The Flight of Gemma Hardy_ A Novel - Margot Livesey [161]
Archie started to say something, but Hannah interrupted with glasses of wine. “Here’s to the two of you. Many congratulations. We couldn’t be happier and we wish you all happiness.”
“Congratulations,” said Pauline.
We clinked glasses—“Hear our good crystal,” said Hannah—and drank. Archie remarked that the custom of clinking was thought to have originated with the Greeks, a way of proving that the wine wasn’t poisoned. Pauline asked if poisonous wine sounded different. Archie smiled and started to explain. Any kind of wine still tasted bitter to me, but I had eaten almost nothing that day and I could tell, after only one sip, that it would make everything easier. While Hannah remarked how romantic it was, Archie finding me by the side of the road, the two of us falling in love, I kept drinking. We sat down to salmon, fresh peas, and new potatoes. Seeing Archie and Hannah by candlelight, I was struck all over again by their matching blue eyes, their high cheekbones and long chins.
“The one thing I regret about getting married,” Archie said, “is leaving here. I’ve applied for a transfer to Edinburgh so that I can keep Jean company at university.”
“You’ve already applied?” My glass almost toppled to the table.
“Just today. Often transfers take months to come through.”
“We’ll miss you,” said Hannah, “but it’ll be nice to have an excuse to visit Edinburgh. Is it too soon to ask if you’ve set a date?”
“Yes,” I blurted out. Surely that too hadn’t been arranged when I wasn’t looking.
“But not too soon to ask where we’re going for our honeymoon,” said Archie, smiling at what he took to be my modest confusion. “We’re planning a trip to Iceland.”
“Oh, yes,” said Pauline, “you’ve both got a bee in your bonnet about that place.”
Archie began to rhapsodise about the sagas. Meanwhile Hannah refilled everyone’s glasses; Pauline offered more food. “Eat up, Jean,” she urged. Looking down, I discovered my plate almost untouched. My long training at Claypoole triumphed over my turbulent feelings. I picked up my knife and fork and set to work.
Usually at Honeysuckle Cottage I helped to serve and clear, but tonight Hannah and Pauline waited on us, and it wasn’t until the last morsel of pudding was gone, and Archie said well, we all had to work in the morning, that I pushed back my chair. As the meal progressed I had noticed the candles growing brighter, my companions wittier. Now my legs wobbled, as if I had just stepped from a boat to dry land.
“Oh,” I said, clutching the back of my chair, “I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Good for you,” said Hannah.
“No harm in getting a little tipsy,” Pauline added, and gave me the advice Nell had given Coco: a glass of water and two aspirin before bed.
“And you’ll come next Wednesday, won’t you?” said Hannah. “We have to make the most of your company.”
At the MacGillvarys’, Archie walked me to the door and asked if I could manage the stairs. “Of course,” I said with dignity. I wondered if he would take advantage of my state to kiss me on the mouth or slip a hand under my sweater, but he kissed my cheek and told me to hold on to the banister. As I undressed, fumbling with buttons and bra hooks, I couldn’t help giggling. Archie didn’t fancy me, not one jot. And no wonder, I thought, when I caught sight of my flushed cheeks in the bathroom mirror. In bed, I watched the chest of drawers and the desk rise into the air. Then I took two aspirin and turned off the light.
On Friday, as soon as Marian left for the shops, I searched the telephone directory until I found the number for a travel agent in Perth. “Oh, we don’t get many enquiries about Iceland,” said the man who answered. “You can fly, or take a boat. Do you have a preference?”
“Whatever’s cheapest,” I said, trying to speak quietly. The phone was in the hall, outside George’s room. The man promised to investigate and asked me to call back tomorrow. I put down the receiver with the sense that I had taken a small step towards sorting things out with