Before I Do(7)
“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” he said, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. “Sorry, I got waylaid by a beautiful busker at Oxford Circus.”
“What are you dressed as?” Audrey asked.
“An art critic. What are you dressed as—an urchin farmer?” He raised an eyebrow as he eyed her outfit, then linked his arm through hers. “I suppose this is what geography students look like these days. I never ventured outside the arts faculty myself.”
“Actually, I’ve decided geography is not for me. I think I’m going to switch courses.”
“Again? Oh, thank goodness. What are we doing now?”
“Astronomy.” Audrey bit her lip, her eyes growing wide as she waited to see his reaction.
“I thought you needed math for that.” Hillary frowned.
“I do—I’m going to go back and take my math A level. Is this an insane plan?”
“Brilliantly insane,” said Hillary, squeezing her arm. “You’re still young. You can do anything you set your mind to, Audrey Lavery. Just don’t ask me to help you study.”
Audrey hugged his arm in hers, and after looking around one last time for the green-eyed man, she slipped the strip of photos into her handbag.
* * *
As soon as they were outside on Baker Street, Hillary announced that he needed to stop at the newsagent’s to buy cigarettes. Still buzzing with confidence from his faith in her, Audrey latched on to the seed of an idea.
“I just need to nip back for something,” she said. “Will you buy me some Chipstick crisps? I’ll be back in two minutes.”
“Crisps? You are such a heathen.” Hillary shivered but then nodded and waved a hand to dismiss her.
The photo booth was still empty. Audrey pulled back the curtain and turned the swiveling stool until it was the right height for her. When she was satisfied that her eyeline was in the right place, she rummaged in her purse for two pound coins. She was going to leave a reply. She didn’t know why, exactly; it was unlikely the man would come back for his photos now, but she would feel better about taking them if she left something in their place.
She pulled her notebook from her backpack and tore off a clean sheet of paper, writing a word on either side in blue pen, then retracing the lettering to make it as bold as she could. When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she pushed the coins into the slot with a satisfying clunk. For the first photo, she pointed to herself. Flash. Then she held up the sign she had drawn, with the word “AM” facing the camera. Flash. Next, she turned the paper over and displayed the second word, “HERE.” Flash. For the fourth photo she posed in a kiss, her lips puckered, eyes closed, arms outstretched. Flash.
She didn’t wait for the strip to develop—it would take several minutes, and Hillary was waiting. She heard the whirring of the machinery inside the booth and pressed her hand affectionately against the red panel. She was entrusting this machine with her message, with delivering it into a stranger’s hand. Perhaps he would return, find her reply, and it would begin a conversation that went on for months, played out entirely in photo strips. They’d finally meet one day at this same booth and fall in love. Of course it was a silly fantasy, but the idea made her smile.
“There you are,” said Hillary as she rejoined him outside the newsagent’s. “What were you doing?”
Audrey shrugged. “Just answering the universe’s call.”
Hillary rolled his eyes as he tore open his packet of cigarettes. “Well, I’m sure the bathrooms at the gallery would be cleaner,” he said, handing her a packet of salt-and-vinegar Chipsticks. “I thought if I had taught you anything growing up, it was a little refinement. We don’t eat crisps, we don’t use public lavatories, and we never, ever wear trainers unless we are exercising.”
Audrey glanced down at her trainers and smiled.
As they walked down Baker Street, arms entwined, Audrey looked up at the sky and sent up a wish. She wished for the man in the photos to find her, as he’d promised.
4
One Day Before I Do
Audrey turned around and walked straight back to the Red Lion’s loos. She couldn’t go out there now, not until she’d had a moment to compose herself. How was he here? There were only two people invited to the wedding that Audrey hadn’t met yet—one was a two-month-old baby—but what were the chances of the other one being Photo Booth Guy? If she’d been feeling an itch of doubt about the wedding, then this guy’s showing up now felt like being showered in itching powder. She scratched again at the tight skin on her forearms just as there was a knock on the cubicle door.
“Auds, is that you? Let me in,” came Clara’s hushed voice.
Audrey opened the door, just wide enough to pull her friend inside. Then she bolted it shut again.
“Why are you hiding in here? Miranda just arrived.”
Audrey felt the blood drain from her face. She gripped on to Clara’s arm, as though she might convey the news physically, rather than having to say it out loud.
“Miranda’s date—he’s Photo Booth Guy.”
Audrey sat back down on the closed toilet seat and dropped her head between her knees. She felt suddenly dizzy, the walls of the cubicle closing in.