Before I Do(4)
“It’s a bat,” Granny Parker said, coolly inspecting the object beside her. “A dead bat.”
The reverend clutched a hand to his chest.
Debbie started shrieking. “A bat? A dead bat? Where did that come from? We can’t have dead bats raining down on guests tomorrow!”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said the reverend, shaking his head. “The bell tower does have a few in residence, but we’ve never seen them in the church, certainly not when people are in attendance.”
“That’s a bad omen if ever I saw one,” announced Granny Parker as she looked across the church at Audrey. “A bad, bad omen.”
“Granny Parker thinks everything is a bad omen,” said Debbie briskly. “She thought the M25 Eastbound being closed was a bad omen. She thought this morning’s rain was a bad omen.”
“I know a bad omen when I see one,” said Granny Parker darkly.
“Is it time to start drinking yet?” said Hillary, standing up and looking at his watch with a dramatic stretch of his arms.
The reverend nodded, no doubt keen to dismiss everyone so he could deal with the dead bat before his christening party arrived.
“Really, Reverend, this won’t do,” said Vivien, striding across the church to inspect the offending article herself. “Do you think it died of natural causes? Or are we to expect a whole colony of corpses tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure I’m qualified to do a postmortem,” the reverend said with a smile.
“Can we fumigate the church tonight? Flush them out?” Debbie suggested.
“They’re a protected species, I’m afraid. We can’t interfere with them at all.” The reverend bent down to inspect the bat more closely. “I can assure you, this has never happened before.”
“Perhaps we need a new category of sticker to denote ‘high risk of death by bat’?” Hillary suggested, biting his lip.
“A nasty, bad omen,” repeated Granny Parker, slamming her novel shut with a thwack. “This would not happen in a Yorkshire church.”
“Look, it’s got gray whiskers, it probably died of old age,” said Josh, who had now joined the bat-inspection party.
“I’m not sure that’s going to fit in my dustpan,” the reverend said nervously.
“Well, it certainly can’t stay there!” cried Vivien.
“Don’t get too close,” Josh said, ushering everyone to stand back. “We don’t know what diseases it could be carrying. Reverend, do you have any gloves, fire tongs? Anything we could use to safely dispose of it?”
“Josh to the rescue,” Clara sang quietly to Audrey. They looked at each other and, without saying a word, communicated that this might be a good opportunity to exit via a side door and leave the bat-disposal project to those better equipped to handle such things.
2
One Day Before I Do
The air outside the church felt fresh and clean compared to the musty, stale air within.
“Well, I thought this wedding might be batshit crazy, but I didn’t think there would be actual bat shit,” Clara said as she and Audrey climbed into into the front of Clara’s ?koda Karoq. “I love that Josh was straight in there ready to dispose of the body like CSI Batman. He thrives in a crisis, doesn’t he?”
“What are these?” Audrey asked, looking back at the two bouquets of wildflowers currently strapped into the children’s car seats.
“I bought them for you. Roses might be the official flowers decreed by Vivien, but I know you liked the wildflowers too, so I thought I’d cover all bases and get you these for your bridal suite.”
Audrey felt a sting behind her eyes as the rising tide of relief at having Clara there threatened to spill out. She blinked away the feeling and leaned her head across the car, resting it on her friend’s shoulder.
“Clara, that is so sweet of you, thank you.”
“Are we waiting for the others, or shall we head straight to the pub?”
“Let’s go. Josh is going to pick up his sister from the station, and the rest have enough cars between them.” She paused. “I’ve missed you today.”
“I know, I’m sorry, I had to park the kids with Mum, and she had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and then I had to drive via Clapham to collect the wedding plate that everyone is going to sign. But I’m here now, child-free and entirely yours.”
“Hallelujah,” Audrey sang.
Clara let out one of her uninhibited laughs that reached every limb. Her short black bob was pinned back with bobby pins, and she wore only a dab of nude lip gloss on an otherwise makeup-free face. She had faultless skin and intelligent eyes, looks she’d inherited from her Chinese mother and Spanish father. But it was not just her looks that made her stand out, it was the way she held herself, the way she moved. Every gesture was larger than it needed to be—if she waved at you, she waved with her whole arm, not just a hand. If she smiled, it was a fully committed grin. Even watching her drive, there was an overblown quality to the movement of her hands on the wheel, the shift of her gaze to the rearview mirror; it was all larger than it needed to be. Since Clara had given birth to the twins, Audrey had noticed a new, slightly frazzled quality to her friend, a jumpiness, a tiredness around the eyes that would not be fixed by a single good night’s sleep. But in essence she was the same girl who had befriended Audrey, age nine, in the school canteen when they both reached for the last chocolate éclair.