like for Dad to have his,’ laughed Josie.
‘Did someone take my name in vain?’
Josie’s dad, an ambling six-foot academic-looking type, wandered in from an enormous room on the side, which looked like a lounge.
‘Dad!’ Josie shrieked and threw her arms around him.
‘Lovely to see you too, darling. Harry, good to see you again.’
He shook hands with Harry, who looked unaccountably nervous. Ant dimly recalled Harry saying how terrifying he found his future father-in-law.
‘Diana, always a pleasure,’ he continued, ‘and you must be the elusive Ant. Peter Hampton at your service.’ He looked him up and down appraisingly, with sharp blue eyes, which reminded him suddenly of Josie. For an instant, Ant felt sorry for Harry; great to be marrying into the money certainly, but despite the scatty professor persona Ant had a feeling Peter was a hard man to impress.
‘At your service,’ said Ant, then felt ridiculous. What a stupid thing to have said.
‘Are we eating outside, darling?’ said Peter, ‘as it’s such a beautiful day?’
‘I thought we would,’ said Nicola. ‘We don’t often get the opportunity, and it’s so lovely that you could all be here.’
She beamed cheerfully at them, and Ant tried to smile back, but suddenly he felt quite claustrophobic. He wasn’t good at families, this felt all too domestic and cosy for him. Surely it was time for the pub soon? Otherwise it was going to be a very long weekend …
‘You know there’s a local plan to revive the theatre, don’t you?’ Nicola said, ushering Harry and Josie straight into the dining room as soon as they’d deposited their bags, while she left Peter sorting out drinks for Ant and Diana on the patio. Harry looked after them longingly, even more so when he saw to his horror a huge array of wedding catalogues lying open on the magnificent mahogany dining table.
‘I hadn’t, no,’ said Josie.
‘Well, they might be hiring it out for weddings,’ said Nicola.
Hang on a minute. Harry was confused. The last conversation they’d had, Nicola had been insisting on a church wedding.
‘That would be awesome!’ said Josie, ‘could we get a marquee up there?’
‘Well, I’ve been looking into it,’ Nicola said. ‘It’s worth a thought.’
‘Don’t you think it would be nicer to have a marquee at home?’ asked Harry, but he knew the answer straight away.
‘No!’ Josie and Nicola said simultaneously.
‘I think it would be amazing to have our wedding on the cliff edge looking out to sea,’ said Josie. ‘It would be different, stand out; be a wedding like no other. No one would ever forget it.’
Why did their wedding have to stand out? Harry wondered. He didn’t care if anyone else forgot it, he knew he never would.
‘And what about getting married in St Cuthbert’s?’ he continued, though he knew it was futile. The idea of that had been filling him with dread, but now he clung onto it longingly, ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’
‘I did,’ said Josie, ‘but the open-air theatre would make such a great setting for the wedding. So romantic. You can’t have forgotten our first date there?’
Of course he hadn’t. The first time he’d ever been to this house, years ago, with a group of their university friends, he’d found himself suddenly alone with Josie, the only one wanting to go out to the theatre for the night. It had rained, and they’d huddled together in their plastic macs under an umbrella, watching a magical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It had been a wonderful, incredible evening and he’d fallen head over heels in love. Though they’d drifted apart after uni, Harry had never forgotten either that night, or Josie. He still couldn’t believe his luck in finding her again.
‘Of course not,’ he said taking her hand. ‘It was one of the most amazing nights of my life.’
‘Aah,’ said Nicola fondly, ‘what a romantic.’
‘Of course he is,’ said Josie, ‘that’s why I’m marrying him.’
Harry blushed. He never quite knew what to do when Josie was so public about her feelings for him.
‘Stop it,’ scolded Nicola, ‘you’re shaming the poor boy. Now, what do you think about these bouquets …’
‘Oh, Mum, they’re gorgeous,’ Josie was peering at pictures of pale pink roses entwined with white carnations and wound in unknown greenery. There were pages and pages of pictures of bouquets that all looked the same to Harry. He endured five minutes of Josie rhapsodising about flowers and then, deciding his presence wasn’t necessary, beat a retreat into the garden, hoping he wasn’t going to face a grilling from Peter about his latest prospects.
Diana had disappeared to take a nap, claiming a headache in a very pointed manner, evidently her desire not to spend time with Ant overcoming her normal politeness in front of Josie’s parents. What was going on there? They clearly knew one another, but were being icily polite to the point of freezing. And Ant was pretending to barely know Diana, which was clearly not true. Harry wondered which of Ant’s many conquests Di must have been. It was always hard to keep track with Ant, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall Ant mentioning her before. He wondered if she was the one who’d broken Ant’s heart. It would explain an awful lot. Resolving to ask him at the first opportunity, Harry went into the garden where he found Ant animatedly talking business with Peter.
‘So what do you think about us losing our triple A rating then?’ Ant was saying as he approached. ‘The country’s being run by idiots.’
‘You’re not wrong there,’ said Peter. ‘This bunch is no better than the last lot. I worry about the future for you kids, I really do.’
‘It could be worse, at least we’re not Italy,’ said Ant, provoking a hearty laugh from Peter which made Harry feel like punching a wall. He’d never made Peter laugh like that once, not in all the months he’d been coming here.
In truth, while Harry had grown very fond of Nicola, Peter terrified him. A self-made millionaire who’d used Nicola’s money to make one fortune in the dot com bubble, which had enabled him not only to buy this house, but a pied-à-terre in London, a villa in Spain, and another fortune in the technological boom of more recent times. And he appeared to be recessionproof, living evidence that money made more money.
Harry, who came from a more modest background and was quite happy to be earning what he regarded as a reasonable income in a job he enjoyed, was totally baffled when Peter started on about stocks and shares, and even more so when Ant joined in. How the hell did Ant even know all this stuff? It wasn’t even as if he was any good at maths.
Gloomily, Harry sat between them as Ant quizzed Peter ever more heavily about the future of the economy, then Josie and Nicola joined them and went into frenzies about menus, venues, and other things which he felt were insignificant. When he’d impulsively asked Josie to marry him last October, he hadn’t foreseen this. There seemed to be no end to the minutiae that had
