Isabel Wolff - The Making of Minty Malone

In fact, I wasn’t going to keep anything. Not a thing. Miss Havisham might have turned herself into a living shrine to her day of shame, but I would do the reverse. There would be no reminders of my wedding: no yellowing gown, no mouldering cake – not so much as a crumb. I would divest myself of everything associated with that dreadful, dreadful day. I would remove every trace, as criminals attempt to eradicate the evidence of their crimes. I went and looked at my wedding dress again. The dress I hadn’t even liked. The dress I had bought to please Dom. It was hanging, heavily, in its thick, plastic cover on the back of my bedroom door. And on the chair were my satin slippers, wrapped in tissue, and placed side by side in their box. And the bouquet was laid out on the windowsill, where it was already drying in the warm summer air, and the sequins on my veil sparkled and winked in the rays of the late evening sun.

On the bedside table were some Order of Service sheets. I picked one up, sat down on the bed, and turned it over in my hands. ‘St Bride’s Church, Fleet Street, London,’ it announced in deeply engraved black letters; ‘Saturday, July 28th’. And beneath, on the left, ‘Araminta’, and then ‘Dominic’ to the right. There were also two boxes of confetti. Unopened. At these, I almost cried. But I didn’t. Instead I found myself thinking about Charlie, and about how well he’d tried to cope, and how awful it had been for him too, and how decent and good he is. And I thought how lucky Amber is to have him. He would never have done what Dom did. It’ll be their turn next, I reflected, enviously, as I wrapped tissue paper round my veil. But their wedding will be joyful, I thought, unlike my cruel and shambolic day.

In my study were three boxes of embossed ‘thank you’ cards, engraved with my new married name. So on each one I Tippexed out Lane, and wrote ‘Malone’ instead. Alone , I realised bitterly. I thought it best, in the circumstances, to keep the messages brief, though in certain cases, I did mention Paris and how delightful I’d found the George V and how nice it was of Helen to come with me and how we’d sort of enjoyed ourselves, in a funny sort of way. But I avoided saying how ‘useful’ I was going to find their spice racks, or their milk frothers, or their hurricane lanterns, because it wouldn’t have been true. They were all destined for other hands. And I must have been sitting there for about two hours I suppose, writing card after card after card, when it happened. The tears came, and I couldn’t see to write any more. I was just so angry. So angry. It possessed me like a physical pain. How could he? How could he have hurt and humiliated me so much? And then just casually dropping off my things like that and suggesting there’d be no hard feelings?! No hard feelings ?

I did what I had resolved not to do – I picked up the phone. I’d speak to him. I’d bloody well let rip with a few hard feelings. He’d be dodging my hard feelings like stones. My heart was banging in my chest as I started to dial. 01 …I’d tell him what I thought of him …81 …I’d been so good to him …9 …even inviting his …2 …bloody clients to my …4 …bloody wedding – people I’d never even met. And Dad picking up the bill for all this …5 …without so much as a word …2 …3 …And then Dom just running out of church as though he were leaving some boring play. By now I burned with an incandescent fury that would have illuminated a small town. I’d never take him back after what he’d done to me. I was white hot. I was spitting fire I …I …Christ! Who was that?

The doorbell had rung, and was ringing again, hard. I slammed down the phone. Dominic! It was Dominic! He’d come to say that it was all a terrible mistake and to beg my forgiveness and to tell me that he would wear sackcloth and ashes for a year – no, two – if only I would take him back. I wiped my eyes and hurtled downstairs. Dominic! Dominic! Yes, of course I’ll have you back! Let’s wipe that slate clean, Dominic! We can work it out. I flung open the door.

‘Domin– Oh! Amber!’

‘Oh, Minty!’ she wailed. She staggered inside and flung her arms round me. ‘Oh, Minty,’ she wept. ‘It was so awful !’

‘Well, yes it was,’ I said. ‘It was terrible.’

She was sobbing on to my shoulder. ‘I don’t know how he could do that.’

‘I know.’

‘It was such a shock. ’

‘You’re telling me!’

‘Such a dreadful thing to do.’

‘Yes. Yes, it was. Dreadful.’

‘ Woof !’

Oh God, she’d brought Pedro, I realised. Her parrot. And then I thought, why has she brought Pedro? And why is she here at ten p.m. with Pedro and a weekend bag?

‘Amber, what’s going on?’

‘It’s …it’s – Charlie,’ she sobbed.

‘What’s happened to him?’

‘Nothing’s happened to him ,’ she howled. ‘It’s what’s happened to me. Oh, Minty, Minty – I’ve been dumped !’

There’s nothing like someone else’s misery to make you forget your own. I don’t really like to admit this, but Amber’s anguish instantly cheered me up. Even though I’m terribly fond of her, and have known her all my life. She staggered inside with her stuff, and sat sobbing in the kitchen. Pedro was squawking in the sitting room – I’d decided to install him in there because he’s an incredibly noisy bird and our nerves were on edge.

Great fat tears coursed down Amber’s cheeks as she told me what had occurred. It was all because of me, apparently. Or rather, it was because of what had happened to me in church. I suppose you might call it the Domino Effect – or perhaps the Domin ic Effect.

‘When Charlie heard Dom say those things to you, about not being able to make those promises, it really affected him,’ she explained between teary gasps. ‘He said he knew then that he could never make those promises to me. ’

‘But you’ve always seemed so happy.’

‘Well I thought so too,’ she wept, throwing up her hands in a pietà of grief. ‘I mean, I was happy.’

‘I know.’

‘But Charlie was so shocked by what Dom did to you that the next day he blurted out that we’d have to break up too.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Because he said he knew he could never do such an awful thing to me. So he said it had to come to an end, now, before it went too far, because …because …He says we just don’t have a future. ’ Her large green eyes brimmed with tears, then overflowed again.

‘Why does he say that?’ I asked, intrigued.

‘Because of the children ,’ she howled.

‘What children?’

‘The children I don’t want !’

Ah. That. The baby issue. It’s the big issue for Amber. Or rather, there isn’t going to be any issue, because Amber has never wanted kids.

‘But he knew how you felt about having children, didn’t he?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, pressing a tear-sodden tissue to her bloodshot eyes. ‘He’s always known, but he was hoping I’d change my mind. But I’m not going to. And he should respect that, because it’s my choice. But he can’t see that,’ she wailed. ‘Because he’s so selfish! He says he wants to have a family. Bastard!’

‘Er, that is quite an important …’ I said tentatively. ‘I mean, I always assumed he knew your views and didn’t mind.’

‘Well, he does mind. He’s always minded; and we’ve been together two years. And he said if I still don’t want kids, then we’ve got to break up, because he’d like to find someone who does.’

‘Hmmm, I don’t entirely …’