Page 56 of Close to You
‘Sorry.’
I smile at her and try to laugh, although it comes out as more of a cough. ‘I’m joking,’ I reply.
She smiles weakly and I think she’s probably more anxious than I am. The argument between us has been forgotten in the sense that we’ve not spoken about it since. It’s as if the night in the rugby club never happened. But none of what she said – or what I did – has gone away. It’s like a blister that’s bubbling and ready to pop at an indeterminate point in the future.
Not today, though.
Jane is my only bridesmaid, largely by default. It was only that decision – if it can be called that – which made me realise how much of life itself is ‘by default’. Everyone goes through the motions and things happen to us, rather than the other way around.
The driver sets off from Mum’s bungalow and edges slowly through the gates, before accelerating onto the country roads. The three of us are largely silent in the back. In my case, it’s because I’m worried about what might come out if I allow myself much time to think about today. It feels like we’re on the way to a funeral, rather than a wedding.
We’re a little out of Gradingham when Mum waves me closer. I lean in, unsure what to expect, and her voice is barely audible over the hum of the engine.
‘Don’t mess it up today,’ she whispers.
I press back and bite my lip before letting it out anyway. ‘Don’t, Mum.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘It’s my wedding day. Can you please be happy for me? For once? We’re doing it at the same register officer where you and Dad married.’
Of all the things to say, I accidentally hit the right one. A smile slips onto her face and she grips the armrest hard as she looks between Jane and me.
‘It was such a lovely day,’ she says. ‘Your father looked spiffing in his suit – and then we all went off to the Legion for tea and cake. We had to get special permission because they didn’t usually let in women after five, except for on a Sunday.’
Jane and I exchange a glance and it’s hard to believe that this was only a little outside our lifetimes. The world has changed so much.
‘Course, couples stayed together then,’ she adds, her features darkening. ‘Not like now where people break up after one little argument.’
‘How many people were there?’ I ask, wanting to hear about my parents’ wedding; not my mother’s opinions on life today.
‘Where?’ she snaps.
‘Your wedding.’
It’s as if a cloud is floating overhead. Mum’s face brightens and darkens depending on its position. It shifts again and the light returns.
‘Everyone we knew,’ she says. ‘We couldn’t fit everyone inside. They were standing in the doorway, clinging to the windows. Everyone loved your father.’
‘You, too,’ I say, although she doesn’t react. I’m not sure if she’s listening.
‘He was like the Pied Piper afterwards,’ she adds. ‘Leading everyone back down the High Street to the Legion.’
The cloud above her shifts again and the hardness returns to her jaw. ‘Your David’s just like him. I honestly don’t know what he sees in you.’
It feels like the air has been sucked from the back of the car. My dress was tight to begin with, but now it feels as if it’s shrinking, pushing the breath out from my lungs.
Jane squeezes my shoulder momentarily and then pulls away. I can’t dare face her.
I can’t bring myself to say anything during the rest of the trip. Mum starts humming to herself as we reach the edge of Kingbridge – and she doesn’t stop until we pull in outside the register office. The driver is all action, opening doors and offering arms. Going anywhere in a wedding dress is like trying to cross an ice rink while wearing bowling shoes. It takes planning and a large amount of luck to get around without falling over.
The registrar is waiting for us: a prim woman who, I suspect, can judge the potential success of a marriage within two minutes of meeting a couple. I wonder what she thinks of David and me.
She looks me up and down and beams ‘You look lovely,’ though I can’t believe she ever tells a bride anything else. It would be quite some career gambit to turn to a bride and say, ‘You look quite the state.’ I feel it, with sweat pooling down my back and Mum’s words bouncing around my head.
Jane guides Mum off towards the main room, while I go with the registrar into a side office. She keeps it light, talking about the weather and the journey, but it’s easy to see that she’s trying to smooth away any nerves. She says she has to go and prepare – and that she’ll see me in a few minutes – and then I’m alone.
The room is lined with books and a plush red carpet, like someone’s private library. I can imagine other brides sitting or standing in here, looking around and wondering what life will bring after the day. This is the line in the sand that’s been in the back of my mind ever since I saw David in that service station. I suppose it isn’t even a line; it’s a junction. Left or right. Yes or no. Marry or don’t.
