Before I Do(37)

Usually, she would laugh along. The three of them teased one another like this constantly, and Audrey often gave as good as she got. But this morning, something about the accuracy of what they were saying, coupled with a hideous hangover and her regret over Handsy Hamish, made her have to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into tears.





20


Three and a Half Hours Before I Do



Sometimes tears were cathartic. Even though nothing had been resolved in the cleaning cupboard, Audrey came out of it feeling lighter. She concluded that the shock of seeing Fred again was all tangled up in her anxiety about having a big wedding. None of that changed how she felt about Josh. Perhaps this compulsion to run out on the wedding was merely the call of the void again—just because she leaned over the edge, it didn’t mean she actually wanted to jump.

Outside the cupboard, as they walked back along the corridor, she and Hillary passed the open doors of the Grand Suite, the ornate ballroom that was being set up for the reception that afternoon. There were twenty round tables spread out across the floor, each covered with a starched linen tablecloth and laid with shining silver cutlery. Catering staff were polishing glassware, and the florist was positioning centerpieces of white and pink roses on glass plinths of differing heights to give a “waterfall of flowers” effect. A shaft of sunlight—a break from the rain—streamed in through the window, illuminating the elegant scene. All of this, for her and Josh.

“I think we’re reaching saturation point on the pink,” said Hillary. She could tell he hated it. He’d already told her that if he were to ever get married, there wouldn’t be a jot of color, everything would be black and white. Before he could expand on his thoughts about the room’s décor, Hillary’s phone began to ring. Seeing the caller ID, he frowned, told Audrey he would catch up with her later, and then darted off to take the call in private.

Audrey wandered between the tables, looking at name tags tied to small jars of pink and lilac sugared almonds. She thanked the florist for the care she was taking over each arrangement, then chatted to some of the waiting staff, who had moved on to folding linen napkins. At the top end of the hall, Corrine from Corrine’s Cakes was constructing their five-tiered vanilla sponge. It was truly a work of art—smooth white icing decorated with a canopy of intricate edible white flowers and petals. It must have taken hours to create. Audrey gave a satisfied sigh. One thing she knew for sure—she loved the cake.

“This looks incredible, Corrine,” Audrey said, staring in wonder at it.

“What are you doing here, hon? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Corrine asked, stepping forward to give Audrey a hug. They’d only met once, at a cake tasting in London several months before. They had sampled a dozen flavors but ultimately opted for a vanilla sponge. Vivien had insisted it was the least controversial option. Audrey had been drawn to the Mocha Surprise, a deep chocolate with a coffee fondant layer, but she couldn’t decide between that and the vanilla, they were both so delicious. Josh had sought a compromise, wondering if they could have a variety of flavors, a different one for each layer, but Vivien had advised against it—it would be much more expensive, and besides, everyone loved vanilla. Audrey found herself smiling as she looked at the cake. It was truly spectacular.

“Just taking it all in, the calm before the storm,” Audrey said.

As she stepped away from Corrine and turned back toward the cake, something fell from the top and landed at Audrey’s feet. The women both paused, silent for a moment as they looked to see what it could be. The bride figurine was lying on the floor. Corrine quickly bent down to retrieve it, checking the figure for damage.

“She’s okay,” she said with a sigh of relief, clutching the figurine to her chest. “I hadn’t secured the bride and groom properly yet; she must have jiggled to the edge when I turned the top tier. Don’t worry, she isn’t damaged. It’s always the last thing I do, once all the layers are angled correctly.”

Was this bad omen number three? Audrey looked back at the figurine of the groom, standing alone on the cake. Something about his face looked sad, as though he knew his bride had just tried to escape.

“Maybe she jumped,” said Audrey, more to herself than to anyone else. Corrine laughed as she placed the bride back next to the groom.

“There we go. I’ll glue her on with a dab of icing. Then she won’t be able to go anywhere.”

Audrey looked down at her own feet, feeling for a moment that Corrine was talking about her. She wondered, if she tried to move, whether she would find herself glued to the floor.





21


Three Years Before I Do



Audrey felt stuck. Everyone else was going places, and she was going nowhere. Clara had just been promoted at work and was planning her wedding. Paul had a new job at an American bank. He was working longer hours and spending all his spare time at Miranda’s. Audrey was working three jobs and spending her free time mindlessly bingeing box sets.

She had grown tired of all the early starts working in the café, so she’d gotten herself a job as a receptionist in an art gallery. She’d also signed up for few weekend shifts at the local pub, then fit her freelance photography gigs around the edges. Friends sometimes asked her when she was going to “get a proper job,” but she had no idea what kind of “proper job” she might do. Her CV felt like a catalog of false starts. After school, she’d done a year of anthropology, changed to geography, dropped out, failed to get onto the astronomy course, and had then given up the idea of a degree altogether. Some days she loved the variety of her life—she was in no rush to be settled and didn’t feel the need to commit to any one thing. But on other days she felt as though everyone else was on this life train that she’d forgotten to buy a ticket for.