Neeta and Rich’s wedding was set for 28th August. I had agreed the design of the cake and it was now time to start work on it. It was to be a three-tier cake, with the bottom layer a rich fruit cake and the top two layers were to be sponge. The top tier, the smallest, was to be a chocolate sponge as one of Rich’s aunts couldn’t eat fruit cake and only really enjoyed a chocolate cake.
The sponges could only be made in the last few days before the wedding, but the fruit cake needed to be made much earlier. I made a smaller cake from the same mixture for Jane and Simon. And I used that cake as a practice for the design of Neeta’s cake. The stems of lily of the valley - they were the main feature - were delicate and tricky to make but it was a challenge I welcomed. It took my mind off other matters.
Oliver was calling me at irregular intervals, ostensibly to check on how I was doing. I was feeling more comfortable with him and even accepted his offer to take me to the Greek restaurant we’d been to on our first date. He was courteous, friendly and good company. There was never any pressure to move the relationship along, or back to what it had been when I was still trying to decide between him and Sean. It was just two friends meeting for an occasional meal.
I had to agree with Jane and Simon that the cake decoration looked impressive and the cake itself was delicious. It was a relief and I set about making the fifty or so stems of lily of the valley that would be needed for the finished cake. The whole house was looking like a florists shop as completed stems were left out to dry.
The day of the wedding was bright and warm but a little windy. I had asked for a call at 8:30 as I needed some time to make the final adjustments to the cake. I had about a dozen stems of lily of the valley in reserve in case any repair work was needed. Just before midday I’d completed my task and the cake was assembled and occupied pride of place in the room where the wedding breakfast was to be held. Not even Neeta had seen the finished cake but she was wowed when she saw it.
“I didn’t realise you were such a perfectionist,” she enthused. “It’s absolutely perfect. It’ll be a shame to cut it.” Neeta had to return to her room to complete her preparations. The hairdresser and make-up woman had done their part. Now she just had to get into her dress and work the sprays of lily of the valley into her hair. It was the wrong time of the year for the flowers and it had cost a small fortune to get them. I went back to my room and dressed myself.
As soon as the guests saw the cake there was universal appreciation of the design. I was extremely pleased with the comments although I never let on that I had done it. When it came to the speeches, Simon added a special mention of the cake and made me stand so everyone could see who had made it. I was embarrassed and proud in equal measure. People came to congratulate me and some even asked me to make cakes for them. The only one I accepted was Neeta’s parents who were having a fortieth wedding party the following spring. I had never met them before but they were really friendly to me. Neeta had also told them about our falling out and how it changed her whole outlook on life. They were grateful to me, they said. Neeta had been so much happier and, they admitted, nicer, after I had forgiven her. They were also aware of my recent troubles and were pleased things were now a lot better. I liked them instantly.
In the back of my mind I had somehow expected that Oliver would have been invited. After all, the original invitation had been for Sean and me. But he wasn’t there. I was disappointed. Shortly after that, Neeta came to me.
“I invited Oliver,” she began. “He wasn’t sure you would be happy if he came. I thought I’d convinced him you were stronger now and he had no need to be concerned.” She paused briefly before continuing. “I hope nothing has happened to him. I was sure he was going to be here.” Another pause. “I’ll ask Jane to give him a call.” And with that, she went to join another group of guests.
During the evening reception, I danced more than I had for a very long time. I was asked for a dance by several good looking men. I accepted as many as I could.
“Oh, there you are,” Jane said after I had just finished a dance. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” We wandered outside and away from the reception party. “Neeta asked me to ring Oliver; to find out why he isn’t here.”
“And?” I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“And, I got no answer. The phone went straight to voice mail. But I had a text a few minutes ago. Read it.” She handed me her phone. It was a short message. All it said was ‘In Canada. Urgent family matter. Will explain later.’ I looked at Jane who shrugged her shoulders. She knew no more than I did. Jane, sensible as ever, said it was pointless to speculate. We would almost certainly be wrong. It was better to wait for the explanation. As it was almost time for Neeta and Rich to depart for their honeymoon we went back indoors.
Back in my room and alone again, I couldn’t sleep. I thought about the evening. Although I enjoyed dancing with the other men, some of whom were excellent dancers, I wished I could have danced with Oliver. It wasn’t that I expected him to be a better dancer than the other men; more that I didn’t really know the others. I couldn’t admit that I would just have felt more comfortable when I was with him. I wouldn’t have had to try to be pleasant. I couldn’t help it with him. I realised I’d never had a bad thought about him - ever. But I was still resolute in my desire not to rush into another relationship.
And I was concerned about whatever it was that had caused him to go to Canada so suddenly. Jane had convinced me not to speculate, but alone in my bed, I couldn’t help myself. And how long would he be away? I had promised myself not to rush into another relationship but I was already missing him. I rationalised it: it wasn’t as if I was rushing into a relationship. I had known him for quite a while. I did like him. I liked him a lot. I felt easier and more comfortable when he was around. And I was missing hugs and affection. Eventually I fell asleep.
It was almost a week and still there had been nothing from Oliver. I began to feel as though he was deliberately avoiding me. And then I had a phone call from Jane. Oliver had sent her a long text. I wanted her to read it out to me but she insisted she came round. I felt even more convinced that he wanted nothing more to do with me. Why couldn’t he have texted me? Why Jane? OK, Jane was the one who rang him; she was the one he’d sent the original text to. That didn’t mean he couldn’t copy me on his text to her. When the doorbell rang, I almost didn’t want to see what he’d written. I was prepared to be angry.
Jane showed me his message:
Sorry I took so long but I haven’t had time to think about much besides my sister and her family. Harold, her husband, is in a coma. He was in a local supermarket when there was an armed robbery. He tried to intervene and was shot in the head. Eleanor is taking it badly and has gone to pieces. I am doing my best to look after the boys as well as her. I don’t know how long I will be away. It will be either when Harold is recovered or the worst happens, whenever that is. I feel bad about missing Neeta and Richs wedding, and even more so about Rusty. But I hope all will understand why I had to catch the first available plane. Tell Rusty I try to think of her every day but my first thoughts have to be here with my family.
Surely he had time at the airport to text me before he boarded the plane? And there must have been opportunities to text once he was in Canada? I was angry. He was only trying to think of me every day. Obviously not hard enough. I said all this to Jane. In her usual calm way she made me see things in a different light. How would I feel if someone close to me had been shot and I didn’t know if they would live or die? We didn’t know exactly how his sister had ‘gone to pieces’. How much of his time was spent supporting her? Looking after two boys, neither yet in their teens couldn’t be easy and they would probably need a lot of support as well. I felt a little more contrite when I considered all this.
“He isn’t using his usual phone,” Jane told me. “Take his number and text him. I’m sure he would love to hear from you. Hearing from you could be just what he needs to help him cope with all the demands there must be on him.” I thought about it for maybe a nanosecond before I entered his new number into my phone.
“And, after a while, if things settle down, he might be able to ring you and have a chat. Don’t try telling me you don’t miss him,” she added. “I know you too well. You two are meant for each other. You’re just too stubborn to realise it.” Jane didn’t stay long as Simon was home and they were planning an early night. They were going to London the next day and had tickets for the London Eye, but they were for mid morning. They had to make an early start.