Chapter 4

Sarah dragged Sean away from the family histrionics for the second time in under an hour. She mothered him, dusting down the shoulders of his suit jacket in order to talk closely and keep him calm around the antics of his parents.

     Sarah gripped Sean’s tie against his upturned collar,

‘Thank god this knot’s the only hold the old bastard’s still got on you.’

It was the formal requirement of his father. John Matthews, who demanded the unfashionable Windsor knot for family occasions, and it was usually Sarah who administered it. Her husband and best man Kenny labeled it ‘The Windsor code’ which he knew was a secret means for Sarah to spend some close-up time with her oldest childhood friend and occasional tormentor, Sean Matthews.

            Sarah pushed the knot tight into Sean’s larynx as he resisted, tensing up against her fingers and shaking his head. Sarah took a step backwards and held the tie at arm’s length,

    ‘What the fuck is it now, Sean?’ she said.

He pulled his tie away from Sarah’s grip.

    ‘It’s perfect, Sarah. Thank you.’ Georgina said from behind her.

Sarah smiled and fidgeted with Sean’s lapel.

    ‘Ah, Georgina,’ Sarah said without turning around, ‘I wondered where you’ve been hiding all this time.’

Sean closed his eyes tightly.

    ‘Not now,’ he said, ’not today.’

    ‘John appeared to drop his whisky glass, Georgina. Is everything okay?’ Sarah stood back admiring her handiwork, rendering Sean as the pawn in the dismissive banter between herself and his mother.

 Sarah, once a teenage foil of Sean’s, her then unresponsive love interest, riled Georgina the most. People still talked about the infamous sixth-form house party where she rubbed her back raw on a nylon carpet in vague attempt at first-time sex. Sean. notoriously ended the session by springing upright and announcing he was, just as he’d suspected, a confirmed sodomite, as if it were the end of a considered process rather than a snap decision. It cemented their friendship over years of medical school in London for him, as she headed north to study law.

    Sarah’s daughter Molly, wearing a netting dress which appeared too tight for her four-year-old frame, circled around them sprinkling petals from her depleted basket. Sean and Molly chose the dress from a privileged children’s clothes shop in Beauchamp Place the previous spring, then had it shortened and replicated for the additional bridesmaids. Now it was covered in glitter and jam and more off the child than on. Sean focused on his goddaughter as an attempt to end the stand-off between the two women.

    ‘Hey, beautiful princess, you’re so creamy and lovely…’

Molly twirled and fell over imitating a move Sean had taught her at rehearsals. Sarah brushed some more imaginary dust from his collar.

    ‘Please don’t, uncle Sean. She’s camp enough as it is.’

Georgina deflected both child and biscuit away from her own dress, pushing Molly away.

    ‘She’s so… well behaved…’ Georgina said as the girl waltzed towards her father Kenny, trance-dancing in the centre of the dance floor.

    ‘Unlike her father,’ Sarah replied

‘…You see. ‘Georgina continued, as if what she was about to say was freshly considered and not internally scripted, ‘…if you and Sean had remained close…’

Sarah cut in continuing her time-honored role within the same narrative.

    ‘That was twenty-five years ago, Georgina, we were kids?’

Georgina continued, regardless.

    ‘…then he may never have turned out to be…’

    Whenever Georgina made public demands for Sean to curtail his bohemian ways his stock response would be to follow using an equally public apology for being a common-or-garden, gay, internationally respected, multi-referenced, A-list, pediatric consultant. This time he let Sarah do the talking.

    ‘He was gay then Georgina and he sure as hell is gay today’. Sarah faced Georgina, ‘would he ever be happy if someone managed to ‘turn him’, as you put it?’ Sarah drew a considered breath, ‘Oh, I get it now; you think this day is all about you, don’t you.’

‘I’m still here, ladies’ Sean said, waving his hand between their faces. Georgina pushed it aside and urged Sarah to continue.

    ‘This isn’t one of your business arrangements, Georgina’ Sarah continued ‘And I’m already married, remember?’

Sean drew in a sharp intake of breath,

    ‘That’s not the best example, Sarah, ’ he whispered.

The three looked towards Sarah’s husband, Kenny entertaining his daughter by break-dancing on the wet parquet. It was all the evidence Georgina needed.

    ‘It’s no wonder you need a pediatrician on hand, given your husband’s mental age…’

Georgina walked away and made small talk with random family members as she went. Sean placed his hand onto Sarah’s shoulder.

    ‘You should know by now that even the best of lawyers don’t get the last word with the old belter.’

    Sean guided Sarah around to face him, pushed the corners of her mouth back into a smile and kissed her on the forehead. He stood away, holding out his arms.

    ‘I do feel fucking ridiculous, though,’ he said.

Sarah took a step backwards and the tension of the confrontation melted away. She took in the full view of Sean, her girlhood crush and boy who broke her heart on more than one occasion. Her eyes welled up for the first time that day.

    ‘You look gorgeous, Sean Matthews,’ she said.

    He could have easily followed Sarah into the tear Olympics but suppressed it by hugging her tightly and concentrating on something inconsequential over her shoulder. Although he’d known Sarah for over half his life, introduced her to his best friend and best man, Kenny and was godfather to Molly, he felt he was leaving her and the old life behind. Finally allowing himself to be forty-four years old.

The tender moment was broken as Kenny burst through them, sweating heavily with Molly laying cruciform across his shoulders, forcing Sarah back into being mother again.

    ‘What happened to the other suit, Kenny?’ she said, unhinging Molly and brushing stray petals back into her basket.

    ‘Accident, ‘Kenny replied, looking towards his shuffling feet.

    It took Sean and Kenny two days to find a suit which both complimented the grooms and fitted Kenny’s unorthodox body type. Even though broad-shouldered, Kenny’s chest sagged disproportionally, while his waist bloated upwards and out. Their mutual disinterest in suit-buying resulted in a compulsive purchase of a clashing jacket and slacks combo, followed by a late evening in a pub.

    ‘And the blue shirt I bought you?’ Sean said with the sole intention of getting Kenny into further trouble with Sarah.

    ‘… burned a pot hole in it,’ Kenny replied sheepishly and both men fell into laugher.

Sarah caught the attention of a teenage bridesmaid and knelt to Molly.

    ‘You go and play with the big girls now.’ She said, guiding Molly and the bridesmaid away. Shifting her attention back to her husband, she yanked violently at his tie, something Sean mirrored from behind her back so only Kenny could see.

    ‘Can’t I go and play with the big girls too?’ Kenny whined.

Sarah yanked at his collar in the same way she dealt with Sean’s. It was something about strangling men. By the time she finished the adjustment, the ginger of Kenny’s hair merged into his face and, even though he looked as if he were about to pass out, he took the punishment without flinching.

    Plates of colored water with floating candles illuminated the tables at the reception as the sun began to set, making the marquees glow pale yellow. At the dessert station Michael helped himself to a plate of chocolate wedding cake as Maude accosted him for a second time.

    ‘I need an answer on something,’ she said, taking a plate from the pile.

    ‘We, the girls and I, were wondering how it all works’, she lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘you know what I mean - who’s the bride and who’s the groom?’

Maude pointed at the groom and groom statuette on the top tier of the wedding cake with her cake fork.

    ‘Search me,’ Michael said.

Maude was deflated. ‘You’re not one of those Ibiza boys, then?’

    ‘I don’t think so…’

    ‘I knew it!’ Maude bellowed, ‘we could tell.’

Michael glanced toward a table of octogenarian women who simultaneously waved back at him. He nodded a greeting in return and steadied himself against the table.

‘I told them so,’ Maude piled her plate as high as Michael’s, eating additional cream swirls from with her fingers.

    ‘I’ll see you later, then…’ Michael said.

Maude’s buttercream stained hand clamped onto his forearm.

    ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love my nephew Sean. But, I have to say; I’m not too taken on this Doug Ganley fellow. Not that I don’t mind Yanks, normally…’

Maude pasted the cake sideways into her mouth with her spoon and continued to talk.

    ‘Sean’s just a… more meaningful person, I think. I appreciate all these lovely houses and cars - not to mention all the Ativan he passed on to me last summer…’

    ‘He’s a good doctor, yes?’ Michael said, probing deeper, without meaning to.  Maude gripped his arm tighter and he could feel her fingernails through his suit.

    ‘He’s the biggest pediatrical consultant there is. The big daddy - if you know what I mean…’

Michael caught a glimpse of Sean over Maude’s shoulder holding onto Molly, kissing her wildly on both cheeks. Beyond him, Georgina observed this before storming off into the twilight of the garden with Sean in hot pursuit. Michael excused himself and headed out towards the lawn.

    Michael watched Sean wander alone and considered his task. He thought, since it was almost twilight, that he could escape through the garden if he lost his nerve to make contact. He tugged the hem of his jacket down and moved slowly towards Sean to break the ice and deliver the letter which would explain everything. He would have reached his goal if the somewhat drunker John Matthews hadn’t intercepted him first.

    ‘Come on lad,’ John said, yanking Michael back towards the marquee, ‘let’s go and commiserate with the boys.’ Over his shoulder Michael saw Sean watching his father dragging him away. He placed the letter back into his inside pocket and followed his grandfather.

    None of the men at John’s table appeared to Michael to be under seventy years of age. Michael was seated next to a crinkled old gentleman they called Ralphy Nugent who had a slim face and dandruff in his eyebrows. Ralphy employed the traditional football intro, sometimes used when men met socially as a rejoinder across the age divide; a sort of sounding-out ritual and premise for banter and playful opposition.

    ‘I missed the bloody game because of this – didn’t catch the scores did you sonny?’ Ralphy said.

Michael briefly explained his journey that day and that he’d yet to hear the scores himself. This was followed by yet another awkward silence which John Matthews, eventually broke as he sat down next to Michael,

    ‘Bugger the league, Ralphy,’ John said, ‘let’s have a bloody party of our own.’

Another man wearing a single medal on his lapel and a Monty beret askance on his head, stared at Michael seated alongside John Matthews and somewhere a penny dropped.

    ‘That’s it’, the old man shouted, standing up and pointing a finger at Michael, ‘he’s a look of your David. Right down to the gait.’

    John Matthews didn’t look to Michael for any sort of confirmation but as he refilled his own glass to the brim, Michael could see his hand was shaking. There was now a quiver in his voice and he repeatedly cleared his throat as if something was lodged deep inside.

    ‘They’re all drunk you see, lad,’ John said, his words trailing off, ‘now they think you look like my wretched dead brother.’

    There was a catch in John Matthew’s throat and he stood up and away from Michael as one by one the men fell silent. When Michael scanned them they each avoided his gaze. He glanced at John who was leaning back in his chair staring at him and although drunk, Michael remembered Tracy’s second rule because he’d forgotten the first.

    ‘You know,’ Michael said, standing up, ‘I’m so pissed everyone’s beginning to look alike, today.’ 

Michael stumbled as he laddered himself across their chair backs onto the lawn and towards the facilities.