Before I Do(43)
But not soon enough. One Sunday morning, Vivien was out having her hair done and Audrey was taking a shower in her en suite. When she stepped out to dry herself, she looked up to see Benedict standing in the open doorway of her bedroom, staring at her naked body.
“Jesus!” she screamed, kicking the door closed with a slam.
“Sorry, I was just . . . I came to see if you needed any laundry done,” he stammered through the closed door. When had he ever done her laundry?
“Don’t come into my room!” she screamed, mortified. Had she left the door open like that? She hadn’t thought anyone was home, but still, she was sure she’d pulled it closed. How long had he been standing there, watching her shower? “Go away!” she yelled.
Benedict apologized as soon as she came downstairs, blustering that he’d popped in to look for some whites to put in a wash with his shirts and found the door to her bathroom wide open. He did appear embarrassed, with his red cheeks and sweaty brow. Audrey decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, though her skin crawled when she pictured the look on his face as he stood there, staring at her. She didn’t mention the shower incident to Vivien. But she went to buy a lock for her bedroom door.
* * *
A week after ShowerGate, Vivien and Benedict came back from dinner at the Ivy. When she heard the key in the lock, Audrey tried to sneak upstairs so she wouldn’t have to endure a drunken conversation with them. She wasn’t quick enough, though, and they were through the door when Audrey was still only halfway up the stairs.
“Audrey,” her mother cried in delight, thrusting her hand out to show off a huge sapphire ring, surrounded by a circle of diamonds. “You’ll never guess—we’re engaged!”
“Isn’t it marvelous?” Benedict asked, standing behind her, leaning forward to kiss Vivien’s neck, and she laughed as they stumbled into the hallway.
“You can’t be engaged. You’re not even divorced yet,” Audrey said flatly, feeling her throat constrict as she watched her mother’s face fall.
“I hoped you’d be happy for us,” Vivien said, her voice breaking like a chastised child’s.
“Well, it’s hard to keep the enthusiasm levels up when you getting engaged is such a common occurrence.” Audrey turned to walk up the stairs. She knew she was being cruel, but she couldn’t help it—the fire of disappointment that this was to be their lives, that he was here to stay, was too much. Worse was the knowledge that she had done it, she had given Brian the phone. If only she’d hung up straightaway.
She heard her mother’s drunken footsteps in the kitchen, the sniff of overdramatic tears. Vivien’s emotions were always precariously close to the surface when she was drunk. Audrey continued upstairs; she would apologize in the morning. But as she stepped onto the landing, she heard the stomp of heavy footsteps behind her and then felt a hand reach out and grab her wrist.
“Don’t disrespect your mother like that,” Benedict barked, pulling her back to face him.
“Let go,” Audrey spat, but her voice shook as she looked down at him on the stairs.
The index finger of his other hand pointed in her face as he growled. “You are the worst kind of entitled little brat, you know that? You’ve been allowed to do as you please, with no respect for anyone.”
He was so angry. She could feel the heat coming off him. Though he was standing a few steps below her, his bearlike build meant his eyes were at her level.
“I love your mother and I will not have anyone upset her—do you hear?”
Audrey didn’t reply, her breath caught in her throat.
“I said, do. You. Hear?” Benedict repeated sternly.
“Yes,” she nearly whimpered.
Benedict stepped up onto the landing in front of her, blocking the path to her bedroom. “You might have had Brian wrapped around your little finger, but not me. You need to grow up. While you live under your mother’s roof, you will show her some respect.” Audrey nodded, shocked into submission. “Now, go downstairs and congratulate her. I won’t have you ruining this evening for Vivien.”
Audrey wanted to flee to her room, then leave this house as soon as she could.
“I’ll apologize tomorrow,” she said quietly.
“You will apologize now,” he said, and he put a hand around her upper arm and guided her back down the stairs. Audrey bit back tears; she had never been treated like this by anyone, and every cell in her body burned with the shame of it, the indignity of being manhandled.
Benedict steered her into the kitchen, where her mother’s face looked pale and haunted. Presumably she had heard every word of their little exchange on the stairs.
“Congratulations, Mum,” she said, the “Mum” in itself a covert rebellion. “If you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
Benedict nodded his approval and then marched out into the garden to smoke a cigar. Vivien looked at Audrey like a wounded deer.
“I am happy, honestly, Audrey. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And I know you think it’s quick and you feel for Brian, but honestly, darling, this is . . .” Vivien smiled. “I didn’t think I believed in soul mates before, but, Audrey—he’s the part of me that I didn’t know was missing.”
Audrey saw in Vivien’s face that she meant it. So she swallowed everything she was feeling, hugged her mother, and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry.”