Before I Do(74)
“Jeez, what happened to your neck?” her school friend Marumi asked, shuffling forward to join the conversation. “The service, Audrey, I felt like I was in an episode of Hollyoaks. The drama! I was so stressed for you.”
“What would you have done if he’d died? Can you imagine?” said Hester, a friend from her geography course days.
“Are you married then, or not?”
“Where’s your dress from?”
“You look so thin, bitch. Jealous.”
“What table am I at? Are we still having dinner? I’m starving. Please can I not be next to that boring bald guy I met at Josh’s birthday party, what’s his name? Did I remember to tell you I’m veggie now?”
“Josh looks completely scrummy, by the way. You really hit the jackpot, Auds.”
“And look at your mum. I hope I look as good as she does when I’m her age. Is it weird if I ask for a photo with her? My dad’s a huge fan.”
They were her friends, they were being kind and enthusiastic, but the barrage of questions felt slightly overwhelming. Audrey moved through the crowd, politely thanking everyone for coming, fielding congratulations and commiserations. Friends of Vivien’s, her godparents, all Josh’s extended family—everyone wanted a piece of her.
As she worked her way around the room, engaging everyone briefly but no one properly, she made sure to avoid Fred, darting out of his eyeline whenever he came into view. She successfully navigated this little dance until she saw someone in the crowd she really did want to speak to: Brian.
“Do you have my letter?” she asked, pulling him into a corner where no one else would hear.
“Ah yes.” Brian reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her. Audrey tucked it safely into her clutch. “I don’t know why Vivien gave it to me—”
“You’re seeing her again,” Audrey said sharply, and watched his face freeze in horror. “Why?”
Brian let out a sigh and then briefly closed his eyes. “I never stopped loving your mother, Audrey,” he said slowly.
“What about Lawrence?”
“It’s a mess. I know.”
It was time to sit down for dinner. She could not think about this now. Audrey would file it away in a mental drawer, though she was running out of mental drawers to hide unpleasant thoughts in. She weaved her way through the crowd to get to the top table. Josh was to be on her right and Hillary on her left, but when she reached the round table, she saw the place card on her left had “Fred” scrawled in lilac ink. No one had known Miranda was going to bring a plus-one when the seating plan had been printed.
“I thought you might not get a chance to speak to him otherwise,” Miranda said, nodding to the place card. “Trust me, you guys are so similar, I think you’ll really get on.”
Audrey noticed that Miranda had moved herself next to Paul. What was it with people thinking they would mess with the seating plan? If she protested, it might only make things more awkward. Just as she’d started to feel reassured that everything was going to be fine, that the worst of the day was over, the seating plan from hell had been thrown into the mix.
She found her gaze flitting around the room, stopping on all the men she knew—friends of hers, friends of Josh’s, partners of their friends. Could she have found herself marrying any one of these men if just a few twists of fate’s wheel had been different? Was there some guiding force pulling her toward the right person, or was it just a giant game of chess with a billion different outcomes? If Clara hadn’t found the house share with Paul on Craigslist, if she hadn’t been taking photos in Covent Garden that day or been sitting next to Josh at Dee’s wedding, would her life have been completely different?
If it was purely down to chance, if there were a million forks in the road, then of all the ways her life could have played out, was this the best outcome? Could the human heart handle the idea that it could have loved another just as well? So many ideas of romantic love are spun around the belief that there is just one perfect person, that the journey to find them is beyond our control, that it is destined—but what if it is merely a lottery? Her mental spiral stalled as Fred pulled out the chair next to her. She tried to set her face to a neutral expression but felt her eyelid twitch with the pressure of hiding what she was feeling.
An artfully presented salmon terrine was laid in front of her, but Audrey felt sick at the idea of eating.
43
Thirteen Months Before I Do
“I can’t eat another thing,” Audrey said.
“No dessert, gracias,” Josh said to the waiter. They were in a beachside café in Ibiza, enjoying a long lunch of seafood paella and fruity sangria. The waiter nodded and presented them with two shots of hierbas, on the house.
“I’m not sure about aniseed-flavored alcohol,” Josh said.
“Well, you won’t know until you’ve tried it,” she said, downing hers, nudging him with her foot to do the same.
Before meeting Audrey, Josh had planned his holidays like he planned his life—rigorously. He would book time off between projects at work, so as not to inconvenience his colleagues. He’d research all the deals, read all the reviews, and then make an informed decision about where to stay and what to do. He often returned to the same places because he liked knowing what to expect. He always wrote a Tripadvisor review for everywhere he stayed. Audrey, on the other hand, had a slightly more whimsical approach to holidays. She would narrow it down to a continent, depending on how far she could afford to travel, and then stick a pin in a map. She wouldn’t make any plans or book anything except the first two nights’ accommodation. This approach had resulted in some complete disasters, and some unforgettable adventures.