going anywhere that wasn’t the tennis club or the toilet, did the former love of my life. Thank God he’d cheated on me.
Alex, on the other hand, was always open to adventure. He knelt down beside the picnic basket, unloading plates, mini-champagne flutes and water glasses, tiny knives, little forks and enough cheese to make a cow cry. Another point to Alex. I could definitely be his specialist subject.
‘Jenny told me no carbs, but we just won’t tell her, right?’ he said, producing two half-sized baguettes with a flourish. ‘I have no idea what kind of picnic exists without carbs. That girl scares me.’
‘You should have seen her at tea yesterday,’ I said. ‘Slightly terrifying.’
‘I figured she must have hit her head or something?’ Alex busied himself unwrapping a pack of giant cookies. ‘I mean, Craig? Really?’
‘Exactly what I thought.’ And what James thought. And what Graham thought. And what my mum thought. I tipped my face up to the warmth and felt every muscle in my body relax. But that could have been the pills. ‘But no, she’s just gone mad.’
‘More mad than usual?’
‘Considerably more mad than usual. As in proper breakdown instead of bad judgement and too many cocktails. But we’re working on it.’
‘Banging Craig is working on it?’
I didn’t answer. Instead I pulled a face and sat up to look out
over London. It really was a beautiful place when you stepped away for a moment. My ideas of the city were always wrapped up in running to meetings, being held up on the tube, rushing around on weekends. It was all obligations and demands to me, but up here, it seemed to offer so much more. There was space to breathe, space to make a decision. Space for choices.
‘So, we haven’t really talked about it.’ Alex finished emptying the basket and stretched his long legs out in front of him. They ran over the edge of the blanket and onto the grass while he twisted his torso to lie on his front and look up at me. ‘But is everything OK your end? For Saturday?’
‘I think so,’ I nodded, feeding him a strawberry before taking one for myself. ‘I have everything I physically require, anyway. Jenny has been keeping the rest of the plans far too close to her chest, but she assures me everything is in order. Everything OK your end?’
Alex nodded. ‘Yes ma’am. I have a suit, your dad has a suit. I got to plan the music. I got the rings. I was allowed to write my own vows.’
‘You got rings?’ How had I not thought about rings? They were a pretty essential part of the process. ‘How do you know if they fit?’
‘There was a very involved trying-on process involving your mom, Jenny and Louisa. We’re pretty certain.’ He looked fairly sure of himself. ‘I’m not telling you anything else. It’s a surprise.’
‘And you already wrote your vows?’ I broke off half a cookie and tried not to let my concern show on my face. I had not written my vows. I had not thought about my vows. I had thought about getting a dress and getting drunk and my friends not killing each other and the presentation I still had to give tomorrow and hiding my hangovers from my mum. And now there were vows.
‘That was the easiest part.’ He ripped off a piece of baguette and chopped up a chunk of cheese. Sensible Alex going savoury first. Silly Angela, scarfing down a cookie. ‘You didn’t even start?’
‘I’ve been thinking very carefully,’ I said. It wasn’t a lie. I had been, just not about the vows. ‘Once I’ve got the presentation out of the way tomorrow, I’m all wedding, all the time.’
‘I never would have thought about eloping, but it’s kind of the best thing ever,’ Alex said, staring out at the skyline. The BT Tower winked at passing planes overhead. ‘Although I guess it doesn’t count as eloping, since we actually ran away to your parents instead of from them.’
‘Maybe consider it eloping from yours then,’ I suggested. ‘Since I’ve never met them. Have you called them?’
‘I sent an email.’ He shut down a little bit, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Unfortunately for Alex Reid, I want never gets in the Clark family.
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit weird?’ I tested the waters as carefully as I could. ‘That they’re not going to be here? Did they reply to your email?’
‘No.’ He squinted into the sunlight to look at me. ‘They didn’t reply. And no, I don’t think it’s weird. I don’t have the same relationship with my folks that you do, Angela. They don’t need to know what I’m doing every moment of every day. As long as I’m out of jail and not on crack, they kinda don’t care. Not in a neglectful parent way, just in a “he’s an adult and he makes his own decisions in his own life” way. They have my brother to fulfil all of their happy family fantasies. We’re just not close.’
I looked back at him, slowly demolishing my cookie and processing the information. While he didn’t exactly sound heartbroken, there was a hint of bitterness in there, not directed at me but just in general. And his usually easy expression looked a little tense. With the sun shining directly on him, it was hard to read his eyes. Even harder when he pulled out a pair of aviators and covered them up.
‘I just don’t want you to regret it, that’s all,’ I said, remembering what James had said to me. Alex didn’t respond, so I switched to savoury with a lump of cheese to keep my mouth busy. Delicious, delicious cheese. ‘I don’t want you to look back and regret anything about our wedding.’
‘Not gonna happen.’ His face recovered its soft smile. ‘Unless Jenny and Craig really do get together, and then I’m going to feel horribly responsible.’
‘Not going to happen.’ I couldn’t even bear to imagine it. Instead, I flopped back down onto my back and smiled sideways at him. ‘Thank you for taking me to the zoo. I loved it.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, feeding me small chunks of bread. ‘It was the zoo or an open-top bus ride, and actually, given your fucked-up foot, maybe the bus would have been better. But I know you like zoos and shit, so. You know.’
I did also like open-top bus rides, but I kept this to myself. Besides, I definitely preferred zoos.
‘London zoo is the best.’ I said. ‘I used to come here all the time when I was little. My dad brought me every half-term.’
‘Your mom didn’t come?’
‘My mother does not care for the zoo,’ I replied. ‘If you can imagine that.’
‘I can,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I like your folks. I can see where you get it all from now.’
‘That’s such an insult,’ I said, even though really it gave me a kick to see Alex fit into my family like the perfect jigsaw piece. Mark had been a piece of the furniture, always around and so familiar, but he had never really slotted in. His colours clashed; you could always feel that he was there. I couldn’t imagine him and my dad splitting a spliff in the shed after hours. Not that I liked to imagine my dad with a spliff at all, but that was beside the point.
‘Your dad showed me a bunch of photographs from when you were a kid yesterday,’ he said. ‘You do know you were adorable, right?’
‘Yes I do, and I don’t want to know what he showed you,’ I said, burying my face in the blanket, only able to imagine what horrors he had dragged out of the family vaults. ‘Move on. Next subject. Skip.’
‘I don’t know what your problem is,’ he said, laughing loudly. ‘I thought you made a very cute Spider-Man.’
‘I was seven − it was phase,’ I almost shouted. When I got home, my dad was dead. ‘I wore that costume every day for months.’
‘And I have seen the photographic evidence to back up that fact,’ Alex agreed. ‘Seriously, though – super-cute. Almost as cute as Grace.’
I tried not to be jealous of a baby, but it was hard.
‘You’re a fan?’ I asked.
‘I’m pro-babies in general,’ he said. ‘But yeah, she’s pretty cute. I saw her at Tim’s place for a little while yesterday when I was picking up the picnic basket. He is not a man handling fatherhood well. I had to change her.’
‘And how do you know how to change a baby?’ I asked, not sure how I wanted him to answer. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’
‘Ha-ha. I’m not Craig.’ Alex kicked off his Converse and rolled over onto his back beside me. ‘I used to change my brother when he was a baby. And I did some babysitting when I was a teenager.’
‘How new man of you. Very Athena poster.’ I couldn’t pretend the mental image of Alex up to his elbows in talcum powder didn’t hit like a kick straight to the ovaries, but it was also slightly terrifying. ‘So if the band goes down the tubes, I can hire you out as a nanny?’
‘At the very least, I can be a house husband while you go out media moguling,’ he said. ‘The Wendi Deng to your Rupert Murdoch.’
‘You’ll look nice in a Chanel suit,’ I responded quickly.
We lay on the blanket quietly for a few moments, holding hands and looking up at the clouds. I thought about the number of times I’d done the same thing with Louisa, without the hand-holding mostly; but the number of times we’d lain on our backs staring at the clouds and trying to tell our fortunes. I felt horrible about what had happened the day before. I wanted to call her. I wanted to cry. I wanted her to tell me she forgave me and that she’d be there on Saturday with bells on. And if not bells, Jimmy Choos and a Notte by Marchesa dress.
‘Angela.’ Alex was the first to break the peace. ‘You do want
kids, right?’
‘Not for dinner.’ My name was Angela Clark, I tell jokes when I am nervous. Bad ones. Preferably puns where possible.
‘Seriously. I know we’ve never talked about it, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.’
He’d been thinking about it a lot lately.
‘And you weren’t super into hanging out with Grace on Sunday.’ He picked up some momentum and carried on talking in spite of, or because of, my silence. ‘It’s probably something we should have talked about before. If you’re not into it. Because I − well, I really am.’
‘I’m not not into it.’ I fumbled with the most grammatically incorrect sentence that had ever spilled from my lips. ‘It’s just not at the top of my list right now.’
‘But you do want kids?’ he asked.
I really wanted him to take off those sunglasses. It wasn’t fair that he should have armour when I didn’t.
‘I’ve never thought I wouldn’t have kids,’ I explained, trying to work out how I felt while I spoke. ‘But I’ve never been the girl with a timeline. I’ve never been the girl with the plan. That was always Louisa. I just went along from one thing to the next. But when I think about life now, with you, in the future, yes. There are kids.’
Alex didn’t smile. He didn’t frown. He didn’t really do anything.
‘If I were to push you on a timeline, when do you think you’d be ready to think about it?’
‘Where is this coming from?’ I sat up and took the sunglasses off his face. ‘Has my mother been brainwashing you? Has something happened?’
‘No.’ He looked away. Something had totally happened. ‘I’ve just been thinking about the future. Weddings do that, you know? And you’re almost thirty, I’m almost thirty-one. After this album I’m gonna have a little bit of time off maybe, and once you’ve got the magazine up and running, don’t you think it would be a good time to think about it?’