Page 17 of The Vow
‘Are you OK, Mum? I’m worried about you.’ Her voice is anxious.
‘Please don’t, Jess. I’m fine, really I am. It will be good to have this day behind me.’ I try to inject brightness into my voice, hoping she won’t pick up on how I’m really feeling.
‘If you feel horrible, promise you’ll call me?’
‘Of course I will. Thank you, Jess, but really. I’m going to be OK.’
Turning off my phone, I think of the bouquet I’d planned to make – amongst stems of winter foliage, the beauty of the flowers speaking for themselves. The same flowers I destroyed when Sonia was here. Going over to the fridge, I take out the bottle of Taittinger that we’d put aside especially for today.
Even though it’s early, I open it, pouring some into one of our crystal champagne flutes. Drinking quickly on an empty stomach, I feel the rush as the alcohol goes to my head, as I pour another. On this hateful day, I deserve this, I remind myself. Matt isn’t the man I thought he was. There was another woman in his life. He lied.
The champagne works, dulling my pain, fuelling my anger. Halfway through the bottle, I get out my laptop, printing off the vows I’ve written, folding the piece of paper and pocketing it, before deleting the folder. Then I go upstairs to fetch my wedding dress, unwrapping its embroidered bodice and dusky pink layers – the dress of my dreams, in which I’d naïvely imagined marrying the man of my dreams. Taking it downstairs, I go through to the kitchen, tormenting myself with thoughts of this other woman and how she’s stolen Matt, ruined my life. How could she?
Collecting the champagne bottle and an old newspaper, I open the doors and go outside. As I walk down to the far endof the garden, I stop now and then to swig champagne from the bottle. When I reach the bonfire heap, I hesitate only briefly before throwing my dress onto it, screwing up some of the newspaper, pushing it underneath. Striking a match, I light the paper, before watching it smoulder. Then as the fire takes hold, I gaze through the smoke, dead inside, remembering the nightmare I had, while my beautiful dress scorches, wisps of it floating away as it melts into the flames. Reaching into my pocket for the vows I printed off, I crumple up that piece of paper, too, throwing it onto the bonfire. Then as the heat builds, I step back, finishing the champagne while I watch the flames, before dropping the empty bottle to the ground.
As the fire starts to die down, I notice a piece of fabric that’s fallen away. Kicking it back into the embers, it flares briefly. Staring at the smouldering flames, I watch the last of the smoke curl into the air, before turning back towards the house. Maintaining my composure until I’m inside, as I close the door behind me, my control vanishes. Pain turns to grief, anger to rage, as I grab the champagne flute from earlier, then hurl it at the wall. Then going to the cupboard, I fetch the rest of the glasses, shattering each of them, my sobbing growing louder.
But it doesn’t end there. Plates follow – part of the dinner service we’d chosen together, each pointless plate in turn. There is no place for anything in my life that Matt’s had a part in. Only when I’m spent do I survey the wreckage on the floor, realising I have to find his other woman, wherever she is. She deserves to know what she’s done to me.
1996
That hot blue skies summer, they didn’t need anyone else. They were two halves of the same whole; emboldening each other, invincible; soulmates.
Even their names seemed to fit together. Charlie and Kimberley. Free spirits, roaming across fields, then when the heat got too much, seeking shade in the woods. Their limbs brown, their hair bleached by the sun, as they lay in the long grass together, side by side. Lost in the depths of the sky, watching the swallows soar, he felt her hand reach for his.
He didn’t know when he realised they’d always be together, just that somehow he knew he couldn’t live without her laughter, her touch, her love. Reading his thoughts, she rolled over, her eyes gazing into his, and in that moment he knew she felt the same.
It was a moment nothing moved, as they seemed to merge into the grass, the sun, the rolling hills, the acres of sky. Caught someplace where time was infinite – but then it caught up with them. Suddenly she got up, pulling him to his feet as she started running back towards her gran’s house.
Her gran had stories to tell, about the witches in the elder trees andthe spirits in the woods; how nature had a power that could be tapped into, if you learned how. Her own grandmother had taught her, as a child.
It was about the connectedness, she told him. The magic contained in petals, bark, leaves, roots, seeds. In the most delicate flowers, herbs, berries, trees; in artistry, subtlety, alchemy. They could heal, balance, uplift, calm. But what most people didn’t know was that your intention had to be pure, your knowledge vital, because in the wrong hands, they could also kill.
Amy
Chapter Ten
For the betrayed there can be no sorrow or fond memories. For us, there are only questions, our grief sharp-edged, cutting deep. More than two weeks have passed since I last saw Matt, but unable to face talking, I haven’t seen Sonia again – putting off my scheduled appointments until I reach another low point. Desperate to find a way out of my grief, this time I go.
‘I’m sorry I’ve kept cancelling.’ Sonia’s counselling room is small, the windowsill crammed with plants, the air calm, as I sit in a small armchair.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She sounds unfussed. ‘How have you been?’
Even before I speak, I’m defensive. Resenting the reasons that have brought me here, I’m hunched, my hands tightly clasped. ‘Up and down. The day our wedding should have happened was a low point. But at least that’s over now.’
Sonia’s silent for a moment. ‘Do you think it would help you to tell me more about you and Matt?’
My sigh is shaky. ‘Maybe.’ I’ve gone over and over the past,looking for any sign things weren’t right. Every time, I’ve drawn a blank. ‘Before I met him, I’d been alone – since Dominic. I’d given up on the idea of meeting anyone. I really wanted it to work. I honestly thought we were good together.’
‘The breakup of your marriage was traumatic, wasn’t it?’ Sonia’s voice is quiet. ‘And now this happens. How does that make you feel?’
‘Stupid?’ I offer, tears filling my eyes. ‘Let down, powerless, unworthy …’
‘It’s brought it back, hasn’t it?’ She speaks gently. ‘But like last time, you will come through this. And you will be fine.’ A frown crosses her face. ‘Tell me – what kind of person is Matt? I mean, is he kind? Considerate? Is he thoughtful towards you – and other people?’
I’m silent, because it’s obvious what the answer is. Why else would I have been with him? I shrug. ‘I always thought he was.’
‘How did you meet?’ She sounds curious.
