Before I Do(86)
“That’s my girl,” said Vivien. “Nothing’s over until you stop fighting for it.”
51
Six Hours After I Didn’t
Clara was the only one sober enough to drive Audrey up to London. They assumed that was where Josh had gone. As soon as he heard the plan, Hillary insisted on coming too, claiming his drama training made him an expert in conflict resolution. As the car raced up the now empty A303, and Hillary fiddled with the radio station and handed out sugared almonds, Audrey might have mistaken this car ride for a fun road trip with her friends. But then her state of misery and remorse reminded her that this was no such thing.
“You know who you are?” Hillary asked, turning around to look at Audrey, squished into the backseat of Clara’s car.
“Who?”
“You’re Scarlett O’Hara.”
“What? Why?” asked Audrey.
“Yes! You’re so right, she is,” said Clara, slapping the steering wheel with a palm.
“What are you talking about?” Audrey shuffled forward and pushed her head between the seats.
“Gone with the Wind,” Hillary said, and Audrey nodded. “Remember how Scarlett is obsessed with Ashley the whole way through—he’s her perfect guy, ‘Ashley, Ashley, Ashley.’?” Hillary affected a breathy, high-pitched voice. “And then sexy Rhett Butler rescues her, and she marries him despite thinking her heart belongs to Ashley. At the end, she finally realizes it was Rhett she loved all along, but he ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’s her, and she’s left right about where you are now.”
Audrey scowled. “Firstly, Scarlett O’Hara is horribly selfish, so if you’re saying I’m like her, then cheers. Secondly, if Josh is Rhett, are you telling me it’s too late, that he’s ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’ed me?”
“No, no, he’s not saying that,” said Clara, rubbing her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, I think they get back together in the sequel.”
“It’s a problematic film,” Hillary said, pursing his lips. “Clark Gable—I still would, though, wouldn’t you? I once dated an actor who looked exactly like a short Clark Gable, he had the tiniest—”
“Okay! Can we get back to talking about me and my situation?” Audrey said.
“That is exactly what Scarlett O’Hara would say,” said Hillary.
“Have you tried calling him?” Clara asked.
“Who, the guy who looks like Clark Gable?” Hillary asked, frowning in confusion.
“No! Josh!” said Clara.
“Yes, it’s going straight to voicemail,” said Audrey.
“Text?”
“No reply.”
Just as she was looking at her phone, willing it to ring, a message pinged through. Clara and Hillary both audibly inhaled.
“It’s from Brian,” Audrey said, unable to hide her disappointment. “He wants to know what I’d like done with the cake. Should the guests be eating it?”
They had left Brian and Vivien in charge of the abandoned wedding reception.
“Well, I can’t imagine they should be bathing in it or smearing it over their clothes,” Hillary said drily.
“He means do we want to keep it, save it for next time,” Audrey said, rereading the message.
“Well, that’s setting yourself a target—can you win Josh back before the vanilla sponge expires?”
As Audrey debated what to reply, her phone lit up with the name she wanted to see—Josh.
“There’s a message from Josh,” she said, her hand wavering as she opened it.
“And . . . ?” Clara asked, both hands tight on the wheel.
Audrey read the message aloud.
Please don’t try to call. I am too angry and upset to speak to you right now. I’m staying at an airport hotel tonight and going to go to Ibiza in the morning. The honeymoon is nonrefundable, and I have the fundraising meeting with the Almond Project out there this week, so I need to go. You’ll have the flat to yourself this week. We can talk when I’m back.
Audrey stared at the words, rereading them, willing them to be different. He sounded so cold.
“He’s going on your honeymoon, without you?” Clara said. She sounded horrified.
“I wouldn’t want to waste a five-star hotel in Ibiza either,” said Hillary. “I mean, if you’re going to be heartbroken, you may as well be heartbroken surrounded by luxury and sunshine.”
“He’s got a meeting out there with this tree charity he’s on the board of. Oh, I don’t want him to be heartbroken.” Audrey felt as though her heart was being compressed in a vise. “Poor Josh.”
Another text pinged through, and Audrey immediately looked back at her phone.
“Is it him again?” asked Clara.
“No. Brian’s asking what I want done about the wedding presents. Oh hell, what do I want done about the wedding presents?” Audrey wailed.
“Let me deal with Brian. Cakes and crises are my forte,” said Hillary, reaching back to pat Audrey on the knee.
* * *
When they arrived back at the Kennington flat, Hillary and Clara both insisted on staying the night. It was eleven o’clock now, and they didn’t want Audrey to be alone. Clara went to call Jay, whom they had left behind at Millward Hall, to check he’d gotten the girls to bed without her. Hillary riffled through Audrey’s cupboards, found some crisps, and then wrapped himself in a blanket on the sofa next to Audrey.