Page 8 of The Last Saturday In July
She knew it wasn’t Simon’s fault. Compared to her own family, Simon’s was very highbrow.
‘Jess, dear, I just wondered what way you’ll be wearing your hair for the wedding?’ Úna said.
Jess pulled her left hand through her thick frizz, wishing she’d been born with hair like Zoe or Kate, whose own manes seemed to be forever silky, shiny and frizz-free. ‘I haven’t actually decided yet.’ She hoped Úna would just drop the subject. But judging by Úna’s expression, she was only getting started.
Now she dropped her voice conspiratorially. ‘Well, what sort of veil do you have? Don’t worry, I won’t mention a word to Simon.’
‘Um, I’m not wearing a veil.’
For a moment, Úna seemed to be stunned into silence. ‘Maybe you just haven’t seen the right veil yet, Jess,’ she said finally. ‘And it doesn’t have to be a long one, remember. Some of the short veils are lovely. But you will need something, especially as you’re not having flowers.’
Before Jess had a chance to answer, Simon returned. ‘That was about a potential client. He’ll be in Dublin next week. Jess and I are having him over for dinner with my boss.’
Úna swivelled to look at Jess and she nodded vigorously.
Oh god, that was next week, thought Jess. How had she forgotten? Apparently the client didn’t particularly like going to restaurants when he travelled, so Simon had persuaded his boss that he and Jess would be delighted to have them at their place. Which – to be fair – he’d run by her in advance. Only at the time she’d agreed to it, she hadn’t quite realised that it was happening the same month as their wedding!
He sat down. ‘It’ll be worth millions to the firm if I can get him. I’d say it would secure my partnership.’
Úna reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘I have no doubt, darling. How are those dance lessons going, by the way? Have you two perfected your waltz?’
Jess waited for Simon to reply. When Úna had told them she had a special early wedding gift for them, the last thing Jess had expected was ten ballroom-dancing lessons.
Simon pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Extremely well, what do you think, Jess?’
Jess managed a positive-sounding murmur. Simon, as far as she knew, never lied to his mother, so he obviously believed that only stepping on her toes half a dozen times during the class was huge progress. Although it probably was. After their first couple of classes, the bruises on her feet had been so bad that Simon had bought her a very generous voucher for their local beauty salon by way of apology.
Úna looked pleased. ‘Jess, did you see my suggestions for music for the wedding? I know you two have the church organised, but I’ve given you some lovely ideas for the champagne reception, as well as beautiful waltz music.’ She patted her fine hair, cut into a feathered style around her face. ‘All very tasteful, I promise.’
Jess kept a smile pasted to her face. Since their engagement, Úna had taken to sending frequent emails with suggestions about everything from the length of the speeches (longer than three minutes was vulgar) to a selection of suitable wedding singers (separate ones for the church and the hotel) and string quartets.
Jess didn’t mind that Úna had insisted on having so much say, especially as Simon was an only child. But having to make sure that everything was in good taste, or rather, Úna’s taste, was a bit exhausting.
Simon pushed his fringe out of the way. ‘I forgot to ask –how did Luke get on over the weekend with his granddad?’
‘Kate said her dad spoilt him.’ Jess latched on to the change of subject. In the past three years, Simon had become like a brother to Kate, while Luke regarded him as a favourite uncle. ‘He can hardly wait to be a groomsman.’
‘Kate’s a terrific mother.’ Simon’s tone was warm. ‘Luke’s a credit to her.’
In the adjacent room, Edward carefully slid a vinyl record from its cover and placed it on an old turntable. Moments later, the opening bars of some vaguely familiar classical music filled the house.
‘Is that “Air on the G string”?’ It was the only Bach piece Jess knew.
Simon listened for a moment. ‘No, it’s his Fugue in G Minor. But you were in the right key-park.’ He chuckled at his little joke.
‘Everyone all right for drinkies?’ Edward called.
Úna waggled her glass in his direction. ‘All fine, dear.’ She turned to Jess. ‘What about you, Jess?’
Jess smiled and nodded. It had taken months of biting the inside of her cheek hard not to laugh when Edward spoke, given that he always sounded like a character from a PG Wodehouse novel.
Úna patted Jess’s arm. ‘Simon was telling me that you girls had a lovely weekend. It sounded very enjoyable.’ She turned to Simon. ‘Speaking of the wedding, the Judge and I bumped into the Feely-Martins at a charity golf lunch. You remember them, don’t you, darling? You were in school with Jolyean.’
Jolyean Feely-Martin, Jess thought. Why did parents do that to their kids?
‘Yes – we played Ultimate Frisbee together in school. And we were on a couple of chess tournaments together, although he was a lot better than me. The last I heard he’d been offered a lecturer’s post in Cambridge. How is he?’
Úna’s hand fluttered to her ever-present string of pearls. ‘Apparently he’s going through a horrible divorce, but that’s neither here nor there. Mavis has accepted an invitation to be chairperson of the Irish Society of 20th Century War Memorabilia, and as you know I’m very involved, so I think it would be good to invite her and Archie to the wedding.’
