Before I Do(17)

10


One Day Before I Do



Audrey sat on the king-sized bed of the bridal suite at Millward Hall. She had a pack of frozen peas, kindly donated by the kitchen at the Red Lion, slung around her neck. Vivien kept reaching out a hand to lift the peas off so she could assess the damage beneath, as though the wound might have miraculously healed in the thirty seconds that had passed since she’d last examined it.

“That angry shade of red is going to look awful next to your white dress,” Vivien said, her face creasing into a wince.

“Is garroted chic not in this year?” Audrey asked, rubbing the back of her neck with her spare hand. This must be what whiplash felt like.

After the el lazo disaster, Vivien, Clara, and Josh had all insisted on escorting Audrey back to her room. Vivien and Clara both had rooms at the hall. Josh was staying at the Red Lion with Paul so that he and Audrey would be less likely to run into each other tomorrow morning before the service, in keeping with tradition.

“Is it painful?” Josh asked, all creased brow and tender concern after shouting at her in front of the whole dinner table. He brushed a hand through his damp hair. They’d all been caught in the rain, running across the pub car park.

“It’s not that bad, honestly. It was just the shock,” Audrey said, waving away Vivien’s hand. She just wanted them all to go. Her neck was throbbing, and she felt like crying, but that would only make everyone feel worse about the situation.

Lawrence had been keen to clear away the broken glass and go ahead with his reading, but Debbie had insisted Audrey would need to go and have a “nice lie-down” after such a fall. Audrey had never felt more grateful for Debbie’s nerves. She’d waved a hand at the room, assured everyone she was fine, and said she looked forward to seeing them all at the wedding. She’d told herself to avoid glancing in Fred’s direction, but it was impossible, and when she saw him, his eyes seemed to plead with her—to do what, she didn’t know. What could she do?

“I think Lawrence should leave the el lazo ceremonies to the Mexicans,” said Josh, still pacing up and down by the window.

The wind was now driving rain against the windowpane, the sound of a thousand tiny bullets trying to get in.

“It was a lovely sentiment. The space was too confined,” said Vivien, giving Josh a sharp look before turning her attention back to Audrey. “You’ll have a bath, release the tension in your shoulders, then you need to let that rope burn dry out. It must have a chance to scab, or you won’t be able to cover it with concealer tomorrow.” Vivien picked up her handbag from the bed, pausing as she noticed the hives and scratch marks on Audrey’s arms. “What have you done to your arms, darling?”

“I don’t know,” Audrey said, crossing her arms to cover them. “Some kind of allergy or irritation. It’s fine, I’ll take an antihistamine.”

“Well, what in heaven’s name are you allergic to? You didn’t eat anything strange at dinner, did you? You aren’t using any new products? I did warn you not to try anything new this month. Did you hear what happened to that costume designer’s daughter? She did a cheap face mask the night before her wedding and came out in a beard of blisters. There was nothing anyone could do.” Vivien frowned.

“Maybe she’s allergic to weddings,” Clara suggested unhelpfully.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning,” Audrey said firmly, rolling her eyes at Clara.

“Well, I shall leave you ladies to it, then,” Vivien said, her hand reaching for the door handle. “The star of the show needs to be well rested for her opening night. Clara, can I trust you girls not to stay up too late?”

Clara nodded.

Vivien turned back to the door but then stopped and reached into her handbag. She pulled out a small tube of cream, which she handed to Audrey. “Depuffing gel, just a dab under each eye, works wonders if you leave it on overnight. I want that back, though, please, it’s expensive.”

“You just said not to put any new, untested cosmetics on my face,” Audrey pointed out.

“Oh, so I did.” Vivien bit her lip, looked briefly conflicted, then took back the tube. “Well, I’m sure you don’t need it then.”

Audrey squeezed her mother’s hand. She appreciated the offer. Despite the pain in her neck, and her itching arms, despite wanting desperately to be alone, she still felt a pang that her mother was leaving, that even on her wedding night their relationship felt taut somehow. There had been a time when Vivien might have stayed, might have curled up and slept the night beside her. She used to give Audrey these bear hugs, hugs she gave no one else. She would fold Audrey in her arms and squeeze, whispering, “Never grow up, be my baby forever,” and Audrey would promise and squeeze her right back. But then she had grown up, in one weekend, and her mother had never hugged her that way again.

“You too, Joshua. Gorgeous as you are, you need your beauty sleep. No hijinks this evening. Don’t let your groomsmen shave your eyebrows off or fake-tan your forehead. I know what you boys are like.”

Josh smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

Once Vivien had gone, Clara unzipped her suitcase and took out a dress bag, her outfit for tomorrow. She brushed it down and hung it up against the wardrobe.