Whitmore House was one of her favourite venues and she put a lot of work their way. They were professional and organised and everything always went smoothly. Eric acknowledged her plan with a short nod. ‘Very good.’
Another check of the clipboard even though she could have recited the order of events by heart. It was difficult to keep her mind on the job in hand. What were Jack and Cara doing at home? Reminiscing about old times? Sophie would probably be in bed soon; the two of them would be alone. Like two parents sitting down to a relaxed evening. Her stomach prickled at the thought.
Though she’d always been certain that she didn’t want children, Rebecca found it tricky to know at which point in a relationship to tell a new boyfriend. If she said it too early on, she ran the risk of freaking him out that she was assuming the relationship was serious. Too late and she’d be in too deep; at risk of getting badly hurt or hurting him. The best way was to let it happen naturally. Just slide it into the conversation when the subject of children came up.
With Jack, it was about three months in. He had given her the spare key to his flat the week before, so she’d known that things were moving fast and she would have to tell him soon. But it had been hard. She’d been falling for him. If he had imagined the usual ‘live together followed by marriage followed by babies’ scenario, the whole thing was going to crumble.
They’d been out for dinner and the couple next to them had a baby. It was cute. But very noisy. The poor mother had been trying to calm the baby down and looking apologetically at the other diners. Rebecca had smiled at her – it wasn’t her fault the baby was crying – but she still wished that they weren’t there.
Eventually, the woman’s husband had taken the baby from her and shuffled the noise outside.
‘Poor sod.’ Jack had leaned forward, speaking quietly. ‘He practically inhaled that steak. Why do people take kids to restaurants like this?’
Rebecca had shrugged. ‘Maybe they can’t get a babysitter. And they want a nice meal. They might not have a choice.’ She had been fully aware how much children took over your life. She’d seen it first-hand with friends of hers. Now is as good a time as ever. ‘One of the reasons I don’t want children.’
Jack had looked surprised. ‘Really? Are you definite on that?’
She hadn’t been able to tell from his tone which way this was going to go. But there was no point in continuing if he wanted kids – it would just be more difficult the longer they were together. ‘Yes. It’s not that I dislike children. I just don’t want to be a mother.’
Jack had raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? The guys at work keep winding me up that the next step after moving in together will be marriage and babies. A couple of days ago, one of the marketing execs was complaining that his wife had started dropping ten-tonne hints since her sister announced her pregnancy. He just keeps saying the same thing to anyone who’ll listen: “I know how this works – if their sister or best mate has a baby, you’re screwed.”’ He had laughed.
Clearly, he hadn’t been bothered by her announcement. Had he realised she was serious? ‘Yeah, I know that seems to be the norm. But I really don’t want that. I’m selfish, I guess. I don’t want the responsibility of another life.’
Jack had shaken his head. ‘It’s not selfish. It’s good that you know what you want. To be honest, I haven’t put much thought into it at all. I don’t think I’d be particularly great father material either if it meant I’d have to stand outside in the cold rather than in here with you and this glass of wine.’
They’d both looked out the window where the dad was pacing up and down, rubbing the baby’s back.
The waiter had come to take their plates. ‘Would you like to see a dessert menu?’
Jack had looked at Rebecca and she’d shaken her head. He’d dropped his napkin onto the table. ‘I think we’re all done, thanks. Can you bring us the bill?’ As the waiter left, he’d leaned in close and lowered his voice. ‘How about we go back to mine and have some fun not making babies?’
The subject had come up again several times before they’d got married – usually after attending a christening or going on holidays with other families – but Jack had never shown any signs that he was changing his mind, and she definitely wasn’t.
The door to the large function room squeaked open and Angela Matthews poked her head around the door. Angela was the managing director’s PA and had hired Rebecca and Izzy to organise tonight’s dinner. For a moment, Rebecca didn’t recognise her in full make-up and a low-cut, sparkly dress, scanning the room as she walked towards Rebecca with a growing smile on her face. ‘Wow. You were right about this place. It looks fantastic.’
Angela had only been to see Whitmore House during the day. But it became something else in the evenings when the electric candles on the centrepieces gave the room a romantic feel.
‘I’m glad you like it. Everything is ready for the evening and I’ll be on hand if you need anything.’ When they’d started their company, she and Izzy had agreed that personally attending every event would be their USP. Speaking from experience, that ‘anything’ could include a range of disasters from a senior member of the board complaining about the wine to showcase his inflated view of his own knowledge, to one of the more junior members of staff mixing a dangerous cocktail of nerves and Pinot Grigio and throwing up in the toilet by 9.30 p.m.
Angela patted her hair with an anxious hand. ‘Actually, there is something. Have you heard that there is meant to be a meteor shower visible this evening? Could we get everyone outside to watch it? Might be a memorable addition to the evening?’
She hadn’t even finished when Rebecca started to shake her head. ‘No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. These things are always very unpredictable. You could get everyone outside and then find it’s not visible. Disappointment will take the edge off of everything you’re doing here.’
Now Angela started to twist the ends of her hair. If she wasn’t careful, she would ruin what looked like a salon curling job. ‘But the MD is interested in that kind of thing. I’m sure he would appreciate the attention to detail.’
So, she was trying to impress her boss. Completely understandable, but he wouldn’t be half as impressed when it took twenty minutes to get everyone outside, the women in their strappy dresses and spiky heels shivering with cold and sinking into the mud, the men pretending they didn’t feel it while the cold took the edge off their merriment. And then – when the cloud coverage was too thick or the timing was wrong and no one got to see anything anyway – it would put a dampener on halfway through the event, which even ‘The Grease Megamix’ would find difficult to wrench back. Still, this woman was the one who had hired their company, and she and Izzy were hoping for repeat business; it was important to be tactful. Or lie. ‘I read something earlier which suggested it was going to be difficult to see the shower because of the weather. Maybe we should keep quiet about it to avoid disappointment.’ Angela didn’t look convinced but Rebecca was saved by the first arrivals. ‘Excuse me, I just need to check the Prosecco is ready for your guests.’