Before I Do(12)

8


One Day Before I Do



“There you are, Audrey! What in heaven’s name can you have left in the church that was so vital? You didn’t even tell us what food you wanted to order!” Debbie said the moment Audrey reappeared. “I can see your mother thinks we should have done a set menu.” Debbie fiddled with the pearls around her neck as though they were worry beads. “We should have done a set menu, shouldn’t we?”

Through the window, Audrey could see Clara in the car park getting Fred to sign the wedding plate. Josh stood up and pulled out the chair beside him, a look of concern creasing his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as Audrey slipped in beside him. “I didn’t know where you’d gone.” She nodded and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I ordered you the chicken schnitzel,” he told her. “Mum was fretting about getting the order in. You can swap with me if you’d rather have the lasagna.”

“Schnitzel sounds perfect. Thanks for ordering, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat anyway.” She affected the most natural smile she could muster.

“This is Fred, by the way, Miranda’s date,” Josh said, introducing the newcomer who had reappeared through the other door to the dining room. Audrey felt her stomach drop as she dared to look across at him. It felt as though every eye in the room were on her reaction. Would someone see in her face that this man was not a stranger? But of course no one saw, no one was even looking—they were all too busy talking and enjoying the second-most expensive wine on the menu.

“Pleased to meet you,” Fred said, reaching across the table to shake her hand.

She took it, but as soon as she pressed her palm to his, her face flushed pink and she pulled her hand back, just a fraction too fast.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Fred said, addressing them both.

“Any friend of my sister’s is a friend of ours,” said Josh, furnishing Fred with a warm smile. “Where did Miranda go?”

Audrey could see her outside, signing the wedding plate. Clara was certainly thorough on following through with the cover story.

“You must order immediately,” said Debbie, grabbing Fred’s arm with such urgency that she nearly upended a wine bottle on the table in front of them. “We’ve ordered already, but you can go to the bar and add yours. Please tell them not to delay our food on account of the late addition. We simply can’t miss our window with the kitchen. Vivien is getting impatient. It might be easiest if you and Miranda forgo starters, there’s plenty of bread to fill up on.”

When Clara and Miranda came back in through the door, Debbie gave them a strange look, as though she was aware that whatever they’d been up to, it was not on the preapproved, laminated wedding agenda.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Miranda said, weaving her way around the table to give Audrey a hug. “Sorry we were late, train was packed. Josh told us all about the ‘bad omen bat.’?” She made a face. They both turned to look at Granny Parker, who was positioned near the far end of the table, polishing a spoon with her embroidered lilac napkin.

“Poor Granny Parker, it landed inches from her head,” said Audrey.

“Have you met my gorgeous date?” Miranda said in a conspiratorial whisper. “You are going to love him. The second I met him, that was almost the first thought I had—Audrey is going to love this guy. I think your brains work the same way.”

Audrey felt the blood drain from her face and the burn of rising bile in her throat. Miranda, of all people. Josh’s sister. Why did he have to be dating Miranda? What if it became serious between them? What if they got married and Fred became her brother-in-law? The Parker family had a yearly meetup in Yorkshire; what if Fred got invited and she had to spend days, weeks, with him every year for the rest of her life, a constant reminder of what might have been? The thought sent a cold bead of sweat down the central curve of her back. Would she make it to the bathroom if she was going to throw up?

“I look forward to getting to know him,” she managed to say, clearing her throat, before Debbie flapped her hands for everyone to sit down so that the waitress could distribute a round of drinks.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Josh whispered quietly in her ear. “You do look pale.”

“Probably just hungry,” Audrey said, reaching out to give his leg a reassuring pat.

“Not too overwhelmed?” Josh asked. “Were you upset about the bat? You mustn’t listen to anything Granny Parker says.”

She shook her head and gave him the brightest smile she could muster. She just needed to get through dinner, act normally. It would only be a few hours, then she could go back to her room at Millward Hall and let out the silent scream she was swallowing. Still smiling, she glanced down at her forearms and saw the hives were growing redder. Was it an allergy? Some kind of stress rash? She quickly covered them with her napkin so that Josh wouldn’t notice.

Once everyone’s food had been ordered, Debbie stopped fretting and the atmosphere around the table became more jovial. Josh’s father, Michael, inhaled his minestrone soup, then excused himself “to the loo.” Audrey noticed that the television in the main bar was showing the cricket.

Fred was seated off to one side, so Audrey was able to avoid making conversation or eye contact with him. This didn’t stop her from being acutely aware of him at all times—who he was talking to, whether he looked to be enjoying himself, how often he glanced down the table at her. She felt self-conscious at the idea he might be observing her facial expressions, her body language, the way she was with Josh.