Do You Remember the First Time?

at me. ‘Almost made us remember our big day, eh, Joyce?’
    ‘Ooh, it was a long time ago!’ said my mother, but she blushed a little, nonetheless, and he pushed her on the shoulder.
    Tash raised her eyebrows at me. Then she redoubled her efforts.
    ‘Hi,’ said a character to me. ‘I’m Marshall. Isn’t this fabulous?’
    ‘Hi, Dad,’ I said, without prompting.
    That was the longest dinner of my life. A dinner, too, I’d already eaten, so I was denied the pleasure of guessing whether the salmon would be cold or pan-fried. Between us, Tashy and I ate about enough to sate a very small mouse who’d spent the morning at a cheese and wine party.
    The speeches were interminable too. Oddly, whilst Max’s was exactly the same – and, for me, even worse, because I could wince now even longer before we got to the far-approaching punchline – her dad’s was somehow different. He seemed less proud, less sure of himself; less confident all over. This wasn’t good.
    I was on the top table, and glumly watched my parents urge each other to try different foods, and giggling and glancing at each other throughout the toasts. At one point they even clinked glasses. My dad was trying too hard. Oh God, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go back. They needed me here, they really did. How could I take this away from them? I was dreading it. But if I didn’t, then all this around me was a waste. A waste of lives, a waste of money, a waste of everything. I looked at my mum’s smiling face and thought back to when she sat here before, nervously checking with me in case she had to pay for anything, or whether or not it was OK to take second helpings. Olly, on another table, spotted me looking at my mother – who, of course, had not the slightest clue who he was. He smiled ruefully then raised his eyebrows.
    At last, at last, with the coffee still warm in my mouth, the caterers looked as if they were starting to clear the tables away. I had to get out. I had to clear my head. I needed to think. I looked at Tashy.
    ‘I’m going out …’
    ‘Run,’ she said. She was drinking rather heavily for a bride. ‘Run as fast as you can and never look back.’
    ‘I was thinking more of a walk around the garden.’
    ‘Whatever,’ she said dully. I took off like a bolt of lightning.
    Oh God, here it was again. I’d forgotten about the stupid effing fountain. I walked around it, resisting the urge to kick it. Such a beautiful day. In the distance, I could see my parents too, taking a little walk in the sunshine. Were they holding hands? Oh, crap. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe I had to.
    I sat on the side of the fountain, idly lifting my skirt, and stretching my legs out in front of me, twirling my skinny ankles, admiring the sheer, unfreckled whiteness of my legs, the lack of wrinkliness in the knee. Who knew you got wrinkles in your knees? Not me.
    ‘Here!’ Justin looked triumphant. ‘John’s bloody watching me like a hawk, but I managed to sneak away and I got these.’ He handed over two bottles of pink Bacardi Breezer. He must think it was my favourite. ‘Cigarette?’ he proffered me a Benson & Hedges.
    ‘God, no. Don’t even think of it, stinky boy.’
    He rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever.’
    He stretched out on the grass. ‘This isn’t too bad after all, now, is it? Lift your skirt up again.’
    I smiled. ‘What do you think this is, lapdancer central?’
    ‘I cannot wait till I’m twenty-one,’ said Justin dreamily. Then he remembered himself. ‘Not that they’ll be as nice as you.’
    ‘You’re probably right,’ I said.
    I had been having slight second thoughts about everything we’d done before. Maybe he would think all girls were as easy as me and get turned into some kind of daytime TV presenter sex fiend. But, watching him as he smiled lazily, completely relaxed, getting grass stains on his new suit, half closing his eyes against the late afternoon sun, I figured he’d be alright.
    ‘You’ll be alright,’ I said out loud.
    ‘What’re you talking about?’ he said, blinking.
    ‘You’ll be fine.’
    ‘Uh, yeah. Maybe you shouldn’t drink so fast in the hot sun.’
    ‘Hey!’ shouted Clelland, striding over the lawn. His tie was loosened and he’d unbuttoned his shirt a little. It made him look adorably ruffled.
    ‘We were just talking,’ I said, trying not to look guilty.
    ‘I hope so.’
    ‘We were.’ I was blushing again.
    He looked at me, and I melted.
    ‘Well, anyway …’ he said.