The Big Goodbye. Part Three.
As the day moved into its third stage, and the bride and groom returned to circulating, the wedding party were slowly ushered into the function room. The staff at the pub often referred to the large rectangular room as 'The Room of Requirement' owing to the former manager's fondness of the Harry Potter series and the versatility of the room. Earlier that week the room had hosted the AGM of the local football team, a dominos competition and a charity auction. Luckily, the charity auction hadn't objected to the suspension of two nets full of balloons being installed above their heads. Esther, Grace, Mia and the boys had been busy sneaking around through the previous weeks, where luckily Sandra and Rob had been too occupied with being excited to notice, preparing their joint gift. The overall effect was very 'wedding-y' as Gerry's experienced judgement had summarised.
At the far end of the room to either side of a large projection screen were set up two elements of the evening: the disco and karaoke equipment of Nick and Dee's mate; and the drum kit, guitars, amps and microphones of the 'Cop Shop Boys' with whom Gerry had once stood in as vocalist, and Rob had once been bassist. However, as Rob was currently unaware of his old band's reformation, his position would be covered by Carrie's husband. The dance floor, often hidden beneath a roll of carpet, had been revealed and stretched halfway up the room. Where the benched seating gave way to open carpet, two clothed tables stood: one was ready for the cake, the other for the hot curry buffet suggested by Brian and Esther. Aside from the balloons there were banners, artwork, the flowers that had been at the church, glitter, sparkle and –
"Fairy dust," Mia whispered in Sandra's ear as she watched her step-mother hold back tears.
Sandra laughed lightly before turning to her chief bridesmaid and hugging her tightly. "Thank you," she replied. "It's … magical."
"Right," Esther announced formally. "First thing's first, before we lose track of you both again, would you like to cut the cake?"
Sandra smiled. The tuneful voice of Esther Lane made even the most demanding of orders sound like the best idea in the world. Added to which, she'd seen her step-daughter's eyes light up at the mention of cutting the cake which she'd been dying to taste since Esther had told her exactly how much chocolate was in the layer they were going to get to eat on the wedding day.
"Now, then, where's our photographer gone?" Esther looked around for Brian. It had been agreed that as Brian was the only one guaranteed to be sober for the duration and had a large amount of disused photography equipment (from a previous fascination) his gift would be to take the photos. He and Gerry had borrowed a screen and lights from one of Gerry's former snouts to prepare a corner of the room dedicated to recording the progressive drunkenness of the guests.
"You know, I'm sure he caught us earlier, by the toilets," Rob whispered in Sandra's ear as they took hold of the knife and pressed it through the pearlescent white icing.
"Don't worry, he won't say," Sandra grinned. She too had her suspicions that their subtle friend had taken many surreptitious snaps throughout the day in addition to those written on his neat little list. Of course, he had insisted on showing her the list: the ladies at the house, the men at the church, everyone outside the church, etc., etc.. But she knew Brian, he was thoroughness itself; and though she hadn't seen him taking the photographs, she was sure he had caught every moment on film including Rufus' speech and the look on Marion's face when it was pointed out to her that Nick and Dee were an item.
"Ok, got it," Brian lowered his faithful Olympus and nodded.
Esther stepped forward and took the knife from Sandra, the younger woman gratefully slipping away from the limelight and falling into conversation with Brian and Gerry about nothing in particular. Mia hovered near to the table determined to get the first taste. Which was how she overheard the sudden shy voice of her brother –
"Dad, can I have a word?"
Rob turned away from his eager anticipation of the baked goodness of his mother-in-law and Esther's joint efforts and judged the serious aspect of his son's countenance in a split second. Frowning slightly he nodded and led the way to the games room which was empty.
"What's up?" Rob had rarely seen his son over the six years since the divorce but even back then he'd seen more of Helen in him than of himself. Now, as he studied his son steeling himself for some climatic revelation (the nature of which he couldn't decipher), he realised how much Ruf resembled him in appearance; the light brown hair, the wiry frame (once upon a time), the awkward hands shoved in his trouser pockets as he thought while his eyelids blinked steadily as if marking each thought that needed to be aired in order. If someone had held a mirror to himself at that age, the reflection would have been identical to the boy standing in front of him. Apart from the eyes. Helen's soulfully brown eyes had won out in their younger child.
"It's about America," Rufus opened simply.
"That is some seriously good cake, Mrs. Lane," Dee raved as he slid his plate onto the growing pile on the table. "Dee Mitchell, Nick's other half."
Esther shook the hand offered to her and smiled, "Esther, please, and thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm afraid I can't take all the credit, Sandra's mum gave me the recipe."
"I guess I'll have to chat her up next then," Dee joked.
"Who are you flirting with now?" Carrie joked as she joined them, adding her own crumb covered plate to the collection. She'd quickly decided that she liked all of the extended UCOS family. Gerry's daughters had entertained her with numerous stories about how he'd driven Sandra near mad over the last decade and Brian had given her many tips on how to rein him in; this had come after the culinary competitiveness of Gerry and Dee had reached the compromise of a Come Dine With Me-style party at some point in the near future provided that the pair of them shut up immediately.
"Exactly what I'd like to know," jested another voice as it joined them. The voice belonged to a man in his mid-thirties, a full head taller than Carrie. His hair was jet black and longer than the old regulations of the force would have allowed. Though by no means fat, he had the look of a man who was both aware of his fitness levels but enjoyed the healthy diet of family dining.
Carrie laughed and greeted her husband with a polite kiss, "Dee, this is my husband David. Dee Mitchell, Nick's partner and Esther Lane, who is partially responsible for this fabulous cake, here. Where are the boys?"
David pointed to where the two Grant boys had already made firm friends with Gerry Junior (who'd arrived with Paula's mum) on the furthest side of the dancefloor with a goal made of jumpers and a collection of wayward balloons. He greeted Esther and Dee politely and accepted the cake that his wife handed him.
"So, you're with the band?" Esther inquired.
"Bass guitar," he replied. "Well, it was the DAC's part but as he didn't know we were playing, I was drafted in to do a favour."
Esther nodded in confirmation. Though as David was dressed very similarly to three other men who'd recently appeared in the room, she had already made the connection. The Cop Shop Boys logo on the bass drum in the corner was white lettering on black, mirrored by the white ties against black shirts that the musicians had donned for the evening.
"So when are you leaving?" Rob hadn't needed an abacus to jump to the correct conclusion. Ever since Ruf had told him that Helen wanted to move and Helen had firmly put that they were moving on the phone, he'd been expecting this conversation. Actually, that was a lie, he'd been expecting to get a phone call to say they were already there. As much as he hated his ex-wife; as much as he detested the idea of his son being half-way around the world; as much as it was killing him, he would not kick off. Even though Ruf's reply would throw all his resolve out of the window.
"Tonight," Rufus informed him. "Well, we fly tomorrow. But tonight."
Every particle of air stopped.