Page 82 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
She tilts her head a little as if trying to see the resemblance, and she must be happy with what she sees. ‘She’s gone. Just didn’t turn up for her shift one day and no one could reach her.’
‘But didn’t anyone think maybe that was something to worry about?’
The woman shrugs. ‘Not my business.’
‘Look,’ I start, but Matt puts a hand on my arm, and it’s gentle but firm.
‘Let’s just go,’ he says. ‘We’re not going to get anywhere here.’
I give the woman one last look, try to put a bit of pleading into it, but she is unmoved. When we get back in the car, Matt starts driving without asking me what I want to do, and it’s clear that we’re going back. That this phase of the mission is over. For the first twenty minutes of the journey, my mind is racingwith possibilities, but then I calm down, reach some kind of equilibrium.
‘Want to play a game?’ Matt asks.
‘I think I just want quiet, if that’s okay?’
‘Sure.’
I close my eyes and think about our wedding.
42
THEN
‘How hot is it?’ Dee asks.
‘My makeup is literally sliding off my face,’ I say.
‘Oh man, I wish I was there.’
‘Me too.’
There is a brief silence, which is rare between us, and I imagine we’re both thinking about how she and Liam would have been here with us if they didn’t have a newborn to take care of.
‘Did you find witnesses?’ Dee asks.
‘A couple of hotel staff are going to do it.’ Matt and I met them yesterday. They were sweet and seemed excited for us, but it isn’t the same as having someone you love. I’m sitting in my hotel suite, looking at myself in the gold-edged circular mirror. I’ll have to do my makeup again, but my hair looks good. Soon, I’ll put my dress on and it will really feel like a wedding.
‘How’s Callum?’ I ask.
‘I’m pretty fond of him. But god, if he would just sleep a little bit. Anyway, I don’t want to put you off. I hope you and Matt are busy trying to make him a playmate.’
I laugh, because I know that is what’s required of me, but I’m not sure children are on the cards for me and Matt. We’ve talked about it, and it’s something we both want, but I’m not pinning my hopes on it. I’m in my mid-thirties, and I’ve seen all those articles about what happens to your fertility after thirty. If it’s just me and Matt, that’s enough for me.
‘I’d better go,’ I say.
‘T minus one hour, right?’
‘Right.’
‘I’ll be thinking about you. Please make sure there are photos.’
I feel suddenly close to tears. It’s like it’s just hit me, the enormity of what’s happening. After David, I thought I would never trust anyone enough to get married again. It took forever to sort out the divorce, with David in prison, and I felt sure I would never risk putting myself through it again. I even told Matt that, in the early days. But now I’m here, on a beautiful island in the Caribbean, and I don’t have a single doubt about saying yes to this man. As second chances go, it’s a good one.
Matt comes to the door twenty minutes later. He’s been having a drink at the bar, giving me some space. He claps a hand over his mouth when he sees me. I’m in my dress, which is long and simple, with no sleeves and some beading on the bodice.
‘I can’t believe I get to marry you,’ he says, pulling me into his body.
We’re both ready with half an hour to spare, and we only have to walk out of the hotel’s front door and onto the white-sand beach. So we sit on the edge of the bed, holding hands.
