To Carole’s amazement, she discovered her son could actually be quite funny. He had a disposition towards pomposity which she had always accepted as part of his personality, but Gaby constantly punctured that self-importance. And Stephen took it from her, with good humour, even relish.
The proscription on talking about his work also revealed that Stephen Seddon had a whole repertoire of other topics for conversation, most of which – to his mother’s total surprise – were related to the arts. This was down to Gaby’s influence. The ‘agency’ she worked for, which Carole had assumed to be something to do with the world of finance, turned out to be a theatrical one. She represented actors, of both genders. (She explained to Carole, amid some giggling, that the word ‘actress’ had become very démodé in these politically correct times. Now there were male actors and female actors.) As a result, most of Gaby’s evenings were spent crossing the country to see clients or potential clients in theatres and ever more unlikely fringe venues. Whenever possible, Stephen accompanied her.
This was Carole’s biggest surprise in a day of surprises. Apart from a couple of early attempts on her part to take him to pantomimes, her son had never shown even the mildest interest in the theatre. He was marginally more likely to go to a cinema, but even that hadn’t happened very often. So to hear him discussing the latest offerings from the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company was, for Carole, like being introduced to someone she had never met before.
Apart from the theatre, there was of course another topic of conversation. The wedding. Needless to say, Gaby did most of the talking on the subject, but Carole had been unprepared for the enthusiasm with which Stephen contributed his own views. She was also surprised to discover how little advanced the plans for September the fourteenth were. The young couple hadn’t even got a venue sorted yet.
‘But won’t you be getting married from your parents’ house?’ asked Carole, who knew the conventions in these matters.
Gaby grimaced. ‘Wouldn’t work. They’ve only just moved to this little flat in Harlow.’
Harlow. Essex, thought Carole, with all the prejudice a middle-class person in West Sussex automatically feels at the mention of that county, reckoned by everyone – except those who live there – to be the ‘commonest’ in England.
So what was all this about Gaby’s parents spending their summers in the South of France? Even as the question came into Carole’s mind, her potential daughter-in-law answered it for her. ‘Also, Mum’d flap terribly about organizing a wedding. She and Dad always go to France in August, which is when the arrangements would be busiest. It’s my gran, you see. Grandmère. Mum’s mum. She’s in a home out there, bit gaga, but they always go and visit.’
Oh. So Gaby wasn’t completely English. Carole comforted herself with the thought that, on first meeting her, nobody would ever know it.
‘Where are you thinking of getting married then? Somewhere in London?’
Gaby gave a large expressive shrug which, now Carole knew her provenance, looked distinctly Gallic. ‘Don’t know.’
‘But we’ve got to sort it out quickly,’ said Stephen.
‘I know that, darling. But it’s difficult, isn’t it, Carole, when you don’t have any faith? I mean, I totally lost it with Catholicism in my teens, and Stephen’s told me he was brought up without anything in the way of religion.’
Carole was a bit miffed. Was that the impression her son had given? Though Carole herself had never since her teens believed in any kind of god, she still put ‘Church of England’ in the box marked ‘Religion’ on forms. Stephen had been christened, and he’d had to undergo school assemblies with prayers and hymns. The way Gaby described it made Stephen’s upbringing sound godless.
But Carole suppressed such thoughts and asked, ‘So what are you going to do?’
Another – very definitely Gallic – shrug. ‘Find somewhere we like, set up the wedding there.’
‘What about here?’ Rather daringly, Carole gestured round the dining room.
Her son looked puzzled.
‘They do weddings here, I know. Suzy Longthorne told me.’
‘Is she the dishy one?’
‘That’s right. She owns the place.’
‘And seems to be doing most of the work.’
Carole had been too preoccupied with her lunching companions to notice before, but Stephen was right. Suzy Longthorne was doing everything in the dining room, with the help of only two waitresses. All the tables were full, and the various courses were arriving on time, but at the cost of a lot of hard work. Perspiration shone through Suzy’s perfect make-up as she scuttled back and forth to the kitchen.
Idly, Carole wondered what had happened to Kerry. The Sunday before, she remembered, Jude had said the girl was to have lunch with her parents. Maybe the relaxed terms of employment her stepfather had organized for her gave her every Sunday off.
And if Kerry was unavailable, why hadn’t another emergency call gone out to Jude to come in and help with the waitressing?
Carole tuned back in to the conversation between her son and his fiancée about the possible merits of Hopwicke House as a wedding venue. They seemed surprisingly keen on the idea, and Carole began to question her wisdom in suggesting it. If the wedding was right on her doorstep, she’d be bound to get involved in local arrangements. Better somewhere distant, anonymous, where she would have independence, where she could just turn up for the ceremony and leave as soon as she wanted to. But she couldn’t deny that the thought of her son’s wedding being at Hopwicke House did give her a little buzz of excitement.
At the end of the lunch, after lingering over their coffee, Carole insisted that it was her treat. Stephen demurred, saying the suggestion had been his and everything would go on the one bill, but his mother stood her ground. She was so delighted to have met Gaby, she would like to buy them lunch as an early engagement present. On his own, Stephen would have dug his toes in, but Gaby’s presence rendered him gracious. With a shrug and a smile, he accepted Carole’s largesse.
They said goodbye in the hall. Stephen and Gaby announced they were going to have a walk and would collect coats from their room. But the eye contact between them suggested that was not at all what they intended to do when they got back to the four-poster. Carole realized she wasn’t at all embarrassed by the blatant lust she saw in the young couple’s eyes; she found it heart-warming.
After they had gone upstairs, she settled the bill with Suzy Longthorne at the reception desk. Carole had never in her life paid half as much for a meal for three, but she didn’t mind. Such gestures were rare, not because she was ungenerous, but because she didn’t feel at ease with the flamboyance generosity usually required. Paying for this lunch, though, made her feel good, even gracious.
Suzy Longthorne presented her customary polished exterior, but she looked absolutely exhausted.
‘That was a terrific lunch,’ said Carole. ‘You were a bit short-staffed, weren’t you?’
The hotelier did not take this as a criticism. She just grimaced and said, ‘Couple of people let me down at the last moment.’
‘Surprised you didn’t ask my friend Jude.’
‘Oh, I did, but she couldn’t make it.’