People hustled and bustled about, laughing, talking, shouting greetings, being merry. There was champagne, of course. I grabbed a glass from a passing tray, swallowed it in two quick mouthfuls, reached for another, hesitated then took my hand away. Much later, I could get hammered. Not now. I was the best man. There were things to be done.

  It was easy really. I just said the same things, over and over again. It didn’t matter. Yes, it was lovely. Yes, she looked beautiful. Yes, he is very lucky. Yes, she is very lucky. Yes, it’s a fabulous place. Very nice to meet you, Of course, I remember. Yes...

  The function room was a vaulted room of grand proportions and enormous pillars with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the view over manicured gardens that seemed to stretch for miles but in fact didn’t, a very effective ha-ha blurring the boundaries between castle gardens and the surrounding farmland.

  From the centre of the vaulted ceiling, a huge and very elaborate crystal chandelier hung, millions of glass drops sparkling in the light from the windows. I had commented on it when Adam, Jane and I had come around to finalise all the arrangements, the previous week. The owner had laughingly said it was always a talking point at the reception but refused to elaborate, saying wait and see when I asked what he meant. It didn’t warrant an interrogation, so I dropped it, and promptly forgot all about it.

  I remembered what he said when, finally, we were led into the function room, Adam and Jane leading the way. The sun was setting, and as it slowly slipped away until tomorrow it sent rays slanting through the windows to hit the chandelier, turning it into a kaleidoscope that sent multi-coloured lights dancing over every surface of the room.

  There was a collective gasp of delight, heads twisting exorcist-like, trying to see it all before it vanished, oohs and aahs of wonder going on and on until, finally, it was over as suddenly as it started, and the room seemed suddenly dull and lacklustre. But it was all under control for, just then, they switched the lights on, and the chandelier lit up, and once again everyone went oooh!

  I had to admit, it was pretty amazing. And the owner was right; it was a talking point for the rest of the evening. But, to be honest, had I been the bride, I’d have been pretty pissed to have my thunder stolen so spectacularly.

  The food, of course, was superb. We were spoiled for choice. I think I had confit of duck, fillet steak and some kind of chocolate torte thing. To be honest, I don’t remember tasting anything. I sat and chatted and joked with Adam on my right and his mother on my left, the conversation continuing in the same format, yes, yes, of course.

  Then, the bane of every wedding. The speeches. Mine was well received. I think. Well, nobody booed. Adam’s was better but then, to my surprise, Jane made one, and hers was the best. Unlike me and Adam, she’d nothing written down. She just thanked everyone for coming, thanked both sets of parents, spoke about how wonderful it was to be part of Adam’s family, of how very lucky she was. She added a couple of funny deprecating remarks about her skills as a housewife, promising Adam’s mother she’d try to live up to her reputation. And at the end, she got a standing ovation.

  Then she and Adam made a toast to love, and we all stood and drank and I prayed to whatever Gods there may be, to make it all over soon.

  Following the speeches, we were asked to return to the entrance hall while they cleared the tables and moved furniture around for the entertainment. More drinks were served while we waited, and I thought it was safe enough now to have a few drinks. My duties were nearly over, a few obligatory dances I could do just as well drunk as sober...better probably. I wasn’t a great dancer.

  I’d barely had time, however, to down one drink before we were called back to the transformed room. The chandelier sparkled, and on each table, candles cast a romantic pool of light. The carpet had been removed, and wooden floorboards gleamed. At the far end of the room, on a raised dais, a band was tuning an array of instruments, discordant notes gradually achieving harmony.

  ‘Jake, come and sit with us,’ Adam called, as we all drifted back in. I smiled and nodded but slowed down to allow others get ahead of me, seeing with some relief that the table he sat at was soon full. I made my way to an empty seat at another table, started chatting to an aunt of Jane’s I had met previously, saying the same stuff again, desperately wanting another drink, keeping my eye out for the waiter, trying not to look frantic.

  I still hadn’t managed to get one when the lead singer announced the start of the dancing by inviting the bride and groom to take their places on the dance floor, so I was stone-cold bloody-sober as I watched Adam and Jane waltzing around the floor, their eyes only for each other.

  Then, of course, as tradition dictated, I had to join in with Jane’s bridesmaid, the lovely Amy whom I had blind-dated, and never bothered to ring. Jane said she didn’t hold it against me...but oh, I think she did. As we moved on the floor, her left hand barely touched my shoulder, and only the tips of the fingers of her right hand rested in my left. Despite that and my lack of expertise – dancing is definitely not my forte – we managed a pretty decent one-two-three, one-two-three around the floor. Maybe we didn’t precisely glide, but hey ho, it wasn’t Strictly Come Dancing.

  Adam and Jane, of course, did glide. Or maybe it was her dress, the way it swayed and sparkled. Or the close hold they had on one another. Or the way they had eyes only for each other, as if Amy and I, and every other person there had vanished. And it was just the two of them.

  Trying to keep my eyes off them, I risked trying to melt the ice that crackled between Amy and I, using the same banal comment I had used so many bloody times already, to so many people.

  ‘Lovely wedding, isn’t it?’ I said, bringing my lips closer to her ear.

  ‘Lovely,’ she replied, pulling her head further away from me, her voice arctic cool.

  How did they do that? Women? Manage to get so many layers of meaning into one totally unconnected word. I heard, stuff you for not ringing me, you bastard and if you think I am going to play nice because you’re Adam’s friend, think again, asshole!

  And her expression never changed a whit.

  I didn’t bother trying again. More guests got to the floor taking the spotlight off us, hiding Adam and Jane from our view. Before the final note of the music faded, we pulled apart and Amy tottered off the floor leaving me standing there, alone, watching as Adam and Jane held on to each other as the waltz faded, and the band leader announced the next number and invited all the guests to take to the floor.

  Of course, I couldn’t just sit down. The curse of being best man. The duty dances. Actually, the dancing was ok, at least I didn’t leave them limping off the floor. No, the dancing wasn’t the problem. It was the damn conversation. Jane’s mother wasn’t too bad, I didn’t know her so well, so she stopped at. ‘What about you Jake? Is there a woman in your life?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid work keeps me busy.’

  She nodded, as if she had heard all about Adam’s workaholic friend already.

  Clara was different. She’d known me too long. Took liberties. ‘Now, Jake,’ she said firmly, as I tried to manoeuvre her around the room without stepping on her toes. ‘It’s time you made some time for yourself. Adam tells me you work far too hard. There is more to life than work. You need to meet a nice girl. Settle down and have a family. There’ll always be work.’

  It had to be the longest dance ever. And she just kept going on and on. If she only knew, I thought, if I could just tell her, then she’d shut up. But of course, I didn’t. For one thing it wouldn’t have changed anything. For another, I really liked Clara.

  Then, thankfully, the most pressing of my best-man duties were over. Ordering a drink from a passing waiter, I sat and waited for it to arrive, letting my eyes drift over the party, not deliberately searching for anyone in particular, trying to stop my gaze settling on where Jane and Adam sat chatting to her parents.

  Just then Ann caught my eye. She was, once again, wearing an exquisite dress, a sapphire blue silk that seemed to shimmer as she moved, showing just enough flesh to be sexy without being risqué. I don’t know if she were looking for my regard or if it was just co-incidence that when I looked around, I immediately caught her eye. She held my gaze, lifted her chin and smiled; her eyes locked on mine. Then she looked away, and within seconds back again to see if I were still looking. I wasn’t too flattered. The only other single man in the room was a distant cousin of Jane’s, a fifty-year-old balding obese man with tufts of hair sprouting from every cranial aperture who constantly blew his nose into a disreputable handkerchief kept, oblivious or uncaring of its germ potential, on the table before him.

  But, so what if the frisson of attraction between us was nothing more than convenience. She was charming, intelligent and sexy. A little flirtation could be just what I needed. The band played a waltz so I sauntered over and asked her to dance, enjoying the feel of her body as it relaxed into mine, feeling the warmth of her skin through the soft silk. She was a good dancer, far better than I, managing to follow my inexpert lead without tripping over my size elevens. Her elegance was contagious, and I reckoned we cut a good figure on the floor.

  After the waltz, the music picked up tempo with an Abba number and she, with gratifying, if assumed, reluctance, stepped back from my arms. Her dance style was surprisingly restrained, a twitch of her body to the right, followed by a similar twitch to the left, with a double twitch if the tempo warranted it. Each twitch was accompanied by a slight dip of her knees, and I’d imagine the view from the rear would have been gratifying, each dip jiggling her curvaceous backside.

  ‘Good band,’ I said.

  She looked at me blankly, then held her hand cupped to her ear in invitation. I moved closer, trying to synchronise my approach to her twitch to the right, but just then the tempo changed, and she did a double twitch and caught me out, my mouth brushing her ear in an inadvertent kiss.

  I stepped back, did an open-hand gesture of apology, wriggled my fingers before my mouth, beside my ear, trying to make it quite clear nothing untoward had been intended.

  I must have made a good job of it because she leaned close to me, stretched her elegant neck to bring her mouth close to my ear – managing far better than I had – and whispered huskily, ‘Shame!’

  The music ended suddenly and she moved away.

  Maybe she wanted me to follow, but just then I noticed various elderly female relatives of both Jane and Adam, sitting waiting for some poor sod to ask them to dance. God forbid they would get up and bop around the floor unescorted. Sighing, I pulled my best-man guise on and headed over, a smile firmly in place.

  I danced with them all; various aunts and cousins, single friends, neighbours, whoever. Half the time, I hadn’t a clue. It was a wedding; it didn’t really matter. Ann danced past me, now and then, without a glance in my direction, partnered with some man or other. Her little twitchy dance never changed and I wondered about her, about the stories I had heard over the years, and watching more closely, tried to guess if all this restrained elegance hid a heady sensuousness. I was right about her backside; it did jiggle delightfully when she dipped her knee but it wasn’t deliberate, and if her restrained dance hid any kind of sensuousness it was doing a bloody good job.

  Still, she was stunningly beautiful, and had she been anyone else I might have been interested in following the mild flirtation up with an invitation to dinner, but this was Ann, whose aim in life, Adam had told me, time and time again, was to meet a rich man. Preferably one with a title, but definitely one with money.

  I was knocked out on both counts but, anyway, wasn’t interested enough to pursue even a casual relationship with her. Especially a casual relationship that would lead to my sexual proclivities being the butt of her anecdotes for years to come, bearing in mind the story about poor Tony’s small cock. Not something to be forgotten in a hurry.

  Watching her, weighing up possibilities, the truth was unavoidable. She was beautiful, intelligent and sexy but she wasn’t Jane, and I really wasn’t in the mood for second best. I stopped watching her, didn’t notice if she danced again, kept myself busy squiring all the old ladies who were grateful for the attention, and who all, bar none, danced better than I did.

  And then, at last it was over. Midnight came, the band played a last waltz and packed up for the night leaving a silence that was quickly filled with chatter of departing guests.

  ‘Jake!’

  I turned to find Jane standing there her arms held out.

  ‘Jake,’ she said again, ‘thank you so much for everything. You were the best best-man we could have asked for. I saw you dancing with all the aunts. How kind you were.’

  ‘All part of the service.’ I smiled down at her, taking her into my embrace, holding my best-friend’s bride for a moment before releasing her, and taking a self-defensive step backward. ‘Where’s Adam? Not tired of marriage already.’

  She laughed gaily. ‘Hope not. Wouldn’t want to go on the honeymoon alone. He’s over with his parents, saying his goodbyes.’

  ‘Clara was giving me a lecture earlier,’ I said, smiling to show it didn’t bother me. ‘Told me I needed to find a woman for myself.’

  ‘Using the old going to a wedding is the making of another line?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  We were laughing comfortably together when Adam joined us, slipping his hand around Jane’s waist, pulling her unresistingly toward him. ‘Time to go. The car is here.’ Then he turned to me, and held out his hand. ‘Jake, you were brilliant. Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome. You can do the same for me someday.’

  And then we were surrounded by others pressing their goodbyes and best wishes on them both, and I was parted and pushed to the back of the group, further and further back until only the tops of their heads were visible. Realising my duties were done, I slipped away, found my car and sped down the long driveway, determined not to see the final departure to their secretly located honeymoon hotel.

  But no matter how fast I drove, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A few weeks after the wedding, I joined Sebastian et Sebastian and the speed of my life notched up quite a bit. Most nights, Fridays included, I was entertaining some investor or another, or dining occasionally with the invariably charming Francois. I never did speak to Guillaume, the other half of Sebastian et Sebastian, although I did see him from time to time when he passed through the office. He never acknowledged me, or any of the other traders, I’m not sure he even knew who we were, just small cogs labouring away in the financial underbelly of the firm, making money for them, making money for ourselves.

  And in the clamour to make more and more money, I had little time for the niceties of friendship or relationships with women. It was several weeks after the wedding before I even spoke to Adam and then it was a brief how are things before cutting him off to take a far more important call. Adam understood. He always did.

  ‘How about meeting for lunch?’ he said one day, catching me in a rare quiet moment, when I was weary from exhaustion, and beginning to question if it were all worth it, and I thought, Hell, why not? And so a new chapter in our friendship began, as we slipped from the long-lost Friday night drinking sessions, into a monthly lunch routine, and it was like before, Adam would talk and I, exhausted, would listen.

  They became important to me, those monthly lunches, grounding me in a normality I seem to have lost in the fever that was the financial sector in those days. And yet, it was this very normality that grated, Adam’s damn, delirious happiness emphasising how far apart our lives were. The same damn happiness I knew was the root cause of my failure to find any. After all, he had Jane, I didn’t.

  It was a year later before I finally got a grip. Adam might be deliriously happy but I was rich, my bonuses stacking up, unspent, and the world I lived in positively glittered with opportunities just waiting for me to get up and grasp.

  ‘I’m thinking of buying a house,’ I told Adam when we met for lunch that month. I hadn’t actually, not until that moment, not until I saw his smiling face coming through the pub door, and felt such resentment it almost choked me.

  ‘Really?’ he said, sitting and picking up the pint I had ordered on arrival. ‘I like your apartment.’

  ‘I need something with...’ I searched for a word.

  ‘That certain je ne sais quoi?’ Adam asked facetiously, draining his pint and nodding, first at mine, and then toward the bar in the age-old silent question, will I get you another?

  I shook my head. ‘Too many meetings this afternoon. Can’t afford to be reeking of booze.’

  He shook his head and smiled, patted his shirt pocket. ‘Mints, Jake. Suck lots of mints.’ He shrugged, when I shook my head again. ‘Suit yourself.’ When he sat back down, an amber pint in his hand catching the dim light, he drank half and then turned to me. ‘So, a house, eh?’

  ‘Yea,’ I said, picking up my sandwich, taking a bite. As I chewed, I thought, well, why not? My apartment was nice, but it didn’t reflect my position, and it certainly didn’t equate to Adam’s happiness, nor was it a sufficient antidote to what I recognised just then, just in that one weak moment, as a gut-wrenching loneliness.

  But a house? Well, it would be a start.

  And it had to be the right house, I decided, that evening as I drove around London, picking areas I would like to live in. Next morning, I rang a reputable estate agent and told them what I wanted. When they heard my budget, I could hear the lip-smacking down the phone, and smiled. Money did make the world go around so smoothly, didn’t it?

  ‘I’m going to rent my current apartment,’ I added, hearing a sound that could have been a groan of pleasure. ‘I’ll want to move as soon as possible. Finance is in place. I’ve looked at your website. There are a few houses that interest me.’

 

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