Don't Get Me Wrong by Kavanagh Marianne

Author:Kavanagh, Marianne [Kavanagh, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

2011

The wedding was fixed for June. The best time of year, Grace insisted, when the rough winds have blown away and summer is just beginning. Eva was talking about wild flowers from the country. But roses are always so elegant, don’t you think? So very English.

“I’m impressed,” said Izzie. “I thought you’d be frothing at the mouth.”

“I’ve turned over a new leaf,” said Kim. “From now on, I’m going to be calm and serene.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s true. I’ve been reading books about mindfulness. I’ve decided that getting angry is bad for my health.”

Izzie put her head on one side. “I thought you’d say the whole thing was ridiculous. Especially as they’re already living together.”

“They should do whatever makes them happy.”

Izzie laughed.

“What?” said Kim.

“You look as if you’ve just sucked a lemon.”

Kim hastily rearranged her expression.

“And you’re going to be a bridesmaid?” said Izzie.

Kim forgot about being calm and serene. “Why would I want to be a bridesmaid?”

“Did you know,” said Izzie, “that you puff up like a pink toad when you’re cross?”

Kim took a deep breath. “I just meant that I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“You don’t have to wear layers of tulle with a ribbon round your waist.”

“It won’t be that kind of wedding. She says she wants to keep it simple.”

“They all say that. How many guests are coming?”

Kim slumped, defeated. “I’ve lost count.”

“Well, I suppose he can afford it.”

Kim looked even more depressed.

“What about your father? Will she ask him?”

“Why would she do that? She hasn’t seen him for years.”

“I don’t know. As a way of saying that all the bad things are in the past and we’re all making a new beginning.”

“You watch too many rom-coms.”

Izzie laughed. “Look at it this way. At least you’re getting a holiday in the South of France.”

Kim fixed her with a baleful stare. “I can assure you that being around my mother while she plans her wedding to Jean-Marc is not going to be a holiday.”

“Is Jake going?”

The question hung in the air. Kim didn’t know. When she’d asked him at the weekend, he’d said, “Why would your mother want me there?”

“Because you’re my partner?”

“But your mother doesn’t really know me.”

You spent Christmas Day together, Kim thought miserably. It was still vivid in her memory, like a bright red scar. Harry’s vast white apartment overlooking the Thames. Lunch from Harrods Food Hall, with carefully chosen additions from Fortnum & Mason. Several bottles of champagne. The floor covered in crumpled silver wrapping paper. The sky outside pale blue.

It was years since they’d had Christmas in the Nunhead house with all the old decorations—the bald angel with the missing tiara, the papier-mâché reindeer with three legs and a squint, the red paper chains that fell from the ceiling because Dad never put them up properly. But the tasteful opulence of Harry’s version of Christmas made Kim miss all the festive rubbish from her childhood with fierce longing. Christmas shouldn’t be delivered in a wicker hamper, she thought.

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