Before I Do(61)

Her mind danced straight back to that name, and she shook her head in irritation. It had been three years. Was she still hoping that some cosmic thread was going to bring him back into her life somehow? Or was Fred just the excuse her mind always made to stop her heart from making itself vulnerable again?

As she lay awake in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she realized that her date with Josh was the first date she’d had in years that she genuinely hadn’t wanted to end. She’d wanted to talk more, listen more, kiss more, feel more of that molten desire. She also knew that the more you let yourself feel things, the more power you gave someone else to crush you. These were the feelings that destabilized everything.





34


Thirty Minutes Before I Do



“Audrey! Why aren’t you dressed?” cried Vivien, intercepting her in the corridor. Audrey clenched her jaw. If Vivien had given her the letter meant for her lover, it meant either she still had the letter from her father, or she had mixed up the envelopes and given hers to whichever man at the wedding she was currently sleeping with.

“Granny Parker wanted to talk to me,” Audrey said, feeling her arms itch with a new ferocity.

“That old troublemaker is probably trying to make you late. If I have to hear about one more thing that was invented in Yorkshire . . .” She shook her head and clapped her hands. “Hurry, hurry, we can’t keep people waiting in a cold church, a cold audience is never as receptive as a warm one. And please don’t scratch, Audrey.”

Audrey couldn’t bring up the letter now. She didn’t want to know about her mother’s new affair. It might be the tipping point that broke her resolve not to go hide in the cleaning cupboard for the rest of the day. Back in the bedroom, Clara helped her into the dress for the third time.

“Shall we get a photo with the mother of the bride?” Sian suggested.

Audrey gave a tight smile and held out an arm. Vivien marched over and immediately positioned herself in her “red carpet pose”—one foot in front of the other, body side-on to the camera, chin tilted down. Audrey tried to smile. She knew she would want a photo with her mother to look back on, but all she could think about was the letter, torn up in her bag.

Clara’s phone pinged again. “Jay’s in the church. I’ve told him to take the girls out if they cry. There’s nothing worse than babies screaming through a service, is there? Especially when there are hardly any other babies coming, so everyone will know they’re mine.”

“I won’t mind if they cry during the service, they’re only babies.” Of all the things Audrey was worried about, babies crying during the service was not one of them.

“I hope he brought their jackets,” Clara said to herself, then shook her head. “But I am focused on you. Where’s your bolero?”

Eventually, they made their way down to the lobby, where Brian and Lawrence were waiting to drive them up to the church. St. Nicholas’s was only five hundred meters away, but in this rain, it felt safer to drive.

“What a vision!” Lawrence said.

“You look beautiful, Audrey,” said Brian. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Audrey said, and for the first time today she felt excited, confident even.

The dress was fixed, everyone who was going to cry had cried, she hadn’t had a Fred-related freak-out in at least an hour. Maybe all the ominous omens and frosty feet were over with for the day.

Just as the wedding party stepped out the front door, they were intercepted by a wild-eyed Hillary running down from the church with a pink umbrella flailing behind him.

“Hold on, hold on!” he called. “We need to delay.” He was out of breath as he ushered them back into the lobby. “Small issue in the church. We’re ironing it out.”

Of course Audrey had jinxed it by daring to get excited.

“What issue?” Vivien asked sharply.

“It’s a little indelicate,” Hillary said, shifting uncomfortably.

“What has happened?” Audrey asked.

“We just need ten more minutes to get everything squared away.”

“Hillary,” Audrey said sharply. “What is it?”

“I hope it’s not Josh?” Clara asked.

“One of the ushers, Ben, had a seafood platter for lunch, and let’s just say there was a bit of a stomach issue that’s occurred mid-ushering. Someone had to drive back to the B and B for some new trousers.”

“Did I not warn people about eating seafood?” Vivien said, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. “Did Josh eat seafood? Tell me Josh didn’t eat seafood.”

Hillary cleared his throat. “He said he had some crab, but not the prawns. We think it’s the prawns that were the issue. Josh was fine five minutes ago.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” said Brian, giving Audrey a reassuring smile.

“Did I not make the no-seafood policy abundantly clear?” Vivien sighed.

“You did. I got several e-mails,” said Miranda.

“I had bad shrimp in Me-hi-co once,” said Lawrence. “I’ve not been able to look at the ocean since. Just the smell of salty air makes my bowels brace.”

“Anyway,” said Hillary, pacing up and down the lobby, “we’re an usher down. We’ve opened the doors and windows, just to air things out, which I think is wise in the circumstances. Plus, the side chapel is a little damp, so we’re moving a few people and squeezing everyone into the main section.”