Page 6

5 DAVID

100 Days Until the Wedding

David felt embarrassed letting a stranger into Daisy the flower van. It felt like letting someone see inside your bathroom cabinet, or your fridge. She was a large Ford van, nothing special, apart from the flowers that an early iteration of the youth club had painted onto the side many years before that were now faded and chipped, and there were some hints of rust along the edges of the vehicle. It was rare that David had a reason for anybody besides him and Mark to be in the van. The driver’s seat was, he realized as he sat down, surprisingly filthy. There were crumbs all over the seats, and staring at him from the floor were paper bags, empty cans of sugary drinks and something that seemed to have been a leaf once upon a time.

‘Okay,’ he said, doing up his seatbelt and checking the mirrors. ‘Ignore the mess. Satnav says eighteen minutes. Have we got everything we need?’

‘Just the address, I think,’ Meg said. ‘And us.’

‘And a good appetite,’ David said, starting the drive down the long hill of the high street, waving to people as they passed. ‘I hope you haven’t had breakfast.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘Perfect!’ Meg squirmed as they went over a speed bump. ‘So tell me about the wedding, from the top. What have you done already and what have you got left?’

‘So we’re not going very traditional,’ Meg said. ‘We want to do it all in a pub, so it’s relaxed and we can just enjoy it.’

‘That sounds wonderful.’

‘There’s not a lot of time, but we wanted it like that, and we can be flexible.’ Meg seemed to be checking a list on her phone. ‘I’ve lined up a few appointments already, like this and the bridal shop. I’ve already got the hair and make-up person for both of us. Maybe some people would think it’s quite a small wedding, but neither of us have much family, so it’s about sixty people, maybe seventy if some of Hannah’s cousins come. I want to see everyone, you know, and have the memory, and be married , but I don’t want all the fuss.

‘And,’ Meg continued. ‘We’re not having hen dos, or a joint one like people sometimes do, to save money. Which kind of means we don’t need to have bridesmaids or maids of honour, or best women, which should hopefully make that side of it easier.’

‘I didn’t realize there were so many different names for that. When all my friends got married, it was all the same.’

‘I’ve just seen so many fights and people annoyed in WhatsApp groups,’ she said. ‘One time, a mother of the bride sent a list of someone’s friends, ranking how long she’d known them all, in order, and ever since then I’ve been hesitant.’

‘Gosh.’

‘We just thought,’ Meg said, ‘if we keep it to the main wedding day, we don’t give anyone the opportunity for anything like that.’

The van slowed as David stopped to let people cross the road, before realizing it was his next-door neighbours, and he waved to them enthusiastically.

‘I too have seen …’ David began, struggling for the words. ‘How do you say it … a wedding fallout?’ He instantly realized he was stepping into territory that might make Meg upset again, telling a story about someone banning their own mother from their hen do, so he created another turn in the conversation.

‘Mark thinks this is funny,’ David said. ‘He said I’m living through you and if I want a wedding I should just ask. I think he was joking.’

‘How come you never married?’

David checked the rear-view mirror. ‘I just never pictured it. We’ve been together nearly twenty years. We have the home and the business and we love each other, and that’s commitment enough for me. I feel quite lucky already, you know.’

‘I didn’t imagine this when I was younger either,’ she said. ‘I actually used to imagine, you know, the husband, the kids, the dog.’

‘It’s okay for your expectations to change. What’s normal changes as well, you know,’ David said, indicating the wrong way for a roundabout before correcting himself. ‘I wouldn’t even have thought gay marriage was a possibility growing up, for anyone, let alone a possibility for me.’

It was true. It had felt like a fever dream the day it happened, watching the first gay weddings on the television, the celebrations on the streets, then the months going to the weddings of various friends. He wondered if it had had the same impact on Meg, since she’d grown up in such a different time.

‘I guess,’ Meg said, looking out at the window. ‘Tell me about Mark. Do you think he still wants to get married?’

‘Meg, Meg, Meg,’ David said, chuckling to himself. ‘Does the Pope have a balcony!’

Angie’s Cakes had a tiny shopfront; a glass display window and, above it, lettering in pink against a purple background. As usual, David had trouble parking, but it was even more embarrassing with somebody else in the van. Soon, a queue was piling up behind him, but he was at too awkward an angle in the space to pull out and give up.

‘I don’t usually do this,’ David muttered.

‘That’s okay,’ Meg said. ‘I can’t even drive yet.’

‘No, I mean, I usually get out and get a random man to help.’

‘You don’t?’

‘I do! You’d be surprised by how much people want to help.’ He looked up and down the street. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.’

By the time he’d finally nestled into the space, a couple of people far back were beeping their horns, and David ignored them, encouraging Meg to do the same. As they approached Angie’s shop, there were the familiarly pleasant smells David looked forward to every time her deliveries arrived at the florist’s. From the road, they could see all the goods on display, and Angie was standing behind them, serving at the counter, laughing with a customer and checking some kind of allergens sheet.

‘Oh here they are!’ she shouted as they walked in. David had messaged ahead to say he was coming to the appointment, and he was touched by the way Angie removed her apron to come and hug both him and Meg, despite not knowing her at all. Her cockney accent filled any room, and she always wore loud colourful outfits and big earrings.

‘I’ll leave you to it, Sasha. Okay?’ she said to a young, petrified-looking girl behind the counter, who was fiddling nervously with a pen and nodding.

Angie led them into the back room, which was much bigger, four times the size of the small front serving area. There were long sheet pans and metal racks lined up against the walls, crashing into each other loudly as a couple of people baked around them. David felt the heat of two huge industrial-sized ovens, and boxes of all different sizes piled up against the sides. On one wall, there was a neon sign that said LIVE, LAUGH, EAT CRUFFINS. Whenever he came here, David was always blown away by the volume of work that went into the tiniest treats out there in the shop, the sheer scale of it compared to Savage Lilies.

‘The control room,’ Angie said as they took their seats, nodding at all the activity that surrounded them. She was trying to brush flour off her trousers, but every time she touched her leg, she seemed to spread it from her hands to a new place.

‘Thanks for seeing us,’ Meg said.

‘Oh no trouble at all,’ Angie replied. ‘And when I heard David Fenton was coming … what else could I do?’

‘Today is about Meg; pretend I’m not here,’ David said.

‘How long have you two known each other then?’ Meg asked, looking between the two of them.

‘Ten years?’ David said.

‘It’s eleven!’ Angie replied. ‘Since you moved here. How dare you play me down. We met, Meg, at a local gay bar down the road. David started chatting to the woman I was seeing at the bar. She’s been gone eleven years but this one’s stuck around. Couldn’t get rid of him, not if I tried. Not if you paid me. Well if the price is right …’ She laughed. ‘Anyway, we should get down to the cakes! You don’t want us going on, do you, Meg?’

‘No, it’s—’

‘What sort of thing are you after? Big cake? Minis? Cup? Hit me.’

David watched the exchange, in awe always of how Angie managed to persuade you into what you actually wanted, rather than show any reserve. She transformed Meg’s initial hesitant thoughts around a Victoria Sponge to three tiers: strawberry, chocolate and vanilla. Neapolitan Bride, Angie kept joking. To prove her point, she brought over a small tasting platter of six different flavours.

‘It’s your wedding, honey,’ she continued, picking at the light yellowy cream of one of them. ‘Don’t give a damn what other people think, or want. If no one eats any, just means there’s more for you afterward.’

‘And it’s good you’ve gone for the classics,’ David said, and Angie started rolling her eyes at him. ‘Don’t give me that look. I’ll never forgive the time I ate that courgette cake, thinking it was fudge!’

‘It’s good for people with intolerances! It’s genuinely moist!’ Angie was shaking her head.

‘Thank you,’ Meg said. ‘I’m so glad I found you. This all looks wonderful. I’ll have to buy something from out the front for my partner.’

‘Anything you want, darling, glad I could help. I’ll give you my queer customer discount too. We’ve got to support each other haven’t we?’

‘Thank you, that’s so kind. You really don’t have to if—’

‘If you come to the till, we can settle up, unless you’ve got time for a cup of tea and a catch-up? I haven’t got anywhere else to be, and Meg, I want to know how you ended up with David. What terrible luck!’

She cackled. David looked at Meg and of course they stayed put, because nobody could resist Angie, or her cakes.

An hour later, they’d had two cups of tea each and finished the samples. David felt fit to burst. In terms of conversational topics, they had covered Meg’s parents, a situation that Angie had been genuinely sweet and insightful over, talking about her own parents who still lived in Kingston, Jamaica. Angie shared the story of her recent bad date that Carl had mentioned earlier in the week. She never failed to make David laugh, telling him a story of getting her bag caught in a revolving door and trying to style it out.

‘Do you live with anyone, Angie?’ Meg asked, after Angie had mentioned her house next door.

‘No, just me,’ she said. ‘Single Ange, that’s what this lot call me.’

‘No we don’t,’ David muttered. ‘Well Mark sometimes …’

‘I used to foster,’ she explained. ‘For a while, but when I opened up here, it’s not the sort of hours you can do and be responsible for a child. Which is a shame. I found it was important for black kids to be put with me, you know. I got them in a way I think others didn’t. I often think about starting again.’

‘That’s so impressive, Angie.’

‘I loved it, I really did. Maybe older kids could come and stay; that could work. Maybe one day.’

‘She was great with them,’ David said. ‘Made such a difference, as I’m sure you can imagine.’

‘Oh stop it, you,’ she said. ‘I’ll cry. I miss every single one. They never complained about courgette cake.’

‘You know that’s not true …’

‘Anyway, I’ve just remembered something that can change the subject,’ Angie said. ‘We didn’t talk about the outside of the cake! The look!’

‘Oh, of course!’ Meg said.

‘Do you have a colour scheme for the day?’

‘Not really.’

‘What are the bridesmaids wearing?’

‘We don’t have any bridesmaids.’

‘That’s okay, that means you can do anything.’ Angie looked around the room for inspiration. ‘I could do rainbow?’

‘Oh no, just plain please.’

Angie looked at her with one eyebrow up. ‘Plain?’

‘Erm …’

‘You can’t do plain on your wedding. Not from Angie’s Cakes, at least. What’s your favourite colour?’

‘Green, actually.’

‘We could do a green cake … We could make—’

‘Not the avocados, Ange,’ David said.

‘Why don’t you think about it?’ Angie said. ‘We’ve got time. Ask Hannah. I’ll have a think too.’

‘Okay, I will.’

‘I’ll send you some things we’ve done before, pictures and examples. I’ve got them in a folder. Right, I’d better go out and check on the shop,’ she said, walking back into the store. ‘Sasha probably left hours ago.’

‘I can’t believe you know all these people,’ Meg said, wiping icing off her lip, as David watched Angie rejoin a relieved Sasha.

‘Oh, just wait,’ David said. ‘There are gays everywhere round here, if you know where to look. We’ll work through the rest of your list, work out who you’ve got left, see if I know anyone else too. I’ve just worked out how to start a Facebook group, so I’ve started inviting queer businesses in the area to join. I hadn’t realized there were quite so many great places, run by such brilliant, creative people.’

‘I can’t imagine it’s easy setting up a small business.’

‘Not at all. You really have to want it, and work to keep it.’

‘Like this place?’

‘Like this place, exactly. Angie was working as an assistant in some boring company when I met her. First in, last out. She used to run her office bake-off, and she’d win every time. We all kept saying she had talent. Eventually this place happened. Started off half the size, did a small trade. She fought, she advertised. Knocked down that back wall, all while still fostering.’

‘Where did you meet them all then, these friends?’ Meg said. ‘Just by chance?’

‘Not really,’ David said, shaking his head. ‘When Mark and I moved here, we’d been together nearly ten years and we knew we wanted to set down roots, and feel part of the community. We made sure we didn’t say no to things,’ David said. ‘I’ve never really said no, to be honest. I’ve just always benefited from letting people in. I didn’t go out to make twenty friends, but then, through work and all, suddenly you’ve got a birthday every other weekend.’

‘It’s so nice. Is Mark the same?’

‘We’re both really social, which is good. We’d go mad, the lives we have, if one of us was an introvert. No, I love people.’

‘Me too,’ Meg said, smiling at him.

He really felt like he’d done something right today. Helped out someone in need and also helped his friend get a sale for her business. He felt invincible. Normally for a day like that, he’d reward himself with a sweet treat but he’d really had his fill.

‘Shall we go through?’

They walked back into the main shop, where Sasha was being taught something at the coffee machine. On the counter, David spotted a Marmite roulade.

‘I should warn you,’ he whispered to Meg, their voices covered by the hiss of the steam wand. ‘Read the labels carefully. Unless Hannah likes kidney beans.’

That afternoon, as the shop was winding down for the day, David was alone with his thoughts. Songs by the Black Eyed Peas were playing through the speakers, one of the bands or artists that due to the playlist’s theme, he had become an unusually intense fan of. They, along with Blossoms, Robert Plant, Lily Allen, all had entire discographies on the playlist. Early on David had realized there weren’t quite enough songs for an nine-hour day, seven days a week, that followed the theme, and he was wondering if there were any songs written about daffodils when Benji arrived for their agreed meeting.

He was wearing a sports top and jeans, with sun- white trainers without even a speck of dirt on them. Despite having turned sixteen, he had that gangly look of a teenager who thought they were the most confident they could ever be, but that you could see right through. He always seemed to be okay in motion, but awkwardly standing still in the doorway of the shop, not sure what to do with his limbs, he seemed as young as he’d been when David had first met him. He had short brown hair, cropped close to his skin, and one earring, and he smiled as David noticed him.

‘Benji!’

‘Your favourite one’s here,’ Benji said, bowing. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.’

‘Stop it. How was your weekend?’

‘Yeah, good actually,’ Benji said. He put out his hand for a fist-bump and David awkwardly clasped it with his palm.

‘Are you going to tell me what you got up to?’

‘Oh,’ Benji said, before seriously thinking. ‘Nothing really.’

David couldn’t work out whether he was hiding something from David he wouldn’t want to hear, or whether he genuinely had had a boring time. ‘Well, I’m always here, if you want somewhere to go.’

‘I know, I know,’ Benji said, slightly exasperated. ‘Thanks, man,’ he said, recognizing David’s gesture.

‘No worries, man,’ David said.

‘You can’t pull that off, you know.’

‘Can Mark?’

‘Even less than you.’

‘Well there’s something,’ David said, before putting a glass of Diet Coke in front of both of them.

‘I know you’ve got beers back there.’

‘And when you’re eighteen, you can come buy one,’ David said. ‘Now, what did you want to chat about? Mark said it’s getting close to deciding about careers and studying after your GCSEs.’

‘Not studying,’ Benji said. ‘I’m done with school. I want to earn money.’

Despite a difficult upbringing and the challenges he’d faced in school, Benji seemed to be enjoying studying for his GCSEs, often talking about the books he’d read in English and his love of maths. He’d once told David he knew more than the Business Studies teacher, and made an unflattering link between the acronym for Business Studies and the man who taught it.

‘That’s fine,’ David said. ‘It’s good to know what you want.’

‘But I don’t know how to get the kind of job I’d like,’ Benji said. ‘I already work at the barber’s in town, but I don’t want to do that forever. I want a proper job.’

‘Well what would you count as a proper job?’ David asked. ‘Maybe we start there and work back?’

‘I don’t want to be a teacher,’ he said. ‘No offence.’

‘I’m not a teacher.’

‘No but you’re … you’re like a teacher.’

‘I won’t ask what that means Benji.’

‘I wanted to be an influencer, but I think that’s hard, man. Embarrassing too, some of the stuff they make you do.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ David said.

Benji rolled his eyes, as if he was talking to his grandad. ‘Right.’

‘I’d do like photography or something, like in a studio?’ Benji said. ‘I know I don’t want to sit in an office all day, but I don’t want part-time work, or like trying a job here and there. I want like money coming in each month, so I can move out.’

He looked a bit sheepish about this. There was a candidness to Benji that came out occasionally, and when it did, it felt like he was asking for something from the grown-ups in his life, something he’d never been given before.

‘That makes sense, Benji,’ David said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with just wanting to pay your bills, and not being a footballer or whatever.’

‘I’m not four years old. I know I’m not gonna be a footballer.’

‘I know, I know,’ David said, leaning forward over the table to rest his elbows on it. ‘I just meant … doesn’t matter. You know what would be useful – why don’t you come back next week, with three jobs you’d want to do, and we’ll look at how people got to do them. It’s hard to start with all the jobs in the world. It can be daunting.’

‘Okay.’

‘I’ll get Jacob to arrange a time. It’s all meant to go through the youth club officially.’

‘Can’t you just message me? I’ve known you for five years; I know you’re not a psycho.’

‘Well thank you, Benji,’ David said, laughing. ‘I know I’m not either, and for what it’s worth I don’t think you are, but there’s still time to be proved wrong.’

Jacob had said that at sixteen, the kids were now allowed to contact volunteers as they wished, and Benji was right, they did genuinely know each other. He supposed that was probably fine.

‘Go on, let me, Dave. What’s your social media handle? I’ll message you.’

‘I don’t have social media, Benji.’

‘All right, well what’s the shop’s social media? I’ll get you through there.’

‘We don’t have that either.’

‘You what, man?’ Benji said. He looked at him like he’d just told him he’d once landed on the moon. ‘Are you joking?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You need social media,’ Benji said decisively. ‘How are people gonna find you?’

‘Well they’ll see the sign and …’ David’s words mumbled into nothings as Benji shook his head at him.

‘Let me do it!’ Benji said. ‘I’ll set up an account now.’

‘Oh, I don’t know …’

‘I’ll do it!’

‘I can’t pay you, Benji. I don’t want you to …’

‘I’ll do it as a favour. It’s honestly nothing, man. I’ll take a couple pics. Chill.’

‘Only if you’re sure …’

David felt like he was letting something happen he’d have no control over, but if anything could bring a few more people into the shop that could only be a good thing. The majority of his regular older customers would probably never see it anyway, and Benji was already looking around the shop, head full of plans.

‘You have to let me. I’ve got big ideas.’

David looked at Benji, his fervour to do things, and he wondered if channelling his energy into this would be a good thing for him. Who was David to stand in the way? He’d had that scary meeting with the accountant and they really did need to boost profits. Maybe this is what David should have been doing for a long time.

‘All right, Benji. But set it up on my device as well so I can see it too, all right? And let me know regularly what you’re doing.’

Benji was laughing, shaking his head. ‘Device,’ he muttered, laughing, taking David’s phone from his hand.

‘And you can have my number,’ he said. ‘But don’t sign it up to that toilet paper delivery thing you did with Jacob.’

‘That was years ago!’ Benji said. ‘But it was funny …’