Page 109 of You Belong With Me

‘Five minutes!’ Elliot said, Edie alone able to hear the note of desperation.

‘Downstairs!’ Fraser replied, and it seemed, retreated.

They breathed out.

Edie looked over at Elliot to share a moment, whatever moment that was, but he’d purposely stalked back to the bathroom to avoid such a thing.

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It was a tribute to what an effortlessly joyful wedding it was that at times Edie found herself carried away by it, even in her invisible purgatory.

Fraser looked, in turn, absolutely petrified and then quite overcome when Molly arrived on her father’s arm; the official photographer’s job was a cinch. (And he was the only one: either the long-lens brigade had missed the wedding banns or they couldn’t get a good enough vantage point.)

Molly hadn’t opted for the Cinderella ballgown that Fraser feared but for something beaded, sinuous, and halterneck, with an open back.

They held hands and whispered when she reached him, then stumbled and giggled like teenagers through the vows.

Edie had never much craved this event for herself; being happy with someone was enough. Yet she had an envious, inward sigh at the dazzling, upmarket vision of having found The One – the envy sharpened like a knife by the fact she was about to lose hers. She noticed that whenever Elliot scanned the first few rows, he was careful not to meet her eyes. Meeting her eyes could now be taken as hope, and hewasn’t dispensing that if it was false. Edie was all lipsticked smiles, clapping, and dread. It seemed fitting she was watching it through a mourning veil.

In the applause as they were declared husband and wife, Fraser and Molly appeared to be near levitating, their faces suffused with wonder that life could be this good.

If it was amarry in haste, repent at leisuremistake, Edie thought, both the haste and the leisure looked damn appealing. If this was getting it wrong, why bother to be right? There were certainly worse ways to spend whatever it cost, as Iggy had shown.

With Elliot detained on post-ceremony duties, Edie travelled with his parents in a cream beribboned Rolls Royce from the church to the vast marquee in the garden of Molly’s sprawling family home – or rather, the grounds. You could go as far as rolling parkland. The pink-bricked, white-gabled house itself was dripping with wisteria, the size of a hotel.

‘Goodness me,’ their father Bob said, as the tyres crunched onto gravel. ‘They must think Molly’s married into peasant stock, haha.’

If the well-to-do Owens with their multi-millionaire prodigal son were peasants by this measure, what were the Thompsons? Rodents in their sacks of grain. Edie decided not to voice the notion she had been nibbling on their sack.

The reception was a sea of white-clothed round tables adorned with white and pink floral arrangements and very tall brass candlesticks, the roof criss-crossed with strings of Edison bulbs festoon lights. As the light outside faded, it went from charming to magical.

Elliot being best man was sadly functionally useful in separating them. He was constantly occupied and not even in his seat next to her much at the meal, what with a blizzard of introductions and the relentlessdiscreet wordadmin.

And in the normal way of things, Elliot’s parents would be mostly by Edie’s side; however, the fast-forwarded Fraser courtship meant they’d met Molly’s parents once and no one else, so they were busy with a thousand hellos with the relatives, too.

Molly, train over arm and bearing a flute of fizz, barrelled up to Edie: ‘EEEEEDIE!Oh my God, you look gorgeous! I love the Gothic Winona Energy!’

Even though she had mere seconds available, Molly still managed with no free hands to give her a tight hug drenched in Tom Ford White Patchouli and ascertain that Edie had liked her beef tenderloin and was definitely having a good time.

Molly’s nature had been unfairly conflated with her parents, who were socially ambitious on their kids’ behalf, Edie reckoned. Molly was a born enthusiast, like her groom – an observation Edie would quite likely never get to make to Elliot now.

Molly’s parents were youthful and yet royal-looking in bearing and clothing – clearlyéminences grisesof the parish. Her father was in full morning suit, her mother in pistachio green headgear with ostrich feathers so large, it was like a play on perspective.

(‘It looks like a Boy George hat,’ Fraser whispered to Edie, making her clap a hand over her mouth before she spat champagne.Champagne, not prosecco, which apparently Molly’s mother considered déclassé piss. Fraser reported her saying: ‘What next, a Colin the Caterpillar for the wedding cake?’)

When Edie was put in front of them, she merited a minute of explicit, narrow-eyed assessment and interrogation. When they found out she worked a desk job and had no discernible stature beyond dating Molly’s brother-in-law, Edie was hastily dropped in favour of someone more worth bellowing at.

Thanks to her connection with Elliot fracturing, she already felt like an imposter.

‘Girlfriend? For how long? What happened to “no ring, no bring”?’ she even heard an arsehole uncle of Molly’s saying in supposed jocularity in her hearing to Elliot, who replied: ‘Social progress and basic manners?’

Maybe arsehole uncle had inadvertently helped her cause as, minutes later, Elliot finally appeared by her side, sliding his hand into hers, squeezing, and muttering: ‘Hey up. You all right?’

‘Sort of,’ Edie said, a complete lie, gathering that it wasn’t a realyou all right, it was a:Bearing up? I am not letting this descend into hostility.‘You? Confident about your speech?’

‘Actually, I’m very nervous, which I didn’t expect. Turns out the fuss about weddings isn’t entirely a myth – you do feel the hand of history on you and all that.’

‘You’ll be great,’ Edie said. ‘Pretend we’re all naked.’

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