Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [163]
“I remember the bride. She was bloody gorgeous. She came down that aisle with a smile wider than I’d ever seen. I think she was wearing white.”
Jennifer pinched him on the forearm. “Off-white. Ivory, really. It’s in Mum’s attic somewhere—shall I get it out later, remind you?”
“Wouldn’t do that—don’t think it would fit, and I don’t want you getting all depressed about this middle-age spread.” He moved the hand he had placed in the small of her back around to the front, stroking her baby belly gently.
“Watch it!” She laughed.
“Oh, I’m watching it, darling. I’m watching it.”
THEY WENT OFF THEN ON THEIR OWN, JUST THE FOUR OF THEM. The speeches were over, and the band had started. The improbable dance couplings of old and young, friend and stranger—only found at weddings—had begun taking to the floor. As prearranged, and with unspoken agreement, they had scooped up their flowing dresses, jammed themselves into Jennifer’s car, grateful for her enforced sobriety, and driven the short distance to the field. There were a thousand things to talk about, a hundred things to say. But they were almost silent.
Not sad silent, Hannah thought. She liked being here, with her sisters. She liked belonging to them, being a part of this.
It was almost dusky by the time they arrived, but still warm—like a Mediterranean evening. The sun was setting behind the trees.
Barbara’s maple sapling was thriving: strong and healthy. Soon, they’d plant daffodil bulbs all around the base. Wildflowers were growing everywhere now; evening primrose saluted the sunset among the asters, rose mallow, and scarlet flax. As she did every time she came here, Amanda thought about how right her mum had been, choosing this. No granite headstone, or “walkway of rememberance” at the crematorium could be so much like her. A small, brass plaque, no matter what it said, could never summon her up, bring her somehow once again to life, the way that this place did. This tree, with its sweet sap, would grow stronger, thicker, and taller, its roots thriving in the good soil. It would be here forever—or at least for as long as she could imagine. Its leaves would be always moving, catching the light, and rustling in the breezes. In the autumns, they would flash auburn. It was a good place; it was a good tree.
Jennifer was imagining a round pink baby, legs braceleted with pudge, lying on a rug, shaded by branches, fascinated by the play of the light through the leaves. She took a deep, deep breath and held it for a moment, stanching the tears that, just for a moment, threatened. This wasn’t a day for tears.
Lisa looked down at the bouquet in her hands. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again, realizing that there was no need. It wasn’t that there was nothing to say. Or that it had all already been said. It was just that they all knew already.
She untied the wide ivory grosgrain ribbon that had tied the stems, and the flowers fell softly into her hand. She handed a few to each of her three sisters. Then the four of them bent down in turn, each placing the red, pink, and orange gerberas they held on the earth, under the tree. They laid them in a circle around the simple white stick bearing their mother’s initials, and stood again, eyes downcast for a few minutes, each in their own world with their mother, just for a moment.
Then Amanda held out her hands to Jennifer and Hannah. Hannah grabbed on to Lisa. Together, holding hands and swinging their arms, they walked slowly back to the car.
“Right. Come on, you lot.”
“Enough of this maudlin stuff.”
“She’d be ever so cross.”
“She’d be at the party.”
“Drinking champagne!”
“Dancing!”
“Flirting with Ed! Who does look, by the way, totally flirt-worthy.”
“I’ve ruined these heels! Look at them. How can it be muddy? It hasn’t rained for weeks.”
“Stop moaning. It’s not like you paid for them yourself. You can take them off when we get back. They’re no good for dancing, anyway.”
“You dancing?”
“You asking?”
Acknowledgments
I would