In the car, the radio steps in to replace any meaningful conversation. The morning’s interactions between Josh and I haven’t gone beyond logistics for driving to the christening and my asking if he wanted a coffee. Reflected in the car’s side mirror, I see my hair is falling in successfully bouncy waves and I quietly congratulate myself on looking quite nice today. Pulling a loose thread on my leopard print dress seems to spark Josh’s attention as I feel his eyes darting between me and the quiet country road. “Bit low cut, that dress Nat.”
My head shoots up from my lap and I stare through the windshield. “Why on earth would you say that to me when we’re now half an hour’s drive away from home?”
Eyes now firmly on the road, Josh says: “It’s no big deal. I’m just saying.”
“You didn’t need to ‘just say’ anything. Why can’t you just tell me I look nice for a change.” I roll my eyes away from him and out towards the window, gaze fixing on the church, in hope that Josh has telepathically picked up that I’m already fucking done with this interaction.
His rebuttal is timed perfectly with arriving in the car park. Josh shifts out of gear, forcefully pulls the handbrake up and as he’s taking his seatbelt off, he says: “Since when do you care if I think you look nice or not?”
Josh gets out of the car before I have a chance to answer. He greets his cousins with a level of enthusiasm I’d forgotten he could muster. My dress is obviously not low cut enough to catch anybody’s attention to the fact that I’m here too, so I’m now lingering awkwardly as he catches up with various relatives.
Fortunately, my eyes meet Ben as he’s standing outside the church door. He spots me tottering towards the church in my heeled boots, leaving his brother behind, and shoots me the first genuine smile I’ve seen all morning. He puts a large polka dot bag on the floor and comes towards me with open arms, one draped in a muslin and two baby bottles in one hand.
“Mate, am I glad to see you.” We hug and Ben gently rests the fingers of his empty hand above my elbow. He looks me up and down and adds: “You look great.”
“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say.” The compliment makes me beam so I have to look away immediately and pass it off as admiring my own dress. I look back up at him and ask how he’s doing.
Ben can only manage a forced smile as he glances over at Linda, cooing over Martha and her tiny dress. He says diplomatically: “Getting there. Mum’s been a big help. You know how it is.”
“Well, not really. You’ve not been texting back lately. Which is fine. Obviously you’re busy with Martha and stuff. And I didn’t just wanna pop round. But I’ve been worried about you, you know.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just been a busy few weeks and–”
“Oh Natalia, don’t you look lovely.” Linda's talent for interrupting and apparent teleportation never ceases to amaze. She’s outright staring at my chest before asking if I have a cardi with me, as she hands a sleepy Martha back to Ben.
“It’s 25 degrees, Linda.” I gleefully watch her lips purse in disapproval, before attempting to mask it with a smile as she silently walks away.
Waiting until his mum is safely out of sight, Ben covers Martha’s tiny ears. He turns to me and says with a smile; “She thinks you look like a whore.”
My eyes widen, I slap his muscular arm with the back of my hand and we both erupt into laughter. A day with the Jackson family might not be so bad after all.