Before I Do(45)

“Today, the star of the show is Audrey Lavery.” She held a hairbrush up to Audrey, as though it were a microphone. “Audrey, tell the audience how you feel.”

Vivien was being playful with her, like she used to be, but Audrey didn’t feel like playing. She sat down on the window seat.

“Can I ask you something? Are you happy?” she said seriously, watching Vivien carefully.

“Goodness, whatever makes you ask that?” Vivien frowned in confusion.

“Do you ever think about Benedict?”

Vivien shook her head, not as an answer but as an indicator she didn’t want to talk about him.

“I see he’s getting an exhibition at the Tate Modern,” Audrey went on. “It flashed up on my phone this morning.”

Her mother froze; then, with her eyes downcast, she said, “Oh.” Her hands reached to smooth the seam of the dress, a small muscle pulsing in her jaw. “Well, I’m sorry if that upset you.”

“Are you in touch with him? Have you spoken to him . . . since?” Audrey asked, her eyes intent on her mother’s face.

“No, of course not.”

“You once told me you thought he was your soul mate,” Audrey said.

“Did I?” Vivien looked incredibly sad all of a sudden, her taut expression sagging, the shutter to the emotions behind her eyes closing.

“Yes, and you’d be married to him now if it wasn’t for me.”

Vivien stood up straight, marched over to the bathroom door, picked up a dressing gown from the hook, and handed it to her daughter, who was still standing in her underpants and bra. Audrey felt a sting at the fact that her own mother felt offended somehow by the sight of her half-naked body.

“Why are you bringing all this up today? You don’t want to think about all that unpleasantness when you’re about to get married.” Vivien walked over to the window and looked out. “When will this rain end? We should have waited until August. Rain in August is rarely so unrelenting.”

“What if Josh isn’t my soul mate?” Audrey said, refusing to be distracted by talk of the weather. Vivien turned her head sharply from the window.

“Where’s all this coming from?”

“I just want to talk to you properly for once, like we used to.” Audrey closed her eyes in frustration. When she opened them, Vivien was waiting, listening. “Everyone says if you have doubts, you should listen to them. What if Josh is my Brian?”

Vivien stood, holding on to the curtain, looking out at the rain. “If he’s your Brian, then you’re in luck. Brian is”—she sighed—“one of the best men I’ve ever known, and he was the most wonderful husband.” Vivien looked up at the sky, where the sun was glowing white behind a gray cloud. “I was Icarus, tempted to fly too close to the sun.”

“But now you have Lawrence . . . ,” Audrey said, willing her mother’s story toward a happy ending.

“Lawrence is a kind man, a lovely companion. You know I am no good on my own. But it’s not what I had with Brian, or even with your father.”

This wasn’t making Audrey feel any better.

“What about Kosmo or Jean-Luc? What about Benedict?”

“Love changes us, there’s a metamorphosis. Everyone I’ve loved has changed the shape of my heart.” There was a weariness behind Vivien’s eyes.

“So, who was the love of your life, then?” Audrey pushed. “Who do you think you were supposed to be with?”

Before Vivien could answer, Clara burst through the door with a sewing box. “We’re in luck. The florist had a whole sewing kit with all sorts of needles and threads.”

Vivien pulled her shoulders back and wiped at the corner of her eye as she went to inspect the needle options.

“Right, let’s get on with this, shall we?” She turned to Audrey. “Let’s not allow a few unfortunate events to put us off our stride.”

The image of her mother’s shape-shifting heart stuck in Audrey’s mind. She thought of the photo she’d seen of Vivien marrying Kosmo on a Greek island, at the age of twenty-two. She’d worn a white sundress and a flower in her hair. None of her friends or family had been in attendance. Vivien described her first wedding as the “fanciful finale to a holiday romance”—one her parents had forced her to annul as soon as they found out. Audrey remembered the photo of Vivien clasping Kosmo’s hand. She looked so happy, but then she looked happy in all her wedding photos. In every one, had she thought it would last? Was this romantic streak her mother’s fatal flaw? Forever chasing that feeling of immortality you get when the right man’s hand is clasped in yours?





25


Six Years Before I Do



Audrey clasped Fred’s hand in hers as they ran across the park. After jumping off the Ferris wheel, Audrey and Fred managed to outrun the fastest of the security guards. They made it to the busy intersection at Marble Arch, where they were safe among the bustle of people all queuing to cross the road. They looked at each other and laughed. Every inch of Audrey’s body fired with adrenaline.

“You’re insane,” she said, still trying to catch her breath from running and laughing at the same time.

“Maybe,” he said, the whites of his eyes luminous and wide. “I’m impressed you jumped.”