Page 83 of The Notecard
‘But it doesn’t matter…’
It definitely matters.
‘Because we love each other. We’re married, for better or worse, before I knew about Tenerife and after I knew about Tenerife…’
She isn’t going to let Tenerife go. I look across and see Simon’s knee bobbing up and down nervously. Adam downs the last of his champagne.
‘The last toast is for Simon. My husband, who has secrets about whatever happened in Tenerife, but that’s marriage. To Simon!’ says Laura.
The entire room says, ‘to Simon’ but it’s uncomfortable. Why did she keep having to mention Tenerife? Laura sits down. Simon tries to say something to her, but Laura snaps.
‘Not now, Simon.’
Simon shies away like a scalded dog. His tail between his legs. There’s tension at the head table. There’s a moment's pause as the speeches are over, and before we eat. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m starving. We haven’t eaten since breakfast, apart from the delicious amuse-bouches, but they were tiny, which I understand is the point of an amuse-bouche, but it didn’t fill me up in the slightest. There’s a moment’s pause after Laura’s speech, and the large doors of the room open. I’m not paying much attention. I’m sipping my champagne, and I’m thinking about eating and trying to remember what I ordered (the chicken or the fish?), but the doors open and standing there is Nick. Nick in a black suit and tie. I don’t know what to think. What is he doing here? He was supposed to be driving to Nottingham today. He definitely wasn’t invited to the wedding. I technically could have invited a date, but I chose not to. And yet Nick is here. Why is Nick here?
‘Isn’t that the doctor who lives across the hall from you?’ says Laura.
‘It is.’
‘Why is he here?’
‘I have no idea.’
It feels like the entire world has stopped. It’s quiet. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Well, perhaps not a pin drop because a baby is crying, but something fairly quiet. Something slightly louder than a baby crying. Nick walks towards me. He’s only looking at me. I don’t know what he’s doing here. I don’t know what to think. My knees are shaking, and I suddenly feel sick. He’s going to do something. Here. Now. A big romantic gesture perhaps? I don’t know. But before I really have the chance to process and unpack what is going on, Nick is standing in front of the table. In front of me. He looks gorgeous in a suit. Like James Bond. Nick looks at me and then he picks up the microphone. Oh god.
Nick
THEN
I’m seven-years-old and we’re on holiday in Cornwall. Mums off getting ice-cream, while Dad and I walk along the beach, holding hands, and splashing in the water. We’re staying in a small cottage near Watergate Bay. I’m thinking about this because it’s one of my first genuine memories. I have older ones, but they’re snippets of moments that feel more like dreams. This is an actual memory. Dad and I on the beach. We’re laughing. I can feel the warmth of the sun, the chilly Atlantic water on my feet, and I remember Dad. His hair. His smile. The way he laughed and the feeling of his hand in mine. Being so young, so carefree, and loving my parents so much because they were all I had. I remember it because I got to spend a week with Dad. There were days at home when I didn’t see him at all. He’d be gone before I woke up, and he wouldn’t be home from work until after my bedtime. But in Cornwall, he was there, and it felt like the biggest treat in the world. I didn’t need ice cream, cream teas, and anything else that Cornwall offered because I had seven glorious days of Dad. I remember his laugh. It sounded so magical to me then. I hardly heard it at home. But there in Cornwall it came out, and it was like I was hearing it for the first time. Big and loud. Dad’s laugh. The splash of seawater. The warmth of sunshine.
NOW
All noise is gone, and all I can hear is my own thoughts and my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have lost it. Let me paint the scene for you. There’s a beautiful wedding in an expensive hotel in the Hampshire countryside. There’s a room in the hotel full of guests about to eat a delicious three course meal. They’ve just finished the speeches, when the door opens, and a man walks in. A man dressed for a wedding, but no-one seems to know him. No-one except one of the bridesmaids, who quite frankly seems aghast that this man is there. He grabs the microphone, and starts talking, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable, but you can’t stop watching because you want to know why this crazy man is there. And perhaps why no-one is stopping him.
‘Hello, everyone, what a beautiful wedding,’ I say. I look at Meg, and I can tell exactly what she is thinking. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing? I immediately notice she’s dyed her hair pink. Sweat is running down my back. ‘Wow, pink hair, Meg. It looks good.’ I turn to face the room. ‘Umm, you don’t know me. My name’s Nick Clark. I lived across the hall from Meg. You look beautiful Meg, and so do you, Laura, really amazing, congratulations by the way and the other bridesmaid too, obviously. I don’t know your name. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here. I’m wondering myself.’
The room is deadly quiet, and everyone is looking at me. I’m trying to stay focused on Meg, who has gone quite a bright shade of red.
‘Meg and I almost got together. We had a night when it could have happened, but for one reason or another it didn’t. Well, Meg, I’m here today because I want to say something to you before you jet off around the world and I lose whatever confidence I have to do this. I hadn’t planned on doing it like this with a microphone in front of all of these people, but here we are.’
I pause. I take a deep breath. I look at Meg and she looks mortified.
‘Meg, a while ago you got a notecard from me, after I saved your life and you sent me a notecard of thanks. My notecard said how much I liked you and that I wanted to go on a date. What you don’t know is that I wrote a few of them before that one.’
I reach into my suit pocket and pull out my stack of notecards. I still have no clue what I’m doing. Meg’s sister Laura looks absolutely furious.
‘Meg,’ I say, reading from one of the notecards. ‘From the moment I saw you in the hallway, I knew my life wouldn’t ever be the same again.’ I take out another notecard. ‘I think that, actually, when I saved you from choking it was a sign from the universe that you shouldn’t ever eat grapes again, and also that you and I met for a reason.’ I take out another notecard. ‘Meg, I’m not the sort of man to make big romantic gestures. I’m not spontaneous, and I don’t live life on the edge, or anywhere near the edge for that matter. I’m safe and I like to have plans and be organised, but from the moment I met you, you made me want to be different.’ I put the notecards away until I have one left. I look at Meg. I’m standing right in front of her. ‘I wrote this last notecard this morning. Meg, I don’t know what happened between us. We met six months ago, and I knew then that I wanted to be with you. I was drawn to you. But I’m a coward. I didn’t have the courage to do anything, and by the time I did, it was too late. I know our timing is awful, but Dotty made me realise that sometimes in life you just have to gamble. Take a shot in the dark and hope it works out. I want to take a shot on you, Meg. I want to gamble on you. On us.’
I finish reading the notecard, then put it away.
‘What I’m trying to say, Meg, is that you are special. I knew it then, and I know it now. There’s just something about you, about us, that makes me believe in love. I know you’re going away in two days. I’m going to Nottingham. But I think this is bigger than that. You and I are meant to be together. I just know it, Meg. I know it.’
I stop and look at her. The room is quiet, and I feel like I’ve been talking for a really long time. I’m done though. I said my bit, and now I’m looking at Meg for an answer. I’m looking at her and she’s looking at me. My god, she looks beautiful, despite the obvious look of complete horror that’s written across her face. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.
‘Could we talk outside?’ says Meg finally.
‘Umm, yes, of course, definitely.’
