The Vintage Summer Wedding. Jenny OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.
bar top was dark mahogany, shiny under the low glass lamps and dappled with patches of split beer. Silver tankards hung from hooks around the lip of the bar top, swinging below the spirits that were mostly different types of whiskey. One side of the room was booth seats, and a smattering of round wooden tables. At the back was a dining room that had placemats with hunting scenes or ducks flying.
‘Here, drink this, it’ll make you feel better.’ Seb put a glass of yellow wine down in front of her.
She held it up between finger and thumb, inspected the colour and said, ‘I very much doubt it.’
Seb tried to hide a smirk. ‘It can’t have been that bad.’
‘I don’t think I can talk about it.’ She sighed, taking a sip. Then, unable not to, said, ‘She made me clear out the stockroom. Urgh, look at this, sing-along piano tonight.’ She picked up a flier that was resting between the mustard and tomato ketchup bottle on their table.
Seb took a sip of his pint and read over the list of songs. ‘Knees Up Mother Brown. It’s like the good old days.’
Anna took another sip and winced. ‘I did a really bad job.’
Seb glanced up. ‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t want to do it.’
‘Anna.’ His brow creased. ‘You kind of need this job. We seriously don’t have any money and if you want a wedding…’
‘Sebastian.’ She leant forward. ‘I get six pounds fifty an hour. Whether I have this job or not, it’s not going to cover a wedding. No, I have to get back to London, I have to do some serious looking.’
‘Come on. You know there’s nothing out there at the moment, and the commute will really cost.’ He traced the beads of condensation down his glass. ‘You’re just going to have to get on with it.’
‘What if I can’t?’ she said, and he sighed like he was exasperated with her. The sound took her by surprise, she’d never heard it before. This wasn’t the way their relationship worked. Seb adored her. That was their dynamic. It had been since the moment she had walked out of Pret a Manger with her sushi and can of Yoga Bunny and he had walked straight into her, fresh from his interview at Whitechapel Boys’ School, fumbled his briefcase and said, ‘Wow, god, Anna Whitehall. Didn’t expect to bump into you of all people. Wow.’
Really all she wanted now was for him to hate being back as much as she did.
As the fan in the corner of the pub whirred away like it might take off, circulating the stale beer-soaked air, they sat in silence for a second. Murmurs of laughter drifted in from the tables outside the front that Anna hadn’t wanted to sit at in case she got bitten by mosquitoes.
‘So how was your day?’ she said in the end.
Seb held his hands out wide, ‘Now she asks!’ he said with a smile. He was good at changing the atmosphere, at not holding a grudge. His aim in life was for everyone to get along, not like Anna who could cling onto a grudge like nobody’s business. But, as usual, she felt herself get sucked into the lines that crinkled around his eyes as he smiled and winked at her across the table.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Did you save any poor, badly educated children?’
Seb was back in Nettleton to make a difference. To give back. To do for the new Nettleton generation what their teachers had done for him. Anna could barely remember a teacher, let alone anything good they’d done for her. She could vaguely summon a memory of being whacked with a lacrosse stick accidentally on purpose by Mrs McNamara for calling her a lesbian. And the satisfaction she’d felt when she’d handed her a note from her ballet teacher exempting her from all school sport because it clashed with her training and the development of her flexibility.
‘I made a huge impression,’ Seb joked. ‘And young minds across the village are rejoicing that I have arrived as head of year.’
A female voice cut in next to them, ‘I’m sure they are, Seb, no doubt about it.’
‘Jackie, hey, how are you? Come and join us.’ Seb edged along his bench seat so Jackie could sit down.
‘Anna.’ Jackie said by way of greeting, with a distinct lack of emotion.
‘Jackie.’ Anna replied with similar flatness. Their relationship was as such that they’d spent much of their youth circling each other, snogging each other’s boyfriends and generally pissing each other off without ever fully acknowledging their mutual dislike.
‘So how are you?’ Jackie ran her tongue along her lips, then grinned, ‘Never made it to New York, then?’
‘No,’ Anna winced a smile, cocking her head to one side and then saying sweetly, ‘I see you didn’t either. Ever make it out of Nettleton?’
Jackie shrugged. ‘Everything I need is here.’
Anna blew out a breath in disbelief.
‘Whereas you...I mean, what was it we were meant to see? Your name in lights at the Lincoln Center? Wasn’t that always the dream?’
Anna pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘I grew too tall to be a dancer.’
Jackie sat back and crossed her legs. ‘Shame.’
As the air between them hummed, Seb clapped his hands and said, ‘So, what does everyone want to drink?’
As Jackie said she’d die for a gin and tonic, Anna hitched her bag onto her shoulder, stood up and said, ‘I’ll get them.’ Just to get away from the table.
She stood, tapping her nails on the bar. Her name in lights at the Lincoln Center. It was like a jolt. New York, Lincoln Center. Her mum had said, holding up an advert listing the New York City Ballet’s winter programming in the paper. If I hadn’t got pregnant, that’s where I would have been. Imagine being on that stage. Anna, that’s the pinnacle.
When she heard laughter behind her, Anna swung round thinking that it must be about her, but saw instead a couple in the corner enjoying a shared joke. She blew out a breath and tried to relax. But she was like an animal on high alert, poised and ready. At her table Seb and Jackie were looking at something on Jackie’s phone and giggling. Anna found herself envying Seb’s effortless charm, the ease with which he slipped back into relationships. The way he could be so instantly, unguardedly, involved. Not that she’d ever admit it.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked as she pushed the tray of drinks onto the table.
‘Jackie is educating me on the world of Internet dating.’ Seb laughed.
‘It’s nothing,’ Jackie waved a hand, ‘Just Tinder.’
Anna nodded, not sure what she was talking about but, rather than ask, pretended that she wasn’t really that interested. She felt herself doing it on purpose, fitting into the role Jackie expected.
‘The website. No?’ Jackie said, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, as Anna obviously hadn’t been able to hide her blankness as well as she thought. ‘Well I suppose you wouldn’t know, not being single. It’s meant to be the closest thing to dating in the normal world.’ Jackie went on, leaning her elbows on the table, ‘You know, you rate people on what they look like, it’d be right up your street, Anna.’
Anna narrowed her eyes.
‘Look—’ Seb leant forward, Jackie’s phone in his hand. ‘If you like them, you swipe them into the Yes pile and if you don’t, you swipe them into the No. Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t believe it exists. It’s so ruthless, like some sort of horrible conveyor belt of desperation.’
‘Thank you very much, Seb.’ Jackie sat back.
‘I didn’t mean you. I meant them.’
Forgetting her act for a moment, Anna inched her head closer, fascinated, as she watched men appear on screen and Seb swipe them into the No pile as easily as swatting