The Beach Wedding Page 3

  We sit in the library, a comfortable space with whitewashed walls and books and music CDs available for the guests to use. Instead of sitting on the big sofas and using the coffee tables, everything is spread on the tiled floor. So far, everything that Adjoa takes out to show them is met with squeals of delight from Nia and murmurs of approval from Marvin.

  Her bouquet is a beautiful mix of red, orange, pink and white flowers, all native to different parts of Ghana. When Adjoa shows her the table designs, I think my daughter is actually going to explode with happiness.

  ‘This is going to be the best beach wedding ever,’ Nia squeals.

  Adjoa’s eyes widen in alarm and Marvin nudges his wife-to-be. Nia immediately remembers and looks at me, terrified that she’s hurt me. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ she says.

  ‘You’re right, it will be the best beach wedding ever,’ I say. ‘It’s going to be fantastic. I can’t wait to give you away.’

  ‘Erm … about that,’ Nia says.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I was kind of hoping that …’

  Marvin rolls his eyes at his fiancée. ‘She was hoping that you and Jake would give her away,’ he says. ‘That’s if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Oh. I’m sure he’ll be over the moon. And of course I don’t mind.’

  ‘You could always get married with us, you know?’ Nia says with a giggle.

  ‘You could always sleep in with Grandma and Grandpa when they come back, you know?’ I reply.

  ‘Point taken.’

  Now

  I’m using this opportunity of an empty resort to do some spring cleaning. Even though the three other cleaners and I do our best to keep the place sand-free and pristine, it’s hard when there are guests constantly around.

  While Marvin and Nia get ready to go to the beach, I’ve put on my overalls and tied my hair up in a scarf ready to start in the reception area.

  When I first arrived to take over running Bussu Bay, most of the staff didn’t believe a girl like me, who had been brought up in England, could be anything but spoiled and difficult. I had to prove them wrong. I had to muck in, pick up after the guests, clean toilets, go to fetch water if that was what was needed, as well as manage the place. Slowly, they accepted me.

  When I get down under the desk, I realise that whoever was in charge of this area last week needs a good talking-to. A small dune of sand seems to have collected between the large driftwood-carved reception desk and the wall. There are cobwebs between the filing cabinet and wall, and I can see a line of dust all along the skirting board. Not good enough, I think as I pull the cloth from the front pocket of my overall and start to wipe away the dust. ‘Not good enough at all,’ I mumble.

  ‘Oh, excuse me,’ a male voice says.

  I jump a little at the interruption and bang my head on the desk. ‘Ouch!’ I say and rub at my head. I hadn’t heard a car draw up so wasn’t expecting anyone. And this person is speaking English with a British accent.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, did I startle you?’

  My whole body slows down at that voice. I’m not aware any more that I am kneeling on a tiled floor. I can’t feel the buzzing heat that has been rising with each passing minute. I can’t feel the tummy rumble of a missed breakfast. I can’t feel anything but the swirling in my head as that voice filters into my ears. ‘Can you tell me where I can find Tessa?’ he continues. ‘She runs the place now, apparently.’

  Slowly, slowly, slowly, I back out from under the desk into the wide reception area. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I stand on my shaky legs.

  Slowly, slowly, slowly, I look at the man who is standing just inside the big arched doorway that welcomes people to Bussu Bay. The place where I live. The place where I lost the love of my life on my wedding day.

  I stare at the man in front of me. And I blink. Once. Twice. Three times.

  The man in front of me looks nothing like the man I lost twenty-four years ago, of course. This man has wrinkles in the dark brown skin around his eyes, the man I lost had smooth skin. This man has a neatly cut and styled Afro, while the man I lost had an almost shaved head. This man has a scar to the left of his nose, while the man I lost had the exact same-size scar in the exact same place.

  This man is the man I lost. Of course he is.

  ‘Tessa,’ he says. ‘Hi.’

  27 years ago

  ‘Weren’t we supposed to be a one-night stand?’ Drew said to me. I was always dazzled by his smile, by the strength of his arms around me, the look in his eyes when he stared at me.

  ‘I do believe that was what we agreed when we went home together, yes,’ I replied.

  This was our sixth date after meeting two weeks earlier in a west London nightclub. Everything was a wonderful, giddy blur of meeting up, going for drinks and spending the night in bed. He would buy me flowers, tell me how beautiful I was, tell me how much he adored me.

  ‘What a difference two weeks make,’ he said as we stood on Brighton station, waiting for the train that would take us up to London.

  ‘I know. From one-night stand to all of this. This must be some kind of record,’ I said.

  ‘No, this must be love. You know, I think our destiny was shaped by the stars,’ he said to me. ‘And I’m going to marry you one day … You and that cute little nose of yours.’

  ‘My nose isn’t interested,’ I replied. ‘But the rest of me—’ He cut me off by kissing me. Long and slow. Of all the things he did, the kissing was the best part.

  Now

  ‘I can’t believe it’s you,’ Drew says to me. ‘I mean … It’s so good to see you, Tessa.’

  I’m staring at a ghost. With all the wedding planning and thinking about him, I must have imagined up a version of him. Perfectly aged and asking for me.

  In the early days of losing Drew, Jake and I would talk about this, about how we would sometimes see Drew in a crowd. We would catch a glimpse of his profile, the back of his head, his distinctive walk, the way he held himself, and we would think it was him. I’d often move to call to him, to try to get to him … then I would remember the night spent on the beach, watching, waiting. And I would pull myself together and tell myself it wasn’t possible.

  ‘I guess you must be a bit shocked,’ he says.

  He’s alive. He’s alive! Drew cheated death and he’s found a way back to me. I almost run at him, throw my arms around his neck and kiss every single part of him. He’s here. I can’t believe he’s here. I have so many questions; I have so many things to tell him. I can’t believe the thing I have wished for all these years has come true.

  I open my mouth to speak and ‘DAD!’ Marvin shouts, appearing in the reception area. He is dressed in a shorty wetsuit and looks ready to go out surfing. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Dad?’ I manage.

  ‘Yes, sorry, Tessa – I mean, Ms Dannall – I mean, Nia’s mum. This is my dad, Andrew.’

  8

  Now

  ‘Nia! Nia!’ Marvin calls over his shoulder. ‘My dad’s arrived!’

  He then returns to focusing on his father. ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you, like, three days early?’

  Marvin’s father does not take his eyes off me as he speaks. ‘Yes, we’re early. Your mother couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted to top up her tan before the wedding. Well that was the official excuse, but the real one is that she missed you. I told her we should call ahead, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted to surprise you.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Marvin asks.

  ‘Outside, refusing to move from the car until I make sure we have the biggest room in the resort.’ He was always good at that, speaking to one person while concentrating on another.

  ‘Nia!’ Marvin calls again, louder this time. ‘Nia, my mum and dad are here!’

  I hear sounds of my daughter approaching and I still can’t take my eyes off the man in front of me.

  This can’t be happening. Because if it is, that means that Marvin and Nia are … Please le
t this be a mistake, I think as Nia appears in the reception area dressed in a summer dress with a large sun hat in her hands.

  ‘Mr Parsons, how lovely to see you,’ she says very politely.

  ‘Andrew, please – I’ve told you before.’ Nia goes to him and kisses him on the cheek and I feel myself wobble. This can’t be happening.

  ‘Have you met my—’ Nia stops talking when I sway so violently I have to grab the desk for support. ‘Mum, are you OK?’ she asks and dashes to me.

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ I say and try to wave her away. All the while I can feel Drew’s eyes on me. I can feel all their eyes on me now. I’m showing myself up, I’m showing my daughter up. But what is happening is so horrific it’s a wonder I haven’t started throwing up.

  ‘Andrew!’ Marvin’s mother barks from the doorway to get her husband’s attention.

  Her sunglasses and clothes look very expensive. Her auburn hair is cut and styled in a shape that she obviously knows suits her, and her sandals look like real designer shoes instead of cheap knock-offs. Nia had told me her future in-laws were very posh and it shows.

  ‘Yes, darling?’ Drew finally stops staring at me and turns to face his wife.

  ‘Exactly how long do you intend to leave me sitting out there? The taxi driver is getting rather annoyed.’

  ‘I’ll go and pay him and bring in our bags,’ Drew says meekly. He was never like that with me. He was usually quite forceful. I watch him leave the building, wondering why he is so different with this woman.

  ‘Darling!’ Marvin’s mum says, throwing open her arms. He grins at his mother and walks into a hug. ‘I couldn’t wait any longer to see you,’ she explains. ‘Your father said it’d be fine not to call ahead. He wanted to surprise you. I hope you’re not too cross that we arrived so early.’

  ‘Well, I don’t mind, obviously, but you’ll have to talk to Nia’s mum. It’s her resort.’ Marvin points towards me. ‘Mum, this is Tessa, Nia’s mum … Tessa, this is my mum, Ellen.’

  When I do nothing but stare at Ellen, Drew’s wife, my daughter nudges me to go to shake her hand. I leave the safety of the desk and go towards her, forcing a smile on my face.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ we say at the same time. Neither of us moves to shake hands, though. It feels like an instant mutual dislike has sprung up between us, but for what reason, I don’t know. I just know that there is something about her that I don’t like. From the way she fake-smiles at me, I think she feels the same.

  Behind her, I can hear Drew returning with their bags and I don’t want to see him again. I need time to think. Because I will have to tell Nia and Marvin they are brother and sister. They only share half a bloodline, but it is still too much when they want to get married.

  ‘It’s … it’s so lovely to see you,’ I force myself to say with a smile. ‘I will just go and see if we can find you a made-up room. Do excuse me.’ Before anyone can protest, I disappear off down the corridor without looking back.

  Now

  ‘Ma’am?’ Kwame asks in Akan, the main Ghanaian language. ‘Are you all right?’ I am leaning against the wall by the kitchen door, trying to catch my breath. Trying to breathe and trying to work out what to do. I need to talk to Jake. And I need to talk to Nia. And Marvin. And of course I need to talk to Drew. Before I can talk to anyone else, I need to talk to Drew. But, after all this time, after all the many ways I’ve longed for him to return, right now, talking to him is the last thing I want to do.

  I stand upright, pull myself together. ‘Marvin’s parents have arrived,’ I say to Kwame, trying to sound normal. ‘Can you show them to the Grand Suite, please? I cleaned it myself two days ago, so it will only need fresh water and for you to light the mosquito lamp in the corner.’

  We’ve built up a good friendship over the time I’ve been here, and Kwame is like the little brother I never had. (Edward, who also lives here, is a bit more serious and formal with me than Kwame.) Kwame looks me over, still worried about how I am behaving. He doesn’t know me like this. He wasn’t around for my wedding, and most of the time I am happy. I sing while I work, I dance if there’s room, I sit in the kitchen with them and we tell each other silly stories. He’s never seen me this close to breaking down. ‘Are you sure you are all right, Miss Tessa?’ Kwame asks in English.

  I nod and smile at him. ‘A bit too much sun and a bit too little to eat.’

  ‘If you are sure,’ he replies and then leaves to do as he’s told.

  If Marvin’s mother really does need to have the biggest room, the Grand Suite should make her happy. It is the only set of rooms – living space, small kitchen, bedroom and bathroom with shower – that is not physically connected to the main Bussu Bay complex. There is a little pebbly path that leads to the main building. It is just long enough to make people think twice about simply getting up and going over to the main part on a whim. If I keep them out there, they may sit down and realise how tired they are. They’ll hopefully then grab a nap for a few hours and I will be able to have time to think. To work out how I’m going to tell Nia about all of this.

  Every time I think about what my daughter is about to go through, I feel sick. I want to grab her and whisk her away. Take her to an island where it will be just the two of us together, for ever. Just like I wished it could be when she was first born. Every time I think about what my daughter is about to go through, I wish there was a way to take away her pain and make it mine.

  I take another deep breath, slowly lower myself to the ground and rest my forehead on my hands. How could Drew do this? He must have worked out who Nia was the second he heard where they were getting married. Surely. He couldn’t have believed it was a huge coincidence, could he? No one would be that naive. Surely? Of course he wasn’t. He asked for me by name when he arrived. He knew it was me living here, he knew she was my daughter. So why would he just show up here? Why wouldn’t he call or something beforehand?

  Was it so this would all be a big surprise for me? So that I would see him and would be so overcome by the fact he was still alive that I wouldn’t question what happened all those years ago?

  Was he really so selfish that he would risk his son’s wedding by just showing up and hoping for the best? The me who lost him on the beach all those years ago would have said no, absolutely not. But the me who lived with him up until that point, the me who was constantly putting aside her real feelings so I could remember how much I loved him, would have, eventually, said yes: he is that selfish. Because that me knew that when Drew wanted something, he didn’t let anything stand in his way.

  26 years ago

  ‘Now there, sugar plum, if I give you this hot lemon and honey that I have so lovingly prepared, what will I get in return?’ Drew asked me.

  I could barely lift my head from the pillow and I couldn’t talk much without coughing, so I couldn’t really answer Drew. It was no fun being around a sick person, I knew that. But when you’re the sick person, it’s no fun having someone try to make you barter for your cold remedy. ‘My eternal gratitude,’ I croaked before I reached for a tissue from the box beside the bed.

  ‘You can do better than that,’ Drew said with a mischievous smile dancing around his lips.

  ‘Really can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he replied. He put the cup on the floor beside the bed and then moved the tissues and the antibiotics I needed to take soon, as well as the painkillers, out of reach.

  ‘Please,’ I said tiredly. I really did not want to play games. My chest was on fire most of the time when I wasn’t coughing, and my throat – which had showed signs of developing tonsillitis, the doctor said – seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  Drew pulled back the covers. ‘I think a little action will be more than enough to show me how grateful you are,’ he said.

  ‘I’m ill,’ I groaned.

  ‘You can still talk so you can’t be that ill,’ he replied. He reached for my pyjama bottoms.

  ‘Please don’t, Drew,’
I said. ‘Please.’

  He tutted loudly. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll find someone else to play with if you won’t.’ He got up, took the drink, the painkillers and my antibiotics and left the room. A few minutes later I heard him leave the flat. It took all my strength to get out of bed and down the corridor to the kitchen. Once there, I found he’d emptied out the drink and had taken the antibiotics and painkillers with him.

  I didn’t have the energy to make it back to bed, so had to sink to the floor in the kitchen to wait until I felt well enough to move. While I waited I cried and cried and cried.

  Now

  I don’t like to think about when Drew wasn’t nice to me.

  Even back then I would spend a lot of time pretending it hadn’t happened or that it wasn’t so bad, because those times didn’t make up a fair picture of who he truly was. He was mostly good to me. It was just that, when he wasn’t good to me, it was extreme. It was nasty. When he wasn’t nice to me, it was never something tame – it was always something that ended with me in floods of tears, feeling broken. But it wasn’t all the time, which is why I didn’t like to think about it – let alone talk about it. The nasty him wasn’t the real him.

  My mobile phone rings in my pocket, knocking me out of my daydream and into the present.

  Jake calling, says the screen. I accept the call and say hello.

  ‘Hey,’ Jake’s voice says. ‘We got here in good time. Roads were clear, hardly any stops. All cool with you, babe?’

  I feel myself unclench when I hear his voice. He’s trying to sound normal, to ignore the atmosphere there was between us before he left. And I love him for it. I love him for being so normal.