A Christmas Wedding(4)

‘Anyway, I’m also a bit out of practice.’

‘You’ve got almost a year before I walk down the aisle.’

I can’t help but smile at her perseverance. ‘You really want me to start doing weddings again, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she states. ‘You loved it. You were great at it.’

‘It feels like a lifetime ago,’ I say sadly.

‘It kills me that he ruined it for you!’ she snaps.

‘Who? Alex?’

‘Yes, Alex!’ she cries.

Bridget is not Alex’s biggest fan.

I sigh heavily. I don’t really know what to say to that. I don’t want to blame Alex. Yes, photographing his wedding set me back a bit, but it’s my own fault for letting that part of my life slip through my fingers.

‘He emailed me today,’ I tell her.

‘What?!’

‘Alex. He emailed me today for the first time in years to tell me that he’s coming to Sydney next month.’

There’s no reply from the other end of the line, so I keep talking.

‘He thought he should let me know in case we bump into each other in the lift, or somewhere. He doubts he’ll need to come into Vivienne, but he’s going to be in the building. You know he’s the Art Director for the whole of Tetlan now?’

‘Yes, I did hear that,’ Bridget replies quietly.

I don’t remember passing that information on.

‘Russ and Maria told me,’ she answers my unspoken question.

Russ used to work with me at Hebe and Maria is the make-up artist who introduced me to Rachel, my wedding photographer mentor. Maria and Russ got together on a work night out and are now married with two children.

‘When were you talking to those two about Alex?’ I’m taken aback.

‘They came to Cornwall on holiday back in June and we caught up. I was just wondering if they ever saw or heard anything of him.’

I feel slightly strange that she asked about him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bridget says gently. ‘I was just curious, to be honest, but I didn’t think you’d want that whole can of worms opening.’

‘Huh!’ Can of worms officially opened.

‘How do you feel about it?’ she asks. ‘Him rocking up in Sydney?’

‘I’m freaking out,’ I admit.

‘Oh, B,’ she murmurs. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I haven’t written back yet. I thought I should tell Lachie first.’

‘Good plan. Do you want to see him?’

‘No!’ My reply is instant.

‘Are you sure?’ she persists.

Butterflies cram into my stomach. ‘He was only telling me out of courtesy,’ I say eventually, deflecting her question. ‘He didn’t ask to meet up with me, and Lachie would hate that, so I won’t see him unless we really do bump into each other.’

My heart contracts, suddenly, inexplicably. Alex is going to be here in Sydney. The thought of not seeing him fills me with the oddest array of confusing, conflicting emotions.

I’m still feeling confused and a little miserable later that night when I’ve sunk half a bottle of wine and am fixing myself toast for dinner because I can’t be bothered to cook. Lachie isn’t home and I haven’t heard from him again. He’s no doubt helping Elliot to drown his sorrows. El may have moved on physically from Bridget, but it’s clear he’s still emotionally attached. I don’t think he expected this thing with Charlie to last, either, so the marriage proposal will definitely have knocked him for six.

Could I really photograph Bridget’s wedding? She’s taking a risk in asking me – what if I’m rubbish these days? But, deep down, I know I’m not. I was good at it. Sure, I made mistakes, but nothing too major, and I always managed to get the one shot that Rachel told me was the most important: the groom’s reaction to seeing his bride for the first time.

A memory assaults me from out of nowhere and my heart folds in on itself. Before I can think about it, I’m opening the wardrobe in our bedroom and digging out my old laptop. Guilt pricks at my gut as I wait for it to fire up, and then I’m searching the items in my documents, looking for a folder deceptively entitled ‘Boring Bits’. Hidden right at the bottom of that folder I find three photographs called WA1, WA2 and WA3. WeddingAlex. I highlight and click on all three of them.

Alex’s face appears on the screen, his blue eyes staring straight back at me. The look on his face is so tortured, so uncertain. He had just told me that he loved me, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he wasn’t sure if he could go through with marrying Zara. I wasn’t supposed to be photographing their wedding – Rachel had called me the night before in a panic because her regular assistant had caught the flu – but I agreed to do it because Alex had said that he’d be fine with it.

Lachie actually called things off with me when he heard that I’d consented – he’d been travelling around Europe and had phoned to ask me if I’d join him in Paris for the weekend. I told him of my alternative plans and he hit the roof. But he did an about-turn and was there, waiting for me, when I came out of the church. I couldn’t follow through with the job – it was all too much – but I’d got the most important shot, the one Rachel had entrusted to me.