Harriet Evans - Happily Ever After

Mandana was twisting her small, shiny paper napkin into a spiral between her fingers. Her big brown eyes were sunken smudges in her pale face.

Elle’s father crossed his arms and turned to Mandana. ‘Go on. Tell them.’ It was the first time he’d directly addressed his ex-wife since Elle had arrived.

‘Tell us what?’ Melissa smiled.

Elle felt an oiling trickle of discomfort, like sweat rolling down the back of her neck. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what. The alcohol rippled on her empty stomach. This was so unnatural, all of it, the four of them were never together as adults, and these words like family, engagement, bridesmaid, romantic – the Bee family didn’t use them. They didn’t do this kind of stuff.

Mandana swallowed. ‘I – oh, God. Love – Rhodes – look. I – can’t come.’

‘What?’ Rhodes said sharply. ‘What do you mean, you can’t come ?’ John sat back against the banquette. ‘Go on. Tell them, then,’ he said, with something like satisfaction in his voice.

‘I can’t come … if the wedding’s … in …’ Mandana looked up, her eyes flicking from her ex-husband to her son, her thin fingers wrestling in her lap. She cleared her throat. ‘I can’t come if the wedding’s in the States. I’m not allowed back there.’

Melissa’s eyes grew huge and tendons appeared on the sides of her neck. She made a sound in her throat. ‘Mmm?’

Mandana glanced imploringly at her ex-husband. ‘Ah – well, when I was – when I was twenty-five, I was in California. In Haight-Ashbury. I got – ah.’ Her voice was so soft Elle could hardly hear her. ‘I was arrested. For dealing … for dealing pot. Just pot, a tiny bit, nothing else,’ she said, pleading. ‘I was convicted. Given a fine. I got a record. But my visa had expired too, and both those things together mean – well, I’m not allowed back in the country.’

There was a long silence.

‘I’m sorry – what?’ Rhodes said. His voice was light. ‘You what ?’

Mandana didn’t say anything.

‘Mum, is that true?’ Elle asked, disbelieving. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘She didn’t ever bother to tell me ,’ John said.

‘John, don’t,’ Mandana said, a flicker of impatience in her voice, like the furious, rollicking Mandana of old, not this timid woman terrified of making a mistake. ‘Just don’t.’

‘What, I’m the one who shouldn’t say anything?’ Elle’s father didn’t even look at her mother. ‘I always wanted you to know this, you two,’ he said, looking from Elle to Rhodes. ‘Now you understand why she didn’t come to Disney World. I didn’t find out until we actually arrived at the airport.’

The Disney World holiday . Instantly, Elle’s palms started sweating at the memory. The journey to the airport, both parents in a terrible mood, but Mandana worse than usual. She’d be fine for months, then suddenly she’d go mad, and this was one of those days. Queuing up to go through, Elle holding her Dumbo toy, making him fly along the fabric tape separating the queues. Then something happening, and Mandana screaming at John, him shouting back, in front of everyone, but they didn’t care: that was how it was with them. Rhodes and Elle, eleven and eight respectively, had stood to one side, silently watching and holding each other’s hand, not understanding how this holiday – which was basically the best thing that had ever happened to them, which their dad had booked as a surprise and only told them about a week ago – was now, suddenly, going so horribly wrong.

Their mum had left, not even said bye to them. John fussed with passports and pieces of paper, as if nothing had happened. Elle had watched her mother walk away, her shoulders hunched, head bowed, and the further away she’d got the faster she’d walked, as if she was glad to be free, till she was almost running down the long grey terminal building, no one else paying any attention. Elle gazed at her till suddenly she turned a corner and was gone.

‘Where’s Mummy?’ Elle had asked, as they were sitting in Wimpy a little later, eating burgers and chips, trying to recapture the excitement they’d had earlier.

‘She’s not coming. There was something wrong with her passport,’ John had said, and they’d left it at that, and the holiday had been great – children are selfish, it was Disney World, after all – but when they’d got back home a week later, it had been bad. Very bad, because Mum wasn’t good on her own. Curtains closed, a meaty, musty smell through the cottage, everything in a mess, Mum most of all, till she saw them and burst into tears. That was the first time Elle realised she drank too much. Not like Emily from Brownies’ mum who had three sherries and then started singing music hall songs. That was sort of funny. Different from that. This wasn’t funny. But she and Rhodes could boast about their Disney World holiday at school and things went back to normal, sort of, until the next time, and the time after that for a few years more, and then the holiday in Skye, which somehow was the final tipping point.

Elle glanced at Rhodes, wondering if he was thinking the same as she was. But he was watching their mother, and the look on his face was enough.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mandana said eventually. She looked up, her eyes full of tears, her cheeks hollow. ‘I am so awfully sorry. It was a stupid mistake when I was young. I’ve paid for it, but it’s – it’s so awful that you’re suffering too. Of course, you must have the wedding where you want. I’ll be so happy for you, wherever you do it.’

Rhodes spread his fingers out on his knees. ‘That’s not the point, is it?’ He looked at his mother. ‘How will it look, Mum? You’re always going on about that bloody San Francisco trip like it was so pure and free and everything else is crap by comparison and it’s bollocks. You’re full of shit.’

‘Rhodes,’ their dad said sharply. ‘That’s enough.’

‘Rhodes, no,’ Melissa said. She gave a fixed smile, her bottom lip pushing her top lip up, her cheeks puffed out. ‘We may well relocate to London in any case. Perhaps we should think about having the wedding here.’

‘Or in a castle in Ireland like Posh and Becks,’ Elle said, in a misplaced attempt to lighten the mood. The four of them looked at her oddly. The drinks arrived, the waiter putting them gingerly down one by one, and there was complete silence at the table.

‘Well, it would be wonderful if it was, if it was, if it was here.’ Mandana’s stuttering voice was still barely audible. ‘I am so sorry. For everything.’ She stared at her orange juice.

‘No,’ Melissa said suddenly, putting her hand on Mandana’s knee. She swallowed. ‘Um – it’s no problem. It’s good we found out now, so we can do something about it. It’s going to be great. If it’s in the UK, I’ll need Elle’s help even more. Thank goodness!’

Mandana nodded gratefully and Melissa smiled at her, and Elle found herself warming to her, though she didn’t think this was at all how Melissa had expected the announcement to turn out. She picked up her Martini, and drank half of it in a swift gulp. She’d known it was going to be a long night, but it already was.

JUST BEFORE NINE Elle left the Savoy and, dodging the rain and the churning buses, crossed the Strand. She passed the entrance to Lion Books and remembered, as she always did here, that terrible interview with Jenna Taylor where all she’d been able to say was, ‘I’m passionate about reading … I love books, I love them.’ She’d seen Jenna at a party about a year after she’d started at Bluebird and, gauchely, bounced up to her and said hello, but Jenna hadn’t recognised her. At least, she’d pretended not to. Elle had been in publishing for over three years now, and she knew enough to know that bouncing up to people and saying hello was not what you did. Sometimes she missed being gauche, though. She felt as if she’d grown up, but not necessarily learned anything.